Long Dollar by Jon Goode Mr. Jones in his Sunday best pacing Mrs. Jones in her Sunday dress waiting Impatient For the ushers to begin To usher in the church congregation To hear about God’s salvation And Satan’s temptation. The flock heavy with sin The church a weigh station While pastor lay in wait to waylay em, Lift lions and slay lambs at the gate Testify, pacify and past the plate. And the Choir sang their song The congregation sang along Waving their hands And their Martin Luther King fans But they weren’t fans of Martin Luther Or Christ the martyr They worshipped at the altar of the Long Dollar. And there I am eighteen years old Running in late dressed in street clothes And when my feet hit the church doors In jeans and shelltoes It seemed hell froze I was greeted with heaven help’s And hell no’s I suppose those folks in salvations army Fo sho don’t shop at the salvation army They all smelled like obsession I pray the scent of salvations on me. And the Choir sang their song The congregation sang along Waving their hands And their Martin Luther King fans But they weren’t fans of Martin Luther Or Christ the martyr They worshipped at the altar of the Long Dollar. The preacher screamed “No Weapon formed can harm me!” Which seemed right he had a right tight army In fact I bet not a single congregant had even touched the hem of his garment yet. So I sat in the front row right next to Ms. So & So She wore her skirt real high and her hat real low And you know that it was known to everyone That after the pastor would make her speak in tongues. No one was sure if he was reaching them But shepherd sheared the sheep He was fleecing them. He was preaching and teaching to the young Tell them who they are and who they should become And behind doors he was touching them Under parents nose he was touching them Soon it was exposed that he was touching them. And the Choir sang their song The congregation sang along Waving their hands And their Martin Luther King fans But they weren’t fans of Martin Luther Or Christ the martyr They worshipped at the altar of the Long Dollar…

Laugh & Cry by Jon Goode I don’t think love is what you think it is. People start thinking white picket fence Thinking house thinking kids But forgetting the years and tears it takes With the spouse to build The foundation. They get straight To the fornication & procreation without taking Into consideration what it’s going to take to last and live With this beautiful m#therf#cker. F#ck around and discover That her IQ is not so acute and to boot her hygiene ain’t what it should be. She's more skunk than flower bed and she finds out that he flunked out of high school And beneath the shower head he’s been known to pee pee. He cheated on you in year three and got a virulent case of VD From trani in DC. You were ready to move the family From GA to VA to CT But instead went to weekly counseling His vices he completely denounced them; and That was over ten year ago You weathered that rough sea And now you been married for fifteen years or mo’. You've seen the good bad and the ugly And remained in that thing… Now that’s how real love survives no doubt, No matter that stuff Mary J Blige be singing ‘bout I think when it comes to love You were sold a bill of lading. Told it's all about feeling great and Feeling waves of feelings cascading Across your landscape. Until the day when The waters part and depart and she walks all over your dry heart like Egyptian foes pursuing Moses and the Hebrews escaping. it was written I supposed when the earth was created But it’s getting hard to hold it all together when she’s taking The kids and the cash in the account Now her ass is out in the street speed dating. You're using weed and speed when you need to be using restraint and patience. Take it easy compandre before you find yourself in Sierra Madre Taking the cops on a slow speed chase in A white bronco; Gun against your dome Black gloves thrown out the window Onto the interstate facing Life in the state pen With a bunk mate That Loves to hate killers But loves to make love to straight men Already awaiting. Whether you choose your own adventure Or believe in fate friend Think that love thing through I suggest you start today man. I think when it comes to love You may have been sold a scripture. Told to picture Proverbs 18:22 Where it says any who finds a wife finds a good thing But these days you better be dam sure you find a good ring Before you get all down on the dam floor and things Dirtying up your dungarees, the knees of your trousers Trying to please and espouse her With that hood bling. N!@@a please I know how ya Go to Candler flea market For bootleg CD’s, gold teeth and shells But you can’t hand her that b#llsh!t you get From a cat named Ishmael in booth five aisle twelve. She's liabel to hit you with a bible and tell your crazy ass to go to hell Or at least stop being lazy and idle and take your crazy ass to Zales. I know they say it’s not about the ring, I laugh because I can’t tell. It’s like a golden calf because the idol is real; And if the marriage don’t last or the engagement fails She’ll hock that thing at the Candler pawn shop From a fraction of the cost; a real TJ Maxx of a deal.

Green Grass by Jon Goode To the man looking over the fence the grasses tint Always appears To be much more dense much greener than his There’s a man living in his house With no spouse Looking out at his neighbor's wife Thinking about how he’d really like To savor, date her & make her his. Then there’s that esteemed neighbor Whose demeanor and behavior Point to his happy stable life With his wife and his kids. But every chance he’s got as of late He’s trying to plot his escape From the cul-de-sac lot Because he loathes and he hates His lot in life, the way he lives. He’d love to be single like that neighbor of his; But if they could trade spaces trade places I’d give Each man about a month before he sees that thing he wants and believes that he needs is not what it seems to be that greener grass is often times dandelions, just pretty weeds. But Regardless of Exodus Twenty seventeen Every man envies what he’s seen; Think and believes that he needs What the Joneses have But every man is on his own path; Treading on his own patch of grass So you better learn fast to bask in your own green grass at last Because it don’t get no greener, it don’t get no greener, it don’t get no greener There’s a guy on the job looking at his boss Wishing that his check and rings, Lex and range were really his. Then there’s the boss looking back at his employee Thinking that boy he’d Love to lose the shirt and tie kick it with the guys And just have a couple beers. There's a boy working on a gig and a college degree Looking at the dope boy down the street Wishing the Cash, freaks and gear were really his. The dope boy looks back at the college kid And thinks he doesn’t run from the police Doesn’t sleep with his heat in his hand out of fear And wishes that was the life that he lived. There’s a girl sitting in the crowd thinking how She’d like to stand beneath the lights And sing just like Brittany or Whitney, Mariah And there’s a Hanna Montana Miley Cyrus Copacabana wirey siren Singing through her sinus That would love to leave the stage Be normal for the rest of her days And just play with the other kids; But the grass is never as green as it appears A thing is rarely if ever As good as it seems that it is. But Regardless of Exodus Twenty seventeen Every man envies what he’s seen Think and believes that he needs What the Joneses have But every man is on his own path Treading on his own patch of grass So you better learn fast to bask in your own green grass at last Because it don’t get no greener, it don’t get no greener, it don’t get no greener

Illustrated Woman by Jon Goode After thirty years or more Of sailing solitary seas And crashing upon these Rocky relationships I washed upon a Green shore. There I became entranced when faced with this Animated picture On the canvas of your nakedness An ever changing permanent fixture That cannot be removed. A tattoo in fact across the breadth of your back That depicts two people in the act Of growing old together Of paving pathways foretold In past days when the gods forebode That separately at best they’d meet forks in life’s road But together surf past any stress Surpass any test Live, laugh and survive Deride anything less Than the content of their hearts, minds and souls. It’s the heart that finds and binds two souls And adds the sunrays on those days when the times grow dark and cold. I’ve heard some say and even I’ve been taught and told That time is not what we think it is. People may marry as adults But as soon they entered the womb They were linked. And I think that it was as a kid That the ink First dripped and began to sink into the surfaces Of your shoulder blades And made its way Down your spine And in time came to raise A depiction of two people living Out their life’s mission Their life’s work and vision Wife, husband and children All giving Your skin purpose that permeates beyond the mere surface And façade of the dermis. And I came to understand and truly learn this fact Around the same time you said you’d written a poem on my back Down my arms and legs, across my face, chest and that With your naked finger you’d dotted I’s and crossed T’s And through time and danger I’ve rebuked lies and crossed seas To find myself on your shore Staring at a picture on your back Drawn for sure by the gods Of the future, present and past And what’s more and kind of odd Is that as the image gets clearer It looks less like a photograph And more like a looking glass mirror. There’s a picture On the canvas of your naked back An ever changing permanent fixture That cannot be removed a tattoo in fact That depicts two people in the act Of growing old together Through the heat and the cold Sunny days and stormy weather Surviving life’s days and nights On love and just trust… And love what I've come to know and just trust Is that the two people in the picture Look just like us.

Twenty Two in his waist band/ his fist balled up like paper in the waste can/ He told his man he’d cased the place and there is no time to waste fam/ no time to wait and/ security came on at 8 but took his break kind of late/ the plan?/ slam the gun into his face and make him take you to the safe/ and then/ make him open it and take everything that lay within/ escape into the alley a stolen black Denali is what he said that he’d be waiting in/ little did he know, understand or comprehend/ that often goes astray the best laid plans of mice and men... What ya gone do when it all falls down? What ya gone do when the walls fall down? What ya gone do when the law comes ‘round? What ya gone do, what ya-what ya gone do? What ya gone do when your lady’s gone? What ya gone do when them days get long? What ya gone do once it’s all gone wrong? What ya gone do, what ya-what ya gone do? He thinks on the course that got him there/ his face balled up like beady bead coarse nappy hair/ of course his mom and pappy/ went and got divorced/ and he felt forced to make the rent so he spent his nights with his boys/ selling in the stairs/in the projects is where they fought for what they thought and were taught was there's/ between juve, county and the courts/ he found himself lost and here/ comes the night of/black mask black gloves/he told his man “You go through the front and I’ll meet you in the truck around back cuz.” What ya gone do when it all falls down? What ya gone do when the walls fall down? What ya gone do when the law comes ‘round? What ya gone do, what ya-what ya gone do? What ya gone do when your lady’s gone? What ya gone do when them days get long? What ya gone do once it’s all gone wrong? What ya gone do, what ya-what ya gone do? His partner in crime came running out the backdoors/four bullets in his back near his spine shooting over his shoulder backwards/ He jumped in the back just in time; just before the gas pedal went flat against the floor/ He had his bleeding back flat against the passenger side door/ When asked what went wrong/ He said the safe had a silent alarm/ that when tripped alerted another four of five/ armed to the teeth security guards/ out to catch a thief/ I was lucky to escape alive/ that’s what he said just before he died/ that’s when blue lights began to ride/ up from behind and by the driver's side/ and all driver could do was drive and in his mind try to decide ... What ya gone do when it all falls down? What ya gone do when the walls fall down? What ya gone do when the law comes ‘round? What ya gone do, what ya-what ya gone do? What ya gone do when your lady’s gone? What ya gone do when them days get long? What ya gone do once it’s all gone wrong? What ya gone do, what ya-what ya gone do?