Making Waves
**** dancer to the waves.
See how she moves to the music.
Base turned up full boom boomboom!

Even when she’d driving, she dances.
Her stereo on full while she nods her head.
She’s the stereo loving gal and don’t we know it?

Her job is her life in a Go-Go bar.
Watch her turn, wiggle and dive for the punters.
Pay her a dollar and she’ll ****, buck and f*ck you.

Doing this and more to the tunes.
Her body is the ocean and her soul the wind.
Her moods match these and she always gets her way.

This gal isn’t poor or stupid.
Because she owns everything in the joint.
The bar, the stereo, the band, the songs, the punters.

She looks like a *****.
Anyone else wouldn’t be like this.
Except for a naïve innocent teen used and abused.

It’s high class illusion.
Part of the show and old routine.
No more or less is given by **** Sultry Sharon.

In her bar by the sea.
She does six shows a night.
Bearing all and more for the likes of you and me.

So off we go to her bar.
Bring all your cash and an open mind.
You’re in for the night of your life so don’t be late!

Boomboom cannons flair and scare. And
me? Scared. Frightened. Covered.
Stink. Sweat. ***** too.
Look at me. All alone with my crew of
skeletons and ghosts.
Or soon to be.
-Watch out!
someone shouts and I do watch out. Only
to see
wet rage of lead to greet the dead
with a new life.
-Over there!
-Over where?
Everywhere men fall
and babies bawl.
And me time stalls for just a minute.
For an hour.
Perhaps I will stay.
And play in this deadly game
of hide and seek
with Grim himself whose not so bad.
-Follow me
and see
what waits beyond
the flame and sorrow,
But I stay to see tomorrow.
And what do I see?
Same story different chapter
of history for the future
of future for the past.
Past what? Time has no meaning.
Only dead or alive
but which is which?
The living dead maybe?
Who knows. I knows.
I can see, smell, taste the
souls leaving with a swoooooosh!
Mooooooosh the day begins.
when did it end?
-It never ends.
For the living.
-Get up up up!
There here everywhere!
Neighs the Steed. And I do
Not wishing I had. To see what happened
Devils yell
-To hell we will take.
You, me, even the Steed.
But through his good deed
bayonet stings and swings at
hell itself.
Blood covered and
fearydreary run too
the night.
Wizzing rounds around me
I run for the safe dark. Steed snorts
-Selfish! Idiot! Nincompoop!
Your men are in danger
when you slink away!
I am swayed not
by Steed but by Grim’s
gentle hand.