Sing it Frank, Physical
Therapy
Sing it Frank
I'm busy
at physical therapy
struggling with back spasms
looking out this
window, these clouds
this rain, slice this thunder,
listening to your
songs over again
on the Muzak for this 6th week in a row,
peddling this
mechanical bike,
might as well be a mechanical bull
with a heat pad on
my spinal cord.
I'm deep inside your larynx 10 minutes
3 times a week
tickling it back and forth,
jousting and reviewing those playgrounds
of
all your illicit affairs. With a few shots of vodka
peddling these
wheels with intensified pressure
I can appreciate Lana Turner, Judy
Garland,
Lauren Bacall, even Marilyn Monroe.
"This is my kind of town
Chicago is,
my kind of town Chicago is."
Ding Dong School
(V2)
I am Northern maple syrup
Northern Quebec
tap those nails and buckets into my bark let me scream like
a bitch in pain
dreams out of exile to South Caroline, Georgia old-time
hash
half dozen eggs mixed fried together red spuds, cheap coon meat.
I
am as simple as Ding Dong School
TV show Miss Frances 1952,
intelligent
as Einstein IQ 162, good test
both mixed in a corn bag with wheat, wild
rice, touch of honey.
Talk to Lindy now, talk to me ex-lover
come on to
me once again in a dream
like you used to do live,
ice picks in hand,
brown sugar in a side bowl
everything sweet until the cops came
by.
Compliance
(V2)
I'm no Leonard Cohen
smarter than Rod McKuen.
I can't talk you into anything
until you
get that damn car
fixed, the brakes, duct tape
the muffler sounds with
gorilla glue,
hubby gone your business grows,
your children leave,
that house sold
karate those kids intramural
for me to get lucky
with you, a rabbits foot
and your open compliance.
Give Me Booze or Give
me Jesus
Give me booze or give me
Jesus
If we listened to the bottom of the vodka bottle,
or finished the
last chapter book of Revelation,
the spirits toss in the cards, the chips-
pray for a gambler.
Listen to summer sun, birds that chirp,
these
are the beginnings and where it ends.
Maya calendar.
Journaling, Labeling
Theory (V2)
(Juxtaposition Style)
Breaking news this just
in,
1:15 PM December 15, 2013,
I found out labeling theory
has a
personality.
It has impact of its own.
I love today because I
found
out I have a mental illness.
Formally, diagnosed,
now I am special.
Shrink, Dr. Pennypecker, knows me well.
We visit 15 minutes every 3
months.
I have known him for 9 months.
Simple sentences just make more
sense.
Simple sentences make me feel more secure.
After 9 months he
says, "I've sort of figured
you out, you are a manic depressive, stage 2
hypo-mania."
I ask my shrink, "can I cast my vote?"
In this PM news, I
gave him permission.
Life is a pilgrimage of pills.
I cast out my net
to catch myself,
save myself.
Life is a pilgrimage of prayers.
Note: it could end here.
He does not know the difference
between manias, verses six shots of vodka.
I suffer from a B-12
deficiency.
I need extra thiamine symptoms psychosis.
I place my lid
down on forsaken table,
foreskin, I forgive.
A dead shrink, middle of
the road.
I crack my knuckles,
pass sleep two next night.
Creativity flows fragmented.
I kick gravesites up then down.