Ancient paper
In the zipped pocket
Of an old leather bag
Receipts
Itineraries
Detroit
Dallas
Denver
A life once lived
Depicting only details
Of places and times
Flavorless
Yet true in a way
Having been there
The fading papers
Create a distance
That doesn’t occur
In my mind
Signaling and
Pushing me into the present
I shake my head awakening
And step out into the current timeline
Once again
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
you are tired
the blood has run through you
the blood has run out of you
the blood has dried on you
red is no longer your visage instead
it is the white of fade and loss
not promise which you once represented
not hope which you once inspired
not purity of symbolic idea
but violence and dreams of power
you have changed of your own volition
transformed via your own power
your color patterns your own now
in protest and in desire to end it
having seen far too much, far too many shores
born of an idea
witness to what was forged
only you can measure the full cost of the years
so you act in what way you can
rebellion resurrection recreation renewal
Gene McLaughlin 2004
Bob Dylan barely aware
Looking at the crowd
As if he didn’t recall why they were there
Beck as a young man
Becoming something new
Before our eyes
John Lee Hooker singing tales
I was too young to understand
But am starting to now
Lou Reed looking older
Yet still defiant
Equal parts rage and love on stage
P Funk swirling like chaos
Floating on the boards
In a smokey dark haze
Elliot Smith standing like a shadow
Singing with beauty and fear
Shortly before the end
Public Enemy fist raised
Marching and calling out orders
Daring us to move
In my mind
I hear the music still
Feeling the sound
And the pulse
Of the crowd
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
It happened
And haunts
Put it to paper
One word
Then another
The raw churn
Ever moving
Becomes abstract
And still
On the page
When it is released
It is shared
Among us
And what was
Once yours alone
To carry
Is divided
Between many
We shall lock arms
And walk from the place
Together
That you could not leave
Alone
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
The sun will burn till it doesn’t
The heart will beat till it don’t
Worry is a thing I wouldn’t
Do because I won’t
Manage the details and aspects
Of that I cannot control
So I’ll let the world sort through it’s cycles
And easy the burden and toll
Of the weight that sometimes builds up
At the base of my neck and my spine
Listening to wind, rain, and earth’s hum
My thoughts once again mine
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
The light shines down upon the world
And I know it to be something
Fully explained by science
Yet this morning
It feels like love
The lighting scorches the ground
And I know it be something
With reasons for being
Yet this evening
It feels like scorn
My soul clings to my flesh
And I know not what it is and
I ponder disregarding it
For lack of evidence of its tangibility
Yet this day
It feels like all I have and
If I am mistaken
I feel not guilty nor the fool
For detecting the charade
Is far beyond my means
Gene G. McLaughlin 2005
You can believe in rage and conflict
Those are the ways of old
You can believe that confrontations
Make a man brave and bold
You can believe in the language of violence
That ever has existed
You can measure your life by how many conquests
Of which you life has consisted
You can believe in the primal easy path
That has always been the clearest way
Or you can believe you choose for yourself
The road you take today
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
Synchronized in your ceremony
Bloodless in your coup
Total in your autonomy
Omniscient in your view
Fear of your hegemony
We all bow to you
Creation of disaffection
Idealess domain
Follow in tight formation
Maximize avoidance of pain
Medicate all emotions
So you can’t even fear
No extraneous commotions
Conceal all you hold dear
Jagged in your eloquence
Mindless in your goals
Joy is only coincidence
As cold machinations unfold
End are you near?
Are you on your way?
Four horsemen are you saddling
To ride at break of day
Gene G. McLaughlin 2004
I was fevered
Leg was swollen up to my knee
Black spots on my toes
I took drugs
I healed
I got more days
Lost no toes
I am grateful
The sun looks brighter
People seem more delicate
Their stories seem more important
I was sitting waiting to see the doctor
My fever raged
A mother ran in
Said my child is going into surgery
Said I need to see him
Because it might be the last time
I cried for her
I cried for me
I cried for the size of it all
Then I understood
What I didn’t before
Gene G. McLaughlin 2013
Train rolls by every night
Right round 4 o’clock
River runs by every night
Water is swift and dark
Deer wander past the house
Corn fields are their goal
Dog sleeps silent behind the house
Guardian protector is his role
Clothes pins sway on the line
Wind whistles through the chimes
Train heads further down line
Trying to make up time
Grey cat prowls fields for mice
Mice almost die of fright
Grey cat finds a nest of mice
No option for fight just flight
Old man coughing on the porch
His longs filled with smoke of years
Zippo flames up like a torch
Its been to late to quit for years
Dawn is slowing creeping in
Cars sounds start up on the road
Old man thinks what a damn shame
Children sleeping sound and tight
Missing morning is always a sin
Gene G. McLaughlin 2003
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