/and the next "thing" you know, i'll be quack quack, quacking like a duck: released from a woman's mouth of pursed lips, embodying taking a selfie, using only one mirror.

death had a parody,
  i "think" it's called life...
either that or
monster magnet's
songs cry, and,
         silver future,
or donovan's:
  three kingfisher(s)...
man...
  all i really wanted to
do was work
in a music shop...
   ****, but that went away...
but at least i was allowed
to make two or three
mix-tapes for
the equivalent love
interests...
          now,
with an unlit 100s cigarette
plucked in my mouth...
what do i think
of what i don't think, about?
zenith coordination
akin to a concept of zion?
i still don't know...
the band stiff little fingers
contra the clash
via the lame the beatles
vs. the rolling stones
           type of conversation?
hawkwind "vs."
              motörhead:
            mow-tour-(h)ed?
see.­..
   english isn't a language:
with the current bad educators...
it's almost good,
that is has disintegrated into
graffiti...
    tags instead
               of names dynamic...
all i wanted to do
was work in a music
shop...
      hell...
           at least this "poem",
                                          right?

p.s. then don't get in
my way, and the next: "poem".