Tag Archives: achievement

Heaven or Las Vegas

for Elvis Presley

Well, the coroner he figured
no one’s hand was on the trigger,
so there really wasn’t anyone to blame.
Call him a victim of his fame;
we know what killed him, just the same.

Never mind his fiercest critics
called him his own Chappaquidick.
We convinced him he was well enough to drive;
went along just for the ride:
we each committed regicide.

Whether it’s heaven or Las Vegas,
chances are you’ll never win;
playing the house is big gamble:
the odds are always pretty slim.
Pauper or king it doesn’t matter
in the end, which one you choose:
whether it’s heaven or Las Vegas,
either way you’re bound to lose.

A symbol of our generation:
vanity, and the frustration
of becoming bigger than what came before.
We stood screaming at the door,
always wanting from him more.

And we locked him in a palace,
made his microphone a chalice,
and his youth a trophy case for rock and roll.
Never mind the tears, the burden on his soul.
And we blamed him when he went out of control.

The choice was heaven or Las Vegas;
both are illusions based on sin;
playing the house is big gamble:
the odds are always pretty slim.
Pauper or king it doesn’t matter
in the end, which one you choose:
whether it’s heaven or Las Vegas,
either way you’re bound to lose.

Well, the coroner he figured
no one’s hand was on the trigger,
just another case of privilege gone too far:
one more supernova that we call a star
to avoid looking at who we really are.

13 FEB 2007

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Burn That Bridge

Dwelling on the future
never seemed to make much sense:
splitting our infinitives
just wastes the present tense.
Why worry on what might be
and dwell on hopes and dreams,
when what counts of past and future
is what comes in between?

Yeah, maybe we’ll be famous;
Maybe we’ll strike it rich;
Maybe the car will leave the road
and leave us in the ditch;
Maybe we’ll stay together,
maybe we’ll drift away;
you can’t predict the future;
all you have is here, today.

We’re on this road together
until we both call it quits;
whatever happens further on,
let’s burn that bridge when we get to it.

Dwelling on what might be
never gets us anywhere;
imagining some great misfortune
waiting for us there
distracts us from the present,
robs us of our savoir faire.
We have each other right now;
let tomorrow meet us there.

Yeah, maybe we’ll be homeless;
Maybe we’ll go back to school;
Maybe the weak will tame the strong,
and wise men act like fools.
Maybe we’ll live forever,
maybe we’ll fade away;
you can’t predict the future;
all you have is here, today.

We’re on this road together
until we both call it quits;
you never know what’s coming
don’t burn that bridge ’til we get to it.

29 DEC 2006

One of my pet sayings is “Let’s not stress over that right now; we’ll burn that bridge when we come to it.” It’s very much akin, in my mind, to the Sufi saying, “Never name the well from which you will not drink.” In other words, don’t say you’re never gonna have a chicken sandwich while you’re still waiting for the hen to lay eggs. Until the time is right, until there is that perfectly auspicious alignment of the planets that triggers the cataclysmic cosmic chain reaction that results in the events that form your tomorrow, you really have no idea what it’s gonna look like. Sure, you have plans and visions and hopes and dreams, but until the proof becomes pudding you don’t really know what it is — and you certainly don’t know the flavor until you take that first bite. Wow. A lot of mixed metaphors here. But you get idea. Live for today.

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See You There

If you listen to the chatter
they’ll convince you it don’t matter, more or less;
as long as your wallet’s fatter,
never mind those ‘neath the ladder of success.
There’s no need to feel an instant of distress,
or a sense of guilt for stepping past the mess.

In the growing of confusion,
they’ll lead to you to same conclusion, wait and see;
as we suffer from delusion
that we’re guiltless of collusion, you and me.
There’s no need to speak up if you disagree,
or be wary of the threat to liberty.

Bow your head and learn your lesson:
better start to count your blessings, while you can.
There’s another world tomorrow
filled with all the pain and sorrow you can stand.
If you think it won’t come calling,
that your high flying ain’t falling, best beware:
there’s another side to living,
balance between taking and giving…
see you there.

If you mind the paranoia
you’ll believe they can destroy you, if they try;
so you trust in any ploy,
become the wicked world’s new play toy, by and by.
There’s no point in any struggle, so don’t cry;
besides, we must keep the mechanism dry.

Bow your head and learn your lesson:
better start to count your blessings, while you can.
There’s another world tomorrow
filled with all the pain and sorrow you can stand.
If you think it won’t come calling,
that your high flying’s not falling, best beware:
there’s another side to living,
balance between taking and giving…
see you there.

13 DEC 2006

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The Bluebird of Happiness

You can lay down all the money you like
on redwood gazebos, those big platform feeders;
put out the best blend of customized seed,
and he won’t show a figment of interest.

Cut up fresh fruit and array it on saucers,
crumble up corn bread and leave it for hours;
sit there stock-still, either morning or evening.
He’ll twitter from above on the wire.

But if you leave the backyard, or a portion
of it, to grow long and fill up with black crickets
and hiding grasshoppers, then spend a half hour
of afternoon mowing, he’ll come.

The moral of this tale is that happiness follows
your action, not waiting. It prefers live bait.

26 JUN 2006

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Doing Nothing

Got up before seven, fed the dog and combed my hair,
put a pot of coffee on to brew;
spent no time deliberating what clothes I would wear:
some jeans and an old t-shirt ought to do.
Stood out on the back porch smoking my first cigarette,
watching as the sun began to shine
on grass that needs a mowing, still all glistening and wet.
A simple life? Maybe. I like it fine.

I was never quite expected to
be the one deemed “most likely to”
discover the great secret of our age;
so disappointment’s never come
(well, truth be told, perhaps just some)
and I’ve never been trapped inside that cage.

There’s always somebody smarter,
who’ll work a bit harder;
someone who’ll want it more than you, somewhere;
there’ll be someone who’s louder,
who seems a bit prouder
of where they are on some great corporate stair.
You can spend all your moments
in great angst and torment,
and call what you end with sublime;
but if you can’t just leave it,
you’d better believe it:
you’ve done nothing but waste your time.

Freshened up my coffee, scratched my head and wrote these lines;
it took me about six minutes to do.
went back out to the deck, took a moment to reflect,
the sun’s heat like intoxicating brew.
Watched the birds and smelled the flowers; it seemed like endless hours,
but it wasn’t even a ten-minute span.
And the world? It kept on spinning, turning losing into winning;
like it turned what I once was to what I am.

I was never the one chosen to
be “first among the great ones who
would change the world for better or for worse”;
so it comes as no surprise at all
like summer leading on to fall
that a blessing’s just the flipside of a curse.

There’s always somebody smarter,
who’ll work a bit harder;
someone who’ll want it more than you, somewhere;
there’ll be someone who’s louder,
who seems a bit prouder
of where they are on some great corporate stair.
You can spend all your moments
in great angst and torment,
and call what you end with sublime;
but if you can’t just leave it,
you’d better believe it:
you’ve done nothing but waste your time.

21 JUN 2006

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Almost Famous

To be respected by your family,
those you like and know,
is often not enough acclaim
to satisfy; and so
we seek to become famous
in this lifetime or the next,
a bigger fish than all the rest
and so command respect.

As the sphere of your influence
expands, you gain some perks:
you get your way more often
and can boss around more jerks,
perhaps a bigger house or car,
more money in the bank,
a longer list of so-called friends
who think you owe them thanks.

From strangers, you gain envy;
from criminals, their lust;
and at some point, the tiny circle
that you know and trust
continues to diminish, until
they grow tired and leave,
exhausted from competing
with the users you believe
would be there if your fortunes
were one morning found reversed,
who only stroke your ego
as a way to line their purse.

I wanted to be famous once.
I thought it would be great
to live as if my word was law,
to die and lay in state
while mourners passed through teary-eyed,
my name upon their lips:
the mind, the face that changed the world,
that launched a thousand ships.

But now, I wonder at the point
of seeking such applause;
and seek instead a smaller crowd
of friends and kin, because
the bottom line is this, you know:
you get what we call fame
when people you don’t know or like
pretend to know your name.

30 APR 2006

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Big Fish

What makes up a community,
if not those common threads
that make us not such strangers
and more interested, instead,

in how the other sees the world,
what makes a good friend tick.
To share the things that shape your life:
that’s what makes friendship stick.

And who need know out and beyond
some wide, imagined fence,
besides the ones whose words you trust
with your experience?

If the result is my small pond
should teem with such big fish
that my wee boat seems less alone:
for what more could I wish?

09 APR 2006

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