Wednesday, October 5, 2011

Hardly Strictly

me the black seals a few of us in our stoned drunken glorious euphoric acid baked pod encapsulated within among amidst the multitude we gather in the meadow gather together to celebrate to immerse ourselves

to listen learn participate

doctor john having sailed his psychofunkadelicious whitebelly blacksoul riverboat self all the way here from that french confederate creole haven our majestic lady with a perverse jambalaya of petticoats rye whiskey french reds latex and blindfolds

the city of new orleans

doctor john having come to join us all in reverie and merriment come to join us all in these hardly strictly shenanigans of bluegrass by the bay deep within the whimpering fog long since defeated by the early october sunshine

right place right time

and we the black seals a loose confederacy of dunces of former adherents of the faithful grown older with our aches and pains but looser with our morals and attitude

comfortable in a certain aura of what the fuck that tends to ward the harsh from our mellow

and for that we are grateful

and we the black seals who many a year ago came together about around a bottle of black seal rum imported all the way from that colonial home of knee length shorts and sock garters grown from some rock out in the atlantic ocean imported to our baghdad by the bay

oh what a world

what a world

a gathering around this bottle not out of any committed love for black seal or even rum in general

but rather simply from the inspiration of the moment

one pill makes you smaller

and we the black seals we now gather many years later here in our decrepit presence we now gather to express our love and admiration for doctor john our momentary journey into the heart of blacklit darkness a delving into sunday morning irreverence doctor john our own personal jesus of the hour our own personal satan

god is love is jesus is satan is god is love is jesus is satan

and we the black seals we who yes openly practice idolatry of the most blasphemous and perverse manner we shake our hips we wave our arms we do the funky chicken

we play air guitar air banjo air piano

we play air fiddle with a grin and a giggle

and we give thanks for our sacred church of the temporary respite because regular life won’t let us behave this way

and we pursue our own personal vices be they weed women or wine

and we oooh we ahhh as a big pink balloon comes bouncing back through the crowd launched from some amorphous virginal birth canal up near the stage up it pops bops floats

guided by its own faith its own fate

anonymous hands outstretched rising up above the mass of shaggy waggy bags of flesh and hair jiggling wiggling fingers dancing

here is the church
here is the steeple
open the doors
and see all the people

big pink balloon bouncing bopping

the people wanting only to touch his garbs they say oh they do say he has cured the sick raised the dead

and on the third day the big pink balloon bouncing bopping a gift from the goddess herself she who so loves the world that she farts bubbles of balloons spews them upon her worshipers and on the third day her spawn settles upon a sharpened nail


with a pop

just like that cycle of life

big pink balloon bops and pops its bloody remains plummeting to earth only to be picked up by an errant seagull who swoops down leaving a jet stream of biologic jetsam and anal jism upon the knit cap lidded cowboy hipsters from the mission an avian packrat fascinated captured by the shiny bauble that is this fragment of latex

who flies away carries it over the hill soaring with its mates over the presidio over crissy field over fort mason along the coast down to fisherman’s wharf circling down to land amidst the fatcat sealions piled one upon the other on the dock at pier thirty nine piled up in some orgiastic slithering and braying bacchanal

one of whom snaps at this avaricious avifauna specimen startles shakes confidences the shredded corpse of our savior the big pink balloon flips flies up into the air

a slow mo tumble cartoonishly animated by sparkles of salty sea sweat

snagged on either end by two other feathery cousins who pull tug stretch jesus armstrong across the span of its invisible cross that we bear

till it snaps yet again our buster keyton savior flip flopping air amoeba tumbling pink cotton candy only to land within the random trumpeting snout of some bubbling bull sea lion

in mid coitus

its rigormortic aquatic cock let loose upon his harem a finny fuck for any and all

who gulps swallows screams a horribly murdered prostitute pre-ghostly wail rolls over his rooster pointing sunward tongue flailing into an effervescent gurgle

a gagging

a sudden stillness

a still silence

a blubbery cock cooked cadaver surrounded by panicked females

witnessed by a towheaded minnesotan all of two and a half years on this here earth who up until this moment had been laughing and pointing at the silly seals while sitting comfortably in his daddy’s arm but who now also

sits still and silent


who we know will grow up this scene etched in his memory a cave painting of satirical savagery that will haunt him in his loneliness as he ages that will keep him awake at night force him drive him to a career as a midnight to dawn disc jockey of shocking proportions in the northern lake region near the canadian border pandering to anti-immigrant sympathies those who loathe the pasty skinned canadian interlopers who sneak down here to the land of milk and honey to the land of opportunity

to the home of the brave

to become one of god’s select

a fallen saul blinded by the expiring otariidae on his trip to damascus many years before a sinner who we know will grow up to seek desperately needed help from the easy high of cocaine

who we know will grow up to go from cocaine to rehab

from rehab to alcohol and nicotine and back to rehab

from rehab to jesus to crystal meth and back to rehab

from rehab to four day a week freudian analysis and ecstasy and enlightenment to wandering the land across the plains across the mountains across the desert clad only in a burlap robe and carrying a bowl to accept alms and morsels provided by the faithful

to wander through the crowds the committed we the hardly strictly devoted who believe in the father the son the doctor with a feather in his cap

we the black seals

we who are grateful we who are blessed in our stoned drunken glorious euphoric acid baked pod encapsulated within among amidst the multitude who gather in the meadow who gather together to celebrate to immerse ourselves

to listen learn participate and all that

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