True Poems

“Poetry is dead!” I declared in 1968, and so: “Long Live Her Spirit on the Radio!” Long before The Last Poets and Bob Dylan begat the rap illiterati, Her Ancient Spirit was loosed upon the land, all louche & boozy, with twee chapbooks the dry testament to Her irrelevance; and so my own Muse went along with it, muttering Her songs and chants, and uttering bits of poesy from the dire to the antic, to spindrift koans so fine they disappear.
You see? They are not here.

The First Poets of New College

Daughter of Chaos

I sing the Daughter of Chaos
O terrible and beautiful
Goddess of Entropy
Goddess of Anarchy

Proud Eris Discordia
Wreathed in broken planets
We ride her wave breathless
To be tossed under again

Look and you will miss her
Close your eyes to see her
She dreams our creation
In her singular way

The touch of breeze
In the heat of the day
The taste of wine
From an ancient offering
The ring of a bell
In a dark empty cavern
The scent of a rose
In a room long abandoned

True Vampire

Midnight he comes gliding thru the locked door
Flying in the blocked window
Rising up through the floor
Resistance is futile, he’s done this before.

With his ghastly face of ancient days
His sharpened claws his piercing gaze
He takes what he wants and he keeps what he takes.

Lady of shadows, long black robe,
Owl on her shoulder, holding a globe,
El Dia de los Muertos, she comes back as
La Santa Muerte, La Niña Flaca.

With her grinning skull & reaper’s blade,
Scales of Justice on display,
She takes who she wants & she keeps who she takes.

The mummy & the zombie, the banshee & the witch,
The demon & the dragon, the bastard & the bitch,
Werewolf & Medusa, all your monsters see right through you.

So with beating heart, with trembling hands,
With bated breath, your fantasy demands
Are met, now you’ve been entertained

Double Double

We chose so foul and fair a day
To reenact the Scottish Play.
All along the Trinity
We hailed the King most bitterly.

Thunder, lightning, wind and rain
When these three shall meet again.
Wandering bishops at the crossroads
Meet the three unworthy hoboes.

Hoodwinked and lost in Camelot
Where nothing is but what is not.
There’s no Grand Master, there’s no plot.
The scapegoat never slips the knot.

The hurly burly’s never done.
The battle’s never lost nor won.
There is no help for the widow’s son.
Jubela Jubelo Jubelum
Double Double – Cross Your Double
Come Hellfire – Summon Trouble.
Kill the King – That He May Die.
Hail the King – That He May Rise.
Pax Vobiscum… Dominus Vobiscum

The Legend of Jack Ruby

I was gonna be a hero, that’s what they told me.
That’s why I left little Sheba in the car, you see.
I know I shot Oswald, but hear me now: it wasn’t Lee.
It was another Oswald by the name of Harvey.

They looked nearly alike, but not exactly the same.
Took a few little tricks to get em that last name.
Now Lee, he’s the one had a scar under his ear.
Harvey was smaller and kinda losing his hair.

I met Lee one time down in South Miami,
Running guns to Castro with Santo Trafficante.
Ran into Harvey in New Orleans, with Roselli & Marcello.
He was a Russian-speaking agent, a clever young fellow.
Look, I had no choice, no will of my own.
I still have no recollection of firing that gun.
I moved through that crowd like a man in a dream,
And I never woke up til I heard Oswald scream.

Cops rushed me – threw me down,
Nearly crushed me to the ground,
Screaming get down, Ruby, get down!
Ruby, Jack Ruby! Screaming out my name.
Ruby, Jack Ruby! Screaming in my face.
Why’d you do it, Jack Ruby,
Why’d you do it?
This wasn’t just another mission,
Just another conspiracy.
This was the assassination
Of John Fitzgerald Kennedy.

I knew they had to jump me, and book me into jail,
But with all my years of service, I was sure they’d go my bail.
I would never blow my cover, take my secret to my grave.
I was an undercover agent for the C – I – A.

After twenty years of duty I retired in fifty-six
And kept my service pistol with me right here on my hip.
So when they brought me back in to do this hit in ‘63,
I used my Smith & Wesson, cause I had it on me.

Ruby! Why’d you do it?
Why’d you do it, Jack Ruby?
They called it The Big One.
It was a government conspiracy.
It was the assassination
Of President John F. Kennedy.

I kept a gun inside my desk at the Carousel Club.
That’s the gun they put in evidence
To conceal the provenance
Of the real murder weapon
That was melted down
In a polygamist compound
By a Jack Mormon known as LeBaron.

That was my Smith & Wesson,
My service revolver.
It was government issued,
The gun that shot Agent Oswald.

Ruby! Why’d you do it?
Why’d you do it, Jack Ruby?
I had no idea what I was doing.
I was not in my right mind.
I was not thinking for myself.
I was under command.

They could blow me away, me and my little dog too
My little dog Sheba, what did she ever do?
Sweet little Sheba, she never hurt a soul.
Why did I do it?
Had to be mind control.
Mind control... mind control…

In Memoriam: GJ Schaefer

1946 – 1995

Rogue cop GJ Schaefer
Lady-killer, baby-raper,
Fallen angel, voice from hell,
Found slaughtered in his cell.

Killer fiction, killer fact,
Scripted his own final act.
Criminal justice took his life
By enigmatic bloody knife.

Infamy inscribed his name,
And thus inevitably slain,
The killer victim on the floor
Will perpetrate – nevermore.

For Omatha

Danny Rolling’s Ex-Wife

He gave himself to you
Like a big bright birthday cake
With swirls of creamy icing
And candles you could never blow out.

For a marriage he gave you a party
He danced and played the clown,
Twisting balloons into hearts
And singing funny songs for the crowd.

The guest of honor was the boy
You’d loved and desired all along,
And while you laughed at your clown
You saved your secret smiles for the other one.

When the tears streaked the grin
Your clown painted on for you,
Even the muzzle in his mouth
Couldn’t blow away the pain fast enough.

So he took his bitter show on the road
Searching for his angel of light,
But a demon found him first
And seduced him like a lover in the night.

Omatha, you’re not guilty
But your faithless face haunted him,
And those girls never knew what he meant
When he said, Omatha, this one’s for you.

Just Another Failure

A Jew refused a seat at the table
Al sought work wherever he was able
The Patent Office, a filing clerk
Whose God do we thank he could even find work?
He was not the great Al Einstein
When we knew him back then,
He was a humble man, the kind our friends
Would call just another failure.
Failure's just success
That hasn't happened yet.

A gawky lawyer with a homely face
Abe kept running but lost every race
Defeated election, dogged by depression
Who knew the man could lead a whole nation?
He was not the great Abe Lincoln
When folks knew him back home,
He was a regular guy, the kind you & I
Might call just another failure.
Failure's just success
That isn't finished yet.

Just a ragtag bunch of wanna-bees
When they played that gig in Germany
Who knew when the lads came home
They'd rock the whole world with their songs?
They were not the Fab Four Beatles
When they played Liverpool
Just a skiffle band, the kind their friends
Were calling just another failure.
Failure's just success
That hasn't happened yet.

Famous Failure

I’m A Failure

I’m a failure as a woman,
A failure as a wife,
A failure as a mother,
Been a failure all my life.

I’m a failure as a journalist,
A failure as a poet,
A failure as a songwriter,
And oh I know I know it.

I’ve failed to triumph,
Failed to win place or show,
I’ve failed to come back
More times than you know.

I’m a failure on the internet,
I’m a failure on TV,
I’m a failure in real life too,
I even fail to be me.

My teacher’s disappointment,
My family’s disdain,
A monumental failure,
I ought to be ashamed.

I’m Famous

I’m famous as an artist,
Famous as a freak,
Famous as a goddess,
Way too famous to be meek.

I’m a famous performer,
More famous as a poet,
Most famous as a crimewriter,
And alla-y’all know it.

Fame is a beacon,
A mask, sword & shield.
Course, I’d prefer Fortune,
But Fame has an appeal.

I’m famous on the internet,
Stage, screen & TV,
I’m famous in my own mind,
Famously free.

My silence & my absence,
Unseen & unnamed,
Have made me so famous
I must be defamed.

Tloque Nahuaque
A Poem by
Angel Maturino Resendiz
(Executed June 27, 2006 in Texas)

1 The eternal energy of God
2 A dress made of ice
3 An eternity to charm a soul
4 Chandeliers made of ice
5 They are and are not there
6 A love stronger than passion
7 A fire of eternal ice
8 A dance that does not stop
9 A charming dance of ice
10 A Warm of fire not wanted
11 A love stronger than ice
12 The ice of eternal love
13 The fire that does not stop
14 The ice that does not consume
15 The soul to be charm
16 An eternity to love in ice
17 No energy, no health
18 Passion drives the Fire
19 No life, no death
20 The eternal Fire of ice
21 Come light my Fire
22 Set the ice on Fire
23 Let the ice be the Fire
24 Love, Passion, ice
25 The sun is not forever
26 Love, passion, ice

Forever Love
The Angel of God

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