Sight To The Blind by Ronald S Porter ©2014

I'm tired of my government lying to me
fed up with agencies spying on me
sick of the machine trying to be
the controlling fact in my life.

I've had enough of the President's lies
(You can spot it; watch the eyes)
weary of puppet masters who devise
social, political, economical strife

Meanwhile media moguls manipulate
education and information to create
discomfort, distrust, doubt and hate
to keep us fearful so we toe the line

The masters create and perpetuate fears
that has kept them in power for years;
Rob the masses to pay their own arrears.
But, freedom starts inside the mind.

Take the chance; risk the pain;
clear out the lies lodged in the brain.
It will prove well worth the strain,
the bitter pill of truth to swallow.

Truth is light; sight to the blind!
Revolution takes place in the mind;
We turn one heart; one soul at a time
Set the minds free, all the rest will follow.

Snakey Woman by Ronald S Porter ©2014

Hot strut, street-cold eyes,
is there anything alive
inside behind the flawless face
disregard beauty and body grace
forget the curling crown of red
ignore sapphire fire in the gaze
it will leave you in a daze
look beyond and you will find
a rapacious reptilian mind
she's crocodile hungry, cobra quick,
razor sharp and serpent slick
the other guys on the corner
shiver in that glance of ice
immobilized, they stand transfixed
like terror-frozen, trembling mice. 
Myself, I move into her path
and approach with impunity
when you've been snake bit as often as me
you develop an immunity.

late night Be-Bop Ramble by Ronald S Porter ©2014

Well, my first impulse
is second nature
and the third time is the charm
my lover is athletic
the bartender is sympathetic
right now everything is copesetic
and nobody set off
any of the burglar alarms
I got charms and potions
from across the five oceans
and around the seven seas
My woman has my heart
all my pledges and devotions
and foreplay is the only thing
that brings me to my knees
So, I'm living for the moment
and every minute is now
I've had more fun
and dirty deeds done
than the legal laws allow
You can be sure 
my love is pure and
I will keep the promise
just as long as 
you don't  break the vow

Cheap, One Night Stand A Dylanesque, Waits-flavored story) by Ronald S Porter ©2014

Well... I took my Tom Thumb's Blues*
down to Desolation Row.*
I ordered up a pitcher of misery
and, a double shot of woe,
down at Charlie's Seven Roses,
then talked up a ho. And, went off
to set the night on fire,
with the blazing flames of lust that
whiskey and cocaine can inspire; 
cause she was as war weary as me,
we were both to tired to feign desire.
We rolled and wrestled til we were raw.
We talked about the things we saw
when we first lost the fairy tale glasses
that covered our eyes in innocent youth.
Never did we speak about how bleak
it had been to discover the truth
that this uncouth and ugly world
was a frigid fight filled lonely place
where, pain and poison and disgrace 
are perpetually puked up in your face.
Well nothing to risk, nothing to gain
neither had reputation or pride.
So, we talked about the hidden pain;
 after all there was nothing to lose
Another snort; another shot of booze
and we laid down, first side by side,
with no place to hide, and waited
back to back as the sun came up
silent and secret tears we cried.
Mourning in morning, for memories
of hopes that had been hijacked and 
all those good dreams that had died.

*song titles by Bob Dylan.

Black Widow Dancer, for Vanalee Jean by Ronald S Porter ©2014

Ah, she had lips as smooth as oil
and posi-traction independent axle hips
snakey eyes with a gleaming sheen
and a black widow tattoo on her ass
but I never worried about the web
she wove or the venom of her bite
man! she was slick and tight!
Well... good sex only goes so far
after the eviction and cheap motels
then all those nights sleeping in the car
we found a room-four dollars a day
after three days she slipped away
I was left with a half-pint of cheap booze
between the heroin and vodka and
possible demon possession
my confession is I was kind of relieved
even though she left me holding
nothing but a bottle full of the blues.

Vous Voulez? by Ronald S Porter ©2014

You called it "making soup"
when we had sex
and we shared the joke and
secret understanding
I taught you a few latin words
while you teased me in French
your grand mamam approved of me
your mother hoped we'd marry
but your love was only a symbol
of youthful rebellion
and search for identity
mine was nothing more or less
than my desire for a dream
we sprouted in spring
blossomed in summer
and in autumn withered
like the leaves that fell
and blew away in the wind
a warning of winter to come
it was but a few days
yet for that few
it was all day every day
and Love was
teasing secrets
language lessons, laughter and
a big hot bowl of soup

Bottle Goods To Go by Ronald Porter ©2014

I was drinking away my memories
of the latest love affair gone wrong,
listening to my favorite sad song,
down at that bar, on Four Corners,
where hopes and dreams go to die.

Then she came walking in the door
fine frame, pretty face, long red hair 
and a psychotic gleam in her eye.
She ordered a triple; drained the glass;
dropped a coin in the music machine.
Man! Could she ever shake her ass!

While we were talking, I detected
some sort of short circuit in her brain.
But, when she whispered into my ear,
I hurried up to finish my beer.
'Cause, she made an offer to ease my pain.

I grabbed my coat, ready to go
called over a bartender named Joe
And said Before I leave, I believe
I want two shots of misery
and a case of heartbreak to go.

Little Bunny Foo Foo by Ronald S Porter ©2013

Bunnies! Field mice
We are all Foo Foo
And, yet, none are William Shatner...
Head bopping in forests green
We must end
Animal on animal violence
Animal
on animal violins

will we fiddle
while gnomes burn?
Are we Nero
or nearer, Nay!
I am Batman; I am Scatman
Carruthers. All are brothers.
I am Ironman
I am the Walrus
We are the wall... standing
among the field mice

bop them in the head
bop them in the head
bop them! in the head!

kill whitey
kill the infidels
kill the lights dude

slap a ho....

for peace

Opened Windows by Ron Porter ©2012

Oh! The warm and velvet nights
naked figures moved in darkened rooms
sometime a flickering candle flame
chased silhouettes across the wall
incense smoked the air with perfume
secret words were spoken low
with quiet intensity
while all the opened windows
admitted the traffic sounds
and the occasional
cooling summer breeze

When You Figure It Out, Explain It To Me by Ron Porter ©2013

put me on a roller coaster
prop me up in a popup tosater
cook me up in a turkey roaster
I am just alone for the ride

set me adrift in an oarless boat
lock me in a castle behind a moat
take me to the circus so i can vote
I don't have anything to hide

leave me stranded in deep snow
take me where the wild things grow
abandon me where the cold winds blow
I will still find where it's warm inside

You can take a chance
You can steal my pants
But I'll keep my car-keys and my pride
So stop being so got-damned snide!

Cool Room, Summer 1973 by Ron Porter ©2013

Up the stairs, the room was cool
when summer blazed outside.
And, even on the sunniest days,
inside it was shadowed and dim.
Victor, with his hat pulled low
grinned on the sofa and played guitar.
Betty was in the kichen humming,
making a dinner for two.
The only member of the quartet
not present was always you.

The records we played and another
cold beer kept me from going insane.
'Cause though I was terminally hip
and, always cool on the surface,
I was estranged from the woman I loved,
and stayed all torn up inside.
I fought to not fight, got high all night,
and once even publicly cried.
So many nights, I made my way home
across the Humboldt Street bridge alone-

to lie awake in my childhood bed
telling myself that I did not care,
until  finally I could fall asleep
as morning lightened the sky.
Later I'd make my way back
to the cool, dim room up the stairs,
and go through the motions, one more day
and pretend that I was all right.

For A Rainy Day by Ron Porter ©2013

skin the color of honey
she had cat's eyes
and laughter like a song
every time she walked
it looked like she was dancing
whispers of affection
like silk caressing skin
she liked pillow talk and sin
I knew she wouldn't stay
but I drank deep
my share of love
and saved my tears
for a rainy day.

A Brief History by Ron Porter ©2013

erratic beat, out of rhythm
lovesick hearts don't dance
you traded love for indulgence
I went and lived by the sea
factory work grew your money
high rise housing and cocaine
the street rose up and took me
oh but the weather was nice
i abdicated before the coup
gone like a thief in the night
good to be back home
you said home was your arms
my feet didn't fit the shoes
no need to look nothing to see
the phone calls lost their lure
you used up the fool in me

Restless Souls #4 by Ron Porter ©2013

There's a bar down at Four Corners
where good dreams go to die.
The place is dingy and dirty and
the back is dark enough
nobody sees the tears if you cry.

They got misery on tap
for fifty-five cents on a glass.
You can maybe get laid
or maybe get played;
On a wild night you just might
have somebody kick your ass.

The smell is always a little sour;
There is never any happy hour.
The minds are all bleary;
all the hearts are full of holes
and, if you look outside
the streets are paved with restless souls.