McCLURE, Michael
Mercedes Benz
Oh lord won’t you by me a Mercedes Benz
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends.
So oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz.
Oh lord won't you buy me a color TV.
Dialing for Dollars is trying to find me.
I wait for delivery each day until 3.
So oh lord won't you buy me a color TV.
Oh lord won't you buy me a night on the town.
I'm counting on you lord, please don't let me down.
Prove that you love me and buy the next round.
Oh lord won't you buy me a night on the town.
(Everybody
,) Oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz.
My friends all drive Porsches, I must make amends.
Worked hard all my lifetime, no help from my friends.
So oh lord won't you buy me a Mercedes Benz.
--------------------------------------------------------------I'M AN EAGLE IN THE WHIRLPOOL
I'm the fox of reason.
I have had my head bent for truth and treason.
I'm a star in the sunny moon light.
I'm the stumbling fool.
I'm the horse of night
careening on the cliff of flight.
Won't you kiss me?
Won't you hug me?
Please
tell me my name.
I'm the hand of April
with my fingers made of fame.
Come kiss me on my elbow.
Bless
my
mind
good night.
Sweet old flame.
Sweet old flame.
Bless my mind goodnight.
Come kiss me on my elbow.
With my fingers made of fame,
I'm the hand of April.
Tell me my name.
Please,
won't you hug me?
Won't you kiss me?
Careening on the cliff of flight.
I'm the horse of night.
I'm the stumbling fool.
I'm a star in the sunny noon light.
I have had my head bent for truth and treason.
I'm the fox of reason.
I'm an eagle in the whirlpool.
¡EL CERRO ES NUESTRO!
THE FLAME IS OURS!
We are the candle
that holds itself
aloft.
We are the Andes
among creatures
and our hands are soft
and our cotex
is a beacon
as are our toes.
You and I
are a river of light
that pours
and gleams
in
the
blue-black
snows.
We are perfect
as the tooth
of a squirrel!
--Lima-Huancayo railroad, Peru
FOR JACK KEROUAC: THE CHAMBER
…..
IN DARK HELL IN LIGHT ROOM IN UMBER AND CHROME I
feel the swell of
smoke the drain and flow of motion of exhaustion, the long sounds of cars
the brown shadows
on the wall. I sit or stand. Caught in the net of glints from corner table to
dull plane
from knob to floor, angles of flat light, daggers of beams. Staring at love's face.
The telephone in cataleptic light. Matchflames of blue and red seen in the
clear grain.
I see myself -- ourselves in Hell without radiance. Reflections that we are.
The long cars make sounds and brown shadows over the wall.
I am real as you are real whom I speak to.
I raise my head, see over the edge of my nose. Look up
and see nothing is changed. There is no flash
to my eyes. No change to the room.
Vita Nuova--No! The dead, dead, world.
The strain of desire is only a heroic gesture.
An agony to be so in pain without release
when love is a word or kiss.