There is also a collaboration between singer/songwriter Joe Sztabnik and myself.
Gutter Angels
Angels on the subway train
Angels in the rain
Wings of fury in the street
Halos melting in the heat
Gutter Angels up in heaven
Looking down upon us all.
Bless the homeless, Bless the dope fiends,
Bless the sidewalks where they fall
You’ll be an angel too, someday,
Shooting arrows till you stumble
Flying by as oceans rise
While all our bridges crumble
Gutter Angels up in heaven
Looking down upon us all.
Bless the homeless, Bless the dope fiends,
Bless the sidewalks where they fall.
Danny’s nickname was “Guerrilla,”
Linda’s was “The Stick,”
Tito climbed through windows
Minerva made him pay
Lenny popped the car trunks
All on Christmas Day
Dream yourself alive again,
It’s easy, just like waking
Nothing’s changed since you’ve been dead
Except you feel your body aching
Gutter Angels up in heaven
Looking down upon us all.
Bless the homeless, Bless the dope fiends,
Bless the sidewalks where they fall
© puma perl, 07/07/19
It was adapted from a poem called "Angels," written 9/24/13
Angels
Hi Angel.
You always
greet me the same way.
Do you know
why angels become angels?
Because they
were such shitty people.
Only their
wings could save them.
Candy built a
treehouse, dropped a few kids.
Anna rode the
trains, her daughter died, too.
Lucy stole
her mother’s wedding ring,
Tommy took
the cash. Robert ran off
with Lucy,
Tommy stabbed him in the chest.
Angels up in
heaven, smiling down upon us all.
Bless the
homeless bless the dope fiends,
bless the
sidewalks where they fall.
Future angels
walk city streets
restless on
the corners
You’ll be an
angel too, someday,
shooting
arrows into clouds,
watching the
ocean rise
and bridges
crumble.
Dreaming of
being alive again,
just like
breathing.
Danny’s
nickname was “Guerrilla,”
Linda’s was “The
Stick,” Tito
climbed
through windows, Minerva
pushed him
out, Lenny popped the car
trunks, all
on Christmas Day
Angels up in
heaven, smiling down upon us all.
Bless the
homeless bless the dope fiends,
bless the
sidewalks where they fall.
© puma perl,
09/24/13
Gutter Angels
We meet out by the airport
in some low-rent hotel in Queens
It’s easy to get lost
on dark streets
that lead nowhere
except to low-rent hotels
out by the airport
so anonymous
you’ll never find them again
As always, you’re ambivalent,
not sure if you really want
me or him or maybe some girl
out in New Jersey
Even low-rent hotels
cost more than we’re worth
Inevitably
we move to cars
parking alongside fire hydrants,
across from city playgrounds,
hiding impotently
beneath trees
Watching you unzip
is the best part
We don’t believe in afterward
A laugh
Share the last drops
of whiskey
from the half pint bottle
under the seat
Drop me on the corner
Hope the security guard’s
asleep
There are no angels here
on Water Street
Just a few seraphim,
invisible to most,
lying quietly
in the gutter.
©
puma
perl, 06/04/18
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