A Thunderbird Ranch Ramble Poem
(a first)
Chaos in Freeman’s Alley
A triumphant 18 foot Vladimir Lenin
looked proud as he peered down on the
Lower East Side mischief in the streets.
The Floyd’s Run Like Hell
played across the radio for the first time
conjuring up bad thought by anxious taxi drivers.
Chaos in Freeman’s Alley,
a place where none was to be had,
created a shockwave in the night.
Muscle bound men screaming in the public square
with blood oozing from their arms
and street jiz dripping off their backs.
Young girls waste deep
from the top down inside garbage cans
purging Gomarrah’s alluring poison.
Old men with nothing to loose,
the most dangerous kind,
aggressively panning for dollars from anyone with shoes.
Nancy Sinatra’s cartoon ad
for the “Brand America Chooses”
papered on walls outside the crowded First Jesus Church.
A large African she-Queen
pirouetting in the cafe
as diners moved their tables and clanked their glasses in celebration of the sight.
Rebel rousers gathering in
the dungeons of Louie and Chan
while drinking Absinthe cocktails from wooden cups.
Two Korean art students protesting outside
the ABC Playground as to why the frog
was allowed in the park when the sign clearly said “No Pets.”
A few steps away on Ridge St
a self-promclaimed shaman told the story of “Nate The Great” while standing above the torn book that contained only the title page.
NYC is the place for devilish men
wearing wide brimmed white hats
like a cosmic Roy Rogers on sabbatical.
Who is the one that painted the street
with “I got nowhere to be”
perhaps it is the genesis for the chaos in Freeman’s Alley.
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