There’ve been so many Voters I’ve known Democrats are so dumb Just like Republicans
Here comes the little girl, Pushing her baby down the street She’s all by herself, Using food stamps get somethin’ to eat,
And I’ll promise change Promise change Promise CHANGE And then forget… I’ll go to Washington, but I’ll forget now.
Another election? A fait acomplit ... You could vote for that other guy, Yeah, if you wanna die. And you know you won’t Know you won’t Know you won’t Know you won’t Stand alone You can’t stand alone, baby, need a man beside you.
You keep on hopin’ I’ll remember someday And I’ll lead you on, Yes on and on and on,
The bankers are my friends, But ain’t I good to you? Didn’t send you to Guantanamo, Didn’t beat you black and blue,
So you’ll never leave, Never leave, Never leave, You gotta come home, You gotta come home to poppa babe.
You think you are different? That you’ll “occupy” But you just sat in your tent Tryin’ to avoid the rent. Couldn’t come up with no demands, Playin’ your little anarchist games, Hate to tell you baby, You’re all pretty lame, And some day you’ll see Day you’ll see Day you’ll see Day you’ll see, You just got played, Played by me, yeah, I was the player Played by me, Yeah baby you just got played, Played by me.
POETRY
Posted: Tue Oct 01, 2013 10:46 pm
by admin
Zombies Don't Come, by Charles Carreon
It all happened right here, in me. The whole thing everything right here peter frampton was right i'm in you You're in me probably not how he meant it but anyway saw him once at the Ventura County Fair by the beach poor bastard me, I mean stuck in a motel with wife and daughter the daughter and I decided to see the show Actually, he was pretty good And then I remembered He was the guitarist in Humble Pie Who fried my brain At the celebrity theatre on a full hit of orange sunshine Came on after Loggins & Messina had me all blissed out and electrocuted my ass Goddamn singer talking cockney smack about a run-in with a London whore Uuuuuuugghh Dragged my mind through the fuck'n gutter Then ground me through a brutal version of I don't need no doctor Killer tune Killed me about a dozen times Then, when I was dead, Turned me into a zombie With everyone else And moshed us psychically with his fuzztone Including the bit where the bass player goes real quiet Then cranks it up to eleven So the whole floor falls out from under you and everyone else And the whole room has an orgasm sorta except for me cause I'm a zombie and I know it unlike the rest of them and zombies don't come
Re: Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon
Posted: Sun May 17, 2015 2:19 am
by admin
The Ballad of Javier Solis by Charles Carreon
The DEA came into town, One dark and slimy day, Dressed like punker-hippie- military-tattooed scum, With consecutively numbered stacks of Treasury-issued cash To do some deals and add some meth to Uncle Sammy's stash.
They haunted bars and strip joints Like real tattooed scum, They hung around, talked shit And told pornographic jokes, Treated Mexes at the bar Like ordinary folks, And at suspicious intervals Got up to take a whiz, Made faces like they'd copped a buzz, And were always up for biz.
Well soon they'd rounded up A nice young man from Nayarit Who swore his uncle knew a man Whose crank was pure and sweet, He tossed off his tequila, The cops poured him one more, They set the deal to go down In a chicken coop at four. Those doughty DEA guys thought They'd hatched a nice surprise.
At three o’clock, the backup team Arrived at their spot on a ridge above The chicken coop described. In the dry and dusty valley The snipers cleaned their sights.
At four o’clock, the narcs rolled up All bad in their Mustang 5. With their bag of funny-money, And swaggering gangster panache, With their visible guns and hidden badges, They were ready for anything, Hoping for action.
Behind a counter in the heat Sat a man with a poundscale, A scoop, and some bags, A heap of some whitish substance, And a smile as warm as the sun. The scum looked at each other, And jerked their guns real fast. But the Mexican started laughing, And waved his hands at last.
He wasn't frightened, didn't cry, And explained in perfect Spanish, The fertilizer was not that dear, And there was no need to steal it. Besides the boss had always said The police were all their friends. “What's that guys name?” A Spanish-speaking cop was quick to ask. "Oh, he's well known around these parts. He's called Javier Solis."
Then the man was very helpful, And showed the DEA How he mixed the powders and liquids In a manner he'd well-memorized: "Two scoops of this, one scoop of that, Mix well and cook with this. Decant, then strain, and filter again. We made several pounds each day, And at the end of every week, Solis took it all away, Bringing beans, tortillas, chile, Bacon, chicken, cabbage too. A very good man Solis was, Kind and honest, just like you. I'm sure he'd want you to have it, So take a pound or two."
They took him into custody But hell, it was no fun. He knew it was a mixup And didn't try to run, Besides, they'd got the name now Of a local drug kingpin. They decided they should go back Undercover for a spin.
Back in town, they quietly whispered To the guys in the strip-bar toilet That they sought Javier Solis. Like a charm, the name Drew forth laughs and knowing nods. "Sure," said a dapper fellow Slicking his hair in the mirror, "He goes to that one place all the time ... You remember ese," he says, Turning to his comrade, Whose head bobs in agreement, "It's in that town where the mill gone closed, A little bar, where I think he owns a share, Cause him and his homies, They're always drinkin there."
So they went to the bar in the town up the road, And asked if Solis was there. A helpful fellow answered "Dude, you missed him, He was here, But I know where he's going, And if you hurry You might catch him there."
And so they went from town to town, Chasing old Solis on down, Till at last their Mustang lights Revealed a motel by a lettuce field, Where an old Marine smokin' Chesterfields, Was watchin’ TV at the manager's desk.
They told him, whispering closely, They were looking for Javier Solis. The manager squinted, and twisted his head And answered “Say that again?” They repeated themselves, And when he was sure that they’d said What he thought they had said, He started to laugh, And turned to the screen Where a charro with a guitar on horseback Serenaded a girl with long, black hair. As he smiled with satisfaction, he said, “That’s the man, right there.”
Re: Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon
Posted: Sun May 24, 2015 3:49 am
by admin
You Can’t Defeat an Avocado by Charles Carreon
(It’s like a wind that blows a thousand miles an hour. You will be like -- “All my shit has been blown away…”)
Yeah many man's tried And many man's died Because you can’t defeat An avocado An avocado may look small But inside, it’s ten feet tall, That’s why you can’t defeat an avocado You may learn some lessons in your life From your husband or your wife But until you see the light You don’t know wrong from right But you need never fear The avocado’s here And you can’t defeat an avocado We’re takin’ bets here every night The smart money’s always right And you bet That it’s on The avocado Because you can’t No you can’t You just can’t No you can’t You just can’t Defeat An avocado Like Napoleon at Waterloo My friend that will be you If you attempt to overthrow An avocado Yeah, like Hitler at Stalingrad It will be that bad If you try to defeat An avocado Now wine comes from grapes And people came from apes But an avocado has a pit And that’s just the heart of it! So you can’t No you can’t No you can’t No you can’t You just can’t defeat an avocado
Re: Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon
Posted: Mon Jul 13, 2015 1:39 am
by admin
Freedom From Fear by Charles Carreon 7/12/13
I'm looking for a savage purity, An individual turn of mind, Something to bequeath futurity That everyone would like to find.
Freedom from fear! How about that? Freedom from death By heart attack Or lack of money How about that? That's as real as a heart attack.
An inner revolution is What we've got to stage The Devil's in charge A complete outrage We lick his boots And polish his silver We stack it up And hope that some will stick to us But it never does, We're always behind, Fighting to keep up Till we fall over in the race You got your heart attack And your place in the graveyard For all the good it did You might have never been born
So you see we're in prison We gotta break out Well actually We gotta break in, Because the key's inside If we all just grab it, Things'll be all right.
You gotta break in To where you're locked in Watching television And drinkin' gin, With your worries stacked up And your fears in charge This is your life. You're livin' large.
Mean -- while Your limousine awaits At the gate Anytime you want to come To the party You won't be late Too bad You're lost inside an illusion. The truth is a place You can be Where things will clear up Eventually You just need a little patience It does take a little time, But you see it can be done You can learn to have fun Being good
Re: Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon
Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2015 7:05 pm
by admin
Untitled by Charles Carreon
Don't rush Don't tarry With the flow You go Serving all beings Without second thought Harvesting the fruit of Buddhahood without effort or care Awaking on the cradle of true self-love.
Re: Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon
Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2015 7:09 pm
by admin
Persona by Charles Carreon
He was the son of a man named Jim, And though it may seem strange, It wasn't easy for him. You see, he was thin and pale, a cheek like a sail an eye as black as a hole in a sail. His mouth was like a smear of plum juice on a page. And he was born in what would come to be regarded as a darkling age. A time when the craven practices of numbreless generations had taken wing, as it were, Across the face of the nations.
Re: Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon
Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2015 7:15 pm
by admin
Day One of Last Day Diary by Charles Carreon
If today were the last day of my life, what would I say? If I had only this page to express it. Well, of course, to answer that question, I'll need to assume the circumstances of my death, which would tend to color the content of my speech. Ha ha. But if it just was going to end in a very ordinary way, I'd say, today,
I have had a heckuva ride I almost don't want to spoil it by going on about it But I must go speedily to the nub of it and say Blessed was the day A fair young maiden looked my way and blessed has been every day I've spent with her and the darkest day with her I would abide again For the sake of the lifetime We've had together. You are the sun I wait for in the morning The voice I long to hear In the deepest chamber of my heart. I know you have always wanted to know that I love you enough to want to stay with you forever, to the exclusion of all others. I have it figured out now You and I shall be Together forever And there will be No others.
Re: Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon
Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2015 7:18 pm
by admin
On the Origin of Clouds by Charles Carreon
Tantric entanglement The weaving of essences. Vibrations that create the illusion of solidity. Space that accommodates gradations of density. Abstraction between and among illusory chunks of this and that. The tendency of things to assume a spherical form. The emergence of local gravity. The interplay of fluctuating temperatures. The arising of cyclic alternations. The emergence of rhythms. The shuffle begins its movement, The weaving begins.
Re: Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon
Posted: Tue Sep 01, 2015 7:45 pm
by admin
Burning Man Journal by Charles Carreon
Soul music and white people for breakfast Keepin' your own bottle of pee All your garbage is yours I toss a small knot of string out the tent door, knowing someone will remark upon it. I wait less than an hour before a Burner throws it back in the door, casually, as if it had caught her eye a minute before, and she'd just decided on the course of action for dealing with a nikulturni virgin. I make instant Chai not very good Make real tea Eat plum pie Share plum pie w/ Cliff & Atira. Fix my bike tire. See Scotto Finally -- clarity Bike Rock City 4:15 & G I'm there-bound.