.9:33 pm
Igor moved because his hip hurt. He shifted over to one of the three positions and the hip stopped hurting and then began to hurt on the other side. His eyes rolled clockwise and his body tried to figure out some balance or another. And then he was dreaming again.
"I'll throw you to the fucking pomegranates," the voice said. "Try me. I'll fucking do it. You jerst wait and see, wait and see and wait. I ain't afeered a you or nunna your kind." And then the voice faded off reciting some foreign alphabet. He twirled the spinach around with the tines of his fork and waited for it to say something else and it didn't and he waited. And then the butter glistened under fluorescent candles and someone familiar pulled up in an unfamiliar truck and tossed a golden apple into his pudding. He rewrote that poem - alright, yessah.
Already they arrived. Long caravans of nobody. They were closely followed by shitloads of Pepsi and tomato ketchup. If you can imagine the sound of a matchbook cover being folded back into place and carefully tucked then you got a fairly good picture.
...............
Well - hell yeah - a man's gonna set and dream and think about stuff that could be. What really makes a man is when he gets up from dreaming and does something about it. I've seen more than enough lazy-gave-up souls in the soup kitchens and I've taken a few turns being one myself to know: that big old bright sunrise over there belongs to us all. They can't tax you on that. The sun don't ask to see your identification before he goes and shines on you.
.................
Fuck Grief!
And the horse she rode in on
I Live to Be Alive
and Joyous
and squirming with ecstasy
in this mud
Take your worms and
one-eyed toads off
to mourn elsewhere
Let yourself figure out
what great moaning mourning
is going to release you
I've waited but I can't wait anymore
You want to curl back up and cry
because life has never been fair
No Shit
Popcorn and Cotton Candy memories
Flowers and butterflies of youth
oh, oh, oooooohhhhhhhhhh
wah, wah, waaaahhhhhhhhhh!
Thursday, October 16, 2008
Fuck Grief AND Her Horse
Written by
Igor Sapien
at
9:33 PM
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