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Table of Contents
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The Blog Bog
The Mag Rack
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Lupine Serenade
You'd like to hang with a villainous gang
McBeth's your favorite play.
You say Godzilla is hardly a killer.
Ted Bundy just had a bad day.
You're always in hell when they're running a roast
You sometimes make love on the moon
Where no angels and demons end up as toast
For the creature from the black lagoon.
While zombies ooze as they bellow the blues.
You've dine with Fu Manchu
Play ping pong with old King Kong;
Baby, I'm a monster too.
Lunch or a revel with a Persian devil
To those hardly lustful or quizzical
Might seem perverse, even much worse:
Too mystically metaphysical.
You can't get sued by a ghost;
They never show up in court.
You could lose a bundle at most
With the much more conventional sort.
While zombies ooze as they bellow the blues.
You've dine with Fu Manchu
Play ping pong with old King Kong;
Baby, I'm a monster too.
You like your lovers spectacular.
You tried both Jekyll and Hyde.
Spent a weekend with Dracula
Several folks who died.
When serial killers were crummy
The Wolfman drank weak tea
You played gin rummy with a King Tut mummy;
Honey, what's the matter with me?
While zombies ooze as they bellow the blues.
You've dine with Fu Manchu
Play ping pong with old King Kong;
Baby, I'm a monster too.
Matthew Paris____ |
Walking Wounded Blues
When your mother kicked you out of doors
Your dad was a goddamned stranger
The streets were filled with syphlitic whores
Offering sleaze and danger.
Your brother was out to destroy you
The beer had no taste or foam.
The calico cat would annoy you
You slept in a funeral home.
Your dog took a dump in your shoes;
You've had the talking, squalking, walking wounded blues.
When nothing you saw on the boulevards
Was other than fifth class crap
You never could get a pair in the cards
Your lovers gave you the clap
Work was a salaried chore
Schools a convict's game
They drafted you for a war
In a place with a funny name
Your generals wanted to lose;
You've had the talking, squalking, walking wounded blues.
You'd wanted to be an adult;
They told you to take a seat.
Your pals were joining a cult
Where even the angels cheat.
You honored and trusted your wife.
You'd thought your kids were your kin.
You offered them both your life.
You were fixed and the fix was in.
A hanging is always news;
You've had the talking, squalking, walking wounded blues.
Luckily coin, maybe much too much
Is all they wanted from you.
You've got a smooth financial touch;
Making money is all you can do.
They tell you what's yours is mine.
Sometimes it's funny or silly.
You drink labeled fancy French wine;
It's really cheap swill from Chile.
They call it whatever they choose.
You've had the talking, squalking, walking wounded blues.
Matthew Paris____
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The Angel of Sugar Cane
You tried lovers, politics
Needle-pinned to get your kicks;
When your causes went kablouie
You ate rats in your ratatouie
Candied gods beyond your pain:
The sugared angel of sugar cane.
Your carnal highs were most intense
When your lovers lacked all sense
You went to booze and women later.
Now all you need is a refrigerator
Candied gods beyond your pain:
The sugared angel of sugar cane.
If I were employed in Hell
To be the chef of Earth as well
I'd make my feathered cuisine sweet
Dole out delight, then, let them eat
The candied gods beyond their pain:
The sugared angel of sugar cane.
Matthew Paris____
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