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50’s RAP

17 February, 2012

So, man … like there are these feral kids running the alleys

with greasy arseholes they don’t know from a jukebox slot

and barely know from a jukebox slut

and I wonder what Cassidy would be doing now

     God give rest to his soul

     and Jack’s, for chrissakes

          Jack marked Neal’s passing

               who marks Jacks?

They vomit their violence on every corner

into every slanted gutter, lucky not to slip in it and lose a leg

up on the universe

lucky if they could understand that a leg up is the way to piss

away their lives so, at least, those might have some meaning

and the harmony still eludes us all

the attempt to catch a bit of the universal riff

the beat, man

beat beat beat

The handle of Goldman to flush the toilet can only be reached with

the tongues of the fools to come on the hill

in the mouths of the beetles

and god but didn’t they try to get it all together

but one runs marathons with Cassidy across the years and works

and for all their running they never caught the brass ring

which probably doesn’t exist

I don’t think they knew Jack or Neal

but the brass ring has to be believed in to go on

I don’t think the feral monsters even know about that


They seek only to destroy and not a fucking one of them knows why.


From → Stories & Poetry

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