Pizza and Justice For All

Pizza Bum$

Here come the Americans

Here come the victors

Here comes the military

With their fast food restaurants

Here come the brutish troops

Colonial history freedom fighters

Where once were vegetable gardens

Now poppies fill the fields

Golden arches climb ever higher

Best intentions pave the road to hell

Pharmaceuticals and satellite screens

Building hospitals on rubble

Scattered across an abandoned African landscape

Strewn in crowded rice fields of Southeast Asia

A million leaflets fall as vapours in a cobalt sky

Ambition drops food packages of federal dreams

A life securely wrapped in bubbles

Everywhere the plastic remnant touches

Reflected in the tiny tint of childhood’s eye 

Tattered limbs grasping wooden crutches 

Baby reaches for a shiny metal toy 

Left behind in a littered schoolyard

A present from those blinded wealthy 

Another plaything in the money markets

Brushes dust from ragged trousers 

Blows his little hand away

The clinic crawling with journalists

Evangelicals trailing radar drones 

Distant pixelated photographs

Three columns inch forward 

Cold leftovers and morning news

Kellogg’s with a gallon jug 

Just another article on the table

Thanks to a pizza bum 

That came and went

In puffs of grimy desert smoke 

No reason to return again

His sister stands shocked in awe

Dried flowers at her feet

Beside a grave along a filthy road

Drops salty tears in the dust

Emigrates to the other side

 The far side of the world

Marries a Yankee Doodle

Heroes for the cause

A pregnant pause

Buys a Chevrolet

Fills it with gasoline

Orders the spare parts

Now she has her pizza bum

She studied hard her brother would agree

Learned that language and chemistry

To do her part for future history

Gives herself to a pizza bum

In small town Stateside dreams

Wishing to return all that friendly fire

He beat the prisoners

Pissing on them when they were thirsty

Swinging chains and barbed wire

As festooned coronas

Thinking with homecoming eyes

Of his wonderful childhood

Full of freedom’s promise and surprise

The love of a saviour with bleeding feet

And gentle ways of mom’s apple pie sermons

Right hand covers a heart dedicated to a flag

Slinging hook and dirty looks at poorer souls

Each raised him up on Independence days

Hearts and minds are set in stone

Cut into the bark of family trees

The roots of evil spread like disease

When there’s innocent death
Out on the street

A nightmare echoes screams

The sleeper awakes

Yawns remembrance

Pours herself a cocktail

Nitrogen and butane

Everyone’s drunk from the same source

It’s mineral water and faith

Now the well’s run dry

All that’s left to gather home

Among the absent elements

Lodged in bone and brain

Shrapnel and terror

Is another surplus fragment

Of her pizza bum

*     *     *

Happy Christmas War is Over and all that .. this is a piece about revenge and the consequences of actions - it's the domino effect in flesh and blood .. salutations to another year of freedom and peace and justice all that .. Love.

Feed the World

This Little Grain of Rice

This little grain of rice

Matured through time

Could nurture a generation

Feed the world

This little grain of rice

Moist with healthy yearning

Cultivates injured landscapes

Spread across the earth by diffusion

Is welcome saviour to huddled masses

This little grain of rice

Buys guns and ammunition

Loads weapons with fuller bellies

Keeps troops marching over barren terrain

This little grain of rice

Sends men off to distant wars

Brings them home from killing fields

Nourishes those mighty dreams in children

This little grain of rice

Entices people to worship on knees

Build marble pillar gods

Isolates wits with ergot nightmares

Golden altars are built in homage to a granule

As men and women alike reach for the diminutive

That tiny moment of death that defines existence

This little grain of rice

Calmly awaits the tender storm

Sheltered with attentive conventions

Protected by a father’s stern warnings

Floats as cerise boat at the crack of dawn

This little grain of rice

Lifted from tiny plastic bags

Scattered as cathedral bells ring

Forms an umbrella over anxious brides

Becomes fertility symbol of marriage vows

This little grain of rice

Wrapped in thin defensive shield

Becomes the mother of our appetites

Once that succulent affection is released

From golden husk veiled in sweet essence

I rolled my tongue along its velvet pouch

Savoured the natural sweetness

Offering the flavour of hope

Invented a tasteful saccharine language

Left hungry for more

 This little grain of rice

Fertilised with love

Could have fed my world

Forever

*     *     *

Phantom Crews

Ghost Ship

She lives daily among the spirits of the past 
Crews boats along coasts of far forgotten islands

Pulls sails wide for strangers embarking on my dreams

The skeletons in her closet rattle memories

Old bones of dear departed assemble sculptures

Survey ghostly shadows as flesh and blood build dams

Playing a shanty tune on deserted decks for rum drams 
The one-eyed man navigates by orchestral winds

Silently he imagines hope to grant miracles

Hearts deafen the deathly rhythm from phantom drums

Existence flutters by watching diaphanous waves

Time never ceases for their shipwrecked life

*     *     *

Lil' Cherry Pie

Well-Endowed

 

I command my body

and offer flesh for truth

I control thought in my mind

belief is faith by honest proof

my soul can never be freely given

as like art this modest cherry tattoo

exists as memory of reasons for living

because my heart I forever endow to you

*     *     *

Homeward Bound

The HoBo Jungle 

His Icy stare kept me distant

Till the day I saw the Fear

Through a Blind Eye and a Blue Tear

Chuckie was sitting on the Brownstone steps

Had no Money, had no Job, had no Prospects

A patch on his eye
hit with a blunt Object

A gash on his Arm
Oozes blood across the Tracks ..
 

Railroaded! .. by a thousand Dreams
of

“You can make it Here boy
If you can make it There boy”
 

Better run on Home–boy .. Home is Gone?

No one cares? .. here .. have a drink Son.

 *

As a Union Flag rose
Over Cotton Southern skies

Powder tattered soldiers scattered as Dust

Dragged the dirt of the economic Debris

from setting Slaves free
Of the war of the Lincoln Years

Now Home boys, Homeward Bound

A dirt road Across the Tracks .. Downtown

Down Boy! .. There boy! .. Here boy!

Hoe boys!

Industrialisation, Family Separation

A bigger and Better Nation
Go west Young man .. go West!

The New Frontier to great green Coast

Loggers had come .. Lumberjacks to some

All flannel and Button fly Blue jeans

Build a New Home with your army beans

We’ll give you Tools .. You supply means

Axes slice into Raw Pine and Redwood giants

Of Kwiakutl land .. Soiling Salmon waters

In the Forest of Symbols

No Totem grows there Boy .. Here boy

Hoe boy! .. Tiiiimmbeerrr!!!
 

*

 
A Train whistle blows

Into a steaming town

business Booms

With thriving saloons

Rogues dressed up

In Bar room Brawls

every Saturday night

Square Dancing Fiddlers

call Gospel tunes

For Sunday morning sermons

Filled with the Spirit

Guilt built the town

Vandals .. scandals

and Money flows with Wine

The stark, Cold winter blows Ice
into Lonely hearts
up on Yessler Way

and the frozen, Greased cobblestones
Stretch down to the river,

which leads to the Mill, in Seattle,

at the bottom of the Hill

called Skid Row ..

Dried up with the dent of debt in the Docks.

Cowboy Culture

rounds up the buffalo

pulls an ace from a Stetson

calls it a Fool’s House.

No more new Frontier, no more work Here
No more Here boy, there boy, hoe Boy,
No more Homeward Bound

Now just Ho-Bo

*

Sepia toned newsreels
Winding breadlines

Unshaven, the depression era Tramp
Bindle stick over the shoulder
knotted Polka dot hanky on the end

Big Toe poking from a Two-Tone
Two sizes Too-small Boot ..

Out in the woods

just over the rusting Tracks

simmering Coffee in blackened Kettles

on boxcars’ Tiny kerosene stoves

rolling Fag end butts into Newsprint

the Rubber tramp’s vagrant vacant smile

cut thru society’s Dreams

to the emotional Bone

 
Meaty
modernist
Mass producer

Cigar chomping
Capitalist seducer

draws Small town Dreams

Big City schemes

big Screen Themes

to Sunset Showdowns

at the corner of Hollywood and Vine ..

Nothing left to Conquer

Nothing to Destroy
  no more Land to Ravage

no life Here Boy

There boy

Hoeboy

No more Home!

*

As the last rays of a copper Sun soured

the Dull Grey facade of the city skyline

a momentary Glint in Chuckie’s good eye

catches his Fading dream of hope

and with Creaking Spine he bends

for the discarded soda Pop can

With a pound of Aluminum,

twenty-six Tins in all,

Chuckie will earn

seventy-eight cents in change

from his Haggard old benefactress

who runs the Scrap metal Recycling centre

Churning the Old into the New

Turning the Past into the Present

a Salvage ..

for Dignity.

c. Kevin Wallace 1992-2011

Read more about this poem and the inspiration behind it by clicking this link:

'HoBo'

This piece is dedicated to Jay and Matt.

*     *     *

In Grand Style

Two Pianos

 

Two pianos sit idle in the corner of the room

Silent complements to gathering dust

Melodies once played by nimble fingers

Refrain commencing but for this mournful tune

Sunlight ripples across tarnished ebony veneer

Wire and winch bent and sprung so loose

Chipped ivory now appendages touch wood

Sounds of compositions none will ever more hear

Baby dreamt of one fine day to be fully grand
Superfluous chords will never again sing

Time takes toll on the sweetest of harmonies
Jingling keys locked the door on a practised hand

If these two pianos broken but learned with age

Could reverberate softly vibrato this air

A record of old songs they previously played

Hummingbird notes as once danced from the cage

The richness of creation an enchanting delight

Holds tranquil memories of fretful rehearsal

A childhood exhausted in front of sheet music

Torn snapshot moments forever in black and white

Days drag by toward their final evening’s glow

Slumbering stillness of an eloquent past

Damp and cold warped legs and glazed sheen

Wrinkled spine winters gone outside drifting snow

They occupied a place packed in antique ideals

Life itself enclosed in those wooden boxes

Lids now sealed heartfelt affair left unspoken

These two pianos that brought so much earlier joy

Will live in the heart after the pain of loss finally heals

*     *     *

*     *     *

Lazy Whispers

I Remember ..

You

Sadness

Happiness

Laughing alone

Wishing I were home

Tender midnight caresses

Diesel fumes in Glasgow rain

That hollow chime of distant bells

Rough grain of recently inked newsprint

A shadow crossing the path of two strangers

His warm hand clasping mine in genuine friendship

The rustle of dry leaves through a dense undergrowth

Spray of crashing waves along a secluded palm lined beach

Aroma of morning coffee breath that tastes of chocolate kisses

Cool water soaking through parched skin in the humid afternoon

Snow falling lightly across the pond on a crystal winter morning

Lazy whispers in a flowering field as honeybees gathered pollen

Fresh piquant sauces burning my throat with flaming chillies

Giving up dreams for a nightmare we once called home

That vacant gaze in the eyes of the inconsolable

Reading secret stories of ancient warriors

Praying for guidance in their garden

Walking in London after sunset

The smell of burning rubber

A deep blue in her eyes

Missing my children

Being thankful

Loneliness

Ecstasy

Me

 *     *     *

A Hopeful Kite

February

 A leaf of parchment

Scribbled with oaths

Words of worthless integrity

Blew from softened hands

A single dove

Fluttered carelessly

From the weakened grip

Of a chastened bride

Flew

Above the circling crowd

Lost itself amongst the shadows

Of gathering storm clouds

A hopeful kite

Of dramatic fragility 

 Caught a cruel wind

Loosened strings

 Freed old forget-me knots

Strew what memories remained

Across an anxious mass

Ribbons fell as butterflies

Seeking liberty

From tangled locks

Into the treacherous net

Your temperate bed

New with Monday dreams

Of eternity and frigid nights

As the breeze from the east

And the hard-boiled reality

Of the soft shell I tread upon

Paraded past

Hessian laughs

Dried ink dyed

Bubbled and cracked

Over barren time

Grew not

Within the womb

On another bitter day

In February

*     *     *

SAY IT IN ENGLISH!

Broken English

Hola merci elbette como estas the bag on my shoulder is still aquí

Marching to the beat of thirty thousand shoeless feet

My back is scorched the wind blowing as seasonal treat

Sucking lemons I tramp that beach to seek out local meat

Hungry as a beggar I wander aimlessly down a narrow street

Buenos dias s'il vous plaît ama truly dear seni değil biliyorum keen

Approaching a nearby produce vendor I point to the seat I wish
He nods in affirmation and smiles at my burgeoning visible anguish
While I try to decipher the scribbled menu board for a tasty local dish
Selecting several samples of a regional variety he thinks quite outlandish

Ciao mon amour glásnost' I’m uttering palabras in a helpless plea

I search for some useable currency in pouches and pockets
He shakes his head in consternation as the first notes he rejects
A mumbling typecast tourist I try speaking various unknown dialects
Looking dazed and confused dropping coins on a tray truly I’m perplexed

Un donero vielen dank no entiendo arkadaş what this could mean

Then laugh at myself too loudly because my voice echoes his projects

As his moustache wiggles while my tea swirls timidly in the glass

When he says unmistakably, “Friend, I can see your trouble

In this grand shopping arcade we call the outdoor market

But, we’re all modern here now everyone has a handle

On the ways of the world and its transition status

It really will be no big conversational scandal

If you make it easier for yourself today

When in Rome do as we Romans do

Your task you will accomplish

If you just go with the flow

Accept you don’t know

And say it twice in

Broken English.”

* * *

The Twisted Vine

Grape Leaves

Though it was twenty odd years ago still indecent
Memories of childhood the devil destroyed
The reason anger will never be buried
A scar runs deep through my soul

Everything and nothing has happened since then
Lost innocence the young lovers enjoyed
Along with hope dreams and promise
Here till my dead heart turns cold

Loneliness invited itself in

Time stopped being my friend

Alarm clocks ring in this head

Never to hear ticking again

While you’re drinking the best years from my mind

Think of habits that build from legal lies

The spill of a blush down the front of your dress

A reminder of the stain a grape leaves

Why this life of resistance is an intentional mess

Now I don’t drink but spring water
The bitterness of youthful cries
For the swine that trampled the garden
A conspiracy disguised as authority
Stealing the grain as a seed from distilled spirit
Leaves the acidic taste of a twisted vine

Autumn roses bloom amidst anguish
The vinegar of age stings my eyes
Barbed words of tenderness precious relief
Poison lilies now grow in our valley
Winds whistle thru tangled roots a grape leaves
To blow away sweetness rightfully mine

Sour thoughts tempered by pleasures
Growth stifled by pillows of pain
Heaven opens an omen at night as a thief
These are the memoirs a grape leaves
When ripe flesh is too weak for the fibre within
Never to be crushed to fine vintage wine

*     *     *

I Wanna Be George Clooney

I Wanna Be George Clooney

I don’t want to sell flowers on the street
I don’t wanna wear old saffron robes
Put plastic sandals on my feet
I don’t wanna sing songs under a tree
I don’t wanna be a spiritual Moonie
I wanna be George Clooney

I don’t wanna play football on a local team
I don’t want dry sand kicked in my face
Hope for a small town dream
I don’t wanna live in a tent by the sea
I don’t wanna be a guy who’s puny
I wanna be George Clooney

Star struck bum truck

Cleaning up the rich man’s muck

Hollywood Bollywood I’ll do whatever Dolly would

Flash car fast life

Alimony payment to my third wife

Uptown tinsel town I'll be a happy celluloid clown

I don’t want to be a man in an off the rack suit

I don’t wanna live in a suburban sprawl

Shucking corn for my daily loot

I don’t wanna beg on bended knee

I don’t wanna be a dust bowl Zuni

I wanna be George Clooney

I don’t wanna win a contested political seat

I don’t want to argue deals with lawyers

Vote on wars or take the heat

I don’t wanna enter a last minute plea

I don’t wanna be a raving loony

I wanna be George Clooney

*     *     *

Praising the Persian Pussy

Big Brown Eyes

Those big brown eyes
Those Persian eyes
Those big cat eyes
Glowing at me

Between her thighs

The Persian cries

From big brown eyes

Those glowing cat eyes

In the dark

Where she lies

Those big brown eyes

Smile at me

From unsealed lips

The stutter of cries

Tongue to the milk

Licks at silk

From in between

Those creamy thighs

The shuttered eyes

Those Persian eyes

Those dark cat eyes

Glow at me

Between the sighs

Of big cat cries

Those big brown eyes

Those stirring hips

The moistened lips

Between silken thighs
Those crying eyes
Those brown cat eyes
The big glowing eyes
The sigh from lips
That seal her cries
In opened eyes
Through shuddering thighs
Those Persian eyes
Those big cat eyes
Smile at me
Tell no lies
When I look up
From between her thighs
To gaze in to
Those big brown eyes


*     *     *