20 GREATEST HITS:POEMS 1997-2004

TERRY McCARTY

20 GREATEST HITS:POEMS 1997-2004

BYTERRY McCARTY

McCARTY PRESSLOS ANGELES, CA

Copyright 1997-2004 by Terry McCartyAll rights reserved.

No part of this book may be used and reproduced inany manner whatsoever without written permissionfrom the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. Thepoems contained in this book are both fictionaland reality-based. Regarding fictional poetry, names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the authors imagination or are usedfictitiously.Any resemblance to actual events or persons, eitherliving or dead, is either coincidental or intentional.

Thanks to Pete Justus and Don Kingfisher Campbell for their continuing support.

Thanks again to Olin Tezcatlipoca for his earlysupport and guidance.

Once again, special thanks go to my wonderfulwife Valarie and our feline daughters Sinead and Samantha for their participation in the creationof this book.

Extra-special thanks to Sabine Steinmetz and thehard-working staff of PIP Printing in Burbank, CA.

First PrintingJuly 2004

Second PrintingNovember 2006

For my late mother-in-law Barbara Price

CONTENTS:THE JOB INTERVIEWA BIRTHDAY IN THE OFFICEREPRIMANDED EMPLOYEETHE PEP RALLYDOWNSIZEDANOTHER JOB INTERVIEWSUMMER IN LAGUNA BEACHICARUS ITINERARYDEAD EXTRATHE BIG ORANGE HOLLYWOOD PARTY #1 (WHY ARE YOU HERE?)THE SIXTEENTH MINUTETHIS POEM IS FOR SALEJEREMIAH, SON OF CASSANDRAODE TO JOHN ASHCROFTCRUISING TOWARDS DAMASCUSPOETRY CLIQUE STRESS-FREE AMERICAENGAGEMENT DAYCARELESSABOUT THE AUTHOR

THE JOB INTERVIEW(from ANTHOLOGY ONE)

Didnt do any research on the company.Didnt read any books about how to preparefor a successful interview.Didnt know how to answermost of the interviewers questions.Didnt know what questions to ask the interviewerabout the job I was applying for.Didnt want the job anyway.

After the interview ends,I leave the office buildingand stand still on the sidewalkas people hurry past me.

I return to my apartment,change into my regular clothesand call my parents to tell themthat the job interview went welland I should be hearing from the companyany day now.

A BIRTHDAY IN THE OFFICE(from ANTHOLOGY ONE)

When I arrived at the office at 9:00 a.m.,I found a gift-wrapped package on my desk.Inside was a bottle of Geritol.The card read:Congratulations on your 40th birthday.From the Marketing Department.

After that, the next two hours were quiet.At 11:00 a.m., someone from the mailroomleft another package on my desk.I opened the package.Inside was a pair of Depend underwear.The card read:Youre getting older..and better.From your friends in Human Resources.

At 1:00 p.m., I walked to the conference roomto attend what I thought would be a one-hourmeeting on the subject of how to achievebetter customer relations.It turned out that something elsewas in store.

The head of Human Resources,a perpetually cheerful womanin her late thirties,stood up and began to speak.

Today is Rons birthday. Hes 40 years old!

The entire room applauded.

Then, someone came into the room with a giant box filled with childrens party hats.The woman from Human Resources said,In honor of Rons birthday, were going to havea combination of a meeting..AND A PARTY!

More applause.I felt like crawling under the table.

Within five minutes,everyone in the room was wearing a party hat.Since it was both a party and a meeting,childrens games (adapted to the corporateworld) were played.

These games included Pin the Tail on the Branch Officeand Spin the Bottle to the 12 Rulesof Effective Customer Relations.

While all this manufactured revelrywent on around me, I was deep in thought.I wondered what would happenif I said that I didnt enjoy this celebrationof my birthday-a celebration that, to me,had long ago ceased to be all-in-good-fun

and was now approaching the territoryof fraternity hazing.

Then, I realized it would be better for my careerif I kept my mouth shut.If I were to say anything negative,I would be regarded as a complainerand someone who isnt a team player.And, if that happened, the doors of promotionfrom middle to upper managementwould forever be closed to me.

I resolved to have a good timeand tolerate the indignitiesbestowed upon me.After all, I thought,its just one day out of 365.

The woman from Human Resourcessmiled as the birthday cake-outfitted with 40 tiny candles-was brought in.

Blow out the candles and make a wish!shouted the Senior VP.

I blew out the candles.Then, they lit up again.Obviously, someone had boughta set of novelty candles.

The entire room collapsed with laughter.

Blow them out again!shouted the day-shift supervisor.I did as instructed.This time, the candles went out.

Thank you all, I said with my most sinceresmile as I proceeded to cut the first sliceof my birthday cake.This is the best birthday Ive ever had.

The Senior VP gave me aYoure going places someday smile.

And I smiled back,realizing that this was only one dayout of 365.

REPRIMANDED EMPLOYEE(from ANTHOLOGY TWO)

I stand, paralyzed,as I, along with the rest of the office,listen to you,with your red voice and loud face,as you proceed to call me incompetentand accuse me of costing the company TIME.And, of course, TIME is MONEY.

I stand, paralyzed,enduring your angry lecture,reminding myself thatI literally cannot afford to respond.Instead, I wait for you to finishso I can go back to workand waste no more TIME.

THE PEP RALLY(from ANTHOLOGY TWO)

At 1:00 p.m., I boarded a school bus-along with thirty other people.I was given a blue ticketwith a six-digit number printed on it.A man walked to the middle of the aisle and said:All of you belong to the Blue Group.When you arrive at our destination,please proceed to the Blue Areawhere you will be seated by our ushers.

At 1:10 p.m., a woman walked down the aislewith an armload of pennants.All of us received a pennant.My pennant said:IM PART OF THE WINNING TEAM!

Not long after the distribution of the pennants,we left the Company parking lotand headed towards the Dorothy ChandlerPavilion in Downtown Los Angeles.

As the bus crawled along the HollywoodFreeway, the ticket man led us in a cheer:OUR COMPANY! UNITED! WELL NEVER BE DIVIDED!over and over again.It looked as if the day would never end.

At 2:15 p.m., all of us in the Blue Groupwere seated in the rear orchestra sectionof the Dorothy Chandler Pavilion-just in time to see the Division Managertake the stage to a recording ofALSO SPRACH ZARATHUSTRA.

Ladies and gentlemen, welcome to2001: AN ODYSSEY OF GROWTH,gushed the Division Manager.

Polite applause.

Todays meeting is our first to be webcastto all of our branch offices in North America.Here to introduce the rest of todays excitingevents is our CEO.

On cue, the CEO bounded onstage andlaunched into a 20-minute speech loaded withhomilies about family, growth and unity.Beneath the happy talk,the real message was clear:work harder and work smarteror be subject to the downsizingrumored to take place in the next quarter.

Just when I was beginning to fall asleep,the CEO said:Now for the entertainment portion of todays

program. Direct from middle-management inSan Mateo, the band that means business,CORPORATE ROCK!

For 20 minutes, CORPORATE ROCK played a setof boomer-friendly oldies.They opened with LETS WORK,from a forgotten Mick Jagger solo album,then followed with George Harrisons TAXMAN,Huey Lewis WORKIN FOR A LIVIN andHIP TO BE SQUAREand an irony-free version of the ClashsLOST IN THE SUPERMARKETbefore closing with BTOs TAKIN CARE OFBUSINESS, which had some audience membersdancing in the aisles.

After CORPORATE ROCK took its final bows,the CEO returned to lead the audience in a cheer:OUR COMPANY! UNITED! WELL NEVER BE DIVIDED!for almost 7 minutes.

When the audience showed signs ofexhaustion from all the shouting and pennant-waving, the CEO called for silenceas the curtains openedand a huge video screen was revealed.

Ladies and gentlemen, the CEO said,

I have a very special surprise for you today.We have exclusive video greetings for youfrom WILL SMITH, JADA PINKETT SMITHand TOM HANKS!!!!!

Thunderous applause.

Then, the lights dimmed and the videogreetings began.For 10 minutes, the audience was treated toa series of strive-and-succeed aphorismsfrom three of the biggest Stars in Show Business.Just when I was wondering how I could spenda Movie Star salary of $25 million plus gross points, the videos ended and the CEOlaunched into yet another speech.

At this point, I left my seat and headedtowards the restrooms in the main lobby.Once I reached the lobby, I heard a voice:WHERE ARE YOU GOING?I turned around and saw a man wearinga blue-and-white armband like a hall monitorin high school.

Im going to the restroom, I told the hall monitor.

Dont take too long, he cautioned.

You dont want to miss the rest of themeeting.

I cant take this anymore, I thought.I have to escape.

20 minutes later, I drank an iced latteat a coffee stand in the middle of theGrand Central Market.I watched dozens of passers-by:businesspeople, tourists,Downtown L.A. residents buying produce;I wished I could trade placeswith any one of them.

After I finished my latte,I returned to the Company meeting.As I took my seat,I heard the CEO announce from the stage:The winning ticket in todays drawingis 104820.

That was the number on my ticket.

I won a brand new state-of-the-arthome theater system including a DVD/CDplayer and a 61-inch Digital Projection TV-plus free DVDs of MEN IN BLACK, BAMBOOZLEDand CAST AWAY.

On the bus ride back to the office,I heard the people in the seatin front of me discussing the Companys newIncentive Program for Fiscal Year 2001.The most productive employee would receive a one-week, all-expenses-paidvacation at the Company compound in Bermuda.

Piece of cake, I thought.Next year, Im going to Bermuda.

DOWNSIZED(from ANTHOLOGY TWO)

I stepped out of the Company vanand walked into the ballroomof the luxury hotellocated just two milesfrom my now-former workplace.

I was handed a packet at the ballroom door.Inside, there was informationabout my severance pay.There was also a sheet of papercontaining a series of phone numbersI could dial for information on psychologicalcounseling and job retraining.

I sat down, still in a state of disbelief,as the Companys new CEO spoke in a meant-to-be-pacifying tone.He assured all of us that thisnecessary reduction in our workforcewould lead to new, wondrous opportunitiesfor professional and personal growth.

Harry, a close friend and now-formerco-worker, began to shout at the new CEO:HOW COULD YOU DO THIS TO US? IVE BEENHERE FOR 32 YEARS!

Harry was still shouting as he was escortedfrom the ballroom by a couple of privatesecurity guards specially hiredfor the occasion.

The executives behind the podiumtried to ignore Harrys outburst.Some of them focused intentlyon the new CEO as he continued to speakof the Companys bright future.

I glanced at the other employeessitting in my row.Some employees looked down at theirseverance packets.Laura, a single mother with two childrento support, sat to the right of me.Laura began to cry uncontrollably.She continued to cry as she ran up the aisleand out of the room.Almost no one noticed her.

The new CEO spoke again.He said, in a polite-but-forceful voice,that we only had one hour to clean out our cubiclesupon returning to the office.Failure to vacate the premisesafter the hour was upwould lead to removal by Building Security.

On that note, the meeting ended.

As I once again boarded the Company van,I began to rehearse different waysof telling my wife and childrenthat I had just been fired from the Companythat employed me for the past 15 yearsand I would now be spending more time at home.

ANOTHER JOB INTERVIEW(from ANTHOLOGY ONE)

What can you contribute to our company?Where do you see yourself in one year?Where do you see yourself in five years?Where do you see yourself in ten years?What is your greatest weakness?What is your greatest strength?Are you a team player?Describe a work-related problemyou helped solve.Do you have any more questions?

As I answer the interviewers questions,I find myself fighting the temptationto look out the window.

Outside, there is a park with flowers, trees,birds chirping, children playing.Inside, there is responsibility, deadlines,politics, insincerity, stress.Unless I win the lottery tomorrow,I have no choice but to stay inside.

SUMMER IN LAGUNA BEACH(from ANTHOLOGY TWO)

A preacher walks on the sidewalknext to the beach.He looks to be about fifty years old.He wears a burnt-orange shirt, faded blue jeans and a pair of tennis shoes.He opens a Bible and starts to read.Before he reads,he shouts THE APOCALYPSE IS COMING!Its clear that he wants us all to pay attention.

He walks up and down the sidewalkat least three times, mixing readings from thebook of Revelation with angry diatribesabout Catholicism and psychiatry.Almost no one pays attention to him.Finally, he walks to the corner and crosses the street, once again shoutingTHE APOCALYPSE IS COMING!to all who walk past him.

After the preacher leaves,I start to think about what constitutesHell on Earth.

For the preacher,Laguna Beach must be Hell on Earth.He must feel frustration and torment

as he walks amongst tanned, buff young men,bikini-clad women and middle-aged couplesin matching Hawaiian shirts.He knows they arent concernedwith the Apocalypse.Instead, they want to play volleyball,find a downtown parking space that costsless than $10 and get a good seat for tonightsPageant of the Masters.

My definition of Hell on Earth is a simple one.I am sitting on a beach,looking at a clear blue ocean.I do my best to ignore the preacherand his hateful theology.I do my best to ignore the young woman in theturquoise bathing suit lying a few yards awayfrom me.I concentrate on the ocean,feeling the breeze on my face,allowing my troubles to temporarily disappearuntil I am jolted back to realityby the constant ringing of a cell phone.

ICARUS ITINERARY (2004 UPDATE)(from ANTHOLOGY ONE and HOLLYWOOD POETRY)

Fly high in the sky.Allow wings to be melted by the sun.Fall to Earth.Suffer painful injuries.Hire a PR firm to do damage control.Apologize to Jay, Dave, Anderson, Bill,Charlie, Conan, Larry, Paula, Dr. Phil,Ellen, Barbara and Oprah.Confess past sins to a sympathetic journalist.Do a photo shoot for VANITY FAIR.Get a suspended sentence,contingent on completing 200 hoursof community service.Go to a rehab center in Malibu.Become clean and sober.Get a new pair of wings.Feel immortal.Repeat all of the above.

DEAD EXTRA(from HOLLYWOOD POETRY)

ONEIm wearing an old tuxedo.Im wearing makeupdesigned to create the illusionthat half my face has beenchewed off by a werewolf.Im lying on the hood of a red1968 Mustang where flame jetshave been carefully placedinside and around the carto create the illusionthat the car is on fire.

Im a background actorplaying a dead socialitewhose party on the docks of San Pedrohas been curtailed by a band of maraudingvampires and werewolves.Im here for one night,maybe two if Im lucky.

The Star has just arrived on the set.He looks at the background actors and actresses playing exquisite corpsesand bursts into song:Im a dead extra.Im a dead extra.

Its going to be a long night.

TWOThe weathers becoming chillyand Im grateful for the warmthof the flames surrounding me.They make playing deadso much more bearablethan it could have been.The Assistant Directororiginally wanted me to lieon top of a seven-foot-tall wooden crate.Fortunately, two things happenedto prevent this.First, while climbing onto the crate,my pants ripped open at the crotch.Then, after lying down,the crate began to wobble precariously.

The AD felt sorry for meand sent me off to wardrobefor a replacement pair of pants.He also promised to give mesome money for repairsto my original, tattered pair.Fair enough, I thought.

Now Im blessed with lyingon the hood of a red 1968 Mustangin comfort while my fellow

background actors are shivering.In this business, Im gratefulfor the occasional act of kindness.

THREEThe rehearsal just ended.Now, its time for a take.I want to prove to the directorthat I can be just as convincing a corpseas the money-saving mannequinsplaced around the rear of the set.The scene begins.

ACTION!

My nose begins to itch.I literally cannot afford to scratch it.I dont even want to wiggle itto provide momentary relief-even though I know the cameraonly sees my legsand the soles of my shoes.

You see, Im a professionaland professionals dont break characterin the middle of a scene.

CUT!

The Star and the director

huddle for a creative conference.

During this period of downtime,I do some mental bookkeeping.After tonight, Ill need $400 worth of workbefore I can qualify for a year ofScreen Actors Guild Health Insurance.I also hope that Exemplary Castingwill send me on an interviewfor a stand-in job on a sitcom.At the very least, I could use the$15 payment for the interview.Besides, if the show gets picked upfor a full season,it would mean eight months of steady work-indoors.

The creative conference is over.Its time for another take.Before the cameras roll,the Star once again relieveshis creative tension by singing:Im a dead extra.Im a dead extra.

I just love Show Business.

THE BIG ORANGE (a Show Business fable)(from ANTHOLOGY ONE and HOLLYWOOD POETRY)

One day,at the corner of Hollywood and Vine,a beautiful woman wearinga tight red dress and designer sunglassesoffered me the largest orangeI had ever seen.

Taste it, she said.Its the best fruit youll ever eat.

Captivated by her professional smile,I did exactly as I was told.

I ate one bite,then another,then another,then anotheruntil the orange was gone.

Then, something strange happened.I threw a lifetime of caution, practicalityand restraint to the wind.I decided to become an actor-immediately.

I found a photographeron the fifth floor of the Taft Building.

He took five 8x10 black-and-white headshotsof me-plus five more 3x5 color printsfrom the waist up.

The photographer smiled at me and said,Youve got a great look, kid.Youll have a future in this business.

A week later,I picked up my portfolio of photosand drove to Beverly Hills.Within a half-hour,I found myself an agent.

The agent smiled at me and said,Youve got a great look, kid.Youll go far in this business.I promise you that, by the end of this year,youll be getting steady work as an actor.By the end of five years,youll be a household name.Stick with me and all your dreamswill come true.

For the next five years,the slow-acting poisonof the Show Business orangeflowed throughout my veins-influencing my every thought,word and deed.

Believe me,I worked hard to make my dreams come true.Every once in a while,I got small roles in films and TV shows.When I wasnt acting,I was auditioning-sometimes, I would go on six or sevenauditions a week.When I wasnt acting or auditioning,I took acting classes.I became well-versed in the methodsof acting devised by such legendary teachersas Stanislavsky, Lee Strasberg, SanfordMeisner and Stella Adler.When I wasnt acting or going on auditionsor going to acting classes,I became a superb waiter.I became an even better telemarketer.But I never made any real headwaytowards achieving that elusive goalof becoming a steady working actor.

At the end of the five-year period,I decided to leave Show Businessand return to the real world.

For approximately one year,I worked in the Accounting departmentof a large hospital in theWest San Fernando Valley.

The hours were long.The workload never varied.My supervisor and most of my co-workerswere pleasant and helpful.In my spare time,I met and became engaged toa charge nurse who worked on the fourth floorof the hospital.

Everything was perfect.

But the poison of theShow Business orange still had a lingering effect on me.I couldnt imagine living anine-to-five lifestyle(with a well-manicured home in Canoga Park)for another thirty-five years.

One day,I threw everything to the windand re-entered Show Business.

For the past year,Ive been working hard atre-establishing my acting career.Last week, I had two lines and a closeupon GENERAL HOSPITAL..Before that, I spent one month playing a soldierin a $200 million sci/fi horror epic

about a giant, fire-breathing flying squirrelthat terrorizes L.A.The film is currently titledDEATH FROM ABOVE.

And when Im not actingor auditioningor taking classesor planning career strategywith my new agent,I have a very special part-time job.

At least once a week,I put on a shiny grey suitand a pair of wraparound sunglassesand I go down to the cornerof Hollywood and Vine.Once I get there,I pass out orangesto all the suckers who gather around.

I say, Taste it.Its the best fruit youll ever eat.

And I smile my most captivating professional smile as each person takes one bite,then another,then another,and then another

until the orangeis completelygone.

HOLLYWOOD PARTY #1 (from HOLLYWOOD POETRY)

WHY ARE YOU HERE?asked the sleek young actor.

I said that I was invited by the hosts-a cinematographer and his wife,a camera assistant.I knew them from a student filmthe three of us worked ona few months earlier.I was a production assistant.

The sleek young actorlooked at me with a mixture ofboredom and feigned interest.

And then,without the aid of computer-generatedspecial effects, I became invisible.

The sleek young actor,the gorgeous stand-up comicwho, by day,was a parole officer,the screenwriter who resolvedto give the Industry whatever it wanteduntil he became rich and powerful enough

to ensure that his dream project-the life story of poet laureate Billy Collins-would receive a studio greenlight-all of them began to talk amongst themselves.No further attention was paid to me.Any attempt I made toparticipate in the conversationwas rebuffed.

I didnt mind being invisible.It was fun to hear the Industry gossipthat doesnt make it into the pages ofENTERTAINMENT WEEKLY and the LA TIMES.It was good to hear about a new health clubopening in West Hollywood.It was invigorating to discoverthat there were four great restaurantsfeaturing the finest in nouvelle cuisinelocated within a three-mile radiusof my apartment.It was sobering to discoverthat I couldnt afford to eatat any of the restaurants mentioned.

For another thirty minutes,I watched the roomful of people talk,indirectly, about their desire for Statusand Respect.It was just a matter of time

before they all became Stars.

Finally, I decided to become visible again.I found my hosts,thanked them for their hospitalityand walked out of their houseinto a summer Sunday afternoon in Los Feliz.I walked to the Skylight Bookstoreand purchased a book by Billy Collins.Afterwards, I had dinner at the House of Pies.

Once I finished dinner,I returned to my apartment.I read all of Billy Collins book,then I fell asleep.I dreamed of Status and Respect,Fame and Fortuneand my newfound resolveto never embarrass a party guestby asking him or herWHY ARE YOU HERE?

THE SIXTEENTH MINUTE(from ANTHOLOGY ONE and HOLLYWOOD POETRY)

These days, I lead a simple life.I wake up at 7:00 a.m.I watch the news on TV.I change the channeland watch the sitcomI co-starred in for five years.I eat breakfast,shower,shaveand get ready for work.I bag groceries at the local supermarket.

Its not an exciting life.I do the same thingover and over again.Once, I was concerned withlearning my lines and hitting my marks.Now, Im concerned withfollowing the proper procedurefor filling a grocery bag.Now, I always remember to askPaper or Plastic?

These days, I lead a simple life.I work at the supermarketfive days a week.Once a week,

I submit to a random drug test.Once a week,I visit my parole officer.Twice a week,I go to AA meetings.Once a month,I deposit the residual checksI still receive from my former life as an actor.

These days, I lead a better life.No more 16-hour workdays.No more personal appearancesin shopping malls.No more instances of being fleecedby my accountantand my business manager.No more friends who only love mewhen Im using.

These days, I lead a simple life.Sometimes, I have to admit,its an exceptionally dull life.But at least Im still alive.

THIS POEM IS FOR SALE(from HOLLYWOOD POETRY UNLOADED)

This poem is for sale to those who workin Show Business.There will be no exposed breasts.No unbleeped uses of the word fuck.No tiny nipple covers.No grinding against other peoples bodiesin airplane lavatories.No complex thoughts or subversive ideasof any kind.This poem is determined to be loved by everyone.

This poem is suitable for Clear Channel.It can be printed on all their billboardsin the U.S. and abroad.People will flock to Clear Channel concert venues and pay $250 a ticketto hear this poem read aloud by Sting.This poem will say nothing about George Bush Jr. or the war in Iraq; however, it will wave theflag on occasion to please Clear Channeloverlords.Every so often, this poem contains lines likeI love the blandness of Clear ChannelEntertainment and Ryan Seacrest is God.This poem believes in fitting in.

This poem wants to be adapted for movies.Mel Gibson can do almost anything he wantswith this poem.If he wants to add lots of crucifixions andmutilation, this poem will understand.This poem wants to be turned into an epicin the tradition of THE PASSION, BRAVEHEARTand THE PATRIOT.However, this poem draws the line athomophobia.It refuses to be thrown out of a windowfor an easy laugh.

If Mel Gibson doesnt want this poem as amovie, perhaps The Rock will.This poem can be set in a British Columbialocation-to get away from those peskyunions in the States.This poem can be made to accommodate lotsof wholesome beatings with practically noblood-all the better to obtain a PG-13 rating.Everyone will be able to smell what this poemis cooking-and that will be first-weekendgrosses exceeding $100 million.

This poem will please both the FCCand Congressional investigators.This poem will sit in front of Michael Powell,Sam Brownback and Joe Lieberman andtestify all day long.

Freedom of speech? Its too dangerous!Weve got to protect our kids by censoringeverything in sight! says this poem to bipartisan enthusiasm.All this applause will make this poems selling price rise exponentially.Meanwhile, job creation, the deficit andthe quagmire in Iraq escape true scrutiny-dont dare be unpatriotic.Wed rather discuss this poem.

This poem is for sale to those who work inShow Business.Its value is especially high when people areafraid of what to say, what to create, what tostand behind when the Business increasinglyanswers to nervous stockholders who caremore about profit and public image than art.

This poem believes that freedom is a concepttoo painful for people to manage on their own.

This poem believes in taking that pain awayforever.

JEREMIAH, SON OF CASSANDRA(from PAY NO ATTENTION TO THIS MAN)

Jeremiah, son of Cassandra,performed an impromptu set of songsat the California Plaza during lunchtime.

Jeremiah wore a lime green suitand played a National guitarof the same color.

Jeremiah sang songs about Enron,Dick Cheney, Cardinal Mahony,Israel and Palestine and the current intermissionbetween the war in Afghanistanand the second Gulf War in Iraq.

Jeremiah believed he was a 21st-centuryWoody Guthrie, telling truth to power.

Unfortunately, people werent in a moodto hear the truth.

One businessman yelled,Play something uplifting likeGOD BLESS THE U.S.A. or OOPS, I DID IT AGAIN!

A few laughs from the crowd.

Another businessman shouted,Theres no room for dissent anymore.Go home and grow up!

Massive applause.

Jeremiah, faced with the crowds hostility,abruptly ended his set with a rendition ofTHIS LAND IS YOUR LAND.

Scattered applause.

Jeremiah counted the money thrown intohis guitar case-only $2.32.

And then he smiled and said:Today was a good day.Tomorrow will be an even better day.

It was a mantra he kept repeating to himselfas he took the Red Line to his apartmentin North Hollywood.

It was a mantra he kept repeating to himselfas he entered his apartment,took the National guitar from its caseand smashed it onto the floor.

Today was a good day.Tomorrow will be an even better day.

ODE TO JOHN ASHCROFT(from PAY NO ATTENTION TO THIS MAN)

All hail John Ashcroft!Let your praise ring outin support of the Blueprint for Change!

If you happen to be suspected of terrorism,it probably means you are a terrorist.Therefore, you shouldnt be surprisedwhen private conversations with your attorney are listened to by theJustice Department.

Surely you dont mind that the definitionof inmate now includes peopleconsidered to be witnesses, detaineesand otherwise-giving the employees of Justicea plethora of terrorists to listen to.

All hail John Ashcroft!Let your praise ring outin support of his unwavering effortsto stop medical marijuana use in Californiaand assisted suicide in Oregon!

While the American people are occupiedwith worries about anthraxand further homeland attacks,

John Ashcroft is working hardto ensure that no right-thinking Americanwill commit the sins of drug abuse and suicide.

If youre seriously ill or dying,pain is a part of the package.Rest assured,John Ashcroft understands your pain.

All hail John Ashcroft!Let your praise ring outin support of tribunals and FBI spying-or else youll be labeled asone of the terrorists!

In wartime, the enemy(or someone who looks like the enemy)should not be entitled to the protectionsthat right-thinking Americans receive.

Give thanks to John Ashcroftfor preventing future acts of homeland terror-even if innocent peopleare imprisoned in the process.

All hail John Ashcroft!Praise him to the skiesas personal freedom and certain civil rightsbecome endangered or extinct!

Someday,freedom, justice and civil rightswill be little more than arcane wordsfound in dictionaries.

All hail John Ashcroft!He knows whats bestfor all of us!

CRUISING TOWARDS DAMASCUS(from PAY NO ATTENTION TO THIS MAN)

Righteous men and womenwalk down a well-traveled path.Its time to shed some blood.Its time to get more oil.

Any empathy and goodwilltowards America in the wake of 9/11will disappear.Its time to shed some blood.Its time to get more oil.

Containing Saddam is for sissies.No weapons inspections for us.Lets lull half-attentive peopleinto a warlike state by repetitionof the phraseweapons of mass destruction.Its time to shed some blood.Its time get more oil.

The Father wagged the dogin order to divert attentionfrom the U.S. economy.The Son wags the dogin order to divert attentionfrom the U.S. economy.Its time to shed some blood.

Its time to get more oil.

Condoleezza Rice says,Its moral to slaughter Iraqis, sir!Donald Rumsfeld says,I love the smell of Patriot missles!Richard Perle and Paul Wolfowitz say,Look what we did! We started a regime change!Its time to shed some blood.Its time to get more oil.

Its the Republican Vietnam.It ensures more terrorism from Al-Qaeda.But none of this matters.Were going to stay the course.Its time to shed some blood.Its time to get more oil.

Someday, as we enterthe outskirts of Baghdad,our ruthlessness, vanity and greedwill cause us to be blinded.And perhaps well seethe error of our wayswhen God removes the sightfrom our eyes.

POETRY CLIQUE(from PAY NO ATTENTION TO THIS MAN)

Join, join, join

Guide me to the most expensive workshops.Let me kiss the feet of renowned poets.Tell me which readings are the best to attend.Tell me which readings I should avoid.Teach me how to be ambitious withoutletting my ambitions show.

Teach me how to assemble a book.Teach me how to sell a bookto a snobbish independent bookseller.Teach me how my self-esteem will be betteronce Im published by a prestigious magazine.Let me know the difference betweenan A poem, a B poem and a C poem.Tell me, PLEASE tell me what THE PARIS REVIEW wants.

Teach me how to be Important.Teach me how to suck up to Importance.Teach me how to be a poetwho gets on a short listto have his/her picture takenby a renowned photographer.Teach me how to be a partof a poetry festival

that ignores most of the citys poetry.Teach me, PLEASE teach me how tojoin, join, join

Which poets should I befriend?What circle should I run in?Should I contort myself to fit in?Should I silence the voice within?

Join, join, join

To think there was once a timewhen writing poetry made me happybefore I began listening to voicesbegging me tojoin, join, join.

STRESS-FREE AMERICA(from ANTHOLOGY ONE)

I want to be a contestanton WHO WANTS TO BE A MILLIONAIRE.I want to log onto Iwon.comevery single day.I want to enter every lottery,Powerball contestand Big Spinin every state of the Union.

I want to buy a ticket to Stress-Free America.Im tired of being ordinary.

I want a mansion that will make the residenceof Bill Gates look like a shotgun shack.I want a small army of servantswho will work for minimum wage.I want a security detail available 24/7to banish unwanted and/or inconvenient people from my life.

I want to date beautiful women-a lot of them-and all of them under the age of 30.I want all the women in my life to look likeBeyonce, Britney Spears, Kirsten Dunst,Natalie Portman, Keira Knightley, Lucy Liuand the cheerleader from AMERICAN BEAUTY.

I want my women to be unfailingly cheerful,adoring and easily impressed bygarish, extravagant displays of wealth.Most important, I want them to agreewith everything I say.

I want the best medical care in the world.I want plastic surgery to render meforever youthful and thin.I want to live past the age of 120-and have people tell me I look no older than 85.

I want to be above it all.I dont want to worry about Heaven or Hellor theological matters.I dont want my life affected bycrime, poverty, diseaseand whoever is elected or appointed President.

I want to live where the sky is blueand the hills are green.I want to be surrounded by duck pondsand country clubs.I want designer air, designer water,designer clothing and the finest gourmet food.And I want my paradise to be totallysurrounded by a 100-foot-high fence topped with razor wire.

I have a feeling that some of you dont believe

a word Im saying.I know there is such a thing as Stress-FreeAmerica.Last week, I was watching OPRAH when I heardone of her guests say that it actually exists.And I know for a fact that if it wasnt true,it wouldnt be on OPRAH.

Tomorrow, Im going to wake up,pack my bags,go to the nearest Amtrak station,buy a ticket and board a silver-platedluxury train before the recession comesand the cost of living rises for everyone.

I really, really want to buy a ticket toStress-Free America.I dont want to be ordinary anymore.

ENGAGEMENT DAY(from ENGAGEMENT DAY)

We were led into a small room.There was plenty of air conditioning-Heaven on Earth for penguins.Unfortunately, we were humansand the November day was already cold.

The salesperson gave us chocolate-coveredgraham crackers and designer water to consume.After the consumption ended,we sat in our chairs waiting forthe end of the sales pitchand the restoration of our freedom.

Do you want to upgrade to our most expensivering?No.Would you like to sign up for our credit card?Yes.Do you want to buy anything else?Not today.And so it continued, until the sale wasfinally consummated.

We were led out of the small room.As we emerged into the main store,we were told to stand against the wall.

It was time for a Polaroid photo-the latest for a wall of portraitsof happy couples on the road to matrimony.

We put our arms around each otherand smiled for the camera.

This is how the rest of our lives began.

CARELESS(from ANTHOLOGY ONE)

I locked the car and left the keys inside.I failed to tell the landlordto fix the kitchen sink.I forgot to take the quarterly sales reportto the office.Worst of all,I neglected to tell youhow much I love you.

Please dont let me be careless with your heart.Please dont allow me to take you for granted.Please remind me of how blessed I amthat you are in my life.Please stay with meuntil death parts us temporarily.

No matter how careless I may be,I believe in youand I hope youll always believe in me.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Terry McCarty was born on July 31, 1959 inElectra, Texas. He moved to Southern Californiain 1988. From 1988 to 1997, he worked as abackground actor and occasional stand-in foractors including Joe Pesci (THE PUBLIC EYE,LETHAL WEAPON 3 and JIMMY HOLLYWOOD) andWallace Shawn (HOUSE ARREST). Terry beganwriting poetry in the summer of 1997. From1998 to 1999, he was a member of the MidnightSpecial Bookstore poetry workshop in SantaMonica, run by Olin Tezcatlipoca. Terry hasbeen a featured poet in several venues including Midnight Special, Coffee Cartel(Redondo Beach), Cobalt Caf (Canoga Park),The Ugly Mug (Orange), The Rapp Saloon(Santa Monica) and Beyond Baroque (Venice).Terry has also appeared in Lynda and LisaLaRoses THE POETRY SPIRAL at Luna Sol Caf(Los Angeles), Roni Walters BAKSTREEETCOMETRI at the Comedy Store (West Hollywood)and the Austin International Poetry Festival(Austin, TX). Terry has authored six chapbooks from 1997-2004, all of which were excerpted for this book.Two spoken word CDs (Volumes One and Two)are also available. To buy books and/or CDs,e-mail Terry at TerryMcCa@aol.com; seenext page for a full list of book titles.

MORE POETRY BY TERRY McCARTY:HOLLYWOOD POETRY (2001)ENGAGEMENT DAY (2002)HOLLYWOOD POETRY UNLOADED (2004)USE YOUR DELUSION (2004)WICHITA FALLS (2005)12 GREATEST B-SIDES (2005)ADJUSTMENT DISORDER (2005)LOVE POEMS (2006)20 GREATEST HITS VOLUME 2 (2006)NEVER MET BUKOWSKI [2010]YES I DID (2010)(INSERT CLEVER TITLE HERE] (2011)