Richard Jarboe Poems

Population, getting out of town,
Population, got their running shoes,
Population, wondering which road to choose,
Everybody's getting out of town.
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I got patches on my jeans
Roach clip on the dash
LSD, mushrooms, reefer and hash
I've been to California, been to Mexico too
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With apology to Bruce Willis...

we don't wrap our women up in burkas,
we like bikinis on the beach,
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There's a thin line between the poet and the bum,
Usually both are broke,
In boxing circles, there's the bum of the month,
And like the poet, considered a joke.
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What good does it do,
To profile each other?
Our roots are the same,
Our blood the same color.
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Eating disorder, or is it?
It's eat or be eaten, you can't miss it,
That's the order of the disorder,
Hooked to a food chain, or should I say food train.
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When you ride with Betty Ann close your eyes,
Riding with Betty Ann better keep them closed,
Betty Ann doesn't drive; Betty Ann flies,
Crash dummy rolling down the road.
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I once knew Rattlesnake Ace,
Kept his snakes in a old suitcase,
Rattlesnakes all over the place,
In the shack of Rattlesnake Ace.
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I know this may come as a total surprise
But the gold in the field shines like your eyes
If only I could bring together the two
I'd waltz across the gold field with you.
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