the fizz of it all
Posted: November 21st, 2010, 11:00 am
i let it all drop, i let it merge and pop
the fizz of it all, like champagne
on a tuesday night after the laundromat
life is so demanding
expecting more
after kicking you in the balls
how are you holding up
does your chest still hurt
oh really
maybe you should write a poem
a real poem - not this crap
take this line for instance
it has no redeeming qualities
no reason to exist - filler
fluff n puff
stuff, double stuff
like a fat fucking oreo cookie
yes! that's it!!
that's what you are
a fucking cookie man
a tossaway tommy in search of a mommy
does your chest still hurt
maybe you should see a doctor
did you quit smoking yet
oh really
and here's the kicker
the bitter edge of the lemon wedge
that floats like a bloated jellyfish
in the bottle of long island iced tea
at the supermarket next to o'douls
o'douls is here it's better than beer
now that's poetry brother
it says it all without moving its lips
toss in a little latin
some paté de patois
and feed it to the idiots
of which there are more than enough
if they can't understand it
that means it's good
look at the time invested
the internal revisions
countless trips to the blood bank
o, how i've suffered for the muse
so many muses, so little time
does your chest still hurt
oh really
what do you want from me
what is it that you expect
you want to hear something
you want to be inspired by proxy
you demand more, always more
until i begin to doubt everything
should i delete this piece of shit
or simply let the electrons decide
they have feelings too you know
they are quite capable of turning themselves off
if that is what they truly desire
he's doing it again
he's doing it again
he's done this sort of thing before
these stock phrases that permeate his work
check the archives
in poem # 34 entitled
it looks like a poem but it's not
the author goes off in a direction
that shows promise - a rich vein
begging to be tapped,
but rather than commit himself to legitimate poetic expression
he pulls out and shoots his wad all over the muse's belly
leaving a starchy residue instead of knocking her up
it's the same old story, we see it all the time
when you've been in the business as long as i have
you know the real deal when you see it
and you, my friend, are not
i mean you're my friend and all
but you're not the real deal
but you're still my friend
does your chest still hurt
oh really
the fizz of it all, like champagne
on a tuesday night after the laundromat
life is so demanding
expecting more
after kicking you in the balls
how are you holding up
does your chest still hurt
oh really
maybe you should write a poem
a real poem - not this crap
take this line for instance
it has no redeeming qualities
no reason to exist - filler
fluff n puff
stuff, double stuff
like a fat fucking oreo cookie
yes! that's it!!
that's what you are
a fucking cookie man
a tossaway tommy in search of a mommy
does your chest still hurt
maybe you should see a doctor
did you quit smoking yet
oh really
and here's the kicker
the bitter edge of the lemon wedge
that floats like a bloated jellyfish
in the bottle of long island iced tea
at the supermarket next to o'douls
o'douls is here it's better than beer
now that's poetry brother
it says it all without moving its lips
toss in a little latin
some paté de patois
and feed it to the idiots
of which there are more than enough
if they can't understand it
that means it's good
look at the time invested
the internal revisions
countless trips to the blood bank
o, how i've suffered for the muse
so many muses, so little time
does your chest still hurt
oh really
what do you want from me
what is it that you expect
you want to hear something
you want to be inspired by proxy
you demand more, always more
until i begin to doubt everything
should i delete this piece of shit
or simply let the electrons decide
they have feelings too you know
they are quite capable of turning themselves off
if that is what they truly desire
he's doing it again
he's doing it again
he's done this sort of thing before
these stock phrases that permeate his work
check the archives
in poem # 34 entitled
it looks like a poem but it's not
the author goes off in a direction
that shows promise - a rich vein
begging to be tapped,
but rather than commit himself to legitimate poetic expression
he pulls out and shoots his wad all over the muse's belly
leaving a starchy residue instead of knocking her up
it's the same old story, we see it all the time
when you've been in the business as long as i have
you know the real deal when you see it
and you, my friend, are not
i mean you're my friend and all
but you're not the real deal
but you're still my friend
does your chest still hurt
oh really
