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Monthly Archives: August 2014

Garden State of Mind

I gotta get up outta here

for justa little while;

Maybe head to Avalon

Egg Harbour or Sea Isle.

Drive straight out Route 23

past Bergen into Butler,

See the sights there are to see,

and Run a little further.

From May’s Landing to Passaic

and every exit in between

From Mahwah down to Lodi

All the way to Brigantine.

Feelin like a winter’s night

in Camden or AC,

Just give me some time alone to drive

and I’ll go back to bein me.

I think it just is

Sometimes

That everybody needs

some Highway signs…

I Don’t know where I’m gonna go

in this wild-hearted chase,

from Garfield to down to Glassboro,

I’ll tour the Garden State.

Gonna drive every county road

Till these feelins goes away,

I’ll ride this state to death tonight

from Brunswick to Galloway.

New Jersey turnpike, Paterson,

it doen’t really matter,

Through the neighborhoods of Clifton

to the streets of East Hanover;

Have a slice of pizza

here in Little Falls,

see the beauty of Paramus

Then head on out to Wall.

Pass a million different faces

And stories on the way

Maybe I can find myself tonight

on a bustop in Piscataway.

I don’t know if they’re looking for me,

and I couldn’t really care

It’s a lonely road to Parsippany

and I’m hardly halfway there.

Hackensack is where I’m told

I had my first baby breath of air,

Hoboken and Seacaucus

didn’t seem to care.

I swear I’m not so crazy

Standing out here in the dark

In the shadowed streets of Neptune

or the boards of Asbury Park.

Just restless feelings

and license plates

and years of life

In the Garden State.

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Where to Turn, Pilgrim?

Someone lend me

a helping hand

and Take me to

my promised land;

My wife is dead from missile strikes

and you’ll never understand

The world may be numb to this

But I can’t quite say I am;

Hamas and Netanyahu

direct unconditional hate

Leaves me wondering who

Has got the fullest plate


Ocean Man (don’t drown)

My organs

are the violent churning waters of the ocean

beating on the pilings beneath the Atlantic City boardwalk

during a late July

tropical storm.

My heart is a torrential riptide,

So fierce

And so strong

That resistance is useless.

My Soul is Waves and swells of salt water

that never stop coming,

That rise up out of the grey sea Again

and Again.

My eyes are the lightning strikes

That you watch split the sky over the Ocean at night

from the inside of your home;

Love me for what I am

or Fear me and Drown

I do not indulge

in the Bullshit of Landlings.


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