Everything’s Great When They’re Half Dead And Their Brain Doesn’t Match With What They Want Two

“Come on down” said the conductor from the train tracks,
I said, “hell no, man, you better wanna’ stay back.”
But he smiled at me, and all I saw was a beautiful smile.
It’s the way that the ways come together in flasks
like beverages, substances for alcoholacs,
and I know, you prob’ly already know that.

I can’t recall the last time we did something so
kooky, and maybe I need to find another hole
for that time you dug up my only faults.
You told me, “life was never gonna’ be easy.”
But you lied especially with that gullible smile.
It’s so easy, just hold me and close my eyes.

Keep me warm; keep me cool with your daddy’s cigar
ashes, vinegar, chocolate milk, and battleship scars.
“Yes, sir.” Like the old officer says.
While I laugh at the things that you like to state,
with your sobriety coated in chocolate flambé,
you got something to say and I’m just here listenang.

Like I was coming in for the bible, by god,
you’ve got some sort of prodigal, shining son.
He’s just sitting there, waiting for something to happen.
Keep in mind I’m not some sort of preacher by faith,
but, my god, I hate coffee black and it ain’t too late.
For his standing ovation from blinking out stars.

Did you dance all alone on the reaper’s wet grass?
As the moon bayed and showed off its very white ass.
Can you cry and staple the stains to the phonebook?
Wallow in your self-pity and ripening lace,
fetch a wolf and tell it to bring back some tape,
stick your wishes to his old, grappling headstone.

“Here I am”, said the coloured man to the finger,
bullet tongue-tied and simply wanting her to linger;
in that position with that old gun to his head.
In this place where indecision just likes to float,
racism comes in big and small envelopes,
in this general run of the mill kind of town.

Undermine the philosophies of billiard tables.
Cue ball pimps and whores with pool stick wraparounded halos,
steal the pennies of their penniless existence.
Sip on escapades you found in the liquordream drawer,
keep it hidden and whisper while you burp for more;
laugh and giggle, searching the bartender’s dungeon.

As his foot came down, he crashed onto the kitchen floor;
whimper puppy who hides in his sodden fedor—
a pity, he didn’t intend it that way.
Past the glorious widows of fourth of Julys,
into tenors who sing and they open your eyes
to a privilege, childlike innocent wiles.

2 AM and you stamp into, into the apart—
with your tattered shoes you manage to step on my heart,
could I blame you? You’ve just got that flair.
Now a slurred plea and stumble, you push me from bed;
break my jaw and you cushion a pin to my head.
It’d be funny, but it’s just a dollar store flower.

In a palm, what destiny is written there?
Too fine lined without worries or even your hair,
must be crazy, you’re not like any palm before.
On a window seat, you’re perched with false intelligence;
countered motions that speak of your sneaky glances.
Tilt your head, as I tell you your future.

Shift obscurity aside into little phials,
mix and magic release for the pedophile;
down the street, balding and blue collar boned.
Broken pieces can make the man cower in bliss,
have him tied up and hock up a belly up spit;
in forever, a simpleton’s method of lying.

I think I might be the forged hell sworn Anti-Christ.
Swishing holy water without your sanctified
demeanor, sometimes it isn’t that bad.
With the bronzing cross of Jesus Christ clogged in my throat,
I knead broken claws into your sinspired goat.
Come with me, and spit on your holy man’s lawn.

Black kids playing football in the overgrown back
of their momma’s frying pan that you’ve tossed in a sack
full of sake, you needed to make some room.
Vintage home for the newly wed married couple
who’s got two kids and somewhat of a humble
pocket of money, they’ve stopped using the bank.

Pulled out classics on an overweight lounge room singer,
took her weed and put it between her dulled out dentures—
it’s helpful. It helps with that Holiday singan.
You would think she would know by now how to get through,
but she’s got problems with that old tattered up eu—
logy. I can’t help it, I’ve just gotta' give her a hand.