This was his post a couple days ago and my picture:
Changing Lanes (or A roadtrip with Poe)
The car is out of control, careening corners
and Edgar Allen Poe has commandeered the radio
Every channel he turns to the songs are so dour,
and between them, even using his happy voice,
dj E.A.P. can't make the news more bleak---
He mumbles something about populous pits
and politicians controlling the pendulum,
or---maybe he said asylum, it was his
third point so i forget.
Looking east, I wish on satellites, somewhere
over Georgia in decaying orbits, a 'little
change in my pocket' and though it may
be little, it is Change, You Can Believe In,
at least what is left after taxes---
We dreamt once, but the raven's wings
blot the horizon & without the sun we've lost
direction, we just sing along to songs replaying
but don't stop to think what the words are saying
"Nevermore, nevermore," I hear, then ask
"What?"
He sighs, "Take me back to Baltimore,
so I can Usher in the Apocalypse."
Brakes squeal, smoke from our tires passing us,
"Get out! I know you been here before, so poor
you burned the furniture, but I can't take it anymore.
You may wall yourself up in the wine cellar, but
as long as I have two cents to rub together to keep
warm and share, I refuse to settle for a better future
we won't recognize when we see her."
He stares grim, then the raven once more hugs
his head from behind, covering his eyes
And my heavy heart settles in my foot on the gas
leaving his last words hanging, "For the love of God!"
by the side of the road
Out the window, I answer, "Yes, For the love of God!"
because, I refuse to become another disillusioned victim, just
in time to hear a campaign ad come over the radio, so sing
at the top of my lungs---
"Don't gimme no lines, an' keep your hands to yourself."
and Edgar Allen Poe has commandeered the radio
Every channel he turns to the songs are so dour,
and between them, even using his happy voice,
dj E.A.P. can't make the news more bleak---
He mumbles something about populous pits
and politicians controlling the pendulum,
or---maybe he said asylum, it was his
third point so i forget.
Looking east, I wish on satellites, somewhere
over Georgia in decaying orbits, a 'little
change in my pocket' and though it may
be little, it is Change, You Can Believe In,
at least what is left after taxes---
We dreamt once, but the raven's wings
blot the horizon & without the sun we've lost
direction, we just sing along to songs replaying
but don't stop to think what the words are saying
"Nevermore, nevermore," I hear, then ask
"What?"
He sighs, "Take me back to Baltimore,
so I can Usher in the Apocalypse."
Brakes squeal, smoke from our tires passing us,
"Get out! I know you been here before, so poor
you burned the furniture, but I can't take it anymore.
You may wall yourself up in the wine cellar, but
as long as I have two cents to rub together to keep
warm and share, I refuse to settle for a better future
we won't recognize when we see her."
He stares grim, then the raven once more hugs
his head from behind, covering his eyes
And my heavy heart settles in my foot on the gas
leaving his last words hanging, "For the love of God!"
by the side of the road
Out the window, I answer, "Yes, For the love of God!"
because, I refuse to become another disillusioned victim, just
in time to hear a campaign ad come over the radio, so sing
at the top of my lungs---
"Don't gimme no lines, an' keep your hands to yourself."
