The Weed Express

July will never 
Be the same
Now that I've boarded
The Weed Express Train

Just like January
It's kind of long
My new found love
In this summer song

The noon day sky
Is best done
In the middle of July

The harvest weeds
Sky cerulean blue
Is what you need
With dried out weeds

Its not something
That you smoke
It's something
That pokes

Graveyard Digging Blues

In this field you will not dance
We work you very hard
The only spade that you will see
Won't be a deck of cards

Now its time to get to work
And pay your social dues
Your penitence for all your crimes
The graveyard digging blues

You should have thought more
Before you planned that coup
You left a trail of evidence
But that is just like you

You never did what you were told
You thought you knew it all
You wanted more and more and more
You caused your own downfall

Artie Choke

Artie Choke
A fine young bloke
A crown of thorns had he
Jesus Christ
His hair was nice
Dyed purple as the sea

Lady Fair
Hands through his hair
Felt an awful prick
Lady fair
Doth she declared
Would she be Arties chick

Wait, there's more
Before you snore
You have to hear the ending
Shaved his hair
His head laid bare
He had her full attention

She said
Oh Artie Choke
Your are my bloke
You look like Yul Brenner
Without hair, your head so bare
I'll forever love you tender

Creeping Spurge

She keeps her shades drawn
So she can't see
The old brick building
Where he used to be

Friend of her husband
Got in a car
Together they drove
Down to the bar

The road was icy
The car hit a tree
Both men died
In the debris

To her husband
Their affair was unknown
Now they are gone
She's forever alone

Old weeds and vines
Cover the house
The attic
Thick with dust

Red Sorrel

He hides in plain sight
Right under your eye
Next to the trail
Down in a swale

Making his plans
Hidden from man
Looks like a weed
That's what we believe

During the spring
He looks like noth-ing
Something to mow
Don't let it grow

Then when he dries
Brings tears to your eyes
His rustic dance
A rusty romance

During the summer
Seed pods bring wonder
Red, brown and rust
To see it - you must

Next time you walk
Past a weed with a stalk
Camera in hand
It will be grand

I sung only the stanzas in Bold - these worked best with the music. Since my surgery, I had lost my photographic "mojo" - luckily my music mojo was still in tact.

Last Sunday I paired some cool dried weeds I picked in a field with a creepy doll. I also took a macro shot through an old Yashica-Flex Rollei knock off film camera and shot the ground glass. I figure it would give a pinhole effect - and voila!

Now I have a "theme" for this summer - and its photographic cool dried weeds with my old creepy dolls and marionettes. I have several very cool weeds - one, called Red Sorrel (or sheeps sorrel) is quite beautiful - and I must have walked past in all these years and just wrote it off as an ugly weed. Amazing how we can finally open our eyes after so many years - and see something that was under our nose.

I'm starting to feel more like my old self again.


Weeds are us forgotten people
We are the outcast meek
In our day and gilded age
Only the gilded get to speak

Like old dolls  that are composite
Made of many different things
We the  meek shall  inherit nothing
Every Thing was made for Kings

Kings from Queens and other royals
Need to watch  their gilded tea
For us masses  will take it back
What belongs to you and me

Weeds for now
One if by night
Two if by sea

St. Mary

You move me
When you stick me
With your thorns

I'm caught in your trap
Stuck inside
Your thicket

I'm feelin thorny
Could you ease up
Don't pinch so hard

That's better
A little goes
A long long

St. Mary
You're my drug
St. Mary
Stick with me
St. Mary
Give me a hug
St. Mary
Forever in love

Stickers and Thorns

Stickers and thorns
You were warned
Stay out of the thicket
They're full of pickers

Blackberries are sweet
Hard to resist
Vines have sharp barbs
They can do harm

Life is like this
But we forget
Sometimes its beauty
Has double duty

What might seem nice
Is camouflaged
Causes us grief
When we seek relief


Steve Bannon is Pruneface. Don Jr. Is Shaky.
Turn on the news
Watch the podcast
Villains everywhere
Seems so vast

Old Chester Gould
Pictured these thugs
His rogues gallery
Filled with their mugs

Real life creeps
Look like cartoons
Ugly grotesque
Modern day goons

Crime doesn't pay
This we shall see
Not above the law
Applies only to you and me

Prune Face Bannon
Girdles Guilfoyle
Drippy Giuliani
Diaper Don
Ivanka Wanker
Jared Cushion
Gumby Trump
Bark Meadows
Nitwit Navarro
Dandy Stone
Broken East wind
Shakey Junior
Graham Cracker
Potshot Scott
River Jordan
Jeffrey Shart
Lugnut Lindell
Moe Ron Desantis
Bo Bert
Conway Shitty
Goebels Miller
Patsy Baloney
Paulie Fall apart
Uncle Thomas
Mrs. Uncle Thomas
Brett Boofter
Margerie Forger
Grandpa Adams Cruz
HeHaw Hawley
Stuart Eye Poke
Enrique Rico
Groomer Carlson
Eva Braun Ingraham

I finally realized – “What the hell am I afraid of?” – all of these goons in the news truly are nothing more than characters right out of Chester Goulds’ Dick Tracey comic strip. The idiot news casters and pundits want you to believe that America is on the precipice. Nah – (yes, we are totally fucked up) – but not ready to be cremated any time soon. Put away your paranoia . . . although I suppose Fear Sells . . ..

Then I had super yuge bigly fun trying to come up with names where the idiots of today would be cast in this old comic strip – that started in the 30’s! Steve Bannon as Prune Face is my favorite. If we were talking Batman – Roger Stone for sure is The Penguin. Giuliani might be Mr. Freeze (although if Mr. Clean were a bandit . . . . ). Don Jr. is Shaky for sure! The possibilities are endless . . . .

Here is Trumps inept gang of stooges:

Cool new perspective . . .

When Billionaires Cry

Billionaires (and billionaire boot lickers) should all be fitted with muzzles
Yelling Man
Making a fuss
Wants attention
From the rest of us

Another yelling man
Yelling even louder
Wants attention
From the same damned crowd

What they want
I cannot say
They make no sense
To me anyway

Grand standing Elon
On a big cliff
Drooling and yelling
Smoking a spliff

So much yelling
Not saying nothing
Making shit up
Always bluffing

Makes me laugh
When billionaires cry
For attention from
You and I

I’m cleaning up my diatribes – because my lyrics do enough talking. I also had a really funny epiphany about how all of the old angry white dudes seem to be yelling at the kids to get off the lawn – or at their TV.

Tomorrow I’ll fill in what I really think . . . heh heh