Asheville 2000

Asheville 2000

Some men they walk on Montford
Some women walk on clay
Some come here seeking comfort
Some come to laugh and play.

No one gets through without working
But you can drop really far
Some people come to fight it
For rent they sell their car.

There end up a crop of crack whores
And a slew of hippies too.
None of them mow their lawns now
None of them own shampoo.

They have their freckled babies
They work at the whole-earth store
They publish alternative weeklies
They preach to the same crowd, bored.

Then the police department
With nothing better to do
Comes out to bust heads open
Asheville’s darkest blue.

The rift here goes back a long way
The loggers and the Vanderbilts
Those with the money on one side
And those with the stills and quilts.

So here come a bunch of craftsmen
And a load of ne’er do wells
Some find a form of heaven
Some find a brand new hell.

The coal fired plant over yonder
It spews a terrible stench
And then when the cars come visit
Bele Chere is an ugly mess.

So drink up ye merrie masons
Drink ’til your livers rot
Marvel at the Deco buildings
Visit Tom Dula’s plot.

Richie sings of a new beginning
This better be more than a trend
You started a new idea
Now see it through to the end.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2000. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Gospel

Gospel

Here in Durham, where muggings proliferate
And the poor outnumber Dukies eight to one,
A sad state is balanced by the gospel according
To Shirley. Shirley Ceasar that is. She’s a
Firebrand, a well-documented star and
A preacher in her own church. This town

Needs her too. Shootings are up, crime
Surrounds NCCU, a school whose proud
Eagle must feel like flying away most days.
Meanwhile the computer jockeys rake in
Millions and towns like Chapel Hill cater to the
Rich, and their children at “snooty U.”

So sing Shirley sing, let your voice ring out,
Get the aisles dancing, re-teach us to shout!

 

 

 

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2000. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Mentally Homeless: Or Which comes First, Mental Illness or Homelessness?

Mentally Homeless
Or
Which comes First, Mental Illness or Homelessness?

We’re out on the streets fighting the cold
Wondering what tomorrow will hold
When what to our bloodshot eyes should appear:
Ten more policemen, 20 more fears.

So this is democracy, American style
Some make it rich, some stand to file
For a type of relief that never shows
‘Cause there’s no place for the check to go.

So, until you can afford a place of your own,
You can’t get help, one mind blown.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2000. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Orange County Homes

Orange County Homes

The best have lived here, and the worst
And now the dome is going to burst
Because so many insist on moving in,
Because life here gives easy wins

To those who previously lost
Or prospered less. Oh, the cost
To what was once such pretty land:
It’s now carved up for homesteads, grand.

But what when million dollar homes
Subtract from deer that used to roam?
And how about the food we eat,
Can we plant some on your street?

You say “no” and “go away,”
So could you please tell me where I can stay?

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2000. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Sparse October

Sparse October

Glare penetrates at autumn angles.
Hillsborough’s warmth persists: drought
Does not discriminate. It looks like your
Typical colorburst fall, but leaves this dry
Disintegrate to dust, no bonfires needed.

Here, where suburbs sprawl, front porches
Matted, where thousands of gallons of water
Are sprayed to keep what once was lush forest
Green. Where clay, now so dusty it reddens
Windows, splints shins after two miles of hike.

It’ll take more than compost to veggie garden
This back lawn: a full load of topsoil from
A distant state, atop a load of dry whoop-ass
Distributed evenly over earth, now so solid
That digging is futile. Sparse October, while

Others are harvesting we slug to the store
Buying organic broccoli, miso concoctions,
Seven grain bread, to keep our half-spent
Bodies in youth, now long gone. No shovel
Can humanly dig into this earth. You work

So we eat, we eat and are fed, you work the
Last fields, we eat and are fed, you plant the
Genetics, we eat and are fed, you rise up to
Greet the dust bowl, and we are not fed. We
Have no place to plant our veggies this year.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2000. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

KC and the Thanksgiving Prayer

KC and the Thanksgiving Prayer

I gave a thanksgiving prayer to a new family I met near Asheville.
I got twigs and built a triangle (the three goddesses: corn, squash and
beans) and a square (the four directions: North – Winter and cleansing,
East: Spring and beginnings, South: Summer and warmth, West: Fall
and remembrances. The triangle sits above the square, because it is the
women who feed us.

You start in the square facing West and, while turning right for each
new direction, say:

We salute you for your wind and fresh new sky
We salute your wonderful people and cleansing snow
We greet the day with dreams to labor by
We salute your sun and love and fun and go

To green mountains, cold river by the leaves
Of Rhododendron bushes, tall black trees.
A new friend of mine now believes,
Captured by spirits she feels by doesn’t have to see.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2000. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

UNC Graduation

UNC-CH Class of 2000

Here’s to the Class of 2000, just a few months to go,
Just a few more rehearsals, before the new drama will show
That no one leaves as they came, no one can stop the cheers,
No one escapes the lunatic fringe without new tunes in their ears.

Some of us slink quite unnoticed, others, flamboyant arise,
But who can give up being students without a tear in their eyes?
So ask the ridiculous question, grab for the mate of your dreams,
Try to make fools of the lecturing tools in this well-oiled machine.

Since May now beckons like Haywood, wide open underneath,
Take all that you can from this old stand of flowering Dogwood trees.
No time now to brush your teeth, or pick up your dirty room
Laugh in the face of the preachers who preach the economics of doom.

Some go to the Cave, 506, Linda’s, The Skylight, The Cradle or Hell,
You better get up and go somewhere before they ring the last bell.
The days are full of tests, recitals, or lugubrious papers to write,
But statistics show the time you glow is from 10 to 3 at night.

So flip this page of blathering and follow the directions, my dear,
You wouldn’t want to miss the very best show of the year.
And one more time before the line of square caps starts to form
Do something only students can: break away from the corporate norm.

Good Luck & Peace.
The Gadflies
Chapel Hill NC 27514
Our Next Show is Friday March 10th: Trace Gallery, next to the Pour House on Blount, Raleigh.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2000. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Jesus is a Liberal

Jesus is a Liberal

Jesus Christ would not be proud
To see religion in this state. (Virginia that is.)
TV evangelists preach a canon of intolerance.
Jesus never expected people to hate in his name.

Building amusement parks in homage to God
Makes as much sense as waging war for Christ.
A god who attracts such diverse attentions
Is not a nice god or even a holy god.

He must be the god of money, or,
The god of land acquisition, or, perhaps
Even the god of death. Now that should
Set bells ringing in your bible-belt ears.

The god of death destroys life and love,
The god of death is worshipped in Lynchburg.

This Poem first appeared in “the Muse,” Edited by Ilya Kaminsky, 1997, Rochester, NY

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1999. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Major Tony Nelson

Major Tony Nelson

Tony took off, just like Ed, before he
Had a chance to say good-bye. Ed’s
Back in Roanoke; Tony’s looking for a
Place to stay, a place to be at peace.

Tony helped us move this week. He’s
A hard worker. Still, tough to hang on to
Jobs when the competition is so fierce.
People shoot to get dish-washing jobs. Few
Urban jobs pay a living wage. Especially
If you don’t count living with rats as living.

Tony needs a piece of cake today, maybe
A blunt tomorrow. Burned curbs close
In on parochial paranoia. Narrow steps
Keep squeezing. Tony needs a hand. He’s
A hard worker. They took his keys and
Kept his belongings. Tony’s a hard worker.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1999. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Atlanta

Atlanta

Buckhead offers twelve-dollar sandwiches,
Parents lunching their children on Saturday:
Straight from Beemer to deli to Emory to evening
Wedding to Benz to kids at lunch on Peachtree.

North Peachtree, where you can’t quite see the smog
Thanks to trees and art and tacky bars. Southern
Culture on the skids, but not outside this deli, where
Leaves tumble with Dr. Brown’s Cream Soda cans.

All I can think of is you: hamburgers and organic
Bananas, juices, never soda, and a complete
Satisfaction. Money doesn’t earn these deli-dippers
The satisfaction you have. Inner peace even.

You cook after volunteering, after the kids are
Down for the night. You go there and back then home
To ride your bike to work. Teach me how to calm
Myself won’t you? One point at five points:

There is no chemistry to teach the zen you have.
Perfect weather makes yellow leaves stand out.
Small winds coerce more travel. Sharp shadows
Waver. One beacon lures me home to paint autumn.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1999. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Back in Chapel Hill

Back in Chapel Hill

The trees have survived. Sugar Magnolias still
Surround Morehead Planetarium. Morehead
Planetarium, where the motto is: “you too can
Have fun while learning about the stars.”

Then you stroll in the drizzle with an old friend
And you quaff half a pitcher of iced teas with a
Grilled cheese served by a waiter who has
Haunted the “Rat” for some 50 years. 50 years.

This lady, who is connected to your cosmic trip
By the loose string of a dinner-party invite
Now calmly welcomes you to her town.
The sly nomad in your eye accepts. You’ve got

Three count them three months to make peace
In Rochester. You’re invited to a party . . .

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1999. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Badlands

Badlands

One bumpy flight over the impeachment state
And before you know it, you’re sucking oranges,
Your friends freeze, your mail piles, your art rusts.

This is the year that should decide the fate
Of the world we created in the media age.
Now we know it’s better not to know.

Since everything is news, what atrocity can cause
Us to care? Fewer left to resist the force-feeding
Means corporate controls the entire show.

Can computers outrun the mind police?

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1999. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Suck Butts

Suck Butts

Suck Butts Cafe hired a “Dead Flowers” singer.
He looks like a frat boy and sings flat.
Others stay back in line, some are fingered
While the black hole of folk strums donning a hat.

Mushrooms waft from a garlicked pan:
Bespeckled gentlemen ponder sloppy chords.
One fine lass, upholstered black and tan
Sucks a stirring stick before heading out the door.

Rockers should not be allowed to steal the stage
Where folkers normally play.
Love’s in vain when all you do is rage
Won’t you stop to listen once today?

No; yellow tinged orange leaves make a better friend
When Nino blows an 80 degree day
Here in October. Two months before the nomad sends
A new address from down Dean Dome way.

Dare I pack it in, just to volunteer?
Will this illusion create a better chance
To spend a week or two living without fear?
Or, at least, provide a place to dance?

“Who knows.”

 

 

 

 

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1997. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Baltimore,

Baltimore,

Healthy again, springs new bricks.
Damp December finds elbow-patched
Yarmulke-wearing doctors running from
Paca to Greene Street. Gulls and sparrows
Spin, weighted by rain. A cane

Taps the ground in front of your left
Foot. Silent Camden reminds me
You saw the O’s in ’94. Ruben left
For San Diego, but Waters laps it up,

Records moving postcards, driving
Most locals batty, while family landmarks,
Those spinning plastic windmills, spin.
Blue flamingoes, pencil-thin mustache style,

Dot the row-houses behind
Three-foot chicken-wire fences.
Three photographs reflect orange
Snow fences. No snow yet this
Year. Warm December lights flicker.

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1999. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.

Lecture #64: Chess as Music

Lecture #64: Chess as Music

A phallic gnome, of carved wood
Entices our open-mike diva: Fiona Tightslot.
She fondles it and returns to the coffee bar.
Some dude with a steadycam is here to film a promo.

The Skylight Exchange is home, each Wednesday,
To a chess club, an open mike, and more pretentious
Clang-heads than a book store has a right to. Tonight
Finds an inundation of youth (12 and under) in

Mondo-Korean clear glass eyewear. Tuners
Light up the Winter night; veggie Ruebens
Deliver tangible nourishment, as chessmen linger,
Applauding Dr. Oakroot’s set between blitzes.

Best crowd of the new term. No tests yet, and
New duds to show. Someone scats, flat but
Funny. Butt-weary cello-toters saw world-class
Sonatas to a crowd more suited to Prine bluegrass.

“In a pawn-rook endgame, do not forget to place
Your rook behind your opponent’s passed pawns.”
Well, the musicians have their own version: “never
Grab a groupie unless she’s a backup singer too.”

Copyright, Doug Stuber, 1999. Unauthorized use and/or duplication of this material without express and written permission from this blog’s author and/or owner is strictly prohibited. Excerpts and links may be used, provided that full and clear credit is given, and with appropriate and specific direction to the original content.