Part 1
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Quarter Century of seeing old and young lunching in the tiny
triangular Public Park at Bundy and Santa Monica Blvd;
surrounded on all three sides by the busiest traffic in the world
by “Guinness’s Book of World Records” searched in childhood
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For some undone feat my name could go down in print under
despite my daily name then answering to the generic “Junior”.
Around the time my title went out of fashion with adulthood,
the quaintness of sitting in auto surround sound apparently
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Went out with the wind; so “The Park With No Name” turned
into a sign of safe haven for rebels to live in, protesting their
homeless state after being mentally discharged, only to find
refuge where the harmless could live undisturbed by criminals.
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Part 2
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With no true cause to this rebellion but random brain diseases,
regardless of how delightful or horrifying their states can be;
it was the so-called “undisturbed” of society doing drive-bys
who were disturbed by the sight of something they fear despite
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These equal humans having only requests for coffee, smokes;
a bench home for sitting, eating, sleeping, watching, thinking.
The undisturbed with their uniforms of four wheel drives
With exhaust far worse and poisonous than stinking transients
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Have to be blinded from the dying of the world in their town.
So the richest people on Earth forced the city to iron fence off
“The Park With No Name” now allowing entry only to gardeners.
The Rich of the Reagan Revolution created a Grass Menagerie.
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Part 3
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Their Reagan Revolutionary Hero now a certified mental patient
far more dysfunctional than most of the Park’s former residents
dumped there to care for themselves. Now fenced-in grass,
an endangered Zoo exhibit “Park” empty benches as old habitat
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The perfect spot as long as humans are never allowed entry,
for a final life sized statue of President Reagan after his
technical death called Alzheimer’s; an exhibit for the first
Screen Actor’s Guild member as his credential to End Earth,
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Represented by the statue remaining unnamed as this tiny
“Park With No Name,” extinguished by his cost cutting
Final Solution. Still too small to build on, it remains an empty
symbol where humans once lived free, enslaved by mental states, dying in a Grass Menagerie.
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Uncle Larry Songs and Poems 