Friday, May 18, 2007

tabs on four bars

I ponder on your intentions
sweet child of privilege
what do you seen in this
old world mirror image
which eye do you look into
which breath of air suits you
why this mouse?
has she built a hole in you wall
to balance out the one in your heart?

3 there and back (a total of 6+-) and we're electric static skipping form fingertip to fingertip excited,
we get right to it

~introverted kitten katz
pinball lighting, studded belts
black lace and face metal
20lbs of eyeliner
factory ripped jeans hot off the street
hipster sister puck rock mister
razorblade haircuts
bangs and mohawks
red walls and sloppy
shoe soulless memories
cliche anarchy
angst and apathy
trash made glamorous
institutionalized inhalants
the artwork of barroom admissions

~down underground
where the well insulated sounds
are kept crisp and fresh
from the spores and
fog slosh streets above
once again with the red
wallpaper low lit and wood
beer, cocktails, shot and again
drunk patrons stumbling
a hot spot for sure
with a decent dance floor
and it does
dance that is
to the looped funk meanderings
and the laid down bass beats
of a simple smiling boy and
his faceless helmet head friend
as james brown skips and lip sings
across the projector screen
right in step (and surely on key)
bustin it hard
I tremble like the walls
in picturesque dungeon crumble
buried beneath this bliss fit

A WALK...(to say the least) IN-BETWEEN

one two three, back on our feet
autopiloting swing styling
hip with it thursday nightcity streets and
Home can be found on the corner of
church and fourteenth

~proceeding with the mission
laughing with a living christ
from the doors on the walls
and hanging over us
pinatas have colorful fights
straight out of '75
from the checkered stools
to the clockwork that reads my mind

these walls fit snugly
we talk comfortably
our places switched
your hard liquor kisses
my flirting carbonation
hot hot hot!
habanero pepper flakes
upon the ancient wood door frame
a lucky horseshoe hangs
i watch it swing
as i with it
jazz funk and big sombreros
the world in flash card art
laid out the back of the bar
these mission dim lights waver
from dublin to jamaica
streamers and chinese lanterns
a borrowed pen and
fortune cookie enlightenments

~we bust in drunk smile stumbling
with wits about us and class enough
to bee line immediately for the bar
to order a few more
like a scene from an old west flick
where the door's left swinging
creaking hinges
spurs jingling

a man sings
beautiful scat
while the rest keep track
of one another
violently wonderful
shirt tucked in his trombone wailing
the drummer a constant studder
symbol flicking
and that trumpet for sure
blows out green sleeves
dug from his deep brassy memory

Home is where ever you are in your transient soul

you may not have yer fathers whistle
but you can sure still
catch a cab well

your hands fit well tonight
in mine
key by key sharing our lives