Like signing on absynth in a fanfare of fashion Is to take on ballast to flatter the crowd, When the primary hallmark of singular cadence Is to minimise ******* and shout it aloud.
Cocksure and crafty in colours of rainbow Strutting your stuff on the red carpet’s fame, Flicking the mane in a parody’s snigger Is like hittin’ the town on the arm of a dame.
Walkin’ the walk in a welter of windfall Like talkin’ the talk with the hipsters at hand Like shootin’ the **** with a blonde on the pillow Is like playin’ with fire when you don’t understand.
So go gather your pants and head for the hillside Sit tight on the grass and ruminate well, Sort out your crap in the filtering moonlight…. Try coming to terms with this day shot to hell.*
M. Sandringham 14 June 2014
An attempt to ensnare the abrupt transitions of "American Hustle" using the glib idiom of todays "Kid Talk"...both a source of ongoing irritation to me. M.