breathe in breathe out, close my eyes
stand up, walk down the hallway
stop, turn around
walk back down the hallway
turn on the stereo, satellite
retro-active, whirly girl?
I don't think so
groovy electonica moby jam
speakers kick, 15" of pounding recoil
I feel sick, gotta keep busy child
the phone is ringing, is it god?
no, it's the fruit
"I met this hot little teacher at the bar"
"good for you"
calaveras green, rocky mountain piss
fried fish, fried fish, green shits
clean the toilet, fix my sink
fix me a drink!
let's get smashed!
mutiny on the marriage, here's to the disparaged
my self-degradation know's no bounds
saffron, peppered bacon and eggs
vegetable gold, red fish, white fish, fried fish
pugnacious stigma, gracious enigma
I got the fever, I got the heat on
I got the beats on, rock this way and that
dog days, pitta patta, ay, batta batta
black top, pop, flick, catch, stomp
hey junior, how'd ya like a dirty sanchez
open a window, the air is stagnant
sepulchral, funereal lethargy
I feel faint and aloof, life is a spoof
the proof is in the pudding
what the hell does that mean?
reticent and hell-bent, in the eye of the hell-mouth
filthy and gorgeous, nasty and placid
drop some acid, clean the kitchen
kill the lamb, feed the rich, tax the bitch
sam browne, the italian-filipino
bocce at the picnic grounds, keep the grass green
swing to the synth-wal-mart-edition, you might grow
Author notes
an old one.
Written March 19th, 2006
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my head is still spinning (that's a good thing... i think) but i'll try to comment anyway.
thought you would like to know what the hell, the proof is in the pudding, is suppose to be:
"The proof of the pudding is in the tasting." hope that clarifies the meaning. as far as your poem, i am sure i am a bit buzzed because of it. it took me soo many places, and i don't even know if i was dressed properly!
must point out my favorite line:
mutiny on the marriage, here's to the disparaged
haha i will toast to that.
verdict: we must get hammered together... it be loads of laughs!
-cheers
i had a jolly good time
Edited on May 19, 4:23 p.m. because ''. -
Is it wrong that this poem sounds like a snapshot of my life? I didn't think so either. And the proof isn't in the pudding it's in how you eat it. Thanks for letting me join the group.
-
West Wind
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