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Quincy, IL

Updated: Sep 23, 2021

I

Friday.

Blasé vibes.

Sittin’ snug as a ladybug

On a sticky city busstop bench

‘neath a soggy-eyed sky;

Sniffin’ the awkward stench

Of afternoon rush hour smog

Peppered w/ a smidgeon

Of what use to be America’s

virescent innocence

Two centuries or so ago.

Barnacles gradually grope m’brain.

I feed a boogying pigeon –

Mon only amigo this day –

Lackadaisically as a loaf of bread,

Half amused, half confused,

Half ready to just light my own fuse

& BOOM.

Together w/ cardboard ears a droopin’

We listen to the FM static

of local numbskull muggles

Who struggle t’juggle joy, boredom

& sexual frustration

& their earnest attempts

To rev their exhausted engines,

Chicken-squawking the occasional

Damnation to God.

Damn fools… We ain’t so different, Quincy, IL.


Here, the “struggle”

Makes mucky everyone’s mood:

Their mouths like miserable horseshoes,

Speakin’ yucky and spittin’ rude

& faces cracked-out & splittin’ dry as a lakebed;

jubilant auras probably once sticky-sweet as fudge,

Alas, now reduced t’some doo-doo dread

By their midlife catastrophe’s grueling grudge;

& of course, on every corner store’s curb’s

the resentfully sober, insomniac’s eyes

W/ sockets as sunk ‘n’ swarthy as the moon’s

Relentless gaze – O what phlegm from egregious tales

He could cough up of this town…

Is this all we’re to expect in this life?

Or are we the unfortunate antagonists

Of a prelude to an even greater

Chapter in the Book of Man,

Overlooked, insignificant as a flyleaf?

Or are we merely being revised?

God, help us! Alla, Vishnu,

Even the Spaghetti Monster’ll do!

Damn doldrums! Where art thou, Mr. Mojo Risin’

For another sexual exodus?

I want to scream ‘n’ shout!

I’m truly tryin’ not to go bananas,

But this city life is too corrosive,

And, alas, I can’t remember home…

II

Saturday.

O how I’ve idolized

These origami skies

Greedily gormandized

By my googly eyes.

Quincy’s Sistine Chapel. The clouds -

Those clouds -

magi on a pilgrimage

Mingling suavely among azure,

pink & purple cotton candy horizons

Majestic just enough t’needle prick ‘n’ sedate

My nomadic noggin

Always smokin’ shorts & sneakin’ shots

‘neath their sovereign cinema;

Silent flicks of fluff

Sweet-talkin’ slick even the most arid ‘n’ tough

of imaginations.

O splendidly magnanimous nimbus,

Like a toddler again I’m mollycoddled

By your amorphous mojo revamping

the ethereal thrillers:

A presumably vegan St. Michael

Severs Hannibal Lecter

In half w/ his butter knife…

A postpartum depressed Mary w/ her makeup smeared

offers her newborn up to the Father…

Adam w/ eyes rolled & a dangling ear

Yearns for his rib back…

David challenges Goliath,

Only this time w/ a Colt 45… etc…

O and Moses isn’t a fan of

Tasmanian devils, says they cuss too much

& thinks the Dali Lama is some sort of homosexual camel.

The entire city dissolves

In a blessed blur of balderdash.

I’m drifting… I’m dreaming…

My happiness is redeeming…

Bohemian obbligatos blossom

Throughout discombobulated thoughts

As instrumentally rich as The Beatles’

Srgt. Pepper’s Lonely Hearts Club Band…

I am the eggman and the walrus,

And the elephant, the crocodile drunk,

The loquacious giraffe, the redolent skunk,

The triathlon sloth, the booty-licious baboon,

The karaoke alley cat, & the Byron buffoon…

My pride is championed by the peacock.

My prudence by the crow.

My loyalty by the dog.

My manners by the llama.

My flamboyance by the flamingo. etc. etc.

My etc. by the sasquatch.

I’m learning to forget

And let my future flow;

Let go, let go to all I know…

How else shall I survive myself yet?


III

Sunday.

I’ve had enough of this expectational

Hocus-pocus, lost every which way

Up & down & kitty-catawampus

each rundown, red-lit street.. I can’t focus;

So tired of feelin’ like some monster society

dismisses like discounted rotten meat:

a bum, a boozer,

the Pierrot of skid row abusers.

Pardon me t’even consider shaking your hand,

Mr. Pedestrian... How atrocious

I want t’dive right into that

Dionysian land,

destined t’swim amongst pure zodiacs:

cosmic eyes, no masks, souls scaldin’.

& O how I want no humanity left

On my wicked scales when I resurface.

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