Guest book and Reviews.



Could’a been a Tyson

Slice’n chicken, or your face

Could’a been the sliced

Could’a been your face with teethy ear.

(Either way, I’d make some bucks

or fade away amidst the clucks)

Could’a been a coon dog
with a culinary nose
Could’a been in Birmingham
near the fire hose –

Catching liquid cannon balls, or
Blasting back your uppity
insurrection –

Indeed, Could’a been the one to say

“I’m not riding at the back today”

Could’a been the one to place
shackles on your hands --
Could’a been old Bobbit
now at half-a-man.
Could’a made the scissors
at the factory …
Could’a been ol’ Jimmy D.

with a giant olfactory.
Could'a been the pilot of the Inola Gay.
Could'a been some new born kid
slightly in the way -- of light.

Could’a been some buxom blonde
Before your camera lens.
You asked me to stand
right over the fan, and
I fed your lust while acting
like I didn't know.

Could’a been your weak-willed husband,
burning anger deep inside,
but without the will to take you home.

Could’a been old Abe
Or Grant or Lee

Found that vision flexes with geography,

Could’a been a blend

of honor, necessity or lies,
Led the nation into blood

Or sparred us from the greater wrath of God.

Could’a done the goose step

Could’a been a goose

Could a been the hangman

Could’a been the noosed.

Could’a been so hard, as to fan the oven

Could’a been so twisted, as to join a coven

Could’a been the ripper
or the ripped.
The hooker or the hooked.

The bookie or the booked,

The bastard or the dad,
The vulture or the lad -who didn't find fresh water.

Could have been the woman that I hold …
Could have been the child that I scold.
Could have been
any of a hundred folks on the other side of me ...

Could’a begged my change – for booze

Could’a caught my glare

Could’a begged some dimes to live

Could’a shared the air

Could’a waited for my tip

or needed a kind word,

Could’a looked to me for light

but found me self absorbed.

Indeed, Could’a been a Jeckle or a Hyde,

held a dozen people deep inside;

Could’a felt as if my brain
would fly into a trillion parts.

(okay, this I can believe.)

Could’a been a David,

Good at writin’ psalms

Could’a a been a crowd

Good at wavin’ palms.

Could’a been a Kirk

Then I’d really be a jerk.

Could’a never needed to think odd.

Could’a been a rock
called forth to sing Your praise.


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