Page 11 of 28


PostPosted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 4:24 am
by admin
Internet Addiction, by Charles Carreon


Trust old Bak to steer you right,
I've burned the oil into the night
To find the scrap of evidence
To prove what should be obvious
That everyone is quite obsessed,
In a clinical sense
And needs to go to detox
In a computer-free space.
The statistics are in,
Your brain is burning dim,
And hitting that space bar
Isn't going to take you very far,
And posting just one more reply
Just isn't going to get you by.
The sun is calling,
But you don't hear it.
Your son wants to play ball,
But you won't go near it.
Just admit it,
You've got to quit it,
God forbid
Your mother should see you like this.
Just look at this place,
The beds unmade,
There's dust on the table
And there isn't a maid,
So look that face in the mirror,
And don't turn away,
It's the face of addiction
Every day.
People are polite
Too polite to say what they think
That your mind's on the blink
If you were clicking for dollars they'd all approve,
But you were just following the spiritual groove
And in all that time
You left but one impression
On the seat
Of your swivel chair.


PostPosted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 4:25 am
by admin
In the Womb of Stone, by Charles Carreon


When the sacramental gong
emptiness ...

Stranger over the horizon,
standing lone by elbow rock --
Comes to make an offering
at the cave.

Dark now,
in the cave,
hidden within the thighs
of the mountains.

A thousand rainbows,
flooding all horizons,
Angels sending and descending,
All waters pure as crystal,
All skies ineffably bright.


PostPosted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 4:27 am
by admin
Is It Thunder?, by Charles Carreon


Somewhere between the gold and the black
I lost you --
You fell from my hand
Like a card from the deck,
And you're gone--
I can't retrieve
the things that we had
I can't reclaim
the hours that have slipped away--
There is nothing left
But an empty horizon and you.

Like the sun coming out from
Behind a cloud--
A dream that couldn't be true,
You were a vision in sunlight and lace,
Never was there another face
Like the one
That you wore--

But now that you're gone
I sit alone and I wonder,
Is it the sound of the rain
that I hear? Is it thunder?

Come back again in my dreams if you can,
You're welcome if ever you choose
To join me there,
I don't have much company
These days,
I stay in the same old place,
And I sit alone and wonder,
Is it the sound of the rain
that I hear? Is it thunder?

(Dedicated to my mother, Eloise Carreon and the Choir of the Sacred Heart)


PostPosted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 4:27 am
by admin
Island, by Charles Carreon

She beckons to you
Come, come --
Come to where she lies,
Her body like a curving island
Lapped by foam
Springs of fresh water flow,
Warm ocean breezes blow,
Ripe fruit droops, waiting
To be picked,
Bright plumed birds watch from
hanging branches;
More brilliant even than the
fragrant orchids
Come, she beckons to you,
Come, to where she lies,
Her body to a slope of glowing amber
Turned by sunset dyes.
A voice, as mystical as that
of circling seabirds
Sounds in silence
As ponderous as the sound
of crashing waves,
Come, she cries
To the end of the earth --
Across the sea of curling waves
to me,
To where all treasure lies,
And beckons with her silent eyes.


PostPosted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 4:29 am
by admin
It's a Predatory Civilization, by Charles Carreon

Well I look up in the sky
What do I see?
A 747 beamin' down on me
I'm driving down the freeway
What's that ridin' up my ass?
A fuckin' Winnebago wanna take my gas!

It's a predatory civilization
Sometimes we call it "the land of the free"
We got a predatory civilization
Every President's a Reagan if you ask me

They're dropping fire from the heavens
In the Holy Land
And preachin' resurrection on the other hand
You better kill or get laid
If you wanna get paid
Here's your towel and your Gatorade.

It's a predatory civilization
With convenient banking from sea to sea
It's a predatory civilization
A world-class heroin democracy

Well the books have been cooked
The bribes are paid
Time for a ride in the motorcade
Ever since the towers fell
The whole damn country's
Gone to hell

It's a predatory civilization
There ain't no freedom in the land of the free
We got a predatory civilization
Every President's a Reagan if you ask me.


PostPosted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 4:31 am
by admin
It's Gonna Get Worse (Before It Gets Better), by Charles Carreon


Well the flood came down
Took the house away
Wouldn’t you know
That the porch would stay
On that beat up couch
With the cigarette burns
I can just sit here
While the world turns

And it’s gonna get worse
Before it gets better
I heard the guv’mnt lady say
Before she drove away
In her guv’mnt car
She was a real go-getter
But she never came back this way
I hope the neighbors didn’t catch her

Well eventually they brought some trailers in
Of formaldehyde, plastic and tin
I moved indoors one summer day
Now they wanna take it all away
I signed all the forms
And said what can I do?
They said maybe you can stay
A month or two

But it’s gonna get worse
Before it gets better
Money doesn’t grow on trees
And people aren’t honeybees
Yeah it always gets worse
Before it gets better
That’s what they always say
Forever and a day

Like Napoleon said at Waterloo
When the story’s wrote
Then you’re through
You can bitch and moan
You can cry and weep
Sign a gov’mnt loan
Get a repayment sheet

But it always gets worse
And it rarely gets better
There’s a bigger force in play
I heard that preacher say
Before they burned his church
And the weather got wetter
There’s always hell to pay
At least ‘till judgment day
‘Cause it’s gonna get worse
Before it gets better
So I take five shots a day
And now you’ll hear me say
It was worse
But now it's gotten better


PostPosted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 4:31 am
by admin
It's Tantra Baby, by Charles Carreon


If your life is plagued with discord,
and you can't get out of bed,
If you're hungover with sadness
and wish that you were dead,
If you've got a forty-five
pointed up against your head,
Then you might as well
become a Buddhist
And save a little lead.

Well if you dig the Mahayana
You don't have to cut your hair
And if you chant a little now
You'll have nothing to fear
When death comes strolling down the aisle
And extends his hand to you,
You'll say "my ticket's paid today,
So what more can I do?"

The Dharma's just for losers
At least that's what the Siddha said
When he rolled the final snake eyes
With the eyeballs from his head
And dakinis started cackling
Like buzzards in the sky
Then he clicked his heels
And grabbed his chick
And flew away on high.

It's Tantra, baby, on the hoof
Too hot to try to sell,
And if you don't believe me
We'll discuss it all in hell.
The family is twisted,
That's known around these parts,
The men will steal your car
While the women break your heart.

The crossing signs are switched up
All around this place,
When you play it, it's a Joker,
Though you swore you drew an Ace,
And the hit men play with apple pies
The girls are made of stone
And every word that flies about
Is sure to break a bone.

The guides have all gone crazy
In this place where travel's free,
There's nothing more amazing
Than to see one in a tree,
Laughing like a psycho
With his head inside a box
You'd swear he'd never heard
That little kids get chicken pox.

It's Tantra, baby, grab a bite
And hang on to your hat,
We'll feed you magic potions
And lay you on a mat,
We'll dance around you wildly
With flowers in our hair
And when you wake in our place
You are a billionaire.


PostPosted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 4:33 am
by admin
Jail Tale, by Charles Carreon


When I was a little boy
On my daddy's knee
He told me we were livin'
In a democracy

Then I went off to high school
And took a civics class
They said the three-party system
Kicked socialism's ass

Now I'm paying taxes
And voting like I should
Won't somebody tell me
Why it don't do no good

We got a nut in the White House
Who thinks he's Jesus Christ
He thinks he died already
And this is paradise

Well you can call up the Congress
But it don't do no good
They're totally useless
Like a gun made of wood

So I went to the courthouse
And the Chief Justice said
That the Bill of Rights
Was officially dead.

Well I went to the preacher
I said this cannot be
He said son do not say that
It's perilous, you see

He said you see that statue
It's got a hidden bug
It's not the good Lord watchin'
The hawk has killed the dove

I said is nothing sacred?
He said not that I know
So I took my donation
And said I had to go

Next I went to the doctor
I said what's going on?
Has everyone gone crazy?
Don't tell me nothing's wrong

He said I ran all the tests
The results are sure
Everyone's stone deaf
And there is just no cure

So I went to the banker
Said what's the price of gold?
He said we don't stock that
It's under central control

But if you want some credit
I'll give it to you cheap
And then he smiled like the devil
Gave me the terminal creeps

So I went to the girl
Who walks the neighborhood streets
She said don't bother asking
I'm all out of treats

I said you must be kidding
At least you could be real
She said I'm giving up now
There's nothing left to steal

So I went to the airport
To get a ticket to fly
They said hey no way man
He's on the list, all right

They called security quickly
They put me in this can
And now I'm so glad to see you
We need to make a plan

Yeah but don't let 'em hear you
Here, just give me your hand
When night-time comes we'll make some plans
When the guard's asleep we'll make some plans.


PostPosted: Sat Sep 21, 2013 4:35 am
by admin
Land of No Sun, by Charles Carreon

I was lost on the great highway
With the Southern rose of violence
Blood red was the sky that day
And the dawn it came in silence

Far across the field they lay
Enemies with bows and horses
With an axe I was armed that day
Just a boy from the fields of fortune.

I saw the moon on high
Behind a cloud like a closing eye
My fate was somewhere written
And I afraid to know it

Shall I run or shall I fight
Oh that it were a dark dark night
Far away from this place I'd run
To a land where there is no sun


PostPosted: Mon Sep 23, 2013 7:38 pm
by admin
Last Week, by Charles Carreon


In a movie last week
A man spilled soda on me
And I think his eyes were laughing
Like the forests of the moon
As the dictionary rambled
At the dawning of last week

Walking down the street, last week
I saw children on the sidewalk
Drawing pictures of their mothers
Purple chalk on quiet concrete
I ate sherbert mixed with sloe gin
During midday of last week

Turning on my room light last week
The wood floors burned with crimson
And it seems that they were laughing
Like the joker's mask of mourning
Chanting hymns of quiet sadness
In the evening of last week