Outlaw Poet

tapping my own phone

i’m going straight bought myself a flat top
haircut so stiff I can carry a tray of martinis

waiting on people someone to open up her
purse and give me a tip cause i don’t have

a clue anymore as to what’s going on but
i do know that i’m one step ahead tapping

my own phone to hear myself talking with
people who used to be my friends listening

so i can correct myself before they do and
i’ve got a surveillance camera in my abandoned

car across the street watching myself replaying
the tape so i can see if i’m acting funny before

they catch me doing something i shouldn’t
like yesterday i spotted myself walking too

fast and i heard myself talking too loud yes
i’ve got the deep fear paranoia anxiety despair

and suicide blues but i’m making sure i don’t
do nothing else wrong cause i done screwed

up so many times i cornered myself into a
backstreet dead end alley of paranoia and every

time i hear an airplane or helicopter or car
door slam i know the secret service the fbi

and the irs swat teams have finally arrived
cause i published a poem by the president of

the united states of america without his
fully conscious permission and i’m sure i

haven’t paid enough taxes cause i’ve got no
income yet somehow i keep on doing things

like eating every once in a while and paying
a light bill or two but how do i do it they’re

gonna ask what’s the source of your income
and how come you don’t come to see us

anymore so yes i’ve become a little jumpy
but i’m staying one step ahead tapping my

own phone videotaping my every move
watching myself day and night replaying

the tapes cause i got a bad bad bad case
of the deep fear paranoia anxiety despair

and suicide blues

copyright (c) 1994 & 2014 ron whitehead