Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon

Identified as a trouble maker by the authorities since childhood, and resolved to live up to the description, Charles Carreon soon discovered that mischief is most effectively fomented through speech. Having mastered the art of flinging verbal pipe-bombs and molotov cocktails at an early age, he refined his skills by writing legal briefs and journalistic exposes, while developing a poetic style that meandered from the lyrical to the political. Journey with him into the dark caves of the human experience, illuminated by the torch of an outraged sense of injustice.


Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:32 pm

Bitter and Bile, by Charles Carreon

Bitter and Bile
Often would while
The hours away together.
Come rain or shine
Their thoughts would entwine --
Irrelevant was the weather.
Nothing disturbed them
As much as a thought
Unapproved by their mutual censor.
So when new thoughts come up
They just say "Shut up!"
And for hours they feel so much better.
Site Admin
Posts: 28764
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am


Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:33 pm

Blackmail, by Charles CarreonI

It wasn't so nice of you to blackmail
me into loving you. You could have
tried some other way you know I have
a weakness for your type anyway.
In your daddy's car I could always
feel the bait and switch that made me
twitch. Ah but you knew, you knew
my secret and you couldn't help but
use it against me. Naughty you.
Site Admin
Posts: 28764
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am


Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:35 pm

Boatman, by Charles Carreon

This autumn!
Mild and warm, blustery,
Day after day light and warmth prevail,
carrying on beyond their time,
Like lovers whose bond of ecstasy,
Not breaking, becomes more exquisite
with succeeding moments,
Each one drawn out lightly as a thread of silk
Unraveled from summer's cocoon.
Like a boatman who finds a stream
of clear blue sky
Running through drifting islets of dark cumulus,
And, skirting delicately those touches of frost
That would stiffen oars and rudder,
Averts the entrance of ice.

The prow parts delicately the floating mosaic
Of leaves that overcover the stream,
A stream so still as to seem directionless.
Yet the boatman is rowing
With gentle strokes upstream,
His back to the mountain of ice.

Out from the stern spreads a wedge
of ripples, and the oars with every stroke
Leave twin vortices swirling with captured leaves,
Whirling together, and unwinding into openness,
Like compasses in search of the pole.
Site Admin
Posts: 28764
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am


Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:36 pm

Bookworm, by Charles Carreon

Bookworm, bookworm,
Living in the ashes of your
look at me and blink your lashes
Flip the page as I check the line
Of your chin
And counter your glance
with a grin.

Library closes ...
you win.
Site Admin
Posts: 28764
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am


Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:37 pm

Boogaloo Baby and the Ripstop Mama, by Charles Carreon

As we rock the cradle
Sky darkens to sable
Don't say we're not able to love
It's a real miracle singalong
At the edge of the lawn
With a rocket star pinnacle
Pinned to the dawn
As we lift up our voices
And teeter so tall
As if standing on tiptoe
Meant anything at all
Site Admin
Posts: 28764
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am


Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:39 pm

Border Song, by Charles Carreon

Reminds me of a week I spent
one afternoon in Nogales

The rain was falling heavily
With rattlesnakes mixed in
You had to use an umbrella
and lots of anti-venin

The Border Patrol were hot to go
So I said "Hell, why not?"
The chicks were cool
The road a spool of liquor-signs
I thought a Navajo I spied as tall
as an old saguaro cactus
He just waved
As we sped by
Wearing a cheerful rictus

Down by the Rio Grande
all dressed up like a dandy
Coyote swung his watch chain
and chewed his cocaine candy
We watched the drop
the lightning fell
Then nothing was left standing
but a waterfall of millionaires
coming in for a landing

Do you find the workweek long?
Does it make your tickle tangle?
Just comb your hair
With breaths of air
And you won't ever strangle
when Armadillos talk to you
down in old Durango

The waterfall, a wheel of fire
still stutters through my sight
A rolling thing, with butter wings
That melted in the night
A phoenix then arising when
We close our eyes at last

Two men are running in the dark
Running very fast
Site Admin
Posts: 28764
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am


Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:43 pm

Buddhist Horror Flick, by Charles Carreon

Armies of zombie clergy
Dragging their malas
Wielding crowbars
and sacred implements

Led by hordes of vampires
Sangha officers and boards of directors
Engage in gang warfare,
Blasting away at each other
With blazing thunderbolts

Hot chick vampire action figures
Primed for temptation
the new generation
Of Mara's Daughters,
Slick wet look glossy lipsheen
And DiVynyl boots

Steven Seagal eight feet tall
Whuppin' them demons
One and all
With a platoon of phony tulkus
Done up Shaolin style
Using their malas
To garrote heretics

And Ambu up on the pyre
Screaming louder and louder
While I'm out in the crowd
mistaken for a madman
[Fade to Black]
Site Admin
Posts: 28764
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am


Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:50 pm

Built to Last, by Charles Carreon


And the mind,
they tell us
is a chemical phenomenon
that psychopharmacologists
will wind and bind
with chemical tools.
They will come up with
pills and thrills
will be a thing of the past,
And humans will run smooth
and fast, and built to last.
We will become
the playthings of an
ideology bent on
The children of the womb
refined in a factory
of certainty,
The troublesome orgy of randomness
reduced at last to harmlessness,
All watched over by
nursemaids paid by the big father
in his perfect

(Aug '94, Colestine)
Site Admin
Posts: 28764
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am


Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:53 pm

Burn Your Bridges, by Charles Carreon


My Dad taught me something
When I was young,
He was gifted with a silver tongue
He made me think that everything
Lay within my grasp
'Cause I understood
Why it pays to be good.

He always said
Burn your bridges, my son
Make no preparation for retreat
Don't think about gettin' beat
Just burn your bridges
And you'll see
There's only one road ahead
And it's the one you make
So burn your bridges
Every one.

It's a terrifying leap
That we make each day
Through the gates of hell
At least it seems that way
All the signs are misleading
I can't believe what I'm reading
Somehow gotta make it pay

So I burn my bridges
One more time
Set out on the road that is mine
Toward the smoke of bridges burning
My mind will not be turning
Yes I've burned my bridges
One more time.

Some people worry they'll be dead someday
I don't tend to think that way
I've lost everything I ever had
And hasn't really been all that bad
The taste of the good old days
Lingers on

I've never been of the world of men
Probably had 'bout enough of them
I could burn those bridges
And feel fine.
Yes I'll burn some bridges
Site Admin
Posts: 28764
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am


Postby admin » Mon Sep 16, 2013 6:57 pm

Bush Riders Outta Control, by Charles Carreon


A stranger rode straight into town
The fear was in his eyes
He gulped a shot and then once more
And said, “What I’d advise,
Is saddle up and ride as hard and fast
As you can ride –
There’s Bush riders comin’
Bush riders outta control.”

He didn’t have to say it twice,
A mob made for the door,
The bartender yelled out, “Last call!”
And I called out, “One more.”
I had a winning poker hand
And had been about to raise
When my poker game was ended
By the stranger’s maddened phrase –

Bush riders comin',
Bush riders outta control.

I might not had a mentioned
That I’m from Tennessee
So I figured that I’d stick around
And see what I could see.
I’d seen some ruffians down south
With snake-eyes in their souls
So I figured I’d get a load of these
Bush riders outta control.

The eastern sky turned dark as pitch
As they moved toward the west
When they hit the edge of town
They didn’t stop for gas,
Just shifted to a lower gear
And yelled as they drove past,
“We’re just the advance column,
so watch out for your ass.”

And soon we saw what they had meant,
It was a dreadful sight.
An eclipse came down o’er the town
And plunged it into night,
And like a wounded animal
A siren shrieked in fright.
Then Cheney’s voice cried, “Open fire!”
And they put out the lights.

The shooting went on all night long
While Rumsfeld danced a jig
Then out came Condoleezza
Riding on a pig.
And Cheney with his shotgun
Shot friends and foes alike
Then the most fearsome among them
Stepped right up to the mike.

He had a folksy manner
And a kind of Texas drawl
He said, “We kicked old Saddam’s ass,
And got ourselves a haul,
So let’s just do some drinkin’
And all let down our hair,
‘Cause tomorrow when the sun comes up
We’ll all be billionaires.”

From where I hid I still could see
The clouds above his head,
As if an older evil
Had took his place instead,
With swastikas and murder camps
And instruments of dread,
It blasted through the megaphones
And straight into my head.

There's Bush riders comin',
Bush riders outta control.

Then they raised up a gleaming cross
To honor their own dead.
The Chief swept off his cowboy hat
And placed it on his chest.
He said, “These boys have died for us
And the values we hold best,
Now send their parents letters
And burn ‘em like the rest.”

When they broke camp there wasn’t much
They hadn’t broke or stole.
Just fire, wreckage, ruin
And the smell of burning oil.
‘Cause underneath that Christian hide
there lurks a demon soul,
Who let the devils out of hell
With just two words, “Let’s roll!”

Bush riders comin',
Bush riders outta control.
Yeah there's Bush riders comin',
Bush riders outta control!
Site Admin
Posts: 28764
Joined: Thu Aug 01, 2013 5:21 am


Return to Carry On with Carreon

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: No registered users and 2 guests