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Ujly uno, oh tree Alice blah blah blah ziss boom bahhh. just had summa da best lovin' i've had since coo crew hey you tie your shoo laces. goddma right. allow cow me to udder another werd, moo you. tssssss taught me that. tsss and pen cock and all da udder poet crayzeees yesterday dun opened up my mind again to da werd, and fer dis i am grateful. luci tonight lobbing cranial inventions and talking stars and bars and relative madness over a glass of sippy wit his grant writing lady from the west. west virgin eeeahhh that is. and sweet sweet alice cries down the drywall and sighs contented and all the tar shingles and tree tops overhead undulate and go still, flattened, stretched stoned and sated as a yawning lion. the night is grateful. it is painted, framed and hung on a wall, happy. and happiness is a cold gun after all, cold and rusted, encrusted as a bottom-bound barnacle breasted galleon, safe and sound on deep ocean ground. safe from this trigger finger once itching for an exit. sleep sound yee in texas gulf waters down. we are free now to live, to live and sound sweet love cries again. amen. autism pays big and yes i can disappear any tv and all you fucking doctor's waiting room groupies, too. i do. i do so love the world. too much and all my songs go rotten for the breach of my inadequate embrace. sorry, can't reach round the globe. been trying for a lifetime. crying, too. give up. give in. roll over in your sin and say FUCK ME, LIFE. loob me up and do me. do me. the sated lion stretches, yawns, smiles. i am the smiling lion tonight. smiling dat da moose is back. smiling dat da juice is back.
and overhead the 5th generation of Alice snorkles her manhattan moxie petite angel snore. i scribble and think, now how about that? really. go ask alice. she's asleep in my loft. i am lewis carol. i am lewis and clark. i forge unchartered rivers, and lo! what little fish should pop out between the walrus and the carpenter than alice's great great great great, all big apple black and cheshire cat grin above, downy white rabbit below. mmmmmmmm. i can smell the bacon of a pine forest breakfast a-comin' and chicory coffee fresh from the navel of mississippi mud bug blues town. i am the man around. i have driven with the kings. i have breathed the promised land. sucked deep and licked sweet and somehow returned to tell the tale. now independence day upon us. stars and stripes and freaks in tights. i will roll my bones for them and then some. i will be big and wild and handsome. they will stare down at the united guns of america, some with pride in the right to bear arms, some with relief that someone has taken a stance against guns. and i will smile and say nothing. give me sippy, luci. give me big milk and big dreams and together, you me her him them all of us, let's blast a hole in the fabric of time so wide that all the clocks like wicked witches will melt at our memory now and forever more.. ay men. amen. -rsm the duke of the deep night all right rant jam jamboree
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