Aims And Agendas

Friday, July 25, 1980

Published By Dive Ink Books


No one questioned their aims and agendas
As we slaved for Our Lady Of The Betrayed Soldiers
We wore uniforms in formation
We swore oaths to their strange nation
In their boot camp they remade us
In their yard they would parade us

We had our orders which could never be ignored
When we were serving in that Army Of The Lord
For their silly laws we did damnable things
We moved our jaws about intangible wings
We wept, in penance, unwilling disciples and debtors
We were ill kept, being against killing their competitors

But they knew all the threats so well
We feared our names being called in hell
We were young and pliable
And always far too reliable
Bent to a sour Superior Mother officer
Scarring our lives, which we were soon forced to offer her

When whipping us, their faces would turn beet red
"Don't defend yourself," they said
This was such a poor pretense
For the truth needs no defense
Most contradictory chicken outfit ever served
We got our victory when they got what they deserved

Finally, the evil spells of such witches wore off
As history proved our captors to be very wrong
They'd convinced us their reign would last forever
But they aged and wilted in time's harsh weather
Dear dumb dead nuns, where are you now?
We've sliced and diced your sacred cows!



And there was that irritating door-to-door salesdunce
He stopped in mid-pitch, interrupted for once
As I pointed sharply to the sign on my door -
Large, black words said in a roar NO SOLICITORS
He hung his head and left, as if scolded by his mommy
But then no one should buy from such non-reading dummies



Waking, walking, wallowing
Faking, flocking, following
Snaking, stalking, swallowing



Too moronic is the method to their madness
Too loosely do they love the loudest louts
Too jauntily do they join in jerky jaw-flapping
Too readily do they rush to rudely rally

Too trusting are they of titles on T-shirts
Too coldly do they cluster to collect caps
Too speedily do they swing their slogan signs
Too fast do they fly to follow fools



I think that I shall never read
Such a fine directory
As that dear book which pleases me
With stuff on every he and she
Whose addresses go from A to Z

With pages inked in ecstasy
With ads about 'lectricity
And many vivid sights to see
Gourmet tea is offered to me
My car runs clean - it's rotary

I like most everything I see
I get fine custom drapery
I pay low fees on jewelry
I have chain-linked security
I watch a nice repaired TV

My pets will never have a flea
My clothing is now static free
My teeth are gems of dentistry
My hips? Health spas have skinnied me
Yes, what a great directory!



He read all those dull books while wearing those gigantic glasses
He spent countless years taking all the classes
Books short, books long, books weak and strong
But as it turned out for him they were all wrong

Some told of which wine to serve with fish
Others were littered with religious gibberish
Outdated phrases, unamazing mazes, love's feeble fables
Shopping for real estate, or building dining tables

One book he could have used, though, to read some night
Was a book on traffic safety to cross the street right
For when he gave up books and ventured from his nest
He was flattened by a truck into his eternal rest



Oh, should we dot this field of white
And paint this snow as black as night?
Or should we find an in between,
A well made path, but neat and clean?

Yes, write a spot of poetry;
Please shape the leaves but save the tree
We should respect blank paper more -
Don't ravage it with some eyesore!

Treat it kindly, not like a hog
See the truth hidden in the fog
And love that white around the verse
For framing words so often worse



Chumpo, don't be a dummy
That gun is really no way out

Chumpo, it's much too crummy
You know you're just a coked-up lout

Funny but troubled, that's you
Never could survive that name fame game

Bloody when the blue boys found you
Your wad of dough shot for fortune's plain dame



Jill watched some crooks one day
As they buried the coins of conscience
She watched them hurry then run away
They hadn't seen her hiding behind a fence

That big bag of silver
Should have made Jill's will stir
That big bag of silver
She refused to pilfer

That big bag of silver
She could have wed Wilbur
That big bag of silver
It wouldn't have killed her

That big bag of silver
Buried on the hill, sir
That big bag of silver
Right near the church pillar



All hell was totally tied up
Holding the fort and practicing
Weakly over the weekend
Our information was firm
When he returned to give us the word

Their white flags might be in our pockets
By the time we'd meet him at the border
They had moved their families out
They'd be under our protection
We would arrest and murder them after inspection

What about our continued instant replay false advance
And their continued slow motion phony surrender?
Our fake war medals were earned in fast forward
We'd accept their loss but still kill their families on the run
When all hell had finally broken loose, things got to be a lot more fun



Tens of thousands of lives lost forever
From that Vietnam-ease disease
The figures jump off the page
Bullets were fired off in rage
Guns now rust with age

An old mineral fight left over from the fathead '40s
That one was never really for mom and apple pie
So the pie theory bites it now, and always will
The pie squared graves sitting so still
Cooling on the cosmic window sill

Underground, no longer around, all the long gone partners
Sorry ones got sat on, lucky ones returned and got spat on
Such undeclared wars mean nothing but a false red alert
The lawgivers gave our young people to the dirt
To them it was just like changing a shirt



So this happened and that happened
And he happened and she happened
And all these different things happened as a result

Alright, so lots of things keep happening
But they're bound to, you know
Whenever you mix a bunch of junk together like that



In 1531 she said I desire a temple In 1830 she said I will grant you many graces
In 1846 she said do not be afraid
In 1858 she said kiss the ground on behalf of sinners

In 1917 she said I come from heaven - say the rosary
In 1932 she said be good - soon I shall appear for the last time
In 1933 she said pray always - tomorrow I will speak to
Each one of you separately

Build me a temple!
Kiss the ground!
Pray to me!
Even for a supernatural one, that's a typical woman:

Right in the middle of your nice, lazy life,
She butts in and starts telling you
To go take out the
Holy garbage



Don't mean to cause you indigestion
So the following is just a suggestion
Maybe it once was sweet
That you filled your sheets
With inky tears
For hundreds of years

About a colorful creed
For which you would bleed
Or a pretty flag
For which you were forced to brag
Or an elusive dove
To coax someone's love

But stuck down in that well
You must want to delve
Somewhere else, my friends
And hopefully put an end
To your praying, saluting and begging steady
Change the subject, already!



Let not your devoted heart flutter needlessly at all
With thoughts of my fate - it is much too late, my little doll
Now the autumn winds are calm and the light is very good
I regret, though, that my body is merely wood
My ornamental leaves will be falling soon

Wearing your white silk gown, you stare up at me that way
And blink those big wet glass marble eyes today
The arrival is near of the great masters of doom and doubt
Will they approve of all the colors I have taught you about?
My ornamental leaves are falling now

No trust means no fear of betrayal - join the religion of yourself, girl
You are born alone and will die alone, in a silly swirl
You are alone in all crowds and alone with me, a mere tree
And you will also be alone as I leaf you free
My ornamental leaves have already fallen, don't you see?



At the beach they worship the surfboards
At the playground they worship the slides
At the movie they worship the popcorn machines
At the school they worship the chalkboards
At the home they worship the televisions

At the vacations they worship the cars
At the laundromat they worship the spin dryers
At the casino they worship the slot machines
At the store they worship the cash registers
At the work they worship the timeclocks

At the bar they worship the bottles
At the election they worship the ballot boxes
At the war they worship the killing machines
At the church they worship the collection plates
At the alone they worship the mirrors



She'd let him cut a long, lovely lock of her hair
He'd later taped it up on the wall of his lair
The police found notes on his many scholastic merits
But for things going wrong he'd quickly blamed his parents

Nobody knew what his brain had been through
A keyhole, a rathole, a tight, squeezing knot, too
Just another case of lack of attention
The eight millionth honorable mention

A nice little kid when he was quiet
Starved to death, his hopes lost on a diet
He'd been too fat for her to have him, he would understand
She gave that hair to remind him of her tolerance so grand

There were much nicer people he'd passed on by
Wouldn't even give them an honest try
If only he'd stuck with them instead in the old days
But he had already given up in the most meaningful ways



In a little local bookstore
Between a jewelry store and a bank
Rod McKuen in white deck shoes drank black coffee
But before signing his poetry works
Or his new prose book about being an orphan
And finding his real father
He placed a President Ford sticker on each inside page

Rod said it's not how many books you've sold
It's having a forum that's important
If they don't like me backing a candidate
They shouldn't buy my books
I'm for Ford - if you're for Carter that's your tough luck
Maybe Carter is the prophet we've all been waiting for
But if he's going to walk on water, let it be shallow

Republican Rod had arrived in a jet black El Dorado
His political efforts failed, because a few months later
That peanut farmer candidate was elected by a landslide
Carter's long career of walking on water soon began
And it was never the least bit shallow
But what of father Rod, with his cool shoes and his cool car?
Ever since then he's been nowhere to be found



In a store, out on the sales floor
He'd made shouts about canceling accounts
Because she'd been told she had to,
The employee smiled when he held out his hand

This kept her job he said he'd rob
He'd loudly clucked like he was some high mucky muck
Because she'd been told she had to,
She smiled and shook his sweaty hand

But in the bar from work quite far
Shaking anybody's dirty rotten hand
Is something no one presumes to tell her she has to do
Know this, all bogus bigwigs - store handshakes don't count



Billy Lang tried to come to the aid of his drunken friends
To help them ring out the old, over a dozen decades ago -
At least that's the claim of Shinny Diggs,
The official grand dame of celebrations

According to this senile windbag of trivia,
Senior citizen Lang once observed a very slow-moving
December 31st party, and by midnight he got the idea
Of getting the crowd to really swing - they could all sing!

So he shouted a tune his acquaintances would soon forget
"Happy New Year, you boring jerks!" old Lang sang
They quickly strangled him then and there
And he has never since come to mind



The former flame flitted off, just a mirage
Just a miracle, just a marriage
Not just a piece of paper, an entire paper
Divorce was finalized after problems analyzed
The dotted lines signed, another couple resigned
To go to separate states of consciousness

Then this new improved girl was suddenly there
Like a bolt from the blue that couldn't be true
This warm and perfect statue
With long brown hair, big brown eyes and olive skin
Plunked down onto me from the heavens
Or from just across the street

She was staring up at me like she was seeing a train
Rushing straight at her but she didn't want to
Move out of my way, which was fine by me
But all things went right through this ghostly memory, too
Of someone else who was so like me in my imaginary rage
Just my rage, just a mirage



To keep out of trouble
And seem nice and humble
Please do not cause any of us
To have these two topics discussed:

Politics or religion
Then you will not become their pigeon
Also avoid their other fairy tales
That is a plan that never fails



Passion paints upon pure pages
Wise and wondrous words of sages
Burning throughout all the ages
Freeing souls from iron cages!



It was a shoutin' show
Go, team, go!
Yellow-haired cheerleader,
Fantasy of every dull reader

But one cute guy very smugly
Dared to call her "UGLY"!
Was he trying to test her?
And he kept it going all semester

With annuals signed,
Finally quite a find
Was in her yearbook, penned by that feller:
"To U.G.L.Y. - the Ultra-Gorgeous Little Yeller"



If you're running out of luck,
Hang in there!
If you're feeling like a schmuck,
Hang in there!
Does no good to crab and cry
Just because you lost an eye
Hey, be glad you didn't die -
Hang in there!

When your banker says you're broke,
Hang in there!
When you're just about to choke,
Hang in there!
Even if you're flooded out
And you want to float and pout
Maybe you'll find some free trout -
Hang in there!

So some dog's bark gets louder,
Hang in there!
So your mate takes a powder,
Hang in there!
Never think your mind won't mend
Watch for life's good things, my friend
Such as poems, like ropes, end -
Hang in there!



The newspapers said it was a long way down
The shrouds on her main parachute
Fouled when

She is shown here attempting to untangle them, left
Then later at 200 feet above the ground, right
She managed to cut free of the first chute
Then tried to open a reserve chute

She was unsuccessful
And so was
Dead on

Yes, the newspapers said it was a long way down
The shrouds on her main parachute
The shrouds on her
The shrouds



Okay, you say you're happy now
Because you've found
Someone new
Your old marriage didn't work out,
So this one will save you
And you're guaranteed to fulfill your dreams
Do you think I'm smirking? Oh, well

But before your latest rainbow
Colors your common sense
Let me warn you that
Someone new is just someone old
That you haven't met before
So guarantees like yours are only a pipe-dream
Did I flatten your fantasy? Oh, well



Looking out from a warm yet suddenly paralyzed shell of
A body at what today happens to be the nearest items
In this case coins and a dirty ashtray on a shipboard table
But it could be anything else glinting up in the sun
While it is being stared down upon and the brain does
Not know yet how much fear or panic this situation needs



When they would build it tall it would fall
When they would build it small it would stall
Their old buildings contained people quite dumb
Whitetown would go down, it would cookie crumb
Their prying political computers were all now obsolete
From every street the idiots came to stare at the antiques

Heather was a stripper there who liked to waste her hours
Speaking smut to perverts for costly candy and flowers
She thought a bit of cleavage would show her off best
But they said don't sweat the top, just show the rest
In bad weather, Heather helped a bird get healed
She'd found it limping in her lilly white field

A white bird, she thought, like a wedding gown
Another white symbol to sail through Whitetown
The place had stayed away from shadow or shade
No living thing of color had been seen in this glade
At least until now, as her flying bird in the rain did show -
When the fuzz left its feathers - it was a noble black crow



The smooth style of the '70s is not at all fake
Good coke will always be cheap and safe for us to take
That clappin', bass-bumpin' dance music won't ever stop
For neck chains and platform shoes we'll always have to shop

Our Democratic Prez will rule for another term
He'll easily beat out those old Republican worms
So, babe, keep gettin' down with those dirty disco deeds
Let's sew our wild oats - the worst we'll get is some herpes!


Copyright © 1980 Edmond Gauthier
All Rights Reserved

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