Whisky Infused Train Wreck

I'll work out the chord progression tonight when I'm "off the clock."

Poetry Deleted

Hear it now, the woeful tale
Of rightful kings unseated.
Lazy jokers claim the crown
And honor has retreated.
Senseless clowns have seized the throne,
Their punishment premeted.
Fearing not the melanchol
Of poetry deleted.

Let the pen reclaim the reign
From which it has been cheated.
Turn the pencil loose upon
the paper, I’ve entreated.
Heads will roll then, fleeing from
The scene of sewage treated,
Never more the sterile slate
Of poetry deleted.

Listen - listen closelyNothing can be heard.Nothing exists nowhereNo one says a word.Loose the gag, uncuff the handsNo censor’s stroke is needed.Noone must fall victim to The poetry deleted.

Pungent sweat and curdling screams
Of bloody foes defeated
Spoiling milk that turns to curd
When place and time are heated.
Did the sacrificial lamb
Regret the rhyme it bleated?
Never yielding to the fate
Of poetry deleted.

The Ballad of the Two-Steppin Surgeon at the Fais Do Do

I was with those Clowns in Louisiana
When I accompanied them down to Acadiana
In search of my very own Evangeline
Well we stopped in on a Fais Do Do
With a bucket of Coors we were ready to go
I diagnosed the bartender with an Accessory Spleen

Well the band was playing that cajun grind
And all the people they were stomping fine
And I ignored the maladies in their abdomens
I sure wasn't lookin to cause a Gran Disturbance
Cuz there were four little cuties within shoutin distance
And I felt just like a dog inside a cage aux chiens

There was one I thought was particularly cute
And asking her friend for the best method of pursuit
I discovered that Fate had given us a matching name
Well she was Erika and I Erik
And knowing I had to think real quick
I offered her a bit of ice for her sweaty mane

It didn't take long before I was smitten
She told me she was a Dental Assistan
And I offered to show her my Peritoneal Cavity
She asked me to dance the Cajun Crawfish
Of course I didn't want to seem standoffish
So I accepted with alacrity

We headed out onto the floor
Where there were maybe a hundred people or more
All watching me swing and sway
She said you take two steps to the left and two to the right
And then you squeeze me real tight
And How much money dya say you made anyway?

I said Darlin scuze my ignorance
But what's the name of this here dance
She said the two-step --- and I said Oh
Despite my gaffe her gaze stayed strong
That's when I knew I could do no wrong
Cuz I was the two-stepping surgeon at the Fais Do Do

(CHORUS)
I am the two-stepping surgeon at the Fais Do Do
Gator's in the bread pan pickin out dough
Goodbye Laparo So long Endo
Cuz I'm the two steppin surgeon at the Fais Do Do
Do Do Do Do

Well the rest of those Clowns they were havin some fun
Telling everyone from whence they had come
And slappin their buckets with vehemence
But my cajun Magnolia is all I saw
And as we exchanged internet protocol
The tone of her voice became more intense

She said I'll be your honey if you be my chèr
And we'll go tell ma and pa
To ready the band for the charivari
I didn't have a clue what she was sayin
But sure as hell well I was prayin
That at some point sex would be involved

Well before very long the band was through
I said tell me little bit bout what you do
She started telling me about all the different dental tools there are
She said there's the carver and the scraper and other neet stuff
But it wasn't long before I had enough
So I asked "Darlin, can I accompany you out to your car?"

We walked hand in hand through the parking lot
And then we made our own little polyglot
In-between the rusted automobiles
Well we shared a name so we shared some spit
My pocket flashlight well it was lit
And I was fallin fast head over heels

Well as soon as our hands began a reachin
I heard them crazy Clowns a screachin
Telling me that it was time to go
She gave me a squeeze and one last pet
And ran off to tell her friends that she just met
The two-steppin surgeon at the Fais Do Do

(CHORUS)
I am the two-stepping surgeon at the Fais Do Do
Gator's in the bread pan pickin out dough
Goodbye Laparo So long Endo
Cuz I'm the two steppin surgeon at the Fais Do Do
Do Do Do Do

Back in the car those Clowns were dicks
One of them even only rated her a six
But he didn't have her tongue lickin the roof of his mouth
I thought that maybe I'd blow off France
With their unprocessed food and Capris pants
Cuz well I kinda like the girls down here in the South

Well you may say she was nothin but a female gator
A gold seekin wench a manipulator
And believe you me I've read my Marx
But you can bet ol Karl he was never bitten
By a dental assistant bayou kitten
Cuz their teeth are strong and sharp like a Dusky Shark's

In Acadiana you'll see a rusted ol' sheep
Discarded atop a rubbish heap
Like some bloodied napkin all soiled with menstrual flow
Pray for God your soul to keep
And tell your children not to go to sleep
Cuz they'll miss the two steppin surgeon at the Fais Do Do

(CHORUS)
I am the two-stepping surgeon at the Fais Do Do
Gator's in the bread pan pickin out dough
Goodbye Laparo So long Endo
Cuz I'm the two steppin surgeon at the Fais Do Do
Do Do Do Do

Do Do Do Do
Do Do Do Do
Do Do Do Do

Cornered in the Kitchen

(Verse 1)
Hey, Al, I’d like to tell you about my whole shitty life.
My kids are dumb and even fatter than my dumb fat wife.
My boss is a liar,
My car has a flat tire,
And my dumb fat wife and dumb fat kids and dumb fat boss all told me to get new tires.

(CHORUS):
Regress to mirror represent-ation.
Swell to engorgement imit-ation.
Return to reassess revisit-ation.
Resume review reconsider-ation.
Replicate shrinkage to dimun-ition.
Mimic flaccid listless mun-ition.
Restored reflection brought,
Decay festering rot,
In a falling off parody of spirit, again.

(Verse 2)
Hey, Al, I’d like to tell you about my whole shitty life.
Happy faces stab me and cut me like a knife.
My ass is getting slow.
My balls droop in the bowl.
And complications with my face and ass and balls and excretory functions are rife.

(Repeat CHORUS)

(BRIDGE)
Oh, Al, blah blah blah and blah blah blah blah blah.
Oh, Al, I may have left out blah, let me start again.
Oh, Al, blah blah blah and blah blah blah blah blaaaaaaaaaah.
Oh, Al, blah, Al, blah blah blah blah blah.

(Verse 3 (John Hinckley Fight Verse)

Hey Al, I'd like to tell you about my whole shitty life
Miss Jodie Foster claims that she is not my wife
I was emboldened
By the life of Holden
To Catch her Eye with assasination; a demonstration that I'm not some low-life

(Repeat Bridge and fade into nothingness).

BLOW YE KNOW NOTHING

Well the (G)man who knows (Am)nothing knows (C)one thing for (G)sure,
For the (G)sickness of (Am)silence, his (D)words are the cure.
He’ll (G)speak without (Am)thinking and (C)rarely will (G)stop.
So (G)blow ye know (Am)nothing, just (D)go blow your (G) top.

(G)Blow ye know nothing, `til (C)all breath is (G)blown.
(C)Know ye for certain that (D)nothing is known.
(G)Were this the end then the (C)end it would (D)be.
So blow ye know nothing, blow (D)incessant(G)ly.

Well the girl who knows nothing knows one thing for sure.
She leaves her brain empty to keep her thoughts pure.
That won’t stop her yammering and clammering all day.
So blow ye know nothing, just go blow away.

Blow ye know nothing, `til all breath is blown.
Know ye for certain that nothing is known.
Were this the end then the end it would be.
So blow ye know nothing, blow incessantly.

If you think you know nothing, know one thing for sure;
You’ll catch less flies with honey than a pile of manure.
But you’ll not catch a fly as the blowing wind blows.
So blow ye know nothing, just go blow your knows.

Blow ye know nothing, `til all breath is blown.
Know ye for certain that nothing is known.
Were this the end then the end it would be.
So blow ye know nothing, blow incessantly.

The world that knows nothing know s one thing for sure,
The knowing of nothing is nature’s allure.
A gentle wind blowing can transverse the sea,
So blow ye know nothing, with humility.

Blow ye know nothing, `til all breath is blown.
Know ye for certain that nothing is known.
Were this the end then the end it would be.
So blow ye know nothing, blow incessantly.

Happy Bigamy

Her Nookie is a Leaker

Melinda Brown, a pretty 19-year-old Bostonian, one day while walking through the park, Melinda Brown encounters an almost-human creature lying in the grass and entreating passers-by for help.
Melinda Brown takes the creature to her house (she lives with her parents) cleans him up and discovers that he is Nookie.
He is a nice Nookie but due to a botched circumcision he is a leaker.

Her Nookie's a leaker; he can't control his bowels
Her parents beseech her; not to use the good guest towels
Her friends all laugh at her
As she changes his catheter
Her Nookie's a leaker, It's worse when he growls

Teenage angst; late thirties angst; late thirties newly discovered fellings of mortality; sexual inadequacy; sexual ennui and McCarthyism.

Dog Dirt Blues

with permission granted by Mr. Charles Callahan

Where Has He Gone?

I was sidewalk walking sunny winter afternoon in Espana, more specifically Madrid.
I'd been living the life of a smelly American - getting drunk, falling down, and acting stupid.
Wine was pulsing through my veins, as red as Spanish blood, my eyes the blackened two of spades.
Up the brandy down the wine - tackle basketball: the games we drunkards played.

Life was sweet but sticky brown like an M&M without the sugar coating.
Glancing back across the street into the setting sun I spied a feather floating.
Trudging up the stairs past La Bruja's door, my tortured heartbeat quickened.
Opened up the door and to the kitchen went and there stood the chicken.

Where has he gone? Where has he gone? Where has my chicken gone he didn't even leave a change of address.

Life became sangria rosy sweet and filled with fruit and a shot or two of brandy.
I felt protected and complete I stood fearless in the sun with an armor made of candy.
Rejoice, rejoice the chicken's brilliance shown o`er me like the sun o`er a candle that is flickin.
I was a metro singing guitar playing chick searching guy and by my side was the chicken.

Where has he gone? Where has he gone? Where has my chicken gone he didn't even leave a change of address.

Home again one afternoon making lunch I look around, but something is terribly wrong.
Gunter, have you seen my chicken. You know the one, about whom I wrote this song.
Gone? I stumbled crazed around I fell clutching the bowl I needed to get sick in.
Flush down the fruit colored vomit sick of thinking about life without the chicken.
Where has he gone? Where has he gone? Where has my chicken gone he didn't even leave a change of address.