Monday, September 19, 2011

Austin City Limits

it had not rained the mercury had not dropped below a hundred in forty days forty nights maybe more

god had wrought holy hell upon the landscape inflicted drought pestilence disease and fire on all that is this home to prairie dog coyote horny toad and fire ant

god had peered down upon wetback and redneck alike and she had declared a war of biblical proportions upon their

sinful sodomite souls

god from atop her mountain seared brown the grass the trees the bushes she boiled the lakes ponds and rivers fried chicken alive within their very own feathery coats sizzled bacon in the stye fricasseed the frogs as they tried to cross the road

just trying to get to the other side

a land so barren and wasted a little morsel of hell sliced off by satan and flipped out of the frying pan into the fire god herself ignores the locals their selfish solicitation for relief in the form of self-righteous pleas for salvation god herself won’t even bother to squat and dribble on this parched scrub that is


the corn don’t grow
the beans don’t grow
the cotton don’t grow
the watermelons they all dried up

a people so guilty of letting loose a pox upon the world a people who threaten to do so again such hook ‘em horns hubris such a land lacking humility


and from such a miserable fuck of a place from the hearts the souls the tickling tongues of such a miserable fuck of a people comes some of the simplest songs of the finest melodies and for such beautiful music we flew into austin from san francisco pulling behind us a bucket of fog to spread generously upon their toasty white bread selves

we circled round and round dipping our long-haired beatnik flower child ladle into the bucket dear liza dear liza drizzling drops of lecherousness lust and love doing our best

our profound earnest best

to douse or at least calm the contempt that just seems to simmer beneath this griddle that seems to keep alive these fires of

i have
you don’t

we sky sailed down from the heavens mary poppins’d from parasols of hope dropping into the fray dropping into the cauldron double doubled toiled and troubled hopping skipping through the security gates manned by uniformed officers of the law and corporate managers of commerce sporting white starched short sleeved shirts skinny ties and heavy duty industrial strength bold black buddy holly glasses

both quoting heavily from the book of revelations

our kind california green bud nestled safely though a bit uncomfortably in body cavities best not described our own attitudes worn callously on our sleeves

my own personal jesus lifting her skirt and climbing up upon the cross i bear a cunt so sweet as to be the honey in my tea the ginger in my ale the doctor in my pepper the branch with my bourbon

following the music around from stage to stage finding shelter in the shade beneath the spread of the live oak when we could

dust dancing inside the intensity of the rays of life of lies when we could stand to be in the kitchen when we could stand the heat

she swung her hips full and inviting inside a hula hoop as the tall negroe man with a borrowed artsy monicker rapped rhyme and verse her arms raised above her head her breasts bobbing on the downbeat

she strutted across in front of me wearing hot pants halter top and cowgirl boots

she leaned over in front of me showing off luscious globes of joy

she stood in the middle of the field her court jesters standing around her surrounding her shaking bottles of water on her her hair her blond silky smooth shock of hair braided and dreaded down a pale sister in wolf’s clothing

she wiggled those little piggies in the dirt this one to market this one staying home this one eating barbecue at stubbs this one having a vegan meal along with the hippies down on fifth street and this one taking a wee wee on my leg in the shower

goddamn she gets my goat
goddamn what a goatfuck
goddamn goddamn

and i sat in my dee fucking luxe folding chair complete with headrest and cupholder tapping my foot like i had the shaky leg tapping my fingers on the aluminum framing keeping a beat with the drummer from social distortion trying to keep up with the beat laid down by naz and damian walking the boogie strut down in the ghetto with stevie trying to weave in and out of the gomez riff spinning around with pretty lights climbing crescendo with cee lo occasionally reaching into my pockets discretely pulling out a baggy of kind green love bud stuffing my pipe looking around for big blue meanies packing heat and lifestyle opinion

flick flicking

my little green bic belying the burn ban waving wafts of godbreath swarming my soul cleaning out small pockets of memory with a feathery duster doling out dopamine by the dram

i am a priest of the sacrament my incense swinging from spice balls on a chain my manhood swinging long and low on a mood

wagging my finger in two four time a little tsk here a little tsk there

waving my cock like fucking excalibur like a fucking divining rod wandering through and over the fields hill and dale beseeching the gods for respite and by the third day the clouds they all bunched up held their breath until their cheeks turned black

oh sinners let’s go down
down to the river to pray

and by the third day she relaxed let loose her kundalini sprinkled her holiness upon us all upstanding citizens and sinners alike

and by the third day the masses looked heavenward intentions of impetration in their eyes in their dust ridden nostrils arms outstretched remorse dripping from armpits raw and aromatic

and still they point at


yes the them that are not us

so willing to sacrifice fresh blood so willing to set to the stake the souls of the innocent so willing to toss them all into the lion’s den so willing to clip sam phillips of his hair

j’accuse motherfucker

divert the attention of the gods the old spiritual bait and switch rock and roll and hip and hop just ain’t enough to cleanse the spirit just ain’t enough to send them to rehab

we those who are not texans true tejanos are nothing but faggots and fornicators tatted and tainted pierced and pissing our pants

we are driven outside of the

austin city limits they squeeze us in by the third day they close in by the third day austin city limits they just seem so small and



by the third day we climb back in that jet plane don’t know when we’ll be back again

and all that

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