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Criss Cross
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Thursday, 01 December 2005 10:21 |
friday the 13th
for mike liebler
any day
can be the lucky one,
or the one with your number
written all over it, 123
507 in the poet's case,
walking out
the front door
of the penitentiary,
8:30 p.m.
14 years ago today,
2 times 7 years the cycle
of struggle, to make it through
in one piece, on the yard
or in these streets, anyone
who can pick up a frying pan
owns death, burroughs said,
& sometime in new york city
coming back from the recording studio,
walking up to his front door,
john lennon with a gun
stuck in his face,
oh,
oh, sweet giant of song,
with heart of huge dimension
& eyes deep in the sky,
there has to be a day
when each of us must pass
beyond this tedious sphere,
to enter some wondrous place
of which we do not know
whether we're ready or not,
some other place or space
out of time
where no punk with a weapon
will ever press you again
or blow off your face
out of the depths
of his madness, no one
will hold us
against our will
in a cell with bars in front
& back, 6 feet by 4 feet
by 8 feet high,
no one will take us
out of our natural lives
& send us away from here
by means of some murderous fantasy
in which we are denied
everything we have lived for
oh please let us die
at the end of our own time
& not before, free
in our world of strife,
let us have life
as long as we can
& please, let there be men
like monk & john lennon
to share of their hearts
& light up our ways
as long as we may live
detroit
friday, december 13/
december 30, 1985 |
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