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Archive for November 9th, 2010

Anyone else noticing it’s been too heavy around here lately? All this blah, blah on
time and religion, and I’m heading ’round the bend.

So … time for a bit of verse. Some of this stuff is new, but some has been sitting around for a couple of weeks, so if you think I’m up to something fishy … well … today’s post is just for the halibut.

Hope Flings Infernos

When the going gets tough
so gnarly and rough
and nothing is working out right
what can a girl do?
just sit there and stew
or fuck it and put up a fight

It’s exhausting, it seems
that so many dreams
end up like a punch in the nose
What appeared to have hope
ends up in a ‘nope’
and you just have to roll with the blows

Cuz hope flings infernos
so cover up your nose
and breathe through the space in your fingers
remove glasses rosy
stop being so dozy
and work toward something you know lingers

The “y what rose joe” is an intentional mess inspired by exposure to the punctuation-impaired in a comment on an article about politics:

y what rose joe
(or punk28 2 c)

little joe didn’t make it
he died in the war toendallwars
but jack did he make it
preferring the stars toendallstars

young rose was defective
so joe made a directive
to get her life lobotomized
while kath was being criticized
for falling for duke protestant
and eunice married sargent

patty did the star thing too
and broke that old divorce ground
while bobby had a zillion kids
he had the catholic rules down
jeans quiet and so still around

ted bridged the generations
politically for family
60some years veneration
that dc has a kennedy

Can’t do verse without angst now, can we?

Grim … and bear it

The idea has come niggling that
a thought I should be giggling at
might actually have merit

That you and I should suck it up
and try not now to fuck it up
and see if we can wear it

It seems it’s been not all that great
since what was ‘us’ succumbed to fate
but, Lordy, could I bear it?

You say that if I marry you,
yet promise not to harry you
on women when you share it,

perfection would be happening
we both could have our little fling
but that would be the rare bit

If giving all that in and out
while putting yourself all about
means I cannot care, it

seems it may not be so wise
to do this drastic compromise
for what can I inherit?

Oh, yes, I get to be the Queen
but what that gives me can’t be seen.
With what shall I compare it?

Two artists living as they will
by different rules, but yet there’s still
the worry: Can I bear it?

And, of course, we get down to the meat of the matter:

Spank the Monkey

Got a hank, hank, hankerin’
For who? I don’t know who …
sigh …
So a wank, wank, wankerin’
seems just the thing to do …
my! …
Give a thank, thank, thankerin’
if it happened to be you …
guy …
but not bank, bank, bankerin’
that a promise would come true …
sly …
There’re those skank, skank, skankerin’
bitches with their brew …
sty …
that you drank, drank, drankerin’
since it’s all about you, you …
lie …
simply blank, blank, blankerin’
but this we know you knew …
fry …
So we sank, sank, sankerin’
until all was painted blue …
cry …
But this hank, hank, hankerin’
is through and through and through…
why? …
So I’m spank, spank, spankerin’
the monkey till we do …
try …

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