Pinprick
I do not recall if it was me
Who smashed the guitars
Of Peter, Paul and Mary
But if I had a hammer
I’d hammer this face
That hides the face that I can’t face
I’d take it off and put it on a stick
And dangle it there to do the two-step
For a few coins and a warm plate
And charge up the charm batteries
And let it go like the Energizer bunny
For the Three Sisters who wait for Moscow.
While I nakedly dodge fallin' bombs
Growlin’ hirsutely at the growin’ hairy moon
To awaken in a zoo with blood drippin’ down
From my fresh new naked mouth.
And as the Living Dead toll rises
So will I into the neon skies
Where this blood will mix with rain
And fall on unsuspecting apes
Who’d teach me how to get in touch
With my essential Apeness
Where I’d give a thousand tongues
For some meaningful silent grunts
And take communion with the jungle.
Before returnin’ fresh and new
Wearin’ a nice pink tutu
To do a lap dance on the banquet table
Where the most serious labels
Are given to the most prominent noses
Protrudin’ from the smartest tuxedos.
And if anyone should feign shock
I’d go to the podium and give birth
Just to shut them up
And get in touch with my Womanness.
Like Madame Bertha whose ass I’d hit
While topplin’ all her latest bowlin’ pins
Danglin’ it there to do the two-step
Where I could drop a few coins
Into warm plates and get
Something pumpin’ in the veins
To show that I’m a man.
I’d wake Bukowski from the dead
And we’d kick Mickey Rourke’s ass
For turnin’ him into Snagglepuss
And exit stage left
Into the museum display
With our spraypaint cans
And spray the hell out of Raphael
And all his Madonnas floatin’ there
And I’d bust Bukowski’s cheeks
For usin’ improper techniques
And send him flyin’ by the seat of his pants
To chase 5 anorexic cats who’d eaten
About as much shit as he
Back to their happy dumpster retreat
Where they’d wax apoetically
About silly thorns and withered roses
Which I’d gather and stick in the holes
Where Raphael’s Madonna once was
And I’d slip through the wall and meet Plato
And exclaim Oh ok yes Now I see oh
Lenny standin’ there with silly grin
Cradlin’ all his rabbits softly in his hands
And not one of them dead. But somewhere we
Took an Aristotelian turn of straight
Lines of no return just last straws
And overblown noses with nothin’
Pumpin' in the veins but a lust for more blood.
Cervantes laughed the first and perhaps
The last laugh of the clown
Who faced the face that he could not face;
The one I can’t shake; the one I have to dangle
Every day; though it might explode any day
From these tears and the undertow that make
It harder and harder to breathe under the mask
That I must wear to survive. And every once
In a while someone comes along with a little
pinprick and the waters come rollin’ out
And in that moment One does walk on it;
Before being swept away by unknown currents.
I do not recall if it was me
Who smashed the guitars
Of Peter, Paul and Mary
But if I had a hammer
I’d hammer this face
That hides the face that I can’t face
I’d take it off and put it on a stick
And dangle it there to do the two-step
For a few coins and a warm plate
And charge up the charm batteries
And let it go like the Energizer bunny
For the Three Sisters who wait for Moscow.
While I nakedly dodge fallin' bombs
Growlin’ hirsutely at the growin’ hairy moon
To awaken in a zoo with blood drippin’ down
From my fresh new naked mouth.
And as the Living Dead toll rises
So will I into the neon skies
Where this blood will mix with rain
And fall on unsuspecting apes
Who’d teach me how to get in touch
With my essential Apeness
Where I’d give a thousand tongues
For some meaningful silent grunts
And take communion with the jungle.
Before returnin’ fresh and new
Wearin’ a nice pink tutu
To do a lap dance on the banquet table
Where the most serious labels
Are given to the most prominent noses
Protrudin’ from the smartest tuxedos.
And if anyone should feign shock
I’d go to the podium and give birth
Just to shut them up
And get in touch with my Womanness.
Like Madame Bertha whose ass I’d hit
While topplin’ all her latest bowlin’ pins
Danglin’ it there to do the two-step
Where I could drop a few coins
Into warm plates and get
Something pumpin’ in the veins
To show that I’m a man.
I’d wake Bukowski from the dead
And we’d kick Mickey Rourke’s ass
For turnin’ him into Snagglepuss
And exit stage left
Into the museum display
With our spraypaint cans
And spray the hell out of Raphael
And all his Madonnas floatin’ there
And I’d bust Bukowski’s cheeks
For usin’ improper techniques
And send him flyin’ by the seat of his pants
To chase 5 anorexic cats who’d eaten
About as much shit as he
Back to their happy dumpster retreat
Where they’d wax apoetically
About silly thorns and withered roses
Which I’d gather and stick in the holes
Where Raphael’s Madonna once was
And I’d slip through the wall and meet Plato
And exclaim Oh ok yes Now I see oh
Lenny standin’ there with silly grin
Cradlin’ all his rabbits softly in his hands
And not one of them dead. But somewhere we
Took an Aristotelian turn of straight
Lines of no return just last straws
And overblown noses with nothin’
Pumpin' in the veins but a lust for more blood.
Cervantes laughed the first and perhaps
The last laugh of the clown
Who faced the face that he could not face;
The one I can’t shake; the one I have to dangle
Every day; though it might explode any day
From these tears and the undertow that make
It harder and harder to breathe under the mask
That I must wear to survive. And every once
In a while someone comes along with a little
pinprick and the waters come rollin’ out
And in that moment One does walk on it;
Before being swept away by unknown currents.
posted by rays | 12:19 PM
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