the city

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

illustration by konrad kraus and roy dismas

different folks have different ideas of how life ought to be some want to do their duty others just want to be free some folks want to live forever in peace and love they trust others want to conquer the world and rub its face in the dust some live inside the great city others on the outskirts bleak a few still live in the country but they will be here next week once some folks lived in castles others in hovels bare now they gather at mcdonalds and wendy’s and smoothies and fries they share once some lived in mansions and walked down marble halls with pictures of their ancestors staring from the walls they slept on sheets of satin and in the morning rode to hounds but in the new world such behavior is strictly out of bounds others stayed below the stairs and made the cakes and tea but now they too are swept along by the tide of history the city walls are towering blotting out the sun over those who dreamt of glory and those who just wanted to have fun those who wanted to save the world from patriarchy and from sin those who wanted to invent the games that only they could win those who shouted at meetings with whatever they had to say and others who were happy to watch television all day now all are gathered together in one happy amalgamation there is a bit of pushing and shoving but the train never leaves the station the city gates are closing closing in the wind and snow a few sad stragglers talk to themselves but they have no place to go

2 poems

illustrations by palomine studios

start over by chuck leary i wish i could live my life over i wish i could start anew i would be a much better person my heart would be faithful and true i would appreciate mama and papa i’d treat bud and sis like folks i would stay away from temptation and never gamble or tell bad jokes oh you may call me insincere but whatever you might think there is one thing i truly abominate and that is the curse of drink you may take all the world’s other vices and roll them up in a ball but all of them together will not equal alcohol you can build up your civilization you can write your high-sounding laws it will all dissolve in the morning mist and drink will be the cause i wish i could live another life although it too would pass i would scorn all evil companions and never raise a glass

pals and booze: a fragment by horace p sternwall the original concept of the pal is lost in the mists of time but i summon it, o muse to invigorate my rhyme let women, priests, and bureaucrats judges, jailers, and fat cats look down their long and pointed noses true pals will always come up roses the only thing better, i confess is pure delirious drunkenness but what are pals, in song or story but those who share in liquor’s glory? oceans ebb and flow empires come and go some win, some lose, but only booze will light life’s brightest fuse and when bright dawn comes pitiless to sneer at night’s now lost excess consider that the coming end may be your best and final friend