Poetical Intentions
There was once an American dream
A house a job and a car or three with a cat in the yard
And the yard in Malibu Beach is this dream still out of reach
What is wrong with this picture is the angle of the stream
The entrance of the price list the fortune is too steep
The thing you want for money is my soul
Just let it tremble all away the underneath of tree is fine for a place to lay me down to sleep just keep the drunks and murderers from me and let me rest in peace and poverty
Hard at work or hardly working are you holding up that fence by leaning on it are you concerned at all with the work to hand
What-what-what am eye paying you for where is the thing where is the fun the toil and sweat is left somewhere else to do today
Eye must begin to win the poverty away to gamble and to theft
To golden gods and goddesses bereft
Eye am a poet with intentions.
