minstrel

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

i wrote a poem to the moon and it did not turn its face to me and smile i wrote a poem to the sun and it only shone on me like everybody else i wrote a poem to the stars and they hid behind a mountain i wrote a poem to the mountain and it did not move i wrote a poem to the road and the dust rose up and choked me i wrote a poem to the rain and it turned the road to mud i wrote a poem to the highway and the cars and trucks passed me by i wanted to walk the roads with li po and walt whitman but would have settled for robert service and joyce kilmer i wanted to hear people say, hail wandering minstrel you make the earth a better place but all i heard was silence and only the sky showed me its face and the face had a smile of snow and the hard laughter of driving rain i sought shelter in an old barn and heard the roar of a passing train i realized i had nothing to say and no one to say it to dawn came, and with nothing else to do i wrote another poem

the river

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

i dreamed i saw walt whitman alive as you or me i was walking down a dusty road he sat beneath a tree i pointed to the sky above the tree neath which he sat and said, tell me o whitehaired sage what do you make of that? i sit beneath this tree, he said because it blots the sky i would fain sit here forever or at least until i die how negative is this, i cried quite property aghast come, let us fly the flag of hope and tie it to our mast the road turned to a river and i found myself afloat with li po and joyce kilmer in a leaky little boat the clouds were white, the sky was blue the ocean loomed ahead i could have flown to heaven but wanted a drink instead my mother’s name was adelaide my father’s name was fred my sister’s name was susie and my dog was old red we lived beside a mountain in a little hut of wood please pass me that bottle if you would be so good everybody has a story everybody has a tale everybody gets a letter from the government in the mail i left my mountain cabin and wandered through the hills high above the city with its flickering lights and thrills i ran from civilization and its roaring metal teeth and watched it burn and crumble but it gave me no relief i came down to the valley and walked the empty roads robots stumbled past me but i could not punch their codes they said the war was over and peace was now at hand but i saw a different message in the fog and burning sand i saw no happy gardens i saw no bubbling brooks i saw vultures in the sky above giving me close looks i saw omar khayyam in paris with a straw hat on his head i asked for words of wisdom and he told me, roses are red i saw rimbaud in samarkand and verlaine in timbuktu i asked for words of wisdom and they said, violets are blue i saw wiliam blake on broadway with a tin cup full of wine he threw his arms around me and we sang sweet adeline i roamed the whole world over looking for jesse james i found him in the bank of london but he did not know my name i wrote a sonnet to abraham lincoln and a letter to the pope i met ambrose bierce on clark steeet and he said, do not lose hope i was captured by nebuchadnezzar a pyramid to build we were marched past cleopatra down by the old mill moses threw me a nickel and joshua a lousy dime the movie started at six o’clock but i was not there on time the show went on without me because all things must pass the river to the ocean and the whiskey to the glass

in the grass

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

the lamb eats the grass the grass has a bug in it and the bug escapes before the lamb eats it the lion eats the lamb the human shoots the lion, with a gun he did not make himself which shoots a bullet he did not make himself the human does not eat the lion instead he goes to a restaurant and eats the roasted flesh of a cow killed six thousand miles away by a human other than himself the head of the lion is removed and made a trophy for the human the rest of the lion is processed into food for dogs the human has a dog - the only creature besides himself that he much cares for he gives the dog, whom he has brought with him to the restaurant, a small slice of the cow the dog is grateful that he gets to eat the roasted cow instead of the processed lion the human eats a salad along with his roasted cow flesh he finds a bug in it the same bug who escaped from the grass as the lamb was eating it before being eaten itself by the lion that the human shot the human is angry at finding the bug in his salad he summons the manager of the restaurant and demands that the cook who prepared the salad and the waiter who brought it to him both be fired the manager complies with the request and fires the cook and the waiter the cook goes home and watches a television show about an intergalactic war in the year 10 million a d the war is between the forces of good and the forces of evil the forces of good are commanded by a beautiful young woman the forces of evil are commanded by a man with the head of a dragon the waiter goes home and gets drunk and falls asleep and dreams in the dream he is a lion a lamb. a cow, a dog, and a bug are his best friends, and they go in search of a lost city and have wonderful adventures

so long at the fair

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

last night i had the strangest dream i went to the county fair and there were many curious things at which to stop and stare i saw genghis khan with a lizard that he spoke to as a friend and omar khayyam with a poem which he had recently penned i saw salome with an ice cream cone that was dripping on her hand and she caught the attention of robin hood who was there with his merry band i saw st paul and peter palavering with karl marx but their discourse was desultory and produced no shining sparks i saw pontius polate with a parrot and good king richard in a cloud and bad king john with a secret that he dare not speak aloud i saw sinbad the sailor and the wandering jew playing three card monte with a horse matthew, mark and luke were the cards and st john won the game of course i saw nebuchadnezar and jesse james playing tennis with the sun and moon florence nightingale walked right past them whistling a melancholy tune i saw houdini and kaiser wilhelm exchange a secret shake i saw mata hari and eleanor roosevelt pop out of a wedding cake i saw hitler buy the winning ticket to the lottery of space and time he said he was sorry to confucius and would not throw him a lousy dime i wanted to see the bearded lady and the dance of the seven veils and get a beer and a bag of pretzels to console me when all else failed instead i saw an endless stream of the conquerors and confused saying things that made no sense playing games that had no rules all i wanted was to be myself and have everybody be my friend instead i wander this dusty road with no beginning and no end

the tower

br> by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

people are bad, they should be good this is widely understood and yet they never seem to change surely someone is to blame someone in a tower high outlined against a darkening sky cigar in hand he slowly smiles miseries on us he pitilessly piles why do we let him get away with his perfidy day after day why not recharge our feeble brains and throw away his heavy chains humans, can you explain to me why we all can not be free bring down the oligarchy and patriarchy and sail away on love’s sea? maybe if we looked inside our hearts we would see we are not so smart but let the masters have their way because we just want to get through another day

forgotten

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

i wrote a poem in my head a minute later it had fled i guess it pays to write things down at midnight in this silent town was it a poem about a maid by an evil lover betrayed imprisoned in an ivied tower helpless in his pitiless power or just a poem about me and something that i happened to see walking down the avenue feeling, as usual, sad and blue or a poem about a butterfly people write them, i don’t know why about butterflies you can only say you see them, then they fly away unlike the law of gravity which has always haunted me and tied me to reality’s tree because all i want is to be free

it never stops

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

al was an agitator bob was a slob chuck was a troll dave could not hold a job ella was a feminist francine was a babe glenda lived in a penthouse helen lived in a cave ivan was a dreamer joey had a modest goal kenny liked rap music lenny liked rock and roll mona was a drunkard nellie ate candy all day olivia read the bible paula got in everybody’s way quentin saved his money rita liked to walk in the rain sammy kept a diary tony had a set of toy trains uncle joe had a thousand jokes vera was one of the girls willie went and lived in the woods expecting the end of the world a young man arrived from the country with zero recommendations he asked a stranger for direction but got lost behind the railroad station a bear emerged from the piney woods and regarded the stranger askance the stranger did not know what to say so he asked the bear to dance the stranger’s name was william smith the bear’s was jonathon jones one of them ate the other but they never found the bones the forest ranger was catherine brown the detective was dan mccraw they walked on the side of the highway and knew that someone had broken the law all you evildoers and espousers of anarchy go back to your homes and children there is nothing here to see I went for a walk at midnight because there was nothing on tv everything looked like it always did at least it did to me

drifting blues

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

floating down a river floating down a stream hand in hand with hitler in a stalin dream drifting down a highway drifting down a road getting ready to rule the world with my secret code saw a light in the distance castle up ahead decided to cash in my ticket and dance with the dead dracula came to the doorway with a candle in his hand eleanor roosevelt took my suitcase it was all filled up with sand i followed her through the ballroom where the band was playing loud and she left me in the kitchen lonely as a cloud st teresa appeared before me with a cook’s hat on her head george washington wanted a sandwich but we could not find the bread i slipped out in the alley where a hurricane did rage and there i found general custer demanding a living wage i saw that heaven was a sandwich and peanut butter was hell marx and engels were jelly on my head the raindrops fell I saw george soros at mcdonalds order a whole roast pig i saw mitch mcconnell at yankee stadium wearing a blonde wig i awoke to wind and darkness and saw eyeballs in the murk i had not won the lottery so i had to go to work

the hittites

by horace p sternwall

the hittite empire was founded by hattusili who engaged in rapine and plunder quite freely but hattusli was only the first and some of his successors were even worse hattusini was followed by mursilish who trampled his neighbors like a whirling dervish and after him came telepinu but i don't know much about him, do you? watch out for tukulti-ninurta do him wrong and he'll hurt ya but good king suppiluliuma though mighty, had a great sense of humor

tornado

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

nobody ever says anything nice about tornadoes surely something or somebody must benefit from them they clear the air! some worms or bugs must benefit from the human habitations being uprooted and blown away maybe the energy of the tornado is beneficial to creatures in another dimension or even to non-human creatures in this one maybe a tornado in oklahoma is good for a feral cat or a python somewhere in asia or good for something somewhere in some manner incomprehensible to humans you never know so don’t judge tornados too hastily always stop and think before you think

oblivion

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

oft, in the middle distance i am overwhelmed by existence my brain explodes in purple waves and oblivion i crave oblivion, my dear friend when did our romance end? once i held you tight and you consoled me every night something went wrong in a dream i heard a song and followed it down a street not knowing what i might meet and what i met i must confess was nothing but - nothingness what it whispers i hear not it laughs - at what i have forgot o if i could only sleep! there is an appointment i must keep beneath the mocking midnight sky without a star, without an eye

silence

by wiggly jones, "the little hippie boy"

last night i had the strangest dream i was a guy named moe being chased through the streets of chicago on a drifting ice floe chased by a jaguar named jerry and a junkman named joe and they were out to get me because i was in the know i was just an innocent bystander who overheard their plans but i had to be silenced i knew the truth about the man o oligarchs in your towers hear my humble plea you are the masters of reality and i am only me or look upon your face i know if you fall from heaven you will only be replaced call off your hounds and tigers your jailers with guns and chains i will crawl into my cardboard box and in silence there remain my cries went all unheeded and they closed upon my trail o where was noah with his ark or jonah with his whale? o where was sinbad the sailor blackbeard, ahab, or captain kidd? they all could have saved me but none of them did i have never been to chicago and my name it is not moe but when they knock upon my door where am i to go?

3 more poems

by horace p sternwall

ode to sinners o come all you sinners with guilt fit to burst lets go down to the river and see who is the worst let us stand up and testify and write a message across the sky about all our evil schemes and tricks and how we wanted to get our kicks kicks, man, that's all there is not fame or money or show biz or christmas dinner or apple pie or scratching your head and wondering why we're riding through the endless night not even putting up a fight tossing here a nickel and there a dime in the tin cup of borrowed time

slow i was not wild and free i was never meant to be and walked silent on the earth to death from birth my fellow humans stopped to look as my weary steps i took for the very mark of cain on my face was written plain but when i turned around no trace of me was found on the earth's unyielding crust i left no footprints in the dust i took it slow for where was there to go? i looked up at the gray sky and it said goodbye

musings why does a dictionary weigh ten pounds? because humans are filled with a million sounds they twist them and stretch them and play the game but in the end they all sound the same

a letter

by horace p sternwall

a kitty kat has whiskers a puppy dog has a tail i wrote a letter to the president and put it in the mail i told him he was an idiot i told him he was a fool i asked him what he ever learned when he was a child in school he never sent an answer he never sent a reply i wonder if he goes for walks and looks up at the sky and if he sees the hand of fate pointing at his face and showing him the sands of time in which he will leave no trace he goes back to the white house and climbs the white house stair to find inside his office a visitor in his chair who is this importunate stranger who sits there with a smile with no sense of decorum and no sense of style everybody has a stranger who follows them through their days and shows their face when the time has come so do not be amazed

3 poems

by horace p sternwall

desert island sometimes i feel floppy sometimes i do sag sometimes i put my head in a box sometimes i put it in a bag i don't like the human race or the world that it has made i want to find a desert island and lie in the palm tree shade let the coconuts fall on my head and pound it into mush and lie there drooling in the sand in the glowing sunset hush

everybody can't be a hero to be in a book but not be the hero that does not sound like fun but when the hero dies his heroic death you can still sit in the sun reading a book about the hero in lively vivid prose sipping iced tea or lemonade and wiggling your toes the hero lives forever at least the book says so “in glorious memory” but how do they know? when the hero goes to the gallows protesting his innocence you can laugh or cry or close the book and wonder where the time went

float this is a poem i wrote in the water it would not float in the air it would not fly in the rain it would not stay dry in it i confess my pathetic helplessness swallowed without a trace by a void without a face words may be blessings or curses in expanding universes they may be slow or fast but never last o bubbles in the stream! o disappearing dream! one last moment i beg of you one last word - or maybe two -

a strange dream

by horace p sternwall

i dreamed of a place last night the strangest dream I ever had where all the bad people were good and all the good people were bad I dreamed I was in a courtroom of shiny paneled wood i was tied to an old oak tree accused of doing good the judge sat high above me with horns upon his head adolf hitler was my lawyer and all the jurors were dead the judge asked me how i pleaded to trying to do right and as i opened my mouth to speak i beheld a terrible sight the gallery was filled with angels with burnt and blackened wings their golden harps were melted and they could not pluck the strings a witness then was summoned to give evidence to my fate ’twas none other than st peter who had abandoned heaven’s gate what say you, saintly wise man asked satan from the bench as he waved a ten pound hammer which in his fist he clenched his eyebrows fairly sizzled and his lip was sneering curled what say you of this specimen who wished to save the world? what say you to this sorry cuss who challenged my dominion who thought eternal damnation was just someone’s opinion? have pity, lord of darkness the sad eyed sage appealed and his white beard it did flutter as before the fiend he kneeled he is only a poor human incapable of thought and the lessons life has taught him i guess he just forgot the demon roared wth laughter as he brought his hammer down a noose was placed around my neck and on my head a crown and on the crown was set a stage on which a play was playing my old dog ran across a field to join my poor old mother praying a serpent slithered through the grass king arthur raised his sword jesse james threw me a lousy dime it was all he could afford william mckinley and wyatt earp raised their voices in a hymn and i thought i saw abe lincoln but it was only railroad slim i awoke upon a green park bench with rain upon my face and all the players in the dream were gone without a trace