lonesome cow.
Fifties morning, early and cold.
no heater, nothing open now
ricky nelson on the radio
someday something
scary and dark.
someday danger
someday sparks
gone blown away by the rough
and the slickly sick
blip.
Fifties morning, early and cold.
no heater, nothing open now
ricky nelson on the radio
someday something
scary and dark.
someday danger
someday sparks
gone blown away by the rough
and the slickly sick
blip.
The second time for the who knows how many times tries at skimpy lies bundled up and labeled surprise! it cries and to life, jumps,
coming to rise
opens eyes
cries
lies
buys
performs live
expert in jive
high fives and muff dives
barflies and long drives
hopeful bribes to stay alive
the walk along lines
saying
careful, son, cause its
thrive or dive
juggling knives and wives
conniving and writhing
always dying,
stopped trying after too much crying and repeating
rhyming im not buying
mouth drying as the words are slime frying
repeatedly hung for drying outside,
the monsters spying. waiting for you to be minding
minding yer own they take yours and make it their own and moan and bone and
loan and groan of their special seriousness is being shown in the big boy grown,
mind of stone, so you are much safer being alone to get blown and gobble ‘done
to bed thrown without making a sound
a note
or a write, waited all night for the same old thing
scared and
microwave bing!
leading to bring
the song to sing this
evening and night
long into the dark
blathering lark lit by spark
passed out in the park with slacks of shark
blindly trying to hit the mark thinking physical dapper is the answer
knowing the reason for the joy is good old disco dancer
reeling and rocking throughout the glow and sparkle of time
the living sights overflowing the cause for knowing
that stumbles and always goings that comings
are stopped and the influx valves cropped and tied off
dried off and skinned hide off, just to write off
as a blind scoff that they got off
on
the power and yearning to toy
with any old boy or even girl
no qualms about who as long as its you
who stays glued to their poison boobs of nothing chemical breathing truths
drinking shady in the dusty booths that we used to peruse the news
and turned booze into words used to dazzle yous, praise them in pews
make ‘em front page news and designer shoes, still with everything to lose
so poorly choose and fake the blues, brushing off yer dues with ease and expertly learned smooths.
so ill smoke and toke, a goofy dope
smiling joke and an easy poke
forever broke and a matching tote
lifted by the ‘scrot
…um
… i thought i wrote
but basically not even a speck of a note in a world where there is value in the gloat.
so heart smote and hiding out in the moat.
leftover goat for dinner and silent stupid throat
it dont work, its all spooked and skittish leaving trail of junk
lost all my spunk when i had to bunk
with some halfassed “punk”
fucking bunk dick dunk of a cunt
portraits of complex junk, perfectly composed
crafted with care but a flimsy stare you wear, mon frere
seen through
left bare
and convinced they are rare strutting cocky mare
sensual slut with a mouth watering pair
or a silly serious glare from over there
where the gang of thugs stare and fix their totally stellar hair
both for beauty and to share at the cutting edge fair
who cares about the fares of being fair when
i will retire to my lair and have a bubble bath with barry white beaming bassy love light, feeling alright but slight.
for constant fright take flight and i might just bite and walk the narrow days and sell myself for two bit empty praise and no more waves and no more rhyming for funk sake yer as exciting as the man made lake,
get it, maaaaan
fucking fake!
so jokes on me,
like a face hit
with a step on the rake
misplaced in the days gone by covered in brown leaves crunch
and reruns of the brady bunch playing forever
while i contently eat my lunch
made at home early that day
happily carried
pleased all the way
way to go on the sticker from the teacher
yer going to hell, something something something
said the preacher
and i still became the leacher
the lecherous old clump
scouring the dump
for a gold nugget from the days of simple ease
thoughts from bees, and holy trees
sucked dry from human disease
all we want is all we please.
so ending the tantrum in sudden surrender and sleaze
happy to dumbly be,
im a sneeze in the breeze
a single janlge of keys
or a sound of the knees
ending with please
and as miscellaneous as gathering beads
of sweat sometime, somewhere
on the forehead, dropped from the hair
always liquid nowhere
i become the goo intangible
and bounce away in an ancient glare.
gone and back and gone again,
time for tasteless and time for
special shine from the golden gift racks
where theres a plethora of shallow
attacks at yer back and a ruthless kick to the sack
brings me back to the grumbling ghost
stuck in the crack
of good friends ass
fed with bullshit and sass
forced to drink gas and buck to be passed
torn up and harassed
no class, havin a blast
and losing
fast
running past in body cast and lost in the mass
splash crash
and then bash
yer trash with a swift
yer set adrift to lift
the weights of the game
the flame of the lame
burning with the rage of tame
the greedy jones for fame
and the meaning not found
just the incriminating stain
you got thinking you wouldnt be plain
too insane
so i hide in brain, trap already lain to protect the train out of control you seem to be, nothing nothing
something
and a spare
always exploding bright and hungry for love in its gluttonous search for attentions of various universes, never wanting less than the rest, cause you are the best! so fucking sure you made it a nest, to test the stress of yer rest barely at all
cause in sleep you may fall, down to second place, that cannot happen ill be a disgrace to this face and to space which is a race to debase yer so called homies and blowmes when words are words and baloney is throwing
easily caught and easily sent
this is way too much,
im spent
……………………. sign on my forehead says: FOR RENT.
until everything wanes…
Over indulged
over involved
under developed
and stubborn shit pride
wholesome family lies
barf cart and drew on dark eyes
no more supplies and everyone dies
and pried yer thighs in hopes of prize
cock rise and dinky size
crappy cut off in the head slap notion
expected commotion
barely any lotion
left burns on the tip
bare bones and singed hair
spent too much time
that thing called care.
hurry hurry hungry stomach. make yer way smoking fast around the brick corner tongue out and wetting the tshirts of the sensual babes hanging out, as they tended to do. Thats when the bike courier smoking crack not paying attention obviously ran right into me and there went the cake i made for a belated birthday of someone i didnt really like at all, but i was a people pleaser and a jig dancing barmaid with bullet holes in my feet from the poor aim of the rough alpha slobs laughing so his face stretched into that of a American Gothic ass, dark and retching dissonance for the hip kids to bob their beady beanie heads and get spooky serious and i put on my vampire teeth, plastic, and drink the classic virgin colada and have my tropical curly mullet in full swing, heh heh heh, and i hack and cough and my cigar falls on the guiding rat who wears little suits and maybe is homosexual. The strange sedation across the quiet land, no ruckus or loud insanity and lewdness openly fuming and cruising. Then the curious get bored and murder before they lose their virginity, the midwest is americas heartland, they grow the best cereal killers in this inspiring land. So lets hear it for us, the wild west, the lonely dark north, the complexly trashy midwest, the sleepy smiling south with blood on its mouth, and the old luxury east, a great puzzle, but always somehow missing one piece that yer too high to ever find. Good night from tv land…
(I Love Lucy theme plays…)
country comforts colliding with catastrophic chemicals. The freebase pipe on the wood coffee table in the leafy suburbs. Quiet. Wicker and tans, and the end of shag carpet. Almost too modern, but still slightly leaking polyester and disco, and phrases becoming un”hip” and a total “bummer”. Long hair got you pulled over still, and you could still get a three finger lid for twenty bucks. Yes, goodbye mustache and muscles, hello sunglasses and ‘ludes. And so sickly waking up the starchy saturday, tongue still blue from the night before, and some half breed whore holed up next to me, a breeze shuddered me and i mutter to me, gee, how did things get like these? There goes the summer, and here comes another number, a long cut for you sluts out there. Stripped bare already with nothing to spare but something that looked like care, but wasnt really there. The attack of the bear, and the vacancy sign stares, the shoddy wares, and pricey fares. Shoved in the face quicker and quicker each slug smashing day holding down hat and pretending to pray. Paying to get to the top, and nobody wanting to drop. Staying alive, staying alive…
blah, blah, blah, blah, staying alive…
the mouth opens and the finger goes up in timid request to me smote down by the teeth of a tyrant in the tophat townhome, a terror show summed up with one thing, no.
so put yer hands in front of yer face and suck in the disgrace, muggy shakes, splay her open and lay yer eggs. This cant be good…..
moody muff mumbling about stuff, gruff and tough, standing in the buff, never was enough to brush up the licks and harden those tits and legs splits and out shits the kits for the meaning of life, the meaning of wife, and the strife of the rife who knife at the night and wail for life, biting their sight into the narrow bologna hole fucking it gleefully in the park, humid and colored sharp, im blind, its time, i blow off and aint no show off gonna go off on my snowtop cause the blows gone in a few minutes and my brain fizzes like colorful cola corroding the core of my soul thats become the rocking chair bore, with nothing to offer like some desperate whore who wants nothing more than to score some vision pure and whole.
stop looking at my mole……
my eyeballs have become assholes and my mouth a desert spraying dust with hints of lust, and a sign saying
anything or bust..
all thats left is crust and rust flaking away and dispensed like slush.
Yum! tastes like gone inspiration and trite masturbation
fucking never get to terrapin station…
brains been freebasin’ permaspacin’
no more creation, just wastin’ and chasin,
location, location, location…
heeeeeyyyy mmmmmaaaaaaannnnnn, my hands up in recoiled and half witted surrender while the sharp words of others stuck me to the wall and i was forced to stare an endless scrolling list of mundane writing about love or sadness or passive aggressive complaints from self righteous groovy cynics that probably take themselves so seriously and are always right and just have an opinion on everything you think you know or dont know, you are wrong. Whos that? just some dude.
who are you? just some dude.
who the fuck do you think you are? just some dude, borderline ghost smiling under my designer bed sheets i bought all by myself and i held on to that fact to use as a way to express my independence, yes maturity reigns supreme in this new gilded age running nonstop to keep healthy and staying on that almighty cutting edge conveyed so humble and aloof, but its just like it always was and will continue to be as long as there are serious suckers swallowing the substance from my soul, and the scenes that used to barrage my mind have been scrambled cause i couldn’t pay the bill on time and i dont think ill ever be able to afford to turn it back on, but i must work, and throw myself mind first, into the fires of passion that we all die for one way or another, and im ready to hear all everyone has to say about anything and nothing, and i will listen and smile when appropriate and respond thoughtfully, for you, someone, or whoever you think you might be or not be for thats my job here on this plane of existence, a holster, a knife in yer boot, im the morning after pill in yer purse, the spare tire under yer suv, or actually i forgot you have a hummer, or was it a denali? no, no, it was a twatillac escapade cause it made you feel good to look good and have those songs of praise from ma and pa all yer serious life knowing you were going to know everything one day, and one day soon. But hey im not mad, im just making each other happy and ill dance for yas and ill sing fer yous guys, crooning and blowing kisses from the back seat while i am a hostage in the early 1990s when being a hostage was good steady work, nowadays im stuck whoring myself out and making detour signs so i can maybe love living after the youth has drooped to poop and i buy a little red coup, truck filled with rogaine and and extenze, i keep the pos-t-vac at home its just too bulky to carry around. and im down to the brown town sound that to my mind turned it into beefy ground
meat, slightly sweet, and ready to eat, it goes right to the feet and then i become modern saying skeet skeet, and rapping to beats about being neat with my sheets and eating only sweets while i peak and tweak and suddenly speak… its nothing unique,
just a trail trying to keep,
up with the styles of pleats and cloths that are required for to be keen with the kids and their hats are called lids and they watch those darn vids, and they stay away from the skids, where i is, doing my biz and taking a whiz, while buying some thizz to be modern and hip and curious too, just like college kids who tried their first brew, and started buying chew all a big to do to be someone like who?
so fucking boo hoo, im glad you are you, im glad i am you, you and yer view, so fresh and new, you could get signed by a jew, his pasty hue just right for the things needed to do so you could buy yer glue and sniff it too while all the money rolled in and you had all those shoes………. man i wish i, too, could be blue and then itd be so easy to sit angry and true speaking yer mind and spitting out rude, shitting out mood, and eager to chew on the dude who had no credit from you, cause you were so busy being the coolest of the crew put together cause you wanted them to, you knew exactly what to do so theyd adore you, bore you, want to be more you thinking they have no clue this universe composed by you to fuel that dashing sociopath debonair that won you blue ribbon at the county fair. but im scared, im bared and all stupidly shared and obsessively cared but then i got to the juicy mindlimes ripe and scented pine and i lied its only rind left behind as a decline through time that can barely even find words to bind so im stuck with these assmouth lines trying to clumsily rhyme knowing nothing but im nothing at all
ancient grime cleaned up a lost grain of trite trite time i whine and dine on safety brine that keeps calm mine and blank planks anything new to find.
freezing blind and shredded meat mind always craving disco goodtimes and roller skating feeling jive and guilty of forever shrugging crime.
just some dude… hope yalls fine.
Bright alright, barely awake
and that single palm tree in the glare.
gimme shelter. Traffic second hand smoke on the way through the crevices between the jammed hills, waiting for pills.
even at the gas station its like some early cold ‘85 morning, the west becoming the old east, dying in the concrete freeze, cold, cold, fucking so cold breeze. Until summer we melt into the sidewalks, real fear and loathing, nothing you could put into words.
that trail leading to the cliff you pace back and forth dropping butts into the air.
and thats where i am, faded away on the road, carrying a load, honking the horn, and hiding out in the midwest, kansas city motel room with a pregnant hooker and a sheet of crack, fresh out the oven. the slow hand, the slow draw on the door, out to the car where i parked next to an almond orchard, and made it to san b county in less than five hours. ive picked at my face until i couldnt even go into the store without having to make it quick.
Lead foot, hovering on the wire, fingers about to be cut off. brain escaped long ago and left the animal eyes the soul glowing toward forward, everything just sounds…
Good old night in the foothills watching black ancient sight cause empty infinite that is boiled down to boring, tasting bland. Stowed away on the crystal ship with the old lady, laying down from the turbulent seas. Shes calm from the doctors remedy, this new age sophisticated jalopy, now cleverly crafted to the atom all too perfect atop the wild everythings connected once upon a bribe. And down in the valley the princess and her pussy licking lips sticking to the panties dancing wildly for the prince frog cock wart sprinkled and friendly. They tangled in the mossy mushroom hollow where tall wolves scheme and smiling flies swarm the pond water cum all green and sighing in relief. That first sight lifting head from night club table, and its still bulky and corny and friendly and still simple enough to party and disco till dawn. When i finally came to i was in the Arizona red and orange canyons and rocks amongst gold shining from a gleam where the wind blows soft chrome reflection to display its modern accomplishment, but it knew its uselessness already and was straightmouthed flat look constantly driving. Eyes of the bored, they learned and couldnt forget. All white desert, too, salt wounds like coke rings around nostrils in the mad 80s’ night, some sight someone wouldnt ever forget, until the sandstorm finally wore the mind away and then suffocated the soul.
