Got Milk?<\/p>\n
I think that I shall never see
\na cow as lovely as TV
\nThat bovine glare is no abatement
\nmy boredom seeks some entertainment
\neternal stimulating bliss
\nphoto phosphorescent kiss
\nNo cow is equal substitution
\nFor the TV revolution
\nFor all the world’s a stage you see
\nAnd no cow’s as great as my TV<\/p>\n
Scott Charles 1995<\/p>\n
B.hd<\/p>\n
I once knew a man from Nantuckett
\nwho carried his brains in a bucket
\nhe said with a grin
\nwiping drool from his chin
\nIf my heart were of wood I could chuck it<\/p>\n
Scott Charles 1995<\/p>\n
My favorite whine<\/p>\n
I once knew a man from Burgonne
\nwhose heart was as heavy as stone
\nhe said with a sigh
\nas he started to cry
\nWere I able to smile I’d moan<\/p>\n
Scott Charles 1995<\/p>\n
Be Over There, Now<\/p>\n
I only want the shadow
\nof who I might be
\nI only want the echo
\nof what I might say
\nI never want to see
\nthe light of today
\nBecause you know
\nI could be somebody
\nwere I not me.<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n
Wrong Side Of The ( Cosmic ) Bed
\n[OR] Perhaps he sleeps, or is otherwise occupied<\/p>\n
I woke up and went outside
\ntherein found to my suprise
\nmy idea for DNA
\nwas noticibly compromised
\nI noticed that my rocks and trees
\nall my plants and all my breeze
\nwere all usurped
\nEven as I paused the birds chirped!
\nThat too was mine, I cried
\nAnd then the wonder of it all
\nSomeone had the mighty gall
\nEnough to give my soul upheaval
\nThey picked the Tree of Good and Evil!
\nSo quite enough of this I said
\nand wandered right back into bed
\nThese thieves I leave to their devices
\nhoping their huieristic crisis
\ndoesn’t wake me.<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n
Seasons<\/p>\n
I knew a man with a wintery soul
\nA heart like October
\nEyes like a summer day
\nand the reslove of springtime
\nHe was truly a man
\nfor all seasons<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n
And it comes out here<\/p>\n
I am a tube for air
\nIt passes thru me like a wind sock
\nIn the lungs
\nand out the bums
\nand sometimes
\nthe other way
\ntoo
\n(I often wonder which is worse)<\/p>\n
Scott Charles 1995<\/p>\n
Wordleaf<\/p>\n
I collect your words
\nlike fallen leaves in October
\nDry, apart from their source
\nthey are dead
\nBut the colors amuse me
\nSo I graft them onto myself<\/p>\n
Scott Charles 1995<\/p>\n
Dry Season<\/p>\n
There is a dry season of the heart
\nlike a well losing its source
\nSoon all we pull up is mud
\nand then dust
\nAll the while giving less
\nand less of ourselves
\nUnable to share our
\nWater of Life
\nDenying the cry of strangers
\nThen loved ones
\nAnd finally we are only a
\ndark hole leading nowhere
\nWaiting for someone to fall
\nin<\/p>\n
Scott Charles 1995<\/p>\n
Friendly Figure, Of Speech<\/p>\n
I once knew a man metaphorical
\nHe wasn’t exactly historical
\nBut he was in the end
\nMy only best friend
\nI wonder if that’s not ironical<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n
Breath of Wind, Heart of Stone<\/p>\n
I once knew a man named Bartolomew
\nwho occupied space in a meadow view
\nhe said with a sigh
\nas the world passed him by
\ndon’t forget I was young once like you<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n
The Peacock Man<\/p>\n
I know a man who heaves great sighs
\nHe wants a thousand peacock eyes
\nHe wants to close them one by one
\nAnd dream until the morning comes
\nAnd when the dreamstate finally fades
\nHe hurrys up to close the shades<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n
Coming and Going<\/p>\n
I wished I had the rhythm
\nwhen the moment came
\nbut instead
\nI came with the moment
\nand missed it<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n
Red Light Green Light<\/p>\n
I knew a man
\nwith a traffic light for a heart
\nI watched his mood
\nchange from stop to start
\nAnd I told him
\nHow he always got his signals crossed
\nAnd he would reply
\nI ‘m not to blame, it’s you who’s lost<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n
On my TV<\/p>\n
What the hell is this I see
\nAlfred Prufrock, on my TV
\nWith Edgar Allen Poe as guest
\nWhile Oscar Wilde speaks in jest
\nMark Twain awaiting in the wings
\nI cannot say I like these things
\nThere’s Jack and Bret and Henry: Oh.!
\nIt’s much too much this new talk show!
\nI check the guide, for I am sure
\nI did not ask for lit’ra ture
\nOn my TV !<\/p>\n
I spin the dial, this isn’t fair
\nI wanted Ophra in that chair
\nBut every channel it’s all the same
\nNo Rickki Lake, or Dating Game
\nNo MTV, or VH1
\nNo touch downs or winning run
\nBut there, whats that on Channel 10?
\nOh crap it’s only CNN!
\nThere’s no hope I know I’m lost
\nSo now I’m stuck with Robert Frost
\nOn my TV!<\/p>\n
Had I known that this would be
\nThe final use for my TV
\nI would’ve tried a bit more hard
\nAnd paid attention to the Bard
\nI would’ ve tried to think in rhyme
\nI would’ ve tried to sing in time
\nThe text I would have read again
\nMoby Dick, Of Mice and Men
\nAnd then with Huxley I would see
\nA Brave New World
\nOn my TV!<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n
Reflections of a Quantumn Love<\/p>\n
Our black hole love has heat
\nbut no light
\nUnder the cover of that night
\nour hearts beat
\nIn the event horizion of
\nour passion’s embrace
\nfrom which nothing escapes<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n
Heart’s Cloak, Love’s Dagger<\/p>\n
If in the night we two should meet
\nwe cloak ourselves in love’s deceit
\nOur secret word for love is sex
\nOur secret hearts the night protects
\nAnd later when we shed our skin
\nI’ll split my head and let you in
\nBut never let there be a doubt
\nIf I catch you there, you won’t get out<\/p>\n
Scott Charles, 1994<\/p>\n