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I.
Please wait for me
for I shall return
My love for you will forever burn
Though we must part
There's no reason to cry
Just say so long
Because lovers never
say goodbye
I love you
My darling
more than life itself
I wouldn't try to hurt you
For I'd only be hurting my self
Just kiss me dear
And hold me tight
For you know this is not our last night
Though we must part
There's no reason to cry
Just say so long
Because lovers never say goodbye
KALI

II.
KALI
KALI
KALI
KALI
KALI
KALI
Well, my KALI
Do *** de wadda
I love you so
Do *** de wadda
My KALI
Do *** de wadda
I want you to know
Do *** de wadda
oh my dear
Do *** de wadda
That I love you so
Do *** de wadda
Please come back to me
Do *** de wadda
I want you, my love
Do *** de wadda, oh
Wish you were here
Do *** de wadda
I need you so much
Do *** de wadda
My dear
Do *** de wadda
My KALI
Do *** de wadda, oh
KALI
KALI
KALI
Oh, my KALI
KALI
KALI
KALI
Oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh-oh
Do *** de wadda
Do *** de wadda
Do *** de wadda
Do *** de wadda, oh
Do *** de wadda
Do *** de wadda
KALI
KALI
KALI
Oh my KALI
KALI
KALI
KALI

Do *** de wadda
Do *** de wadda, oh
Oh my KALI
KALI
KALI
Please come back to me
I want you so much
AH
Wish you were here
AH
I need you so much
AH
My dear
AH
Oh darling
I wish you were near me
do wah dee wah dee wah
Oh, please come back to me
do wah dee wah dee wah
I want you so much
do wah dee wah dee wah
Wish you were here
do wah dee wah dee wah
I need you so much
do wah dee wah dee wah
KALI
KALI

III.
I’ve been searching all this wide world
Now I’ve found my candy girl
Candy girl
KALI

I’ve found me a girl.
KALI
She sets my heart a whirl.
KALI
With huggin, huggin
And kissin, kissin
And lovin
She’s mine mine mine mine
Oh my candy girl.
Whoa oh oh oh oh KALI
KALI KALI KALI KALI KALI

We get along so well
KALI
I know just why I fell
KALI
She’s thrillin thrillin
We’re chillin chillin
Oh she’s so Divine
She’s mine mine mine mine
Oh my candy girl
Whoa oh oh oh oh KALI
When we’re out together KALI
Everyone knows the way we feel KALI
We glow with the glow of love KALI
And it’s plain to see that our love is real KALI
Oh my candy girl
Whoa oh oh oh oh KALI

I’m as happy as can be KALI
She’s gonna love me for eternity KALI
To hold me hold me
To love me love me
Until the end of time
She’s mine mine mine mine
Oh my candy girl
OH KALI

IV.
Mmm dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm **** oo dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm **** oo dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm **** oo dooby oo
Doo ooby doo
KALI

Come softly to me my darling
Come softly to me my darling
Come softly to me my darling
Come softly to me my darling
Come softly to me my darling
KALI KALI KALI KALI KALI

Come to me to stay
KALI
You’re my obsession
For ever and a day
MY SWEET SWEET
KALI

I want I want you to know
That I love love you so so so so
Please hold hold me so tight
All through through the night
MY KALI

Please speak to my softly softly
And hear what I what I say
I will love you
always always always
Love you
KALI

I’ve waited waited so long
For your kisses and your love
I need need you so much
Want to feel your warm touch
KALI

Mmm dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm do **** ooby do
Dahm dahm dahm do **** ooby do
Dahm dahm dahm
oh dahm Uhm dooby do

Mmm dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm **** oo dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm dahm oo dooby do
Dahm dahm dahm **** oo dooby do
Damg dahm dahm dahm oo
KALI
KALI
KALI
YOUR MY END OF TIME
END OF TIME
KALI
Within his paw
smeared blood red
by a deliberately mocking thorn
sat a
blanched ripple-y
guarachera
strip of cloth confined narrowly
between the love and the life lines

what remained of her
what remained of the underthings beneath

fluffing rows of silk
the heavy skirt had been raised
above the ankles
the creases no longer hidden in shadow,
one leg hoisted over the back,
the reigns held expertly.

Hey Beauty!
As it happens, the number Eight is
Strength (also Lust)

She had surely fled
She has surely flown
through the trees and away
Not on foot at-all
while the three saw her pass.
great speed.
The two sisters
with that prince vulgaris looking on
curiously
Three daemon goblins watching from a distance
a disturbance
a smallish crashing
and afterwards
a scrap, sleepy and unfurled, relaxed
within the leaves that shudder
and give up the delicacy, slyly
into stubby fingers

The Woods are Laughing!
Did you notice any scent?
Did it linger between
the thumb and the ring?
the remnant of her flowers,
Petals flouncing, swirling
in odorous potentiality.
a scrap, yes
a deep seated souvenir
Can we re-fabricate the whole from this little thing, you think?
we want her.
there are things that we want to do with her.
They lean in close, nostrils flaring slightly
searching for the ambergris or the jasmine
sweet,
settling instead to gaze upon
the still clutched
still a little springy
sprightly, o! the remnants of her liveliness
and *****

3: at least let us show you the stage that we’ve built
with a clean sheet,
paper cut-outs
and some sticks.
it’s called acting.
the wine and the wafer.
we’ve hidden in the trees’ darkening
what you would call
‘the mattress’ and
the leaves will crumple underfoot
as we ravish the ghost.

meanwhile, he’s petulant:
- why, if you’d just get off of that high horse!
- how long are you going to resist?
- are you STILL angry?
- why won’t you let me stick it in you?

she telegraphs her response, cough:
you do know that in this
particular scenario
(fingers pointing downward and across
as if to suggest that
the scenario
had a specific location)
You are the wolf, right?
The wolf...

I, the girl, am in the forest
with my basket and
I
have got a
cute little
blood red
crushed velvet
swing coat
With matching hood and a single task
And YOU (with those other two *******) have decided
to bore me with this ****.
Daresay slow me the **** down.
Of course I will get rid of you.
Who am I talking to?

Let me also add that
there never has been any high-stepping
on my part,
no ankle twirling,
no mandate to impress
a stale balcony,
no sign of gaslit illuminated
pink bows
that lay down flat perfectly upon the straps
that snap perfectly at the thigh,
NOT to be slid off a pert buttock (mine)
crumpled into a ball, ripped and torn
and yet I know that
the determined creature
more faithful than Argos
is prepared
to wait a lazy eight
at grannie’s cozy house
in a sickly corner
over eager and overwrought with
pandered fantasies
and explosions of once sort or another,
irrelevant to me.

What I will admit to is
the touch of those grubby fingers
transubstantiated at my waist
approaching
invisible
from behind as usual
impatient impractical,
again too quick to make himself a beast
to rid himself of being a man.
Neither Ghost
nor Father
nor a Sun
But still a 3-in-1,
with a flash of lightning
laying
scarred between
them eyes
All together
yet always alone
Standing behind a dais
on Zoom
invoking with the one good 20/20 between them,
broadcasting words into being,
manifesting Hitlerian spells
to bewitch and
to squander
the True Tales
of a Plummeting Icarus Struck Down
wingless
(but not forgotten)
by some transcendental debasement.
Admire as 'They yet She' reel a bit,
employing a well-worn
tactical maneuver,
now, getting steady,
holding on ever tighter
to the wood.
These my w.c.fieldsian barkers
who share a predestined
and enflambed
yet glorious
lavender-tinged
third eye,
with little specks of gold,
surrounding...
Inspired,
Transported,
'They yet She' look to be pinning it down
This very specific Message
from the Heavens,
straight.
'They yet She' are converging
and this should be
your takeaway
So kind of pay attention,
Please.
"'The Lord sayeth unto me
that all Men are Fools,
given to wanton callowness'
To which i reply:
'If only they would look
into the cavity,
and reach deeply and far-flung
to grasp, or rather,
to treasure
just one of a myriad of
interchangeable
divine possibilities
For within the obscurity
rests
The Glory
of All
or Nothing
and back again
for Eternity;
the Eight laying down
to rest,
tired.
And so ends The Lesson.'
To which the Lord replied
'Well done U!'
and better still,
'They yet She' intoned,
satisfied
with a sly, flyaway wink
'I know!'"
That first week was fine
But now it’s just like
I don’t know
Right?
I’m like
Oh my god
Are you kidding?
I mean
Are you sure?
You know what I mean?
Like come on
It’s like
You know what
I don’t know
Like you’re basically hearing him die
It’s just like
Oh my god
You’re ******* serious
Are you kidding me right now?
It’s like wow
No ******* way
It’s just like
I don’t know
You know what I’m saying right?
That’s pretty much it
I’m getting used to my hair.
You Made Me Go Through All These Experiences Just So I Could Write About It? (too long)
or
TISFU (that is so ****** up)
Or
Next!
Or
L’enfer c’est les autres
Or
I Hate Strangers!
Or
Street Corner Conundrum
or
Is that Approaching Drunken Psychotic ******* Yelling At Me?
Or
You say Zombie...I say Zombie Works
Or
I’m Happy **** It! 🤗
Or
You Sugared? The Peas?
Or
Does He Have Balance Problems or Has He Been Body-Snatched?
Or
Digital or Analog?
Or
Get Your **** Outta My Face
Or
A Rose By Any Other Name
Or
Extreme Peripheral
Or
Is That a Cowbell?
Or
You Said That The Lord, Jesus Christ Wants To Mug Me?
Or
Winter’s Coming
Or
Do It For Less
Or
Yes My Legs Are Great!
Or
My Friend Says That People ****!
Or
******* Rabbithole
Or
RabbitAss Hole Hole
Or
Dingbat!
Or
God the Couture Warned Me!
It was disturbing enough
to wake me
in total darkness
And I chose then
in my kind of horror
to go to the bathroom to ***
Shaking my head
Troubled
In the wee hours
Not again
Why does this always happen to me?!
Not only is he a ghost
He’s a very old ghost
So what am I supposed to do with that?

She was dead serious
This voice in my head if you will
Earnest
‘But you don’t understand’ she explains
And I wonder where this is going?
‘He’s in love with you’

Okay?
Now what?

There’s a list somewhere
that I compiled years ago
Of questions that never had the chance
to be posed
Although approved officially by Robert
and perhaps by Bob as well
I was going to revise it
to make them even more
Impressive
Robert said that I was a genius
but to stop showing off
Questions concerning Jack,
Mass media,
The World War
in which they never fought
not for one second.
I think now
that I would like to have added
Something regarding
middle class conventions
and their subsequent
however
reluctant
disappointments
And what it must have been like
to aspire to them
In the 40s
When instead there was
Times Square and The Village
****** and Bop
Errant ****** activities
And the San Remo
Huncke suicided
by misbegotten sidewalks
And hapless blue precincts
waiting

Robert mentioned a brief car ride taken
in some Confederate State
Maybe he was in the backseat
and a joint was passed to him
He
who doesn’t indulge
if you will
Although pulmonary carcinoma
would claim him in no time at all
It was his finest moment
Sandwiched gleeful between these two
Literary
Giants
The radio not working
Now they are all dead
And I would like to think
That they are together again
encased in squeaky automotive  
Upholstery
Somewhere unearthly

Laying in bed
before sleep comes
in the new year
KNX newsradio
read the press release
Issued
It was cancer
It was terminal
There would be nothing further
and I said nothing the following morning
Staring at a wall of books and
climbing along on a rolling wooden step ladder
This isn’t even my department
The people coming through the door
were grim and silent
having bought their plane ticket to NY
To sit by his bedside
While he lay in coma
With Bessie Smith records
play softly nearby
and atmospheric
This was not a time for personal aspirations
Nor nursing the loss of a regretfully
jettisoned exchange
And although I had been warned previously
About a certain someone being
prickly
and possibly ******
and very short-tempered
and I had wondered
heretofore
how it would all go down
On the telephone
The two of us had shared a brief
‘What is he looking at?’ moment
That time here in LA
He staring at me from
a bit of a distance
on the court
And me in my chair with yet another
cigarette,
turning my head around to look behind me
to see again nothing
(God knows how many times)
Until I
An idiot
Realized that it was me that was
The subject of his eye
And I thought again
As I had done in the morning mirror
My god
My hair looks terrible

That list whereever it is
Perhaps in that laptop
That leans against my bedroom wall
Dead
on the floor
over there to my left
The one that I always pass
On my way to the john
The one that I stumble by
in the dark,
THAT list that exists
still
in my brain,
THAT I still tinker with,
THAT list exists
I would like to think
in both;
a list of questions that will always have
no answers.
To Allen
Who loves me.
When I first caught glimpse of
that jimmy-rigged
thirst trap insta-photo with your bobble-head
leaning alongside the lowest
base note piano keys
I considered you a casual medium
invoking with the guileless eyes of
the deceased once-was heat
And I couldn’t help but notice
that your flame, if you will,
as his flame before you,
was
OUT
Like the last embers of a campground fire in
Yosemite National Park.

You,
Depleted
Discarded
in a basement somewhere
in the San Fernando Valley
shoveling coal like Cinderella.
Never to be allowed near a stringed instrument
Nor a mic.
Nor an amp.
Not even the littlest sister’s
Cowsills
Tambourine.
I’m not the only cuddly toy.
I’m not the only choo choo train.
I’m not the only cherry delight.
I’m not the only
I’m not the only

It’s the Cake
It’s the Cake
In the Park
In the Park
Left out in the Rain

Stage 8
hosts a gathering
of dem dakota witches
and while they tried to concur,
Rosemary screamed
into her chocolate mouse stupor
“This is no teen dream of 1974!”
“What about the 60s?”
a naked old witch
encircling her bed
inquired tentatively.

You could be absolutely mad
Which would explain
the kooky
flirty-fishing
cultish
eyeball thing
but what’s the success rate
after all this
photography,
I reckon?
Who would take the bait, anyhow?
“You’d be surprised,” sneers another witch.
“Shaddup” snaps Castevets
Fozzie Bear just told you to **** his diseased ****.
Roman stands behind him
holding his own,
limp,
between
clammy hands, hopeful
and
biding his time.

!

Funny it should be
Me
who would be the
One
to make
You
feel
Sad.

“I think the terms are about to change, ” screeches another witch,
this one standing by
the yellow curtained
shuttered window,
Which holds within its folds
the electric air-conditioning unit
Whirring
Like Mary, Mother of God.
Or a corpulent and rotund
Laughing Gelatinous
Belly of Buddha

So, it would appear,
that in just one year’s time
or perhaps just a couple of months
Trapped in your household
With audio and visual stimulation
of all
permutations
keyboards
delivery services
and real-time isolation
Within an mise-en-abysme of
traps upon traps upon traps,
thirsting,
that you’ve become perhaps madder still.
Mercury in the lining of the top-hat mad.
“And who hasn’t?” asks that naked witch again.
I’d add that you’ve put on a few.,
Which a lot of people have done lately,
No judgement
But I doubt you are baking a lot of bread
And you look a lot older than you should.

So I wonder,
how do you get to that
vibratory chi
when you’re walled off like this?
Once you get to the real stuff
you’ll look
so much better.
This quandary engages me enough
to indulge in a whirligig
which can incorporate, if I want it to,
Courbet’s L’Origin du monde,
the envy-soaked diamantine stares of a *****
yet perpetually ignored roadie,
Vampires
And street-level prostitution.
It’s a crisis!

I would have thought that you could just
Draw it all straight to you
Without actual flesh
Bring it through the stucco’d walls
Or down from the ceiling,
quickly and upon demand.
Sub-molecularly.
No traffic and clean air make haste.
But no.
That’s not working right now is it?
Magician Reversed.
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