• Peace Poems,  Poetry

    Peace will Come – International Day of Peace

    In honor of the International Day of Peace, making a special post for this. I wrote these words as part of my contribution to La Familia: Peace will come the day we forget how to drop the bombs or make the guns, When we get along underneath the same old sun, Singing songs in holy unison no matter where we’re from, Yes, peace will come. Peace will come. Pray before the day is done. My friend, Fred Ross-Perry was inspired by them and expanded it into these lyrics, and the song: Peace will come, and it won’t be long When we forget how to drop the bombs When we forget…

  • tea and sprockets
    Poems from the book Tea & Sprockets

    Oh, my Chameleon Perceptions

    Grey, with fellow Enid musicians Steven Harwood and Mike Harbour, turned four of my poems (Perceptions, Chameleon, Unexnon, My My) from my first book Tea & Sprockets into this song which will appears on Grey’s latest album, Booze & Psychedelics. Click here to listen if the embed doesn’t appear. Below are the four poems that make up the lyrics to the song. Perceptions Lying in the leaves, Music flowing through her bones, Thoughts, ideas swell inside, Visual creation. It needs no explanation. Springtime day at noon, Life begins to bloom, Kicking stones straight down, Laughing now. She’s such a clown. World is ending. She cares not. Life blooms on. That’s…

  • Oklahoma Poems,  Poems from the book Id Biscuits,  Poetry

    East Maine Noms

    East Maine Noms In the downtown of Enid– that’s my old home town– stands a hungry railroad bridge of great renown. He’s 11’4″ from his teeth to the ground. If you’re a trucker you best avoid East Maine Street, because that old bridge is after a treat. He’ll open you up like a can of sardines, because for the noms, he’s quite keen. He’s chewed on a cookie truck– followed by a soda truck to wash it all down. It doesn’t matter if your cargo’s edible. He’s got a taste for yummy scrap metal. His teeth are ready to chomp on down. Most bridges say, “Don’t feed the troll,” but…

  • look ma no hands
    California Poems,  Poems from the book Look Ma No Hands,  Poetry

    Parked on the Bay

    Parked on the Bay We found the best parking spot in the universe. on the edge of the bay in Berkeley. The sunlight glistens across the waters as the sailboats proclaim freedom. The rush of the city is visible in the distance, and we are directly across from the Golden Gate, viewing the chain links that tie this broad community: From the city of my dreams, to the city of my Jewish soul, to the beaches of my inner explorer, to the epic Mecca of hippiedom, to the city of protests, to the city where I occupied, to the city of opportunity, to the wine fields and the growing grass,…

  • abundant sparks and personal archeology
    Peace Poems,  Poems from the book Abundant Sparks & Personal Archeology,  Poetry

    Plowshares

    Today’s prompt was to write a poem of lies. Yes, these are all, unfortunately lies, but oh, what a world if true. Plowshares I awoke this beautiful morning to witness an amazing sight. The nations have laid down their arms. Their peoples will no longer fight. The evil dictator tyrants died of heart attacks, mysteriously overnight. The swords have been beaten to plowshares. The guns, museum pieces now. The nukes have been dismantled. The tanks have rusted down. Estranged lovers and parents with children long since left, now embrace their differences, and hold tight to each others breast. On this day no innocents died. The children are all healthy. On…