Who Are You Dancing For?
(By Walter Beck)
It’s addictive as hell;
The headlines,
The sidelines,
Having a pen or mic
Thrust in your face.
Christ, it’s addictive;
And I ain’t even famous,
Just a small-time loudmouth
Dancing for peanuts
For the local rags.
A Bible Brother rubbed it in my face
Quoting Dylan at me,
“You gotta serve somebody”
I thought I danced
For no man.
But it’s so smooth and easy
To slip into that old skin;
Be the angry young man
Just one more time,
Clench your fist and wave your sign
Just one more time,
Get your headlines and color photo
Just one more time.
They hawk a few more papers
With your name splashed across them,
A local celebrity,
A famous rabble-rouser.
But do they take you seriously
Anymore?
Did they ever take you seriously?
On the streets,
In the papers,
Even on the stage
Did they ever take you seriously?
Did anyone?
Sometimes
It ain’t so bad being used;
And sometimes
It’s the rude awakening
You’ve been needing.
Free Form Piece #1: Untitled (Burning Green Rags)
(By Walter Beck)
Closing my eyes and seeing a sea of green rags burning, dancing around them, burning, dancing like a madman, like a drunken lunatic, dancing around these burning green rags, dancing around them, ultimate acts of revenge and rebellion, serve it cold and light it up, like Baked Alaska, burning into the night, public acts of purification and exorcism, no redemption here, just purging, purging like the dripping pus from an infected tooth, burning green rags, with everyone scratching their heads, private fulfillment in a public square, burning green rags and dancing around them like a madman.
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