Saturday, August 26, 2017

The Girl-Child featuring an all-star lineup including Rick James

Beautiful freak of nature,
if nature = that
which most consider
“the way things should be”
I think we’re good on freak.
(thanks Chic & Rick)
Analysis of America
’s Got Talent
turns dark on a dime.
She laughs after me
in herself
like a survivor
genuinely freaked
at this new depth she has plunged.
10,000 years ago
she might have been branded
a cynic
and I would have admonished her with
multiple listenings
of Herb
Alpert & Tijuana Brass covering
The Price is Right theme song
until she submits,
on record:
I like hopeful people

Three Day Weekend featuring Link Wray & his Raymen

Hurricane Harvey Eve.
Worried about the beating
Corpus is in for.
Patch along San Antonio to Austin
will absorb its 
slow motion renaissance.
and Houston. Fuck.
We’ll get some weather
down here
but...

Teacher across the hall bitching about school getting cancelled:
Means my kids are out of school too,
she says, wait
oh yeah,
you like your kids.
I do. 
I don’t mind.
Not a fan of the board games though.

I dread that lull
deep in the afternoon
when I’ve chosen the
perfect patch of wall
for staring
and I hear
the half-assed 
last-ditch call to scrape
the vein of diversion.
Hey dad?
play this board game?
that reveals its worth
by its intact shrink wrap?
With its fucking byzantine rules?
And zero payoff?
Dad?
Parental guilt kicks in.
I’m busy children,
clicking on pop-up ads

Certainly
I would like to harness the power
and energy of this hurricane
and ram it straight up someone’s ass.
Problem is who?
You get one chance with a weapon of this magnitude.
One chance, and I wouldn’t want to waste it on a grudge fuck.

I mean, damn. 
If I had a hurricane in my pocket?
It would need to reduce. 
Not in its massive force but in size. 
Like a hurricane bouillon cube,
that I could slip into someone’s Lipton
Cup of Soup.
But again.
Size matters.
So I’m at an impasse.

Anyway,
Link Wray, 
play us out.
Alright boys. 
Rumble, onna-1,2,3,4