Hookers or Cake

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I'm too wacky to be hip.

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      ------------------------------------ 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’.

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          • May 5, 2011 9:37 pm
            I had a vision - A shaman told me to become a drag racer to learn the ways of fire and airplane fuel To eat hot dogs and drink tall cold drafts of beer I had a vision - A bird spoke from the bushes of an IHOP to spend late nights alone, drinking hot black coffee reading what the worlds greatest thinkers, thought about thinking I had a goddamn vision - I slow danced with a crying dragon whisper smoke dreams of fighting men with swords endless sad ass parades of self hatred and bitterness I say I had a mother fucking vision - the spilled gravy gave birth to a knowing laugh - I entertained a wild tiger feeding it stories of a sly monkey in a gilded cage.

            I had a vision - A shaman told me to become a drag racer

            to learn the ways of fire and airplane fuel

            To eat hot dogs and drink tall cold drafts of beer


            I had a vision - A bird spoke from the bushes of an IHOP

            to spend late nights alone, drinking hot black coffee

            reading what the worlds greatest thinkers, thought about thinking


            I had a goddamn vision - I slow danced with a crying dragon

            whisper smoke dreams of fighting men with swords

            endless sad ass parades of self hatred and bitterness


            I say I had a mother fucking vision - the spilled gravy

            gave birth to a knowing laugh - I entertained a wild tiger

            feeding it stories of a sly monkey in a gilded cage.

            69 notes Filed under:  shitty poetry, freedom is a mountain,.
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