3 Kings - Klecko

I hate when priests think that they're cool
Making reference of the Biblical Magi
They are the 3 Kings
As if you needed to be told
But, I guess sometimes perfections not enough

If you are a young boy
There is no image greater
To emulate through the holiday season

Before there were action figures
I'd extract the 3 kings from my mothers Nativity
And, we'd search for baby Jesus in distant kitchen cupboards

I didn't have any gold
Frankincense or myrrh
Our expedition outsourced wintergreen Lifesavers

And, if you explored the terrain deep into a closet
And, hit those mints with a hammer
The sparks looked like angels flying back to their father

My sister would get pissed
When I recruited Uncle Drosselmeyer
Who was carved into a Nutcracker form

He was an employee of King Herod
Hired to reenact The Massacre of the Innocents
In which her Barbie's starred as Bethlehem's slain

My sister would point out
That I was retarded
Since historically the victims had been boys

But, artistic license
Or a directors prerogative
Should always receive extended latitude when you are 6

A kitchen eulogy -- by Kim Ode

After all the calls were made --

"It was so sudden..." "She went quickly..."

After all the details were settled --

"The navy dress with her pearl broach..." "Rock of Ages..."

After the funeral had lent its comfort --

"Pastor was good today..." "They're together now..."

Everyone came back to her house

As everyone always had.

So it didn't seem strange

To be setting out her dishes,

And using her hot pads to pull

The neighbors' casseroles from the oven.

It wasn't until they were packing up the leftovers

That it struck them that no one lived here anymore,

That it was no use putting food in the fridge.

And that was when they found the cookie dough.

She'd put it there to chill in her pale green Pyrex bowl,

Dough the color of pale caramel,

Although one taste told them it was for peanut butter cookies,

The kind she criss-crossed with a fork.

She'd been known for her cookies,

Not so much for their particular quality

(Betty Crocker made everyone a good baker)

But for their constancy and quantity.

The women looked at each other,

Knowing that she'd never want good ingredients

To go to waste.

(She'd always used Land 'O Lakes butter.)

And so they set the oven to 350

And pulled out her cookie sheets

And rolled the dough into inch-wide balls

And criss-crossed them with a fork

And baked them until they were just firm

And cooled them on her wire rack.

And then they cried, cried as if they'd never cried before.

They cried as they washed the cookie sheets,

Cried as they dried the Pyrex bowl and asked which daughter wanted it,

Cried as they ate every single one of those cookies,

Then brushed the crumbs from their good dresses

And returned to their own homes,

And began baking in blessed grief.

West 7th Street - by Klecko

The snow plows have stopped running
While a gypsy - tins my bowl
The perverts at the Denmark hide
Because the preacher wants their soul

Children go on milk cartons
When parents ignore their debt
The old world must remember
Because the new school will forget

You can smile - or maybe laugh
But, buckle tight - into your seat
The Prodigals Son - just can't have fun
When he returns to West 7th street

Bathsheba's sitting in the driveway
With a hand gun in her purse
I asked why she was packing
You weren'y sure what was worse

Sleeping without Billy
Or sleeping in a hearse
The prophets didn't seem to want to try
Because you'd just rebuked their curse

For those who despise this infidel
They better just stare at her feet
Because the spirits strong - but the flesh is weak
When you partake on West 7th street

Cassius ran a supper club
Linen napkins and paper plates
At 2 O'clock - was his bank drop
He observed some criminals traits

4 Hmong boys - who fled abrupt
Holding canvas bags and guns
Everybody hit the deck
But, Cassius refused to run

Instead he followed in a Buick
Until they were detained - by the Heat
Our hero wouldn't touch his just reward
They passed it out on West 7th street

Mr. Twist was of British lineage
And, often ate things off the floor
An orphan who left us uncertain
If he was eccentric - or just poor

He was crucified by phobias
We watched while his neurosis grew
He was unable to void - while at the shop
Or share a toilet with the crew

When the last dough came off the mixer
We placed a spike right through his feet
He and 2 theives made quite a mess
So watch your step on West 7th street

Pocahontas was a pole dancer
Who just quit Deja Vu
She gave up lap dances for pastry training
And, took her breaks in my Malibu

Each night we'd smoke 2 cigarettes
A cracked windshield framed the stars
Her body was more than picture perfect
But, her confidence bore weighty scars

Then on tuesday - my night off
She disrobed - out on the concrete
Where she gave every employee a special good bye
Before she danced down West 7th street

Antoinette - was a buxom vet
We entered through the back
To plan another recognizance
It was her nature to attack

She hung maps displaying tortured dogs
And, we'd emancipate them between loads of bread
Within moments they were off the radar
Their owners assumed they were dead

So question our methods - if you like
And label us a cheat
But we were just taking orders
From the good Doc on West 7th street

Frost is on the window pane
while it bites deep into your toes
Rabbits - searching for their holes
Maybe half the warren froze

Icicles, boogars, boots and strep
Two called in with the flu
It's going to be one of those nights
If we don't die before we are through

Thirteen hours before sunrise
So lets absorb the ovens heat
Sometimes we take things by the minute
On West 7th street

Kamal hopped on the 74 B
Much to my surprise
He decided to sit behind me
There was strange peace in his eyes

I fired him for being slow
And called him a Turban Head
Then told him to fly out on his fucking rug
Or else he's wish that he was dead

When I got up - to leave the bus
He was full while I was incomplete
Because ignorance shrouded with mercy
were foreign on west 7th street

Santa and Othello
They didn't know what to do
the shelter had to lock the doors
Before their rye was through

They wrapped themselves with plastic
So when they slept - they wouldn't get wet
I offered them a flour bag mattress
Behind a pastry cabinet

That's when Othello began to grin
Exclaiming - My stars that can't be beat
Junior thinks we'd sleep in this dump
When we could bed down on West 7th street

1000 ghosts - they've all shared time
Lined up in this commercial space
Often times I can hear their voice
But, I can't make out their face

They might be recanting their promises
And, some opinions too
But, the one thing they hold in agreement
Is its all over - when I'm through

And, even though the outcome is flawed
The process was a treat
It's just to bad that the marvel must fade
When I step off of West 7th street

Vampire Baker - by Klecko

The bakery's old
The hallways cold
Condensation causing mold

On the baseboards
On the wall
Clock strikes midnight
The ovens call

I'm going to fly tonight
Going to fly tonight

Rule the world
While you sleep
So pray to God, your soul to keep

Bones are cold
Eyes are old
Seeing stories never told

At your tables
In your Malls
Clock strike midnight
Duty calls

I'm going to fly tonight
Going to fly tonight

The Peoples Empire - by Klecko

The shark defines an aquatic cage
Th perimeters always wide
We raise a toast - and shed an oath
And, get pulled in by the tide

You can lie down on the ocean floor
But, you can never hide
The truth is always seen in the peoples empire

The artesian will earn his keep
From sweat upon the brow
Everything's obtainable
When someone shows you how

And, every shift is tangible
From the oven to the plow
Your collars always blue
In the peoples empire

Grab the pot - and pour me coffee
Save room for some cream
It doesn't matter that I'm thirsty
when I watch your brown eyes gleam

I salute the architect of your temple
For creating such a dream
Enshrine this angel
In the peoples empire

Take my wallet - and my car keys
Crawl into my bed
Its seldom that I get to use them
I'm usually baking bread

And, I'm sure I'll give you many reasons
To leave me before I'm dead
Its hard to hold a bond
in the peoples empire

Judas usually held the purse strings
So the crew was in the black
After a merger with Pharisees
He tried to give it back

Sometimes in Hospitality
One day can break your back
There are no second chances
In the people empire

The police cruise the alleyways
Of kitchens and retail
If you are Black, Hmong or Mexican
Get ready to post bail

If you don't have money for representation
An appointed attorney will fail
Don't dare to hope for justice
In the people empire

The waitress - who is a mother
Usually won't play fair
She'll dig in deep - for this months lover
And typically won't care

If he's trite, obscene, or slow to act
Or even losing hair
As long as that check clears
In the peoples empire

The inspector arrives unannounced
In hopes of striking fear
you can bet that they - will stay all day
It keeps their job secure

Some want to see that monkey dance
And others just want beer
You see - everyone's your overlord
In the people Empire

In the break room - the Italian baker
Was accused of being gay
Because he spent his Tuesday lunch hour
Reading Hemmingway

Owning books, values, or dreams
Will get you pushed away
Finish lines are never crossed
In the peoples empire

In the Midwest - there are wheat fields
As big as any sea
All my clients have driven through them
When they crossed - our country

It's a voyage - I have never taken
I've been chained to industry
Yes - I want to believe that the sun shines bright
On the people empire.

End