Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Showing posts with label music. Show all posts
Monday, February 25, 2008
Duck Gun Rockers, Longhairs and Pinstripe Freaks
It was quite a sight seeing their sons in tight bellbottom jeans, red patent leather platform boots and dago-t's, all their hair long as Peggy Lipton's, holding and aiming those duck guns. Their hair curled down to the tits, wadded up behind the ears where they'd pushed it back to get the earplugs in. At night they'd wander out to the garage with a beer and slug the bag or jam on their Fenders. That night Jay burst in after church and stated that he'd never be seeing Charlotte again and he felt like driving the "goat" off a cliff, and there would be others. Jay: in the exhaust, in somebody else's headlights, walking across a street, always busy setting up a scam or a bust. When the quake swarms would start, he'd seem super with it like how we's gonna go about it now is-- huh?-- we gonna save the world. You gave Jay a tallboy and a mic and you get skinny flesh and bones, flailing in the blacklight and moving and singing till he is soaking wet. He was of legal age.
Torino, however, being his father, didn't like to turn him out. He imagined the blinding golden hair coming off like butter. Rolling a young gentleman's future out before him like a colorful rubber: that anticipation made his ankles feel weak. And now it was the time.
Labels:
fashion,
inter-dimensional,
jesus,
music
Wednesday, February 6, 2008
Monday, January 7, 2008
Sunday, January 6, 2008
Fire Shore
There is a shore
where fire laps
on the coals
chic as Lourdes
volunteers
wade in the flame
when they return
towel around them
they are maimed
but they live en-
chanted lives from
there on in.
everyone
wants to know them,
see their pains;
they are a source
of inspiration
for the lame.
you can trade
your trudge and bot-
her in a day
for scarring wa-
ters that God made
while insane.
where fire laps
on the coals
chic as Lourdes
volunteers
wade in the flame
when they return
towel around them
they are maimed
but they live en-
chanted lives from
there on in.
everyone
wants to know them,
see their pains;
they are a source
of inspiration
for the lame.
you can trade
your trudge and bot-
her in a day
for scarring wa-
ters that God made
while insane.
Labels:
fire shore,
music
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)