A kraken with red wings
Arrived in town, claiming a talent to sing
Lions roared with delight
Wanting to see, such an entertaining frozen water sight
Tigers seemed all right
Knowing their King was in the spotlight
Showing gridiron might
“You may need a rod and reel
That is how a mariner would deal
With this monstrous catch
In the oceans the fisherman needs to fetch”
Watching the seahawks
Stalk
The fishes
With wishes
Accompanied by tartar sauce dishes
Lions got into their car
Left the motor city bar
Engine pistons spewing flames
Supersonic attitude instigating power playing games
Deep into the night air
A Friday night audience relaxed enjoying the affair
Preparing for a scare
That could turn Jay Blue
Challenging the Canadians ‘are you through?”
No matter which two
Find the winning score
Belting one out having the American championship floor
Another season opens its doors, as the
Gridiron giants are ready to now play.
As once again, millions will have their withdrawl
Symptoms subside...seriously, they'll be gone in a day.
So as Summer begins to fade, into those glorious
Autumn Sunday & Monday nights, and all those lights.
Where fame and fortunes are on display,
And gladiators rise and fall among the fights.
For those disinterested, there is hope, as this
Compulsion, will only last a score & four weeks or so.
When after one super-manic Sunday, the withdrawl
Begins again, and those afflicted, won't outgrow.
Soft spoken like Charmin
The earth is down to you
You'd sacrifice the clothes off your body
in a winter storm
Forever putting yourself out of the photo
Loyal to snakes
Spearhead in your spine
future bright as a lit billboard at 2 a.m.
all for $2000
Now you live among rapists, murderers
talking only within
Came out of the closet to me
and strictly me
Regret fills lungs like butterflies
My oldest friend
Dreamt of being a pioneer
We sucked ideas from each others brain
World conquerors together
Helped Mrs. Stalworth with 1000 groceries
Taught the slow boy to double knot
This is not your destiny
You befriended me when I was fresh meat
Orchestrating fundraisers in our minuscule community
Catching game winning TD’s
Unstoppable on the field
Nicknamed sticky hands on the gridiron
Now off it too
What changed, pal?
Times get rocky
you taught me that
Why can’t you take your own advice?
Frustration boils like magma
Secrets deteriorate a person
like battery acid
Why didn't you confide in me?
Heroin destroys like tornados
My heart full of glass and impotence
I could have helped you, brother
I'm sorry I let you fall
off that never ending cliff
As the Ghost of Gasperella watched from his perch
He was drenched from his pants to his shirt
But before the gridiron battle ended and the Knights still had the mission to be defended,
In the bowl game that was dealing with conditions that were a messing
There was one more question that needed a dressing,
On this day looking for talent at their best
At stake was the spread that determined who would go home with the treasure chest
Having one last chance the herd could steal the money
During a game where the weather was supposed to be warm and sunny,
Strategically sending a fling the herd threw a bomb that might have hit the King.
Only problem was there was a Knight there to intercept this act of might.
With nothing more to say
The knights added to the score which made them take home the gold before Christmas Day.
In conclusion when it does rain
Do as the Ghost of Gasperella did and enjoy the game
That was really a final exam for those searching for fortune and fame.
One summer I fell in love with Popeyes chicken and Barqs root beer.
Lusted over a Mexican rose in the crumbling flat upstairs.
In the daytime I moved furniture and shuffled dreams.
Come eve I'd slouch in the aluminum bleachers aside the gridiron.
Merrily gorging and drinking...though quite alone.
Happy in the glorious simplicity.
Tossing silver cans and bird bones between hash marks.
Wiping greasy fingers on the stars...
Basking in the sweet scent of irony...
You see, in high school I secretly hated jocks,
They'd flaunt those sparkling letters and harvest all the pretty girls.
I flaunted F's and got their leftovers.
Now they were getting mine.
Many moons later,
My lips still crave those cold silver cans with little red barrels.
Remembering the silhouette of a rose in a crumbling upstairs flat.
Some things are never meant to be opened...
The front of Fall,
When ice is close,
As the season ends,
That's Baseball.
On home ice
The puck is shot and scored,
That's Hockey.
The Gridiron clashes
With school lads or men
That's Football.
Weather will change
As daylight begins to shorten
At the Front of Fall.
Opposing players join the gridiron in the valley of the sun
They feel the tension of the battle that is yet to come.
A calm then descends the playing field and the painted desert sky
Our team the Arizona Cardinals take to the field ready to fly.
The Red Sea awakens erupting in a flash of brilliant light
Opponents understand its nature and the power of its might.
The Red Sea’s voice trembles like thunder to the masses
It is alike a rolling storm except the Red Sea’s voice never passes.
Within the Sea is a roaring wind and voices everyone shall hear
This Red Sea affects all opponents causing them to dread and fear.
Opposing players look at the Red Sea eyes wild, faces pale
Their hopes and efforts already dashed, these teams shall indeed fail.
The waves of the Red Sea are livid as nothing controls it path
The Red Sea lifts the Cardinals to victory opponents shall feel its wrath.
Summer's nearly over,
Fall's around the bend;
Fire up the family grill,
Football's back again!
Call up Uncle Benny,
Bring Aunt Lucy too;
Don't forget the "doggies",
We've got lots of brew!
Popcorn's on the table,
Burgers on the bun;
"SHUT UP EVERYBODY!!"
The game's just begun!
Grandpa's on the sofa,
Fiddlin' with his crotch;
Grandma's in limbo,
Staring at her watch!
Benny's passin' gas,
Aunt Lucy's joining in;
We make a hasty exit,
Departing from our den!
In the living room we sit,
Wrapped up in the game;
Here comes Uncle Benny,
With a rather silly claim!
"They won't shut up talkin!"
"Can I sit in here with you?"
The game's gettin' good,
Then grandpa walks in too!
Between the fiddlin' and fartin',
I think we're getting sick;
Something's gotta happen,
And it's gotta happen quick!
A bar down the way,
Alone on Maple Street;
Halftime's nearly over,
It's time to retreat!
Among screaming fans,
The QB throws a pass;
It's football season, baby!
Let's have ourselves a blast!
Gridiron gods
Pacing in emerald-floored coliseums
Waking wounded warriors
Painted on sacred Sunday mornings
Grizzled generals
Directing drives of galloping glory
Battering bastions of blitzkrieg behemoths
Crouched in jagged lanes of motoring backs
Electric crowds
Struck by flashes of dazzling receptions
Lightning bolts intercepted mid-sky
Abruptly grounded by crackling hits
Fourth quarter
Goal line knuckles and sacked ribs
Ruptured faces oozing pigskin sweat
As seconds scrape against the will of men
You are in the lights,
Parents in the stands.
Is this your night?
Well, that depends.
You are the star,
Everybody needs you.
You did your part,
But now you're black and blue.
It's not coming back,
You have to let it go.
You get so much flack
Because they just don't know.
You can't go on.
You feel so horrible.
It's hard to be done.
You were so hopeful.
HUT-20-19-39!!! Hut!
Between the quarterback and walls
of solid muscles, breath it stalls,
defensive backs are rushing for
the aiming pass, an act of war
exploding gridiron, what a mess,
the flag is thrown, 5 yards, I'd guess.
The line is made, on thirty eight
the ball is snapped a little late,
first down is missed, so punt the ball
and let it lay where it may fall.
Offensive line comes in again
with grunts and groans and primed to win!
With twenty seconds left to play
a pass complete, no more to say
less than a yard--to go to win
and so they rush and put it in.
The extra point is made as planned,
this game's not meant to understand.
Just mess things up, the best you can.
Peasants of the Playbook
You’re peasants of the playbook
Yet you think you know the reason
For the failure of the team
That does the best it can this season
And, massing in the mews
You’ve raised the mewl to a mew
Questioning the mastery
Of a coach as good as two
By what method do you meter
The mettle of this man
He coaches and he councils
And he does the best he can
With material you’ve provided
He’s positioned at the mandrel
Where he hammers out their character
It’s more than you could handle
Your mantle flounces flutter
When subjected to such folly
Your seething is better served
If you’d support the coach, by golly
It’s then we’ll see the sextant
Guide the gridiron guild to glory
And add a happy chapter
To this teams’ historic story
I believe,
therefore I breathe
the collective id down at
the mall.
Salvation in the actions of
our gridiron greats,
our pro golfers,
our game show cops,
our East Village actors,
our runway planes of even beauty
that some how forgives me,
bodes me on a raft of commerce
through this J.C. Penny moment...
This...
Jacket, a 42 Regular.
Like my octane
like my system's timings;
a structure in harmony with the spheres,
the sages,
the rock of ages: Manna
from the radio...
sustenance,
driven....through dreams and slants,
the clouds occluded,
a pair of matching pants included.
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