Wednesday, August 8, 2012

What the Fuck Are You Looking at?: 6 Faces of Vacancies

1.  An Inconvenient Indignation

Boats light across Louisiana, frogs, fog
And finally to grass.
All the prophecies hustle into the jail
Carrying torches, chains and sticks
And there in a room
They find nothing but thin-faced heavy-breathing.
Flesh tears with the sound of nails
The face acid-washed by crucified painters gets a beat behind it
And flickers binarily into a choir of flames carved into rock.

The whole wall will be finished by tonight
If the eyes, the eyes bleeding
Doctors out of their fallen mouths
Don’t wetly die upright in a great headstart
On the weird injured couch
Ringing you up incessantly
Like a client cobwebbed in yr need.

2. A New Kind of Dignity

The eyes carry their small blackbags like tired smalltown doctors, suffering gentleness, minutely.
Every nurse wears pigtails loud as their heels,
And all the bodies green themselves
Ready for grass.
Everything screeches like a rusty lawnmower
Worn around the neck
Until the face melts by accidental
Acid into sherbet ice cream
Sweat, sweat, sweat
Till jazz
Till a cherry on top
Till an unsuccessful fashion designer
This is the way we sit
Pus on our suffering tongues
Like a surfacing
Corpse filehosted by old lake water
And home-aerobic weights

3.  Speak Into the Microphone, Squidbrains

A toolbox enters, domed in lamps,
Like an old sewer rat
Who takes as long
As it takes
But we made this little pathway to the
Farther end
            To thank you
                          Thank you Martha
                                   Thank you
We shall chisel every basement
Until the fuck of it
Carves waterfalls forgotten
By all but our hooks
Our hands our doors
Opening like sweatbooks
Looking for new keys
And chimneys
To beard foliately apart with every touch
Of our gaping soggy
Speedingly hitchhiking hands
Full of wind blind with trained German shepherds

4.  Young, Dumb & Full of Cum

I’m digging up some shit
It’s cool I guess,
But everyone in this town
Went on strike for 3 weeks
So they could have a longer lunch.
Fuck em, they’ll crack their heads
Near an old courthouse door
And strangely loud tarantulas
Will eat their face too
Until it’s a hotel
With 2 many vacancies.

5.  More Songs About Bildungs & Foots

Well, holy so impossible shit
This palace is haunted by big old suits
And David Byrne rolls like 
Garth Brooks' thunderthighs
Farting out a mummy
In every daylit bathroom
That tells you exactly what you saw.
This is the first time you've wanted to sleep with
A blind girl on top of her piano
But an old man who sells antique books
Will surely giggle at you even tho his hair is so...y'know...

6.  Truth Comes Down Like Tears

Who are you near the stone
To be so blind
Even the wreaths
Ignore your orphanage
As if it were water
Calmly raging even yet by moving still, again
O damn, now I'll hafta tell you everything.
60 years ago, closeted in this room,
A bird fluttered.
Nobody was here.

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