Hookers or Cake

Where the self-obsessed get serious about silly
I'm too wacky to be hip.

--------------------------------

    • Illustration
      •
    • My Videos
    • The best of Hookers or Cake
      • ------------------------------------- How this blog got its name

      ------------------------------------ There was a large painting of Evel Knievel shaking hands with Richard Nixon. It hung in the Mayors office. Late one evening after everyone went home. I took it down to the lab. I zoomed in on Evel’s left eye a 100x and enhanced it. It was an address. I went to the address. It was a modest, 1970’s style, split level ranch home in the suburbs.

      ----------------------------------- Inside I found a dead parrot lying on a waterbed. I revived the parrot with some saltines and adrenaline. We became good friends. The parrots name was Randy. One night a few years later while Randy and me played Gin Rummy, he sang me a song about a fire. The title of this blog was never mentioned but I sensed it, and Randy confirmed it by giving me ‘THE LOOK’.

      -----------------------------------

      Amazon.com Widgets

      -------------------------------------- more fun categories

      --------------------------------------

      • Inspiration
      • art
        • ----------------------------------------- some tumblr friends

        -----------------------------------------

        • Rrrick
        • Fuzzy Dave
        • Wonder Tonic
          • ----------------------------------------- some writing

          -----------------------------------------

          • Josh Luft
          • I'm a Veronica
        • Mr. King was here
          • Aloha Friday
          ----------------------------------------
          tell me lies! Submit stuff
          • May 12, 2012 1:20 pm
            No one at funerals realizeall the unfulfilled dreamsand desireseep and slip from the deadinto our livesYour grandmothers corpsea trojan horsefull of gin and secret nights of unfulfilled passion It belongs to you now Dancing into the early morningcircling town drunk on the trainlooking for an address that no longer exists

            No one at funerals realize
            all the unfulfilled dreams
            and desire
            seep and slip from the dead
            into our lives

            Your grandmothers corpse
            a trojan horse
            full of gin and secret nights of
            unfulfilled passion


            It belongs to you now

            Dancing into the early morning
            circling town drunk on the train
            looking for an address that no longer exists

            90 notes Filed under:  poetry, bestofHoC,.
            1. reblogged this from
            2. reblogged this from
            3. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            4. reblogged this from
            5. reblogged this from
            6. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            7. reblogged this from
            8. reblogged this from
            9. reblogged this from
            10. reblogged this from
            11. reblogged this from
            12. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            13. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            14. reblogged this from
            15. reblogged this from
            16. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            17. reblogged this from hookersorcake and added:
            18. reblogged this from hookersorcake
            19. reblogged this from
            20. reblogged this from hookersorcake and added:
            21. reblogged this from hookersorcake
          by Peter Vidani. For .
          © 2009–2013 Hookers or Cake