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COFFEE
       HOUSE 
       BLUES


I am
in the A.M.
Am I ?
I think I am!

It is A.M.
in the coffee house
down on MacDougal
down the stairs
behind closed doors
another world
enclosed
close quarters
your last 
nickel and dime
exchanged,
for a last
cup of Joe. 
It is a brownstone.
Broken bricks 
enclose 
broken lives
broken hearts
broken promises
broken dishes
broken pockets 
with broken holes.

We are in a hole,
a hole in the ground 
tonight,
am, in the A.M.

Tonight A.M.
I am more am now 
than ever,
though surrounded
by sterile pealing 
cement walls
man-made, 
with no heart
no soul 
no dream 
of what results.

Just slabbed together 
by ignorant slobs
working 
to make a living 
in this hellhole 
of a city
they call 
New York,
the center 
of the world
the center 
of the Universe
the Big Apple
the big appeal
the big pile 
of  and piss,
the place of dreams
the life force 
of hope.

Huh, what a joke,
put in your sorry souls
by Corporate Kings
fat ugly stodgy 
stogy smoking
stupid law making 
stupid law breaking
sexually perverted 
slimy slobs,
who make sick sauce 
out of us peons, 
and then pee on us,
while laughing 
all the way 
to the Big Brother bank
banking our dreams 
with their sleazy smiles
and their filthy 
pee green 
greedy hands.

Under these bricks 
and slabs

of false man-made 
micro-worlds
of flowing java rivers,
I feel more real 
in the A.M. night,
than in the daylight pace
of the city rat race 
to pay my soul
to the corporate face.

I am
in the A.M.
at 2 in the A.M.,
when phony beats 
have left
with their pick-up whores 
for the night.

I am
more real 
more soul 
more me
more feel 
more 
more am
in the A.M.

The remains 
of the night 
are here,
the real Beats, 
to beat their rhythm,
in drums 
and flutes 
and strings 
                 and words
                 the real words,
                 the words of life,
                 of the real life.

                 These are 
                 my brothers,
                 the ones 
                 that remain
                 at 2 A.M.
                 we are
                 we am
                 we jell
                 we mell
                 we mix 
                 we become 
                 conscious,
                 super conscious.
                 We are One.
                 We won
                 the rubber duck 
                 of life and soul.
    
                 We are 
                 the Know Ones.
                 We are 
                 No One,
                 the ones
                 who know,
                 know the Truth
                 know our souls
                 our real self
                 the self of fools
                 who fool 
                 ourselves.

            No.
We know
we are nowhere
aware
Where?
Where?
here
Here?
What do I do here?
What do I hear?
here
Hear?
Hear the man 
up there?
Up Where?
Up in the Universe?
Up on the stage 
in the coffee house
exposing himself,
his heart 
his soul
to you
to me.
It is real.
Is it real?
It is fine.
It is final.
We are real.
We are oh is fine.
We are oh so final.
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