ThE muSES aRe dRiNkiNG aGaiN

ThE muSES aRe dRiNkiNG aGaiN
 

Television is so boring, tonight, 
every night, I fall asleep to news 
of the world exploding, smiling 
while the pundits and politicians 
pile their deceptive dances of 
self-interest with cream cheese 
onto our collective conscious 

Stop telling women to smile 
Rare recordings of Howling Wolf 
Stills of the Holocaust banned? 
Anti-corruption review launched 
Pedophile killer serves more time 
While his mates escape in a sewer 
The next bombing only a day away 
She says, with saffron smile and roots 
Radiating in technocolor for all to see 

Monochrome has it's advantages. 
Polaroid photographs, from the 60s, 
Of buzz cut kids in their Sunday best 
Know not of their future anxieties 
Or struggles to break free of 
What, ever comes, their way? 

One thinks he can get away with murder 
The bitch, or the young old man, 
The bridge is closed for repairs, 
The bird, the bush, the sane one? 
The cornfields are ripe with fertilizer 
Even the Kennedys have their ghosts 

By the time morning dew frolics, 
My head is filled with frustration, 
And a thousand useless facts. 
Why does the purple cat smile, 
Or the car go uphill backwards 
Or the skier fall up the mountain? 

I know the petulant answers to these 
And thousands of irrelevant uncertainties 
All because I drank too much coffee 
The muses are drinking again too 
And tequila is their choice tonight 
Word bitches be floating, high, 
Along waves of words working 
With silently, paced, precision 
As they, the singular, applauds 

My head feels like a velvet snowball 
Being kicked along the cobblestones 
By muddy newsboys in brown leather shoes 
Argyles, knickers and rainbow suspenders 
Bouncing from tramp to feather-boa tranny, 
And down a flight of never-ending stairs. 

Too much tequila that I never drank. 
A stale TV sitting in the corner. 
Too much time on my fingers. 
The keys wanting to apologize. 
So I slap them senseless again. 

The muses have finally passed out. 
And it is time for me to begin writing. 

A shot for Hunter S., and we're off!... 
to explore the other side of the edge, 
where the world is just as shitty, 
just as psychotically effing pathetic, 
forever stuck in it's groundhog news cycles, 
but at least I am free to ramble in peace. 

(Insert something prophetic here, 
And enjamb the living shit out of it).

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