The Cell
My room is stuffy and small
but it's better than being in a six by nine
I ride around in an old and small car
but it's better than being in a six by nine
the lovelies are with somebody else,
but it's better than being in a six by nine
at home, being harassed by creditors,
and you don't have the cash;
but it's better than being in a six by nine
being outside and being deluged by the rain--
coming down hard cold and wet; but
it's better than being in a six by nine
walking the streets with no one to talk to and
very little in my pocket; but it's better
than being in a six by nine
going to a movie theatre alone while there
are lovers all around is bad; but not worse
than being in a six by nine
riding down highways and boulevards with
nowhere to go, is not too good; but it's better than
being in a six by nine
gourmet dinners of hot dogs and pork n beans
is better than the stale donuts, they give you
in the mornings in a six by nine
teenage years are difficult;
but not worse than being in a six by nine
a six by nine
a six by nine
I must pause while thinking about those
locked in a six by nine
the guards and the inmates
Mad Night
This night drunk with madness
The madness of a train
The madness of a platform
The madness of the night sky
The madness of the people
Who are waiting for a train
A mad man was yelling this night
And the platforms was crowded with people
And we all watched the mad man,
Waiting for something to happen,
But the man only kept swearing
Mostly at the few whites who were on the
Platform
And some big tough men kept watching him,
A if they wanted to do something,
But the madman was quiet big and crazy
And kept saying he was the devil
And they're a lot of men in the world with
Nothing to lose, and I kept thinking maybe
He wanted one of the big guys to throw him
Over the track, so that a train could hit him
And the mad man kept looking over yelling
At the white guys across the platform
Who kept talking about computers,
And they looked like guys, who worked on computers,
And the tried to ignore the guy, but the guy was so loud,
And they kept looking around for the police or something,
But none were around, this night; he was angry at the whites
For looking intelligent and comfortable, as a skinny black
Man kept looking in the trashcans for food, he kept saying
He was the devil and leering at the whites
And I kept thinking I would rather be somewhere
Where people are kinder, fairer, more civilized, and less crazy
Than this
How Good Can It Be
When you drink, it's better to sit in
A parked car alone on a parking lot
Drinking and thinking to one's self
When you walk through the city, it's better
To walk the streets alone through an interesting
Part of the city, taking it all in: people, cars, buildings,
Pigeons, chairs, signs, glass, fragrances, temperature,
It's better to be alone while you do this, if you were
With someone, you might miss something
When you work, as surely as nearly everyone must work
It's better to take a job were people will leave you alone,
And just let you work, no bantering, no palaver, no jokes,
It's better to work hard and to be quiet, and when you do this,
People might think you are crazy, so they will leave you alone
And don't say anything to you,
Yeah, it's better this way
Yeah, it's better to sit at home alone on a Friday night, while all
The workers and the police explode into the streets
It's better to sit at home alone than being out there, with them,
All the people looking for something, all the people doing the
Same thing, going to the same place, yeah it's better to stay
At home, then to be in the crowd, and to be apart of the crowd
It's better when you come home from work tired, every muscle in
Your body hurting, it's better to drink wine.
And to keep drinking the wine until. all the hurting stops.
Having good thoughts and bad thoughts. as you ponder
An easier life. then you fall asleep and dream.
Hopefully the dreams will be kind
On Youth
This brief light in the sun,
Eagles devour my heart
And hawks eat away my stomach
In this dirty dream
My skin is on fire
Oh, but the dance is so brief,
When one is not fully alive
But older men tell me that it gets
Better with age-
The flesh burns less
Or you forget about it-
But for now, older and more clever men
Hold me in bondage
And I reside in their temples of agony
Yes, it always has been this way
They protect us from ourselves
And some day I may have a son or daughter
And hold them in bondage while they loathe me
But, I do not think so
I just want to live, now
As the dogs bark and the grass grows
On Waiting
Accept it boy
Don't fight it boy
Sleep with it boy
Make it an ally boy
But don't fight it boy
It gets you boy
It gets everybody boy
You can daydream of Italy, Spain
Or Greece
But the puritanical bombs
Reach to these places too
Oh, if I could leave the cell of my body
The cell of my mind
The cell of my country
The cell of my history
The days fastened to a proper dullness
And all your desire isn't valued
It's only fool's gold
You can walk with your head down
Or eyes closed
But it's the wrong way
And not very common
And you don't want to be found guilty
Of not being common, do you?
Keep you eyes and ears open
Pay attention to things
Listen to people when they speak
Everyone is so interesting, right?
Everywhere men moving around
Men in Chicago, men in Detroit, men in San Diego
Men in Palermo
Men waiting for the bomb
Men waiting for fire
Men waiting for the final curtain to Time
Oh, it gets to me, this headache
With no aspirin, or Tylenol
No elixir
Agony and agony and agony
There's so much of it
How can it be put on a scale?
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