we lived under the cover

[revolutionrabbit]

we lived under the cover
of a cheap paperback novel
the words were crooked and twisted
we walked through long sentences
that had no destination except
to change the crappy radio station
or to end up in front of the stoned
mirror
what was that look on your face
of paragraphs, the one that hid
from the rays of the rebel sun
you looked so hot in Picasso shadows
you turned the pages like they were on fire
you dressed in question marks, existing
between the desolate period marks
and the next stab at a plot
it wasn't all rot gut there was moments
that happened when the music of your
fury and nervy writing became a fountain
of revolting thought & fornication
the cover told the whole story, lude, rude
something naked and something hidden
hard bitten in the flower pots and great windows
of dead end streets to nowhere, man!
there was an expression of complete surrender
to one liners you popped like good & plenty
sin city was your secret name, your delicious shame
you chewed on dice and spit out the dots
pages were burning with deep lust even deeper disgust
you had to go on blind chance and lousy luck
for mad poetry, they passed like high horse waves
before the eyes of the killer of time and being
the back cover had some quote by a random lunatic
that was interviewed on the midnight gone corner

[still.trucking]

thank you very much