B. L. KENNEDY		Without Tears I think of Lenny Bruce Of his sacrifice For freedom of language And the consistency Of that freedom I show my young lover A documentary of his life Swear to Tell the Truth She cries It is so unfair The way he was treated I think of her generation As closed down Closed minded to such issues As freedom and equal rights Of all things which concern themselves With language, sex, and religion I tell her that Lenny Bruce is my saint How like he, I suffered the attack Of the censors and their mind police How once in Davis, California I was pulled from the stage Under cries of pornography and Filth talk not poetry The host screamed as he pulled at my arm Holding a poem set on fire By the candle near the podium At which I read That is an interesting story My young lover tells me but, Things are different now Young people will not look at you With serious eyes They only see an old man I think of Lenny Bruce The Social Critic and I too cry without tears		Jack Micheline Jack Micheline was a cowboy A rabbi from the Bronx He came from San Francisco With a Star of David and an Ankh He like his beer and poetry He wore some silver spurs Bowed with the beatitude And ate a lot of fur Jack Micheline was a cowboy He sang a jazzydo Everything from a street poem To doobie doobie do Jack Micheline was a cowboy He rode a silver train He spoke in crazy visions And suffered lots of pain He painted crazy paintings He knew who you were If you didn’t like him He kick God with a spur Zeemba deemba deemba deemba Zeemba deemba deemba do Jack MIcheline wrote his poetry And ate spaghetti too He was just a doctor Of words and of verse He wrote for Jenny Jenny And sang opera for a purse Jack Micheline was a cowboy Riding west from the Bronx He stopped in San Francisco Gave Bob Kaufman a golden Ankh He was very gentle He walked the streets at night He ate a lotta pizza And got into a fight Jack Micheline was a cowboy He walked the North Beach streets Was friends with Lawrence Ferlinghetti Who thought his voice was sweet Became friends with A.D Winans And Neeli Cherkovski too Preached like Miles Davis Was proud to be a Jew One day he rode on the BART His heart began to stop They found him in the morning His pocket poem confused the cop Jack Micheline was a Cowboy A holy rabbi too Marx Brothers barbarian He gave his soul to you Jack Micheline was a cowboy Jack Micheline was a cowboy Jack Micheline was a cowboy Jack Micheline was a cowboy One hipster angel who Rode his poems as prayers And gave his poems to you And gave his poems to you And gave his poems to you