Long Payroll Poems
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The Cinematic Film Treatment as poetic element
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Snickering Bastards
Two chattering ravens narrate a tale of blind revolution and seedy redemption, as we follow a Raisinseed V9.003, the latest hermaphrodite sex worker cyborg prototype grown by the Non Sequitur Corp from lawn cuttings, in her or his meandering narrative from birth to illumination, at the beginning of which we first see Raisinseed's body parts being vapor gun printed from lab rat DNA by Prof. "Bam Bam" Bernie Roundhole, who has secretly grown Raisinseed alongside an evil twin kidnapped with the Professor's connivance by gypsy low riders, deviously paid by the Bureau of Land Management, to detect clandestine ectoplasm at the FEMA Summer Camp Ouija Board séances held in a recently constructed chain link and razor wire facility in a devious scheme to harness the power of human gullibility, where the twins' only link to sanity and dietary sustenance was the giant artificial cow udder they both suckled with the help of a mysterious one eyed Hungarian ex-Tatar payroll robbing Romany Brigade railroad bandit turned private investigator (whence or hence the eye logo on his business card that read "DEEP, DEEPER, DEEPEST!"), the Sure Bet brand dowsing rod inventor, and his partner, the equally mysterious "Tubby" Tepys, who sells the secret Twin (named X for the purposes of this narrative) to the hunch backed majordomo of Castle Bathory, and who, over the span of two generations of political mud wrestling, reveals the key to the reuniting of the twins utilizing the tracking capabilities of a "Mark of the Beast" model branding iron and Homeland Security RFID laser detector which slingshots via the Einsteinian space time reversal dilemma in a mathematical simulation that employs the separated twins for an inter-departmental National Plasmatic Administration foundation grant fund raising public service announcement about the potential for life "out there", and they are reunited by men who shrink heads with the help of tungsten filament light bulbs.
(to be continued)
From "Theater of Utter Charm"
Available on Amazon
The bell of the high church tower
Rings every hour
The sound echoes with power
As in the skies shooting stars shower
Beyond the castle wall
There is suffering of a lonely soul
The chestnuts fall like hail this fall
And leaves autumn paints in colors beyond all control
The young man was riding the road map did chart
But on the way there he got shot with a poison arrow through his heart
His father was to be next baron but political rivals decided to get rid of upstart
To send a message they killed his son by paying off the local blackheart
In the churchyard his love waited patiently
But meeting between them was not to be
Unsure why breaking the promise was he
She knew that their togetherness was destiny
Her lips were inviting crimson red
But her deep eyes were sad after tears they began to shed
When she found out that her love was dead
She lost her head
She prayed to the God to bring her love back
She begged the God until of time she lost track
Trying to pierce nothingness with her eyes she stared into black
But what is once gone from this world it cannot backtrack
As she looked at the cross she begged first then threatened with violence
But in return she heard only silence
The cross was made of gold showing its brilliance
But yield no answer to her grievance
When she talked to the priest he would tell
That if she continued to be angry she would go to hell
Since he was on payroll of political party he would also tell
That her lover would go to hell as well
First furious then crying of tears sea
Then she thought that maybe that was her destiny
Then to grant her wish heavens would agree
But rather then bring the love back they told her to look at world’s beauty
The reason was so it she would not forget when she ventured to the skies
Beyond second place where the out world lies
For the Gods joined the couple together not where soul goes when it dies
But rather to final fundamental place to be the king and queen of the very skies
The portal to the seventh skies
Was through the girl’s enchanting deep eyes
The beauty that never dies
The abyss of wonder and the gate to highest heaven in those eyes would arise
When I'm licking toads I regress into a dream
Glory is bestowed you won't believe what I have seen
We travel this same road don't know where it may lead
The greedy overload take much more than they need
When I'm licking toads I slip inside a dream
After a smoke I think I know what this all means.
When my mind is high so much higher than a kite
Something stirs inside like my soul has taken flight
Those things that hide in life often side by side
Have faith that real Love will never tell a lie
When my mind is high like that flying kite
This feeling deep inside can never be denied.
When I feel like this I giggle like a loon
Could be really tall look down upon the moon
Life should be a ball wake every day at noon
Please don't crash and fall don't come home too soon
When I feel the urge to giggle like a loon
Body stays put my spirit surges past the moon.
When I'm on the roll and leaping cloud to cloud
It's nothing like a stroll through the Sheeping crowds
With policeman on payroll that shouldn't be allowed
The dick's shout like trolls so very very loud
When I'm on the roll and roaring through the crowds
I like nothing more than soaring through the clouds.
When I need to see there's more than meets the eye
I close them both and look out through my mind
The ignorant could think I'd be rendered blind
The arrogant would say it's all a waste of time
They can't see the joy hiding just behind the eyes
They have closed their eyes, but they have shut their minds.
When your spirits free and truly can it roam
Just Let It Be you'll find your own way home
You could follow me til your confidence has grown
There will come a time when you can make it on your own
When you spirits free and it's truly had a roam
Just Let It Be who cares if you make it home.
When evening turns t morning in barely but a blink
The realizations dawning from that time to think
Got no time for yawning need to find that missing link
You won't find me snoring but i'l teeter on the brink
When evening turns to morning hardly time to blink
The realizations dawning that I begin to stink.
Form:
is there a problem?---one
wrong with the world
outside you? is there
a problem?---
now
now
now,
sorry to interrupt,
didn’t mean to pause you
from stuffing food down your
fat american gullet---
didn’t mean to make you
think for a second,
when we all know
we all know,
you’d just rather
not.
now, let me ask you again…
is there a problem?
have ya heard anything today?
have ya seen anything?
would you tell the rest of us
if ya did,
or would you rather just stay
huddled up comfortable in
your property?
holdin’ on, holdin’ on,
holdin’ on…
hoping that when the poor have
had enough & they get
guns, that they don’t come for
your first born
son (lol)---
a problem yet?
have ya turned on your tele today?
have ya gone outside in your
neighborhood
(that is if you haven’t
separated yourself completely from
the rest of “us”)?
hmmm…
have ya got some coins jingling in
your pocket?
maybe that makes it easier to
ignore?
have ya got some fresh new
lover who takes up all your time,
so that the rest of us just make you
bored?
hmmm…
have you heard of the storms that have
been destroying?
have you heard of the wages falling?
have you heard of the sick that cannot
get help?
have you heard of the people getting
hassled & imprisoned who don’t look
like you?
have you heard the sirens, the gunshots
outside?
have you heard the same talking heads
that we’ve heard,
promising that it will get better?
have you seen the countries outside us
burning,
because of the hired killers on our payroll?
have you heard that they are killing
themselves because they can no longer
stand it?
have you heard the death tolls that are a
direct result of our
“bringing democracy?”
hmmm…
if you are “in the dark”…
if you claim this is all fresh
news to you…
then you, my friend,
have a problem.
Now gather round this here campfire
y'all kind good folk
Sit down get and make yourselves
real comfy and toast a marshmallow
Because this is a Freestyle Hoedown
ain't it all of us here have come to see
and i am about to get this party started
So here's a little ditty im about to spit
if you follow my flow and catch my drift
please feel free to join in and sing along
Hey- Diddle - Dee
Slap a my thigh
Fiddle - Dee- Dee
I'm a simple country boy at heart
not 1 of them city slicker
Who enjoys the simple things and
pleasures of the outdoors life such as
My shack and outhouse I constructed
myself with my own bare hands that
provides me shelter when I am not out
roaming the plains
A cowboy hat tin of beans cup of coffee
whiskey bottle and thick warm blanket
to sleep under the star's at night
I live off the land and anything else I
need it can't provide all I have to do
is take a ride into town I can purchase
from the supplies store
And my mode of transportation I use to
get there is my trusty Mustang of the
four legged type 1 B.H.P under the
hood that comes with a saddle
not 1 of the modern day muscle car variety
You see I'll take my chances all day long
Dancing with these Wild Wolves rather
than the one's on Wall street
Because at least there was some form
of law and a Sheriff in Dodge
Whereas
Wall street is totally and utterly lawless
run by cowboys who have the Sheriff's
and the Judge on their payroll
Who will railroad you straight to jail
choose to throw away the key or
hang you
Music Score provided by
( Deliverance Banjo )
&
( A Fistful of Dollars More )
&
( The Bad & the Downright Ugly )
She told me she stopped drinking to avoid a hangover
This, I laughed at
She does a lot of things almost like idiocy but I wouldn’t dare call it that
Not doing things to evade the consequence sounds so chic
Like last week’s episode of desperate housewives
Indeed it sounds funny but I do it all the time
I stop laughing to avoid crying
I stop loving to avoid hating
And I stopped flying, to avoid the fall
It takes too much effort to think thus every so often I follow the path before me
What’s more dim-witted?
Doing something that works or doing something that’s been done before
I’m not certain but surely I’ll find out tomorrow
When my diary is full and my last tea leaf is stuck to the
bottom of the kettle
Most of my life will be a quest to understand myself
But here I am still inquiring
Questions are for the living and answers are for the dead
This is the only answer I have
In this way I am educated
More educated then the corporate men two blocks away
Drinking star bucks to inflate their egos every morning
Cancerous cells developed in their brain from the overdose of money
That is arranged by their payroll
And I can’t help but laugh at those battling each other on political stands
For even the child staring at me from the other side of the mirror understands
That the biggest battle is within ourselves
It takes a day to comprehend how molecules work, to build an atom bomb
But it’s taken mankind’s existence to discover how our own minds work
Man has done a lot of things almost like idiocy but I wouldn’t dare call it that
I went to the dentist
It had been awhile
Yet after much drilling
Followed by filling
The bills heaped in a pile
He said come twice a year
Or try to make it three
Brush three times a day
And floss the right way
And maybe just maybe
You’ll be a dental star
Which sounded bizarre
But did what I was told
Though received a scold
From that dental czar
He said come monthly please
To avoid tooth disease
And floss between breaths
Which was not life or death
Though it wasn’t a breeze
But it wasn’t enough
Oh, my dentist was tough
And then he dared to say
To come once a day!
While my tooth he did stuff
He seemed to be leaning
For a constant cleaning
Of all my dirty teeth
Both above and beneath
As if he was meaning
To be on my payroll
Funded by my poor soul
But he wanted power
To clean my teeth each hour
Or he’d have to drill holes
In more of my molars
He was a steamroller
Needing to do more
Which sounded like war
With him as a tooth gaoler
Yet his chair, I was in it
Every other minute
Every single day
For he got his way
And knew how to win it
Still, I did not make the grade
So he tried to persuade
To avoid drilling
And any more filling
He preferred that I stayed
Well I tried to be cross
Asking when do I floss
When he said, I reckon
We’ll clean each second
With no time left to pause
Thus, I reached the high bar
As a famed dental star
With no plaque to cleave
But, with no time to leave
I bid my life au revoir
If true, as anthropologists report,
hide-and-seek entertains children of all languages
and cultural sport
throughout all humanity's extended family history
Might hiding-seeking
ubiquitously regenerate among children
as among haunted-hunting adults?
Gathering food to hide from hunger,
daily plowing for payroll plunder,
postulating procreation,
BusinessAsUsual playfull as workless,
taking turns hiding from gifted godlessness,
trusting divine spirits to continue seeking
my blend-in brand
of common-scented humanity.
While too tribally divine
to attract anthro-privileged notice,
my roommate cat, Simon,
also excels at both hiding and seeking,
terrorizing my unsuspecting shoe laces
as I naively strive to pass him by,
leave him behind,
as if I were in charge of times to hide
and reasons to seek.
Is not all science and life,
adult and childhood,
human natured and Other co-spirited?
Some hybrid hide-body/seek-mind
as marvelous neurosystemic stimuli
for curious re-searching
re-connecting
re-ligioning response
Wondrous where and how
our cat-godesses of destiny
will musingly pounce
Not sure we prefer too soon
over being last to win
such co-redeeming grace,
rejoining conscientific players
of cathartic evermore adventure
Seeing sight
beyond faith-filled hunting
seeking hauntingly contagious
hidden entrance
finding hopeful exit doors.
Came from Baltimore by Pigtown
Where they like to lay the law down.
He rebelled against the ground rule.
Had to grow up in reform school.
Got acquainted with a curveball
Dealing pepper by the church hall;
Broke some windows, but he left the scouts impressed.
He was an OG All Star, and a first draft Hall of Famer.
He had manners like a gomer, but he played with no disclaimer.
Pitched in Beantown, till they tossed him.
They’d regret they ever lost him.
Joined the Yankees as a slugger.
Jumped on southpaws like a mugger,
Shooting rockets past the flagpole.
Fattest wallet on the payroll.
Made a called shot, and the papers did the rest.
He went from zero to sixty lodged in Murderers’ Row,
With women, booze, and money all just part of the show.
He led the A.L. in hitting.
Chased after ta-il, no quitting.
Played ring around the bases
In a dozen pennant races.
He scored doubles at the wet bar.
Belted homers before radar,
And suffered his publicity’s intrigues.
He was an urban legend; no one ever saw him on TV.
And in the house that he built, there’s a tribute to his number three.
It was series after series.
All the bookies have their theories,
Parsing records and statistics,
Charting sinker ball ballistics,
But in the end, most everyone agrees:
He never had to play the N*gro Leagues.
A young Shepardflees fascist Italy,
in a boat crossing a tereachorous sea.
His rudimentary education,
ending sheep in Abruzzi, Italy.
His venture, to seek a life of freedom,
on the cold gold ground of La'mere-rr-ika.
He walked out of the pasture near Penna,
into the black pit coal holes of Scranton.
Pick and shovel in hand, clothed in black pitch,
a beacon light upon his tired head.
A young no-good lazy bastard "guinea"
working for a fast talking lying, "mickl".
Day and nighrt, night and day, anday annight.
pick, shovel, load, push, pick, shovel, load, push,
four weeks of darkness, thirty days of night.
Working double shift days in the coal pit,
sucking dust, ingesting coal from the hole,
a nickel a load for pasture clear lungs.
Greenback money in his empty pockets,
mark an "X", on the clear white payroll sheet,
then settle up with the company clerk,
paying his month long debt of servitude.
A slave to the industry of demand,
dictator Baron's that trade in black lung.
Days to months, months to years, a month of years,
living in clapboard company houses,
with bambino's running around his feet.
Just enough left for a couple of beers
and a gallon bottle of cheap vino,
then back to the grind with facist "mick",