Wednesday, May 13, 2015
Post Most Everything
-Whatever happened to romantic songs? Boy meet girl,
and everything lovely and soft!
-Up the shit-chute with the rest of the lies, Gramps!
-“Let me put this one on with all the second-rate
violins and gay crooners, and then I’ll show you
something you ain’t seen before, Dearie Mine!”
-“O la, Sir! Well...only thrice!”
-Yeah yeah, you know it all with all the playacting of you two!
And do you really gotta dress like Goths?
-Goths! Goths? Ancient History lecture in next room!
-Anyway, Gramps, we’re actually deconstructing Rock
Deconstuction.
-With “songs” like Silence?
-Hey if Johnny Q and his proud slut wantsa listen
to ten minutes of nothing, that’s their prerogative!
-Utterly stupid!
-Not so! Just the opposite!
-Take a nap, Grandpa!
-I just got up!
-Take another.
Labels: Deconstructionism, experimental music, generation gap, Goth, Music, Rock
Monday, September 22, 2014
The Promise of Philosophy
“If life's an orange crate, you keep going back
through yesterdays to find the future there.”
Jeannie answered as she always did: “Whatever.”
Her piercings a-glimmer.
He sang I dream of Jeannie
with the light green hair.
Borne like a vapor on
the slutty air.
It sounded pretty, so they tried awakening the Guru
to hear, but he was dead.
Next day they sacrificed a virtual dog to him online.
Then, the vital doctrines reasserted: “Life goes on!”
“Whatever.”
Labels: emptiness, future, Goth, guru, orange crate, Philosophy, piercing
Thursday, April 24, 2014
Fitting In the Mohawk
Techniques For Getting Ahead
-First of all, my Sissy marries a Mohawk guy. She gets "ditzy"
from her mother's sde.
-What color hair?
-Cerulean.
-What's that?
-Azure blue.
-Striking!
-Especially with the tattoos. So, anyway, he gets laid off from a
warehouse of a whole bunch of 'em.
-Employment prospects then?
-Close to zip! And Sissy comes over to cry. We usually like her
visits of course. Goth or not. And naturally, she's pregnant.
-Troubled young people, whatever the costume.
-Well...unbelievably they listen. What a shock that was! First thing,
we get him a suit.
-That's a sight!
-And a haircut.
-Goodbye Mohawk? Once proudly up there like a blue hatchet!
-Lou evened it all up. Or down. Like Marine Corps.
-How about the color.
-Dyed black.
-Next step for this now-acceptable young man?
-Training program for young brokers. Larry Finnerty, in charge,
owed me favor.
-Ugh! Not my world! Anyway, I feel two ways. One, he has to work, and two, most of us do have to compromise.
-Amen!
-But...will he turn into something like you? A weaseling toady who'd blow anybody to get ahead? Known far and wide for the
sink of his kowtow?
-Though your unfortunate bush-league sarcasm has grievously held
you back, we're really speaking now of an Art. Let's give him time.
Labels: "Art" of Getting Ahead, broker, Goth, kowtow, Mohawk
Wednesday, April 23, 2014
Aeroplanes they never thrilled her
Barbette rocked with
one suicidal lover
after another. Her
father tried breathing
again when she turned
celibate Goth.
“Looks like shit but
who gives a fuck?”
Labels: daughter, father, Goth, rock n' roll, suicidal, youthful experimentation
Sunday, April 01, 2012
Distance as Style
“Please! Sordid details are women's things!”
His daughter's muffled crying permeates the house.
Has gotten enough from wife Mona to feel that
Christie is mixed up with a bounder in the disguise
of a Goth. He concludes, though, said Goth more
simple than calculating.
Knows a man who knows roughnecks at the lumber yard:
Goth scuffed around a bit.
The sheriff has been on a ‘random crime’ kick to prove
the community importing urban ideas.
"But not random this time. Just young men taunting
each other about homosexuality and then fighting."
Goth drops out, and Christie finds a suitor born
in a suit.
Now, labor stirrings at the plant. The manager
invites some leaders to sit down with him.
"Not working so far, and a union trying to elbow in.
It’s important you tell me how far to go...in all regards."
“Do what you have to do.” He walks up to his elevated office,
takes an alcohol wipe from the antique desk.
Methodically opening the tight package and unfolding one.
Labels: father, Goth, management style
