Money can buy friends
even illusion of love.
Paul and John had it
all wrong and
found out the hard way,
how bleak it can get
when it became evident
that their loves were in
it for the
If those chaps fell for
this regular trap, none are
free, few find true love,
to yearn, scream, cry, grunt:
Alone in a full
room, drunk on sadness, stoned on
venom made of their
inability to love.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2010. 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.
Single Currency Theory
The racial flow, still imperfect, puts most on edge here
in L.A. Jews and Gentiles huddle in “richville,” but
Bloomingdales and Macy’s crowd with a four-way mix
of Koreans, rap stars, Spanish speakers and stressed out
white folks who either don’t have the nerve to be kind
to strangers, or shop the big tickets, knowing collapse is
one trade-day away (but which day?). The economic divide
could collide if rich turn poor, grocery trucks hijacked
and guns replace compassion in the latter-day depression.
So sing while you can, scare viewers into the tip jar of
street performers who remind you that by break-dancing
they are not robbing your home. Come crash time, the wine
sippers will hustle dollars too, but how? Food delivery is
my guess. Safe, clean food delivered to your gated palace
in a time when even growing food may require armed guards:
should be a valuable service for those with money to spare.
If there were only a benevolent group that could be trusted to
switch us to a one-currency world with one minimum wage,
say twelve bucks and hour, and a Chavez style reprioritization
of both crops and housing. If implemented, this might prevent
the crash of 2015. Gulls dance on garbage heaps. Open lots
in East Los Angeles harbor rats and desperados, scream a
warning no one hears. Look, there’s a rotting book: “Canary
Row,” now sporting touristas unprepared for upcoming disaster.
Copyright, Doug Stuber, 2007. 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.
Conjure (all five meanings)
When dogwoods bloom and smell,
The river takes old lovers down
Under I-81 and into town
Where railways roll the coal to
Market. Almost heaven, tolls a bell.
A marriage marches ‘cross a field
Katrina laughs at David’s smile.
This is made up, you can tell,
But it will last, so last a while
As we sneak back to the cornmash well.
There is a guitarist on Hardy’s hill
Who serenades his one true love.
He flat-picks tunes and sings by choice
A raspy song in a southern voice.
If you hear him once, come back you will.
Her hair dances above bare feet
She takes pleasure in the heat
That lingers outside farmhouse walls.
The next time that we happen through
Don’t be surprised if we call on you.