Early Morning No Salvation

Early Morning No Salvation

(By Walter Beck)

6:15 AM

Brings no mercy

To the Jesus Freaks

Who post a rambling status;

Trying to guilt trip me

With that crucifixion bullshit.

I’m out of cigarettes

And watching Newt destroy the Republican Party;

It’s a bad time

To see poorly worded diatribes.

Your Christ was nailed to a cross,

So what?

So were thousands of other criminals;

It’s no different

Than a man getting strapped to a gurney

And having his veins pumped full of chemicals.

If Christ were killed today,

Kids would be wearing lethal injection needles

Around their necks.

Pissing as a Crime

Pissing as a Crime

(By Walter Beck)

Late at night;

Blowing militant smoke

Across a stained screen.

Rolled hobo cigarettes

Smoldering to the slow, stop, start, creep

Of half-recorded audience tapes.

It’s a hard night

When the lesbians drank all your rum.

For some,

Cocksucking

Is just a political act;

And for some

Pissing is a crime

In the land of the free.

This Bullet Had My Name on It

This Bullet Had My Name on It

(By Walter Beck)

The bullet had my name on it,

From the cold glass & steel palace,

The bullet had my name on it.

After a year

Of shaking off rusty iron,

Feeling alive and free,

This bullet had my name on it.

“Go quietly,

Shut up,

Or die”

As they whisper down the line.

19 years;

The sharp shards of plastic

Raining down

From broken Eagle’s wings

And no fires in the night

To offer salvation.

Triggerman,

I can’t see you in shadows

And you’re too chickenshit to look at me,

Just like any other Silver Loop.

Who are you?

Are you the same triggerman

Who threatened me in the summer heat?

Where do you come from?

Are you from Waldrip Creek Road?

Still trying to settle the score

From five bloody years ago.

Remember these words

When you pull the trigger,

Ending 19 years of hard work & dedication;

“Shoot coward,

You’re only going to kill a man.”

How a Neo-Liberal Tells You to Watch Your Fucking Mouth: An Experimental Work

How a Neo-Liberal Tells You to Watch Your Fucking Mouth: An Experimental Work

(By Walter Beck)

“I say, be yourself, and get your message across, and just try and respect the room dynamic; it’s very quiet, and has high ceilings and it’s laidback.  I don’t want to restrict artists, but try not to be filthy I guess.” –Unnamed promoter at an unnamed joint.

Half-assed and no guts; a good conservative would call me an anarchist, a communist, even the anti-Christ, they’d say I was the living embodiment of what’s wrong with the youth of America and accuse me of polluting the future generations, they would try to shut me up or get me banned, they ain’t afraid of a shirtless young punk with a loaded mic in his hand.

Coffee joint hipsters bitch of multi-national corporations, no fear facing a faceless enemy, but too scared to tell one-crazed rock n roll poet to watch his mouth on the stage.

They don’t want me to ruin their vibes, such a fragile ecosystem that one well-placed middle finger would mean complete extinction.

How to Write Poetry: An Experimental Work

How to Write Poetry: An Experimental Work

(By Walter Beck)

1. One part strong rock n roll
2. One part poetry that’s alive & dangerous
3. ½ part grit
4. ½ part gut
5. ½ part soul

Stir all ingredients in a cocktail mixer, strain onto a sheet of notebook paper, garnish with a mic, spew in public, light cigarette afterwards.

Dear Preacher

Dear Preacher

(By Walter Beck)

Dedicated to GE”J”S

Dear preacher,

You have the gall

To question my honesty

In those words “On My Honor”;

You have the sack to tell me

That I should do the “honorable thing”

And leave.

Dear preacher,

Where is your fruit

From spitting hellfire and damnation?

Where are your fans and friends?

You’ve done a fine job;

They all learned how to judge and condemn

Just like you.

I’ve seen my harvest

From nine years in a staff uniform;

I’ve seen it in the bright eyes of the kids

Who recognize me on the street

Always excited to see me;

I’ve seen it in the loyal eyes

Of my brothers and sisters on staff,

A Family that you could never know;

And none of them give a damn

That I march under the Rainbow Banner.

Dear preacher,

You don’t know what it is

To soar on Eagle’s wings.

You have grown old and bitter

Drowning in your venom;

And I taught the kids how to rock n roll,

How to be free

And live as they are.