Thursday, February 26, 2009

Random Rock Poetry from 9/19/99

I have a new header thanks to my good friend Tim. I hope you like it. Actually, it doesn't matter if you do or not....I'm keepin' it! Thanks Tim!

Today after another round of playing Job Search and rummaging through a folder for something. I found this photocopied poem I wrote from 1999 called "Man I'm Your Man."

Upon its a decade old..not much has changed in my quest for rock excellence and fondness for the days of rock yore. Here it is in its entirety.

Man, I'm Your Man

Come Get Me
Come fucking get me
All you slacking
addicted and charted black hearted
blues angry chain stoking morally bankrupt illusions.
Heartachen blood taken transfusion conclusions.
All you bitchy conditioned
old rockers with wisdom
better sand all your claws off
to come in my kitchen.
better stick in my knife
or plug in my tongue.
Your songs laying there dying
because I haven't sung.
Come get me
regret me
bloodcurdle, bloodlet me.
belittle the system that confounds and confines you
but it ain't nothing without a voice I'll remind you.

Come get me
come fucking get me
your mudslinging roots
your punktified boots have not yet kicked my ass.
and I've taken your class. lived your past.
not your path. not your pity. not the dues you have paid.
do your heroes resent all the women they've laid
do you covet their wisdom or die drunk in their shade.
come get me
you rusted old goat of a band
stop choking on verses and grains of white sand
stop bitching in basements. obey my command
come and get me you fuckers
I'm the gun in your hand.
I'm your winning hand.
Come and see me dreamer.
Cause man, I'm your man.

I've rocked underground
with the burn in my bone.
burnt to a crisp every last microphone
hated related
bedded and dated
every one of your songs I have not yet created.
but I'm slated
to cause a disruption,distinction.
exited to be part of your old band's extinction
ecstatic, erratic and totally clean.
with a big dirty thought for every last scene.
psychotic no maybe
just angry not lazy.
I'll tongue every mother, kiss every baby.
Call her just once
but call her a lady.
And mow over every kid rock and slim shady.
Rock real with passive aggressive mad style
make love under pressure
run wild in the aisle
hit cues and trust news
of the great pop demise
come on and get me
I'm just blessing, no disguise.

well there it's dated, it's fresh....unedited and random. Thats the way I used to write in a flurry...on amphetamines with a composition book at my desk in the middle of the day. Now its a laptop and bad posture where I struggle for keys and struggle for content. But I sure enjoy it.

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