May 28, 2021

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  • John LWatch Listen Read

    Three encores of Oh Sonny Boy backed only by accordion
    Three rows of pale brunettes protect him from the crowd
    The curtain a patchwork of imitation vermillion
    A red bulb hangs low above the throne that has been found

    This is the scene on Main Street when John L comes to town

    Crowds of every age, creed and gender are abound
    Signor kitsch sings skits detailing each attendees sins
    First time anteaters lose themselves in the wings
    With vigour they scratch red spots, overwhelmed by their king

    In all the world there’s no escape from this infernal din

    “Children of Bethlehem, come all boys and girls,
    Come Listen to these, my eternal words
    Judge not who you see by whatever they may say
    But by their round eyes, lips, ears and curves
    A man is his country, your country is you
    All bad is forewarned, all good will come true”

    These words are heard on Main Street when John L comes to town

    This garbling non-song whips throng into frenzy
    The last echoes of his crooning now cease to be heard
    No-longer-pale brunettes are broken in two
    And thrown to the snouts of the anteater crew

    John L is in tatters
    His soapbox usurped
    His torn robes adorn the
    Tree stumps of the earth
    No hack with an army
    Will last long before he
    Breeds men who yearn
    For their own bloody glory

    That was the scene on Main Street when John L came to town

  • Marlene DietrichListen Read

    Under soft lights
    With a taped back face
    Our soft spoken queen
    Takes her place on the stage

    As the big curtains open
    The last troops run in quick
    For the one and only
    Marlene Dietrich

    She whispers demurely
    “from The Blue Angel”
    The song we all know
    The one that we’ve paid for

    Fills the hall tight
    And pulls at our hearts
    And puts in her place
    The girl she once was
    In that suit of ’33
    Soundtracked by disapproving commentary

    And my shuddering neighbour
    Turns and roughly rouses me
    He says, “While a kiss on the lips may not make a frog a prince,
    An orgasm renders any queen a witch:
    Metamorphosis exists!”

    Damn all us idiots
    Damn us till death
    Relentlessly trying to untie our knots of
    Rivers and roads that defy all sense

    But her hands loosen all
    And her voice brings you youth
    Her cheeks cradle the holy breath
    That pumps the lungs of her Mackie Messer

    And she beats the heart of her Mackie Messer
    And she walks the stage with her Mackie Messer
    And she makes us smile with her Mackie Messer

  • Chondromalacia PatellaWatch Listen Read

    Losing grip
    Another drip
    A new cold

    Air passing through a new hole on the white rocks of the pink mould

    No strength left
    To pull the cord
    Of the morning bell

    A million diamonds sing inside an empty shell

    Always crashing, screaming
    Relentlessly bashing
    Incessant, repulsive, backtracking hypotheses
    Seldom finished
    The beasts of the nighttime
    Canfrenkin borentis asotzkee, potzkee borree

    Fingertips folding, deep in their tunnels black creatures make nests no needle can rupture

  • SlowWatch Listen Read

    Time winding down

    Just one more try

    I'm almost on my way
    Cracking, snapping, little footsteps
    Beaks all break


    Still searching

    Slowly it falls and slowly it dies
    Slowly it crumbles right under my eyes
    And it takes so long

    And I wonder
    Just how long it took
    To get there

    I guess I'll wait
    How much longer
    Any day

    How much further
    Must I wake

    I guess I'll wait

    Slowly falls, slowly dies
    Slowly crumbles right under my eyes


    Stood up, shot
    Between the eyes


  • Diamond StuffListen Read

    And only when
    The sun is ours
    Didn't take long to find out I'm a husk
    Made of diamond stuff

    I don't seem to bleed this time

    Hair slicked back to a black slick
    The red river pulls me up to scratch an itch
    On an anthracite field I am laid out
    And a diamond drill takes my feet off

  • DethronedListen Read

    The fate
    His pride
    None left

    Snatched with rage, his gift was thrown
    Blindly into the depths below
    Irretrievable under that stone

    Almost stopped
    On the brink
    Somehow He still thinks
    Today is
    Just a blip
    The footnote that ends his entry at the centre of
    All self respecting encyclopedias

    That face he will not see again, will always be with him will never leave, will mock
    him in sleep, remind him

    In every reflection, translucent and shimmering, those marbles appearing to make him

    Weightless as ever, forever weak
    Forever needing a distraction to speak

    Elephant eyeballs hovering over all thought with lips ever puckered, aimless fishes within.

    He’ll never tell anyone, and no one will ever find out, it will always be with him no doubt
    He wants to feel sympathy for’m, but he’ll come back again and again

  • Hogwash and BalderdashListen Read

    Hogwash and balderdash
    Chickens from the pen
    Coming down the rivers
    Of Salafessien
    Picking out fish bones
    On unstable rafts
    Checking every angle
    And foliage gap

    “Can’t keep this speed,
    The sun’s too much"
    “Balderdash settle! You’ve just lost the touch”
    This hogwash he stood
    And licked fingers clean
    While mocking his comrades
    Admits to defeat
    He kicked and he scolded
    And pulled on low cheeks

    Hogwash and balderdash
    Chickens from the pen
    Surveying the beaches
    Of Salafessien

    Picking out pebbles
    And throwing them ashore
    Checking each second
    For men of the law
    Hogwash stops and stares at the floor
    “From where comes this stench that can’t be ignored?”
    Lucky for balder his sweat escapes view
    This being the origin of the aromatic stew
    (Which led to the following bellow of “phioux!”)
    With his right on his nose, hogs left hand claps balder
    Across his bare scalp as if to extract
    His brain, thought submissive, that inside grows bolder....

  • Ascending ForthListen Read

    Everyone loves ascending fourths


    Paintings of orthodox monks on the wall
    Impotent Mark holds his pen to forehead
    Waiting for proof of his unquestioned gift

    3 open windows bring air to his cheeks
    The rest of him smothered in 3 sweat drenched sheets
    With commission spent and date drawing near
    And no newborn zeal or written ideas

    A receding hum, akin to pink noise
    Escapes his cerebral hand that toys,
    Miserably clutching it never avails
    Without resorting to kitschy entrails

    To stand up tall and straight is to break one leg
    Since last Third Quarter he has not got out of bed
    Meanwhile, envoys follow the stars, and the arcs of the larks,
    further north to collect the work promised to their employer noblemen

    He tries in vain for one pure line
    under the weight of tired eyes
    He gives in to the warm soft night
    to drift carefree beyond imagined eyes

    In dreams he finds a cure that for now will suffice

    Everyone loves ascending fourths

    Paintings of orthodox monks on the wall
    Watch Markus spill ink freely on his finest scores
    65 repetitions of ascending fourths

    As dawn breaks men arrive in droves, forcing the door
    His work unfinished, they do not accept and throw him to the floor
    He comes to in chains

    Brought in front of judges
    For testing good faith
    To try, to risk, to fail

    Unanimously condemned
    His masterpiece schmaltz
    Impure, no heart, no taste
    Markus ascends Forth, In the heart of the common man