Hookers or Cake

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I'm too wacky to be hip.

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      • ------------------------------------- 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’.

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          • September 2, 2012 2:16 am
            I wrote this while at a really shitty Blues Festival on the River Styx I saw a cloud shaped liked Godzilladevour the moonI must’ve been hallucinatingbecause it was early afternoonnot even 2:30The moon went in and the moon came outspinning about some delicious madnessit had always knownMeanwhile the Devil rode around the outskirts of townwith one hundred pounds of frozen meat in his trunkThe devil wears welding glovesbecause the steering wheel of his El Dorado is red hot.and I don’t know whether he has a plan or notbut they say he’ll circle and circle until all the flesh he’s got, putrefiesand sings to him of an ancient spring and lullabies

            I wrote this while at a really shitty Blues Festival on the River Styx


            I saw a cloud shaped liked Godzilla
            devour the moon
            I must’ve been hallucinating
            because it was early afternoon
            not even 2:30

            The moon went in and the moon came out
            spinning about some delicious madness
            it had always known

            Meanwhile the Devil rode around the outskirts of town
            with one hundred pounds of frozen meat in his trunk
            The devil wears welding gloves
            because the steering wheel of his El Dorado is red hot.

            and I don’t know whether he has a plan or not
            but they say he’ll circle and circle until
            all the flesh he’s got, putrefies
            and sings to him of an ancient spring

            and lullabies

            28 notes Filed under:  poetry, prose, Blake, art,.
          by Peter Vidani. For .
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