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Suburban Lovechild Poem
Of Beauty,
All I know is that it varies proportionally to the label on your jeans.
Of Physics,
All I know is I get up in the morning and fall down at night.
Of History,
All I know is what I can't see anymore is past, and what I'm afraid to see is future.
Of Music,
All I know is one man's Bach is another man's Zeppelin.
Of Stability,
All I know is that it's unstable.
Of Humor,
All I know is that it makes us realize what idiots we really are.
Of Economy,
All I know is that it's like a lobotomy.
Of Adolescence,
All I know is that it caused my parents to lose all of their brains.
Of Maturity,
All I know is that somehow my parents found them again, probably under the loveseat or something.
Of Cars,
All I know is that my stereo works.
Of Marriage,
All I know is that it's something my friends do occasionally.
Of Divorce,
All I know is that I could lose more than everything.
(1986)
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
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Suburban Lovechild Poem
Peering in the windows,
Of those lives I barely see,
Except when tokens are procured,
For rides, intermittently,
They look at me, I look back,
Nothing severed or taken,
My pith, unimpaired,
And by them, unmistaken,
Do they think that my life,
Should be transformed to theirs,
With foreign exclusions,
And tainted, quaint stares,
Their subtle indifference,
No case dares to appeal,
Embodies the essence,
Of a world they call real,
So they ask with green eyes,
Should I now switch with you,
Would that make my self-worth,
Somehow, progressively true,
I glance, to respond,
That neither is needed,
Because as tolerance failed,
Manipulation succeeded,
We both yearn to validate,
Our courses of being,
Amidst choices of learning,
And preferred ways of seeing,
For now, the windows are closed,
The Santa Anas, they're blowing,
And those lives which premiered,
Have no interest in showing,
We will then pause to wonder,
If the sill might be locked,
Therefore sealed from exposure,
And no chance to be mocked.
(12/30/01)
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
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Suburban Lovechild Poem
He or she does things in a particular way,
Without regard for possible dismay,
Not that failure is not on their mind,
They just bounce back as they continue to grind,
Some things work, others bomb fast,
But, there's no time to revel or dwell on the past,
The pot of gold is always in sight,
Sometimes it's clear as day or well hidden at night,
The sole motivator is freedom, galore,
And the ability, without reason, to search and explore,
Because one thing is apparent, above all else,
They'll be damned if they make money for somebody else.
(6/20/93)
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
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Suburban Lovechild Poem
I know, I know.
For some of you people, it's hard.
You have no choice.
Your parents didn't teach you any better.
If at all.
If you had any parents to speak of.
And the crowd you run with is worse than you.
So, in conclusion...where would you go to know.
Where would you learn to grasp the courtesy, the decorum.
The bourgeois sense of civility somehow afforded to the rest of mankind.
You wouldn't.
You didn't.
And there you are.
Flapping.
Flapping that big-ass mouth of yours.
Into your spittle-loving smart phone.
Spewing and flailing.
Mewing and assailing.
With everyone within earshot (read: a thousand nautical miles) absorbing your golden renderings.
Renderings filled with more primal, guttural nonsense than a naked mute, set on fire, playing charades.
More monologue than dialogue.
A demagogue with a catalog.
And then you finish your call.
And start another.
More nonsense about someone else we don't give a **** about.
And then you finish.
You go silent.
There's hope for us.
When all of a sudden.
The earbuds go in.
And the singing begins.
In tune, then out.
(Insert meaningless rap dribble and delicious mcnuggets of profanity HERE)
I guess naked mutes like karaoke.
The train arrives.
We all depart.
There is a G-d.
(5/6/14)
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
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Suburban Lovechild Poem
Perched near the bend
where Sunset slides
From infamy to ecstasy
I watch the summer roll
and stroll, as the parade
of cars, stars and those
hiding within themselves
Fuel the sun to ensure
Its on-time for its casting couch
audition with the all-hands blue sky
and tainted orange-red cousins
looking to turn an LA trick
into thin air
Sex bleeds inadvertently
with each smile, tush, rack and package
willing to come out and play
youth is eternal
Whether you're undergraduate or overfortunate
Slick shades hiding the clear and present
danger fit for the unintended consequences
waiting down the Boulevard
its Summer
its Sunset
And dreams are in store.
(8/13/13)
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
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Suburban Lovechild Poem
It wills faceless principles
For the appeasement of whom
We wish sometimes we didn't know
The shallow deluge reaps
Happy means, thorns
And righteousness bundled
Snug in a wrap
Ready to serve beyond
Apprehension and reinvention
The ornery masses
I in mid-pack alignment, soothed
They are now allowed to scorn
Who they choose
Without retribution
Accounted for or scored upon
This day will stand
Among them
Among them all
For the moments share potential
And the empty destinies
We plan for the trip ahead
Now recline to the music
Of the day's splendor
The tingling millisomethings
Eager to mule for the chance
At the big time
Toil mule toil
Knowing the sinister mendings
Of your glorified unintentions
Will glow unabashedly
For all to rise up in furor
The care cannot persist
For lords and laws
Always see things
In unscrupulous ways
Those darned nether-enders
Of fictitious regard towards
Descendants not their own
Don't they know the finale
Brings oral brilliance
To trump the future
And all muddying the nascent present
In the angelic reserve
In the ideal that circumstances
Imagined and post-facto
Will tarry all
To relinquish
Time enough to breathe.
(10/26/07)
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
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Suburban Lovechild Poem
Art student or dashing sleek lass
Which are you
Which do you yearn to be
Or like me
A serenity seeker
Addicted to temporary loneliness
Wade in this airy temple
Where doom disappears
And escapes arrive between the ears
The inexplicable tricks that
Post-modernism can play
On a ragged psyche
So Lassie, I salute you
Honk, err, sigh
If you feel the same.
(5/6/10)
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
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Suburban Lovechild Poem
An unusual thing,
The Perpendicular X,
Just a symbol to most,
Filled with meaning and fortitude.
It tells people in motion,
Judgment is protocol,
Logic and sense, if ignored,
Could lead to a quadrilateral stigma.
To humans in despair,
Hope and righteousness, it possesses,
True, only in the mystical sense,
We know society's smarter than that.
In the world of format,
It's used as additive,
Trying to make something larger than it really is,
Now, is this necessary?
The simple intersection of,
Two indefinite slashes,
Separates the dumb and the smart,
Unfortunately, also the devoted from the ignorant.
(7/84)
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
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Suburban Lovechild Poem
Down under
Asunder
There's worlds of wonder
Where etiquette
Meets surrogate
And the dress code's
Downright Confederate
Slithering among creepy crawlers
That descend from the
Heavenly puke-encrusted abyss above
Known as Hollywood Blvd
I lower myself
Literally
Metaphorically
Into puddles of
Absentee-orchestrated nausea
I wear the badge
Singed onto calluses
Coated with despair
Flavored with bacteria's black-dead cousins
There's more honor to own
When you don in early light
Here ye, shall this journey commence
This rue-faced, Taliban-tingling tale of whoa
Give birth to the frenzy of the many
Here the ride shall be
Realized
Commoditized
Ostracized
By mere plaintiffs
Who sue themselves
Because the stakes are higher
And the risks cease to be true
Together we forge ahead
Teamwork knows no bounds or prescriptions
When it's one-on-one-on-everyone
Then the voice of gawd scats
His incoherent mix of
Lazy blues and blatant misinformation
Notifying the hungry denizens
It's time to get out
It's time to get on
Its time to get off
And off again
If necessary
It's always necessary
And so we flee
For better lives
For better days
For nothing happens until
You decide to rise above
And get jiggy with the sun.
(3/5/15)
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
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Suburban Lovechild Poem
Everything has a fee,
Nothing on Earth's for free,
There is no relation,
Without compensation,
Unless it's just me versus me.
Something always involves cost,
From breathing to auto exhaust,
Imagine, people mating,
Without use of call waiting,
Millions of yen would be lost.
Even intangibles hold value,
A smile from the wind, a song on the bayou,
If you yell at your spouse,
Well, there goes the house,
The true meaning of "I do, I do".
Life is a pay-per-view event,
Due to our voyeuristic intent,
We can't cross the street,
To keep matters discrete,
All we have is fiscal repent.
(3/8/90)
Copyright © Suburban Lovechild | Year Posted 2015
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