briano alliano performs on venus party trap




you see welcome to the trap and i had a great night at the poetry slam

where i met this man who said m6y poem was great, well, he liked it

in fact when i didn’t win it, he wanted to heckle the organisers, well, it was

fun, but i like the organisers too, but this man realiy believed in me, ya know

especially when i told him i am putting art in an exhibition

here is my first song, the poem i read at the poetry slam ,here goes

jingle bells oh buddy jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

the party is on for young and old

and presents to make us happy

jingle bells oh buddy jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

party on till next week, man

yeah, celebrate christmas in july

dashing thru the cold canberra winters day

you see i think my reindeers are in hibernation today

because the air is very cold, and it’s a great day to say

merry christmas my good friends in the month of july

jingle bells oh buddy it’s jingle bells

it’s christmas in july

the party is on for young and old

bring out the warm eggnog

and put up the christmas tree, and have santa on a stick

then you get those lollypops, and give ‘em an almighty lick

and give ‘em an almighty lick, my mate

ya see last night at the poetry slam, this bloke said i really sang the last bit with a lot of guts

and determination, and now as i left last night i saw a fight taking place, and i knew if i don’t stare

everything will be alright, and now here is my next song

i am tired, but i can’t sleep, i need to have a siesta, yeah mate yeah

i need to relax and enjoy my life, and have a soft drink yeah mate yeah

carn the swans carn the raiders carn the packers, like that man last night spoke to me for

yeah mate yeah, and now time for, here is my next song, loving friends and loving family


You see when I was young and I always was trying to be cool
I had a family who tried to stop myself from being cool, and I was
So fristrated with that, I said, no I am cool, but I wssn't cool, I wanted
To laugh at everybody and I laughed so loud that my psrents were telling me
To quiten down and this made me angry, you see I got violent and I started to rant
And rave and it took me over a long time to understand that they were treating me
Like a cool kid, but I was young and stupid and it seems like they were teasing me
And giving me a hard time, and i also said that I wanted to be cool and always go out having a good time and getting ****** as a parrot, you see, my voices were putting those thoughts
Right in my head, giving me a lot of problems, making me very very sick of being in this crazy situation, and I am glad I have this amazing loving family and good friends, to help me through any kind of situation.
You see when I try and muck with my father like a mans kid, my brother would say, don't muck with him, he's not like us, don't much with him, no he is not a young dude. Be like us, and be a young dude and be a little shy boy, you try and be oool every day, and you try and give stay up all night while everybody else is going to bed, so you can go, hey to him, but the thing about it is, that it is the fact that he is living in the past.
So then my loving family and loving friends made me feel better about how much I wanted to
Move on and live life to the fullest, you see he will laugh like a man should and then say, heh heh heh heh , i am a cool boy, I am not a little shy boy, I sit up all night, I don't go to bed, you see I am superior, but my mates call me a complete loser.
Because this man is a total and absolute ******, and it makes me absolutely crazy, and this drives me crazy, you know very crazy, but I always call it a loving family and loving friends, I don't need these friends who only like me because I sit underneath them.



here is my next song, titled mashed potato finger nail at the skate park, here goes

You see Jacki Fred Harold Stone was a very cool young dude
You see instead of going to bed with all the other kids
He wanted to go to the skate park and ride the skateboards
With his best mates down there, and it was a very weird effect
You see his fingers smelt like mashed potato and all his mates went home
And they said he was a little shy boy, and Jacki Fred Harold Stone said
I am not a little shy boy, I am a cool boy, who loves to skate
And when I have a rest the mashed potato finger nails come again
To inspire me to keep being cool here at the skate park
You see I did some very awesome tricks, and I had so much fun
But I still smelt my mashed potato finger nails, it was driving me wild
I told all the people at the skate park and they said, your not shy
In fact your the coolest dude out of your family, and none of us want you to leave
I don't care if you used to get teased by everyone at your school
And I don't care if your family teaeed you as well
You see Jacki, I think your cool, and I will never tease you, not ever
I want to sell you drugs, but you don't have to take them
Because your the boy with the mashed potato finger nails
And we'll never ever tease you, we want to be your friend
And we want nothing more than that
So come on Jacki Fred Harold Stone, show us how to skate
You see my name is Jason Lee, and this is my mate Tristan
And we'll be your only friends you will never tease you
Cause at least you come here and ride your skateboard like a cool dude
And after your finished you stay with us and have a joke around
Despite of the times you tell us, your cool, we still have problems with this deal
You see, you are the kid who has mashed potato finger nails
And I don't care at all, your like us, Jacki, your cool, and your fingers smell like a good
Dose of mashed potato, which means your very cool
here is my next song, titled as much fun as it sounds, here at the trap

You see Jacki Fred Harold Stone was a very cool young dude
You see instead of going to bed with all the other kids
He wanted to go to the skate park and ride the skateboards
With his best mates down there, and it was a very weird effect
You see his fingers smelt like mashed potato and all his mates went home
And they said he was a little shy boy, and Jacki Fred Harold Stone said
I am not a little shy boy, I am a cool boy, who loves to skate
And when I have a rest the mashed potato finger nails come again
To inspire me to keep being cool here at the skate park
You see I did some very awesome tricks, and I had so much fun
But I still smelt my mashed potato finger nails, it was driving me wild
I told all the people at the skate park and they said, your not shy
In fact your the coolest dude out of your family, and none of us want you to leave
I don't care if you used to get teased by everyone at your school
And I don't care if your family teaeed you as well
You see Jacki, I think your cool, and I will never tease you, not ever
I want to sell you drugs, but you don't have to take them
Because your the boy with the mashed potato finger nails
And we'll never ever tease you, we want to be your friend
And we want nothing more than that
So come on Jacki Fred Harold Stone, show us how to skate
You see my name is Jason Lee, and this is my mate Tristan
And we'll be your only friends you will never tease you
Cause at least you come here and ride your skateboard like a cool dude
And after your finished you stay with us and have a joke around
Despite of the times you tell us, your cool, we still have problems with this deal
You see, you are the kid who has mashed potato finger nails
And I don't care at all, your like us, Jacki, your cool, and your fingers smell like a good
Dose of mashed potato, which means your very cool
as much fun as it sounds to heckle, i still remember the american dude, but this man last night was a cool dude, buddy, cool man sam


and have you ever been a cool kid to your dad, and had people laugh at you, i felt that last night when i didn’t join in the heckle, but that man

was nice to me, saying he admires me, but i am not gay, i am bradley simmons

Bradley lived in Cowra with his mum and dad and brother Kenneth, and Kenneth was a real mans kid who plays with his friends in the street and then he goes home to watch Disneyland with his dad, and he mainly liked to watch westerns, while Bradley was certain that there is something going on in the air, and went to church with his mum.
You see this wasn't really tbe best family unit, especially when families go out to fun family events, but Bradley and Kenneth's dad was a director at kids town, which is a Buddhist drop in centre, who looke after the daily needs of under fortunate kids, and Bradley and Kenneth were told to come into these centers, when their dad organised some games to brighten their spirits, one game was spin the Buddha, where you get a spinning buddha statue and the kids get a lolly pop if the Buddha spun towards them, and even though they thought it was lame, well you can see it in their faces, Bradley thought it was cool and then said to his dad how about I plan games for them to play, like soccer out in the paddock, or even cricket, or tennis, and one of the homeless Boyd sadism I am too poor to get into Auskick, so can we play Aussie rules, and if I whip your ***, I know I can play for Richmond, and Kenneth who tried to be the cool kid there said, well if you make Richmond, it won't mean you are good, it means you play for Richmond, and Bradley told Kenneth to be nice to him, he obviously likes Richmond, and Kenneth said to Brad, why don't you shut up you stupid old ******* ****, and Bradley said, I am cool, I can turn these kids away from you.
Then Bradley said ok it's time to play a board game and little Ryan said, well what does board games have to do with helping us get houses, and Bradley said, oh no I ain't that powerful, I am just a kid, I can't give you a home, no,,I am here to make you feel that people actually care for you, because I think it would be tough for you having no home to go to and the kids listened to Bradley like he was one of the adults and being a typical jealous little brother started to get very jealous especially when e tried to make a joke, and they told him to get lost, because your brother is boosting our self esteem.
At the end of the day, Kenneth said to Bradley, you are a stupid ******* old *******, playing board games doesn't make them really feel better, what makes them feel better is taking them for walks around, but you are too stupid for that aren't you Bradley, you are too fucken shy to be like those kids friends, you see they all like me better, they just tolerate you, so go back to your bedroom and go and do some underage *******, no you aren't one of us boys, *******.
Bradley was upset with what Kenneth said and went to his bedroom and cried for hours and since then he didn't have inspiration to go back to his dads work to help the kids there, but his dad said, your brother is just jealous, and you should do this if it makes you feel happy, and his dad said, and if you find that Kenneth is proved right, just ignore them, and you can start off by ignoring Kenneth, because really, I wish every kid could have the inspiration that you bring to kids town, don't let teasing stop you for reaching your full potential, Bradley, Bradley decided his dad was right, and he kept on going to kid's town to make a difference in these children's lives, playing games and talking to one another, this was so cool the kids thought, Bradley thought he was growing up, and Kenneth who decided to come in, because he thought kids need to be kids, yes, his dad was doing a good job, but really Kenneth had what the kids really wanted, like he bought his computer and showed him the virtual world, and Bradley said no kids playing board games are fun, and computer games can wreck your eyesight, but the kids decided that Kenneth needed to be heard too, after all he is the other son of the kid's town leader, so they listened to him for a while and instead of trying to play along, Bradley felt hurt and said, ******* all, and went to his room to cry, and all the tough boys said, 'what a cry baby' and then he said his brother isn't an monster, we still like him, but Kenneth wanted to make Bradley jitter, so he now decided to play around laughing very loudly, like he was like us, man or something and Brad was in his room, crying and their dad decided that Brad needed to share his friends and said that he prefers the way Kenneth did things, Brad got really angry and started to be totally mental, by punching Kenneth like a ******, as well as threatening to **** the father that gave him a perfect life as a kid, of course he didn't **** him, but he was an angry *******, you see he was the board games king, while his brother was a computer **** kid, and Kenneth tried to not hurt Brad's feelings, even though, being a kid, he found it hard to not teaee the ****** and Bradley was put in a special school where he made a few new friends, but they weren't into playing board games or anything else with him, they wanted to teaee him, with teachers joining in, because Bradley needed to learn about how to control is temper, and someone tried to bully him, and Bradley stood up to him, and another guy was determined to tease Bradley also, but as he tried to punch Bradley put his hands on his **** and squeezed his ***** real tight, and since then everyone liked Bradley, but not to his dads liking the little cool kid to his dad was suddenly Kenneth,,and Bradley felt he was trying to tease Kenneth the same way, and see how he likes it, but all his friends like Kenneth better, and Bradley punched Kenneth in the gut and his friends thought Bradley was a **** and left the house and another girl at school was making fun of Brads parents and Brad tried to stand up to her,but she said, they never helped me,**** kids town and ******* early to bed and early to rise baby, and Bradley got really upset and from that moment the only young ones who like him were the rougher ones, who hassled Bradley for money,and Bradey became to shy to say no. Which made him a little young dude with no friends, he had family trying to contact him, but he was determined to make their lives a misery.
Bradley was an idiot, with his drinking and teasing and punching people, yes dude, he needs anger management, and he needs it now, but you must want to go, but Bradley made a pact, that he won't get help till Kenneth found a girl and got married and has kids,,so his thought of being teased all through his adult years, wasn't going to happen, and Kenneth married Bridgett Kingsley and they had Toni and Ros, yes, Bradley's little nieces, and he loved them dearly, and the bonding of Bradley and Kenneth grew fondly, while their parents had the old Brad back, he ain't married but he's happy, and that's what Counts in life.


******* that look a lot of wind singing this to you at the venus party trap and when i got home i was told to sit there little shy boy and let your school mates play air guitar, i was happy too, because of sam

at the poetry slam, thinking i had guts tom read a poem and not win, who cares, it’s a fun night out dudes

You see, you are still a little shy boy, and we are still teasing you
So, now you are working, man, come, leave us
And let us muck around, we want to smoke our bongs
As well as drink our bourbons, and drink 100 beers
Yeah we all feel cool, and don't wake up little shy boy
We want the adults to not bother us, cause we are having so much
Fun, we don't want to be adults,and don't want you to worry about us either
You see, all the men, are sitting there, trying to muck with them
Saying tease him, if you want to tease, just teaee him
But at the end of the day, man, we aren't really teasing
We are sitting up all night, being bums and young bludgers
And it's because you are such a ******
We might be making it seemed you are getting teased
But, we really want to leave you alone,,if you leave us alone
Cause, we are drug addicts,,and we want you to respect the fact
That we don't want to work, as long as you think that you aren't a young bludger
Everything will be already, but young bludgers go to bed for work
So mate, just enjoy yourself, and smoke your bongs
And have a good time, doing it
You see, I want to enjoy ourselves doing this
You are now leaving us all on our lonesome
See ya dudes

see you soon, venus party trap, and t

BRIANO ALLIANO PERFORMS AT JUPITER MOON


hi dudes and welcome to jupiter moon where i will chuck a methane smoothie all over dad

so he can stop treating me like him at home, you see last night dad used the old young dudes

tp say i am not like my mate pat anymore, no, don’t want to be a cool kid to my dad, but i can

clean my house to what i like, and nothing more, buddy, so if you treat me like dad, you must

except i want to be a poor man, because dads way will never work, he should work on betty campbell

here is cruising round with red bull


I see some sorry old soul walking around the town, with a leather jacket on and a red bull in his hand, you see he looks kind if ***** and ****** up in the head he also looks so droopy, too, he should be home in bed, he'll go into JB hifi, if they'll let him in, that is and then he'll notice his red bull can is empty, he didn't know what to do, and everyone is staring at him, he yells out really loud WHAT ARE YA LOOKIN' AT YA ******, and nearly gets into a fight, and he was going completely crazy, yes he was weird, so ran through the mall, saying, I have to get my red bull, I have to get my red bull, I have to get my red bull, it's a f..n matter of life and death, if I don't get a red bull now, I swear I'll **** someone, waddaya think of that, everyone was saying as he passed thinking this man is cool, I think he's a loser cruising around with his red bull
When he got his second can open it up and it squirted everywhere, and unknown to him that half the can was lost in that squirt, so he cruised around with his can saying howdy to the chicks and saying hi dudes to the chaps, and, man he felt so cool, as he went over to JB hifi, yes his red bull can was empty again, and he yelled out ****, this time he was really ****** violent, he knocked over an old lady going to the bank and punched a yeah mate yeah kid,  (nerd) in the gut, and he was like that all the way to the red bull shop, when he got their the red bull was sold out and the store clerk said we have red eye, mother or V, and he said I don't want those, they are woosey drinks, I only drink red bull, because about 1 hour the man was taken by the police, as he was cruising it gives me wings, as I left he saw a kid who bought the last red bull, and he offered him $50 for it, and the kid said, money comes and money goes, but this red bull stays with me forever, and he got violent threatening to **** him as such and the kid said, ok dude, keep ya shirt on, give me $50 for this can and I will give it to you, they exchanged what they had and the kid went to the police station to fill in a statement saying he was threatened by a crazy red bull ******, and in around with the kids red bull, the police took him away the kid identified him as the guy, whi would convert to violence, to be cruising around, oh yeah, yes, man cruising around with his red bull, what a loser

and now here is my next song, called go to bed little shy boy, because i feel like a hooligan with my itchy feet, and i feel like i am getting kidnapped on earth because i am a tad messy, cause dad will never help me, when i do work, i feel like a lady, well, ****** oath i am a
lady to a tease, but i don’t want to get teased though, so i am a man
You see, you are still a little shy boy, and we are still teasing you
So, now you are working, man, come, leave us
And let us muck around, we want to smoke our bongs
As well as drink our bourbons, and drink 100 beers
Yeah we all feel cool, and don't wake up little shy boy
We want the adults to not bother us, cause we are having so much
Fun, we don't want to be adults,and don't want you to worry about us either
You see, all the men, are sitting there, trying to muck with them
Saying tease him, if you want to tease, just teaee him
But at the end of the day, man, we aren't really teasing
We are sitting up all night, being bums and young bludgers
And it's because you are such a ******
We might be making it seemed you are getting teased
But, we really want to leave you alone,,if you leave us alone
Cause, we are drug addicts,,and we want you to respect the fact
That we don't want to work, as long as you think that you aren't a young bludger
Everything will be already, but young bludgers go to bed for work
So mate, just enjoy yourself, and smoke your bongs
And have a good time, doing it
You see, I want to enjoy ourselves doing this
You are now leaving us all on our lonesome
See ya dudes
yeah, i don’t wanna be a cool kid to tease so i say to you, shut up cockbreath, here is my next song


I am a man and other men are teasing me with the kids
This is driving me crazy, I told them that I am a man
And I don't stand for this kind of juvenile behaviour
You see the kids didn't listen to that, they just laughed
And for a while each man kept on trying to be mature adults
Which we all know they're not, said for the kids to leave me alone
And then said, he isn't a target for teasing
But then after 3 days, the men said, what the flaming ****
We are going to tease this ****** yuppie
Yes, we'll tease them with the kids
The kids would teaee and when you go to the men
The men will teaee them too. They will act like all other Australians
And tease you as well, yes and they will ****** find it ****** fun
You are suffering cause you haven't got many friends

And the kids are laughing, while the ******* men say
You are a fucken big old softie,and you are now with no friends
Then you get a knife and try to stab him
And after that you punch him in the back
And then you draw out your knife and threaten to slit his throat
If he doesn't stop fucken teasing him
But they go, I am teasing you, and that's the only way I am being



You see when I go out of my bedroom after having a night of ***
The kids ate teasing me, left right and centre
And I try to handle it, but it's so ****** hard for me to do
Because they are saying things like, I am going to bash you up
And giving me a pineapple drink which was ****** wee
close to you
So if the kiddies are teasing you, and you turn to me, to get me to muck with you
I will say, I ain't mucking with you, mate, neh
I am just teas---ase---ing you with the kiddies, you aren't like us, cause when we tease you
Mate, you can't handle it, and then you say, you are spastic, and dumb as well. And I will punch you with this metal part of my leather glove, to show you who can't fucken handle teasing, you **** of the earth, fucken man
Then you go to your room, and they don't talk to you anymore
Because they are treating you like a target to tease
And that drives me crazy. And i yelled out
I AM SICK AND TIRED OF BEING THE MAN WHO IS GETTI NG TEASED BY MEN AND THE KIDS,  LEAVE ME THE **** ALONE
And they did, I am now a free spirit, no one can successfully taste me, never


yeah, i don’t wanna get teased by the men and kids, so i will be a hooligan oops, i am a cool person

you see, i am a polite man, hey, what did you say, you are protecting me with your hey, so i want dad to fly off, ok

have found a polite way to

I have found a polite way to say I love you even if I don't really mean it
I have found a polite way to tell you to ******* when you constantly bug me at my place of work, and that is treat him like an employee and then sack him, that'll work
I have found a polite way to tell someone that their weird without making them get upset
I have found a polite way to say to a right wing party that their policies stink by saying, you guys are a bunch of total perfectionists, who care nothing for the little guys
I have found a polite way to tell someone that they aren't the right sort of friend for me by saying, please mate, I need to broaden my horizons, so can you leave my perfect world buddy
I have found a polite way to tell my boss that I am resigning and that is I really don't want this place of employment, it's not really my cup of tea
I have found a polite way tell someone in a bar to stop bugging me by asking them nicely to please leave me alone and if that doesn't work then leave the bar saying if people aren't going to be nice to me here, I ain't going to come here
I have found a polite way to call someone a young bludger by telling them that they are as lazy as you were when you were their age
I find polite ways to say anything because I value my
Life too much to be hurt people's feelings, I am really cool, man

ya see i hear voices of people saying i have no real problems, but i wanna be famous, and i want to move to adelaide, but i don’t get positive feedback

so i feel like getting drunk and vomiting like this song

You see I love to have a few beers, or chocolate, and chips, oh yeah
This was what I really enjoy when I go to a pub at night
You see I live next door to this nightclub, called the hungry ****** horse
And I ain't cursing because I want to, man, that s what it's called
I met a man named Roger Killbert, who I had *** with and having a few
But the beers weren't doing good for Roger, they made him really sick
You see he was getting drunk and vomiting, yes, he was really sick
I don't share children with him, so why did I stay with him
You see he lost his family in the recent fires, and this is the first time he went out
And Roger was getting a sickly taste in his mouth, oh yeah
And it made him *****, he was sick,
You see it was just vomiting, so I didn't bother to take him to hospital
But I changed my mind, when te blood came out, it was really bad
So I took him to the hospital, and the hospital said he fine
But I know in my fucken ****** heart, that he was sick
Then he vomited blood, and the nurse said
To Roger to go to the waiting room
Because this isn't too important, but we do know that it was
And I said, why don't you get your *** in gear
And help my fucken friend, and from that moment
They labelled me a stubborn girl, yes I hated that a lot
And I said, yes, I'm stubborn, but I care for him, and have you got
Someone you care about, you hear about doctors like you
And I am more than just a stubborn woman
If you don't look after my friend, or at least try
I will soo your pants right off
He fucken had the nerve to say on what grounds
I am trying, to be my job, follow work protocol
Yes, I am doing fine, I earn a lot of money
And I deserve every cent, then I said you deserve squat
But I don't really care, when we left, yes I sooed his pants off
And since that ****** day, this doctor never learnt his lesson
We were moved to another hospital
You see he is getting drunk and vomiting, and he was very sick
And we are enjoying spending his money we got out of the doctor
Yes I feel ****** good

you can get your earth bodies to look at aaron clayton or aaa youtube TV, to hear everything performed by me

here is my next song


now, i will tell you where my cool kid is, at the mall mucking around
you see I go to the mall, being with young people
And I have so much fun, making young people mistakes
Like drinking all night and passing by McDonald's
For a McFeast and fries and coke
I will look like a junk food hooligan
And yes I will look so cool to the young
But I wish it was as simple as that
I want to have some fun
So I saw my two friends Eddie and Daniel
And we mucked around having fun
But it wasn't really what I wanted, man
So I told them both to *******
For 3 years after they purposely ran into me
And call me Woosey, and um, they will put the smoke in their ear
And eat McDonalds while I will try to be an adult
And every adult decision I make, they said Woosey, Woosey, Woosey
And then I got up and said you kids make me sick
But I couldn't say that, and they called me Woosey, because I was
Too Woosey to be a man, that opens up to his problems
But I felt like trying my hand trying to intimidate them
And make them leave me alone, it drives me crazy
All I want to be is a normal young dude, you know
Playing around making mistakes as well as being cool
But I have **** like you two teasing me as if your friendship is a fucken lie
You look like greedy pigs when you eat your McDonald's
And you are a ******* when you bang your head against the tapes
Yeah, dude, you look like a Woosey to me, mate
I am just doing the kind of things that Patrick did
Because what he likes to do, is similar to what I like to do
I like hard rock music, but I ain't a little young dude
Who is to scared to escape the tease
You guys are two little Wooseys, and I will say you are Wooseys
Mainly because you eat little young food like maccas
And you stick the cigarette in your hair, like a ******
I am a cool young dude, cool young dudes do art, and don't look lost
I'm not lost, I am so radical dudes, let's party
I am now on the healing process, because Daniel is the only Woosey
And that's the truth, you see


you see, how many of you guys have been called a woosey, you see i believe in loving life and here is my next song

i still wanna be young, what is wrong with that
Yes, mate, I am happy and I feel cool
I feel my body is getting younger and I want to break the adult rule
Mind you, there is nothing wrong with growing up, and being wise, so to speak
But really that's too formal, man, doing that will just send you weak
You need to do things that are exciting
Like go on an aero plane, like to Thailand or Vietnam, or even the mighty USA
You should go on long rail journeys too, yes that's a bit of a buzz
You can either choose having a sleeper, living the lap of luxury
Or roughing it up on the single ride seat
You can also grab a hot meal on the train
And you can eat it in the dining car
And you can eat it up, real fast, so you aren't away from the seat too long
I also like a bus trip, like to Batemans bay or beyond
And a trip to Sydney. Melbourne, Brisbane, Hervey bay, gold coast, and fantastic Adelaide
I go into a club and if I hear music I will either tap my foot or dance to it
Depending on the mood of the place
I also like to stay in a Hotel, and watch a bit of ****** Rupertvision
Some shows are good, and thouroughly entertained me so much
But not enough to make me give to that rich *****
I sometimes like a good trip in the country, where I climb mountains
Or just look at the views from lookouts and even the wild life
And mind you, you can have a ball in the country, cause you have no main worries
No worries at all, sonny Jim
Then you can spend the weekend in Sydney for the Carols in the domain
Where you get in early, pick a great spot, and take in the Christmas spirit
Mind you, you have to wait in line at the toilets, but it's all in good fun
And mate, if you happen to lose, dad, or even your mum
Just go to the stage, and tell them that you are a lost boy
With no directional skills, and how do I find mummy again
Of course they will help find them, but you really just wanted to get on the idiot box
And mate, just wait for the hiding you get off mum or dad
For wasting important television viewing time
There are so many things you can do, but, mate
You need to get a job, oh yeah, don't make your mum and dad pay
That can make you uncool
You see, I am a 43 year old young dude, yeah
And I will be there, till the day I join the afterlife, oh yeah
i hear voices of people saying, i ain’t going to help you little cool ki, ****** oath i am cool kid



Hi little kid, you can't find your mummy, you are a baby
Cause this is a family event, and it's quite ****** safe
Just ask a fellow kid, sure you are safe little kid
But then another kid will come, and trick me into
Looking like a phedaphile, and I won't be able to get out of it
So little kid, keep looking around for your mummy
And, yes you will see her, and I ain't helping you
Cause I am not the kids teasing Buddy
You see I want kids to let me be a true grown up
Who wants to be cool, and have a lot of fun
With other grown ups, and if kids can think of Judy being with each other
The city will look after their needs a lot better
You see, I dressed up as Santa, but I ain't helping you kid
So *******, or I will put you in the toilet
Do you want that, I don't fucken think so
I can tell you, I ain't no kid, I am an adult
Who wants to have fun and enjoy life
I don't want you kids to come up to me
And ask me to do something inappripiate
Even if it looks innocent, it ain't, I aren't that type of guy
You kids are a pack of fucken losers
And just keep yourselfs in your family groups
Cause that will suit me just fine, because
I ain't gonna he

We met in the Red Square at Midnight. Sitting on the austere steps of the Kremlin We drank Stolichnaya in silence; listened to St. Basil’s Bells stoic ringing until Our sun rose pale over Moscow  

Beauty is created when I press your mulatto skin to mine.
We shift. You move, and as you’re moved you move me.
Our motion akin to your mother’s in a gentle breeze or a dancer;
Some Elise pirouetting et fouetter and falling over graceful infinities.    

I am deliberate during this ballet. Subdominant.
Una corda e sostenuto, and as you request so do you respond; relaxed,
Sustaining single notes; soft into that ethereal Moonlight…
Blurred and blunted, your perfect meter dampened by my learned cadence.
    
As you sound off forte I rock slightly forward, coming into you harder.
We breathe sharp together; my fingertips caressing you legato;
My Ana Magdalena. Andantino; rolling into flurries of crescendos
presto allegro climaxing; Capitulating again before we rest…
Before lento diminuendo.                                                      ­                

We courted at the Konig Von Ungarn in Vienna. It was classical and   romantic. Baroque. We fell in love. At Figaro’s wedding we tasted sangria as the stars Set, pastel, over Seville. Our first kiss was the Holy Roman Empire fading; A footnote under bass cleft.

We were married in the Rhineland, a single Canon announcing our nuptial.
You a Riesling and I your lattice. I stood firm, resolute, as you grew in, around, and from me. But the lords, they taint you, they **** me of your fruits; oblivious, they invoke their subtle prima nocta.                            

From the rooftops and the gutters they hear you. A virtue is lost between us. We shift. They are unwelcome eavesdroppers’ playing ******.  
They come and gather round us and I grow nervous, stiff; sweat falling from my brow to your ebony and ivory.
They move provocative, but they do not care; they do not notice us.                            

I stop as they begin. They’re discourteous during this Can-can. Their  praise and kind words may arouse the pimps and ****** wandering Montmartre into Paris’s red-light,  “Hear,” they fall on deaf ears.
This is no Moulin Rouge. We are not meant to be exhibitionists and yet
we yield to their flat appeals.                                                         ­                           

I put my clothes back on, Rags is all they are, and you, you’ve become stark.
I project my discontent through your string and hammer heart;
I slap your toothy face and stomp your sterling feet without relent.
I-De-tach-My-self-From-You. Staccato. They call me Inventive and as they sip their whiskey, their bourbons and their Texas Tea they tell us that
we have Entertained.        

We build our home from the precious stones of foreign countries.
We traverse ages to reach the mines and the rock fields, finding rough Diamonds and sapphires. Naked, we wash them in ether; they luster.
The noblemen come. They smile and applaud as they peep through the Windows and knock at the doors, but We shall not  be moved.

I don't always like
(the taste of)
bourbon
but **** do I like
the way it can make me
feel;
that sting of warmth
as it slithers down your
esophagus,
and suddenly you know
all the best dance moves,
your voice hits smooth on
all the tunes,
your jeans hug ya just right,
and somehow the night
has become yours.
Too many bourbons and
**** I might get a little mean,
but just one or two
and I'm the most
proud-to-be-from-Louisville-
Kentucky girl you've ever
seen.

I broke the beer bottle
as a metaphor for my emotions--
                     the realization she was leaving setting in.
There was nothing romantic between us.
Just a friendship--
two people, sharing
dead seal dark humor
& common hatred of being idle.
She stayed in the hospital with me
after someone added something "special" to my drink.
We'd only met five hours prior.

You can't find that type of karmic green kindness
laying idly on a sidewalk or in the mall.
If only she weren't such an uppity *****--
I'd miss her even more.

I'd be at her goodbye party
right now, sharing bourbons
and yucking it up.
But she makes me feel
so ******* uneasy--
hence, I'm staying here,
drinking craft beer and honoring
her friendship by a pouring one out.

Lisa and I finally tested covid-free! When we saw our results, we began an impromptu dance that felt like levitation.

Although my covid case seemed much milder, Lisa’s been nothing but supportive. Why just yesterday morning, before we tested, Lisa said, “If you test covid-free before I do, I’ll **** you.” She was holding a spork which gave the threat a specific gravity it might otherwise have lacked.
“Back off, Sweeny,” I said.

We worked the next day, masked - just in case - and I’d swear that Rebecca, my surgeon, almost smiled when she saw me. As funny as Rebecca is, off-hours, once she puts on that white coat - forgetaboutit - she goes to some other, humor-free zone.

That night, we went out to our favorite bar to celebrate our Lazarus-like resurrections.

In the club, as we were walking to the bar, Lisa asked me, “What if we get carded?” I gasped. Never, have I EVER been carded. To even suggest the possibility is to risk breaking a spell that has lasted since I was fifteen years old and first walked in the adult-bar world.

It’s not that I look old, I’ve been told I don't look 21 (although I’m almost 20) - but in dark, bar-light - I just look “right,” like I belong. And let's face it, no bar turns away college girls or charges them a cover - we’re good for business.

I put a hand on Lisa’s shoulder and stopped us in our tracks. “Turn around three times,” I said.
“Why?” She asked. “To break the god-****, bad luck, vu doo you just put on us!” I said exasperatedly. She shrugged and started to turn in a circle. Again I took her by the shoulders, “Counter-clockwise,” I instructed, “don’t you know anything?!” Once she’d broken the jinx, we were free to go on.  The next part can only be poetry.

Behind the bar were shelves of bottles, brightly lit,
with pastel glows that shame the merely silver moon.
Red rums, golden bourbons, begging you to commit,
elixirs that dull every pain and brighten every mood.
Give us your tired, your lonely, and like Houdini
we’ll invoke fun with mystical treats like martinis.

We were basking in those lantern-like glows, like tourists, in heaven, when a bartender said, “What can I get you?” How generous those words were, how open and inviting.

“What’s your name?” I asked, he was wearing a name tag but I leaned in and gave him my friendliest smile. It’s important to establish a personal connection - but you can’t get carried away. He might be gay and decide you’re trailer.

“Brian,” he said. Brian was talking to me, but then he’d noticed Lisa and suddenly, he couldn’t take his eyes off her (Lisa’s an adriana). This bartender wasn’t gay at ALL.

I handed him my black, Centurion, American Express card “Can we set a tab for us?” I motioned to include Lisa, “and please include a 30% tip for yourself.” I smiled. He smiled.
“Oh, and there’ll be a gentleman joining us as well (Charles).”
“Sure.” he said, as he swiped the card on his iPad, adding, “now, what are you having?”

I’m a bit of a bon vivant, where cocktails are concerned but tonight, we’ll keep it vanilla.
“We’ll start with a Cherry coke (for Charles) and,” I looked at Lisa for approval, “Two American Martinis?” She smiled, “Please,” I added, putting my card away.
The coke is psychologically important; it gives the bartender what’s called 'plausible deniability.’
“Do you have a menu?” I said, as he turned to go. “Coming right up,” he said.

We were on a rooftop terrace that overlooked the Boston skyline. To the left, there were tables enclosed in glowing, geodesic bubbles that changed colors and off to the right, a dance space where couples were dancing, and a DJ was spinning ‘Sorja Smith’s - Little things.’

Our drinks arrived and Lisa and I laughingly toasted our covid survival.
At that moment, at least, everything seemed right with the world.

June flowers again as a caterpillar crawls upon the cards of condolence.  This transformation is a kickflip hidden within a butterfly wing.

Earth is gathered and offered again.  Grandfathers' home the empty shell.  His clutter decluttered, her signature removed.  

The final supper, a cell phone speaks in secret codes, bourbons are broken in two, with the jigsaw complete their sky is blue.

Glasses full of laughter, we drink them all.  A thousand dollars will secure the deal.  A headstone holds their story.  Together they are reunited.

Or ce vieillard était horrible : un de ses yeux,

Crevé, saignait, tandis que l'autre, chassieux,

Brutalement luisait sous son sourcil en brosse ;

Les cheveux se dressaient d'une façon féroce,

Blancs, et paraissaient moins des cheveux que des crins ;

Le vieux torse solide encore sur les reins,

Comme au ressouvenir des balles affrontées,

Cambré, contrariait les épaules voûtées ;

La main gauche avait l'air de chercher le pommeau

D'un sabre habituel et dont le long fourreau

Semblait, s'embarrassant avec la sabretache,

Gêner la marche et vers la tombante moustache

La main droite parfois montait, la retroussant.


Il était grand et maigre et jurait en toussant.


Fils d'un garçon de ferme et d'une lavandière,

Le service à seize ans le prit. Il fit entière,

La campagne d'Égypte. Austerlitz, Iéna,

Le virent. En Espagne un moine l'éborgna :

- Il tua le bon père, et lui vola sa bourse, -

Par trois fois traversa la Prusse au pas de course,

En Hesse eut une entaille épouvantable au cou,

Passa brigadier lors de l'entrée à Moscou,

Obtint la croix et fut de toutes les défaites

D'Allemagne et de France, et gagna dans ces fêtes

Trois blessures, plus un brevet de lieutenant

Qu'il résigna bientôt, les Bourbons revenant,

À Mont-Saint-Jean, bravant la mort qui l'environne,

Dit un mot analogue à celui de Cambronne,

Puis quand pour un second exil et le tombeau,

La Redingote grise et le petit Chapeau

Quittèrent à jamais leur France tant aimée

Et que l'on eut, hélas ! dissous la grande armée,

Il revint au village, étonné du clocher.


Presque forcé pendant un an de se cacher,

Il braconna pour vivre, et quand des temps moins rudes

L'eurent, sans le réduire à trop de platitudes,

Mis à même d'écrire en hauts lieux à l'effet

D'obtenir un secours d'argent qui lui fut fait,

Logea moyennant deux cents francs par an chez une

Parente qu'il avait, dont toute la fortune

Consistait en un champ cultivé par ses fieux,

L'un marié depuis longtemps et l'autre vieux

Garçon encore, et là notre foudre de guerre

Vivait et bien qu'il fût tout le jour sans rien faire

Et qu'il eût la charrue et la terre en horreur,

C'était ce qu'on appelle un soldat laboureur.

Toujours levé dès l'aube et la pipe à la bouche

Il allait et venait, engloutissait, farouche,

Des verres d'eau-de-vie et parfois s'enivrait,

Les dimanches tirait à l'arc au cabaret,

Après dîner faisait un quart d'heure sans faute

Sauter sur ses genoux les garçons de son hôte

Ou bien leur apprenait l'exercice et comment

Un bon soldat ne doit songer qu'au fourniment.

Le soir il voisinait, tantôt pinçant les filles,

Habitude un peu trop commune aux vieux soudrilles,

Tantôt, geste ample et voix forte qui dominait

Le grillon incessant derrière le chenet,

Assis auprès d'un feu de sarments qu'on entoure

Confusément disait l'Elster, l'Estramadoure,

Smolensk, Dresde, Lutzen et les ravins vosgeois

Devant quatre ou cinq gars attentifs et narquois

S'exclamant et riant très fort aux endroits farce.


Canonnade compacte et fusillade éparse,

Chevaux éventrés, coups de sabre, prisonniers

Mis à mal entre deux batailles, les derniers

Moments d'un officier ajusté par derrière,

Qui se souvient et qu'on insulte, la barrière

Clichy, les alliés jetés au fond des puits,

La fuite sur la Loire et la maraude, et puis

Les femmes que l'on force après les villes prises,

Sans choix souvent, si bien qu'on a des mèches grises

Aux mains et des dégoûts au cœur après l'ébat

Quand passe le marchef ou que le rappel bat,

Puis encore, les camps levés et les déroutes.


Toutes ces gaîtés, tous ces faits d'armes et toutes

Ces gloires défilaient en de longs entretiens,

Entremêlés de gros jurons très peu chrétiens

Et de grands coups de poing sur les cuisses voisines.


Les femmes cependant, sœurs, mères et cousines,

Pleuraient et frémissaient un peu, conformément

À l'usage, tout en se disant : « Le vieux ment. »


Et les hommes fumaient et crachaient dans la cendre.


Et lui qui quelquefois voulait bien condescendre

À parler discipline avec ces bons lourdauds

Se levait, à grands pas marchait, les mains au dos

Et racontait alors quelque fait politique

Dont il se proclamait le témoin authentique,

La distribution des Aigles, les Adieux,

Le Sacre et ce Dix-huit Brumaire radieux,

Beau jour où le soldat qu'un bavard importune

Brisa du même coup orateurs et tribune,

Où le dieu Mars mis par la Chambre hors la Loi

Mit la Loi hors la Chambre et, sans dire pourquoi,

Balaya du pouvoir tous ces ergoteurs glabres,

Tous ces législateurs qui n'avaient pas de sabres !


Tel parlait et faisait le grognard précité

Qui mourut centenaire à peu près l'autre été.

Le maire conduisit le deuil au cimetière.

Un feu de peloton fut tiré sur la bière

Par le garde champêtre et quatorze pompiers

Dont sept revinrent plus ou moins estropiés

À cause des mauvais fusils de la campagne.

Un tertre qu'une pierre assez grande accompagne

Et qu'orne un saule en pleurs est l'humble monument

Où notre héros dort perpétuellement.

De plus, suivant le vœu dernier du camarade,

On grava sur la pierre, après ses nom et grade,

Ces mots que tout Français doit lire en tressaillant :

« Amour à la plus belle et gloire au plus vaillant. »

there's a reason for all the midnight cigarette breaks in the fire escape while hoping my mom won't smell the smoke. there's a reason for every uneven haircut; products of sleeplessness or stagnation or something i no longer understand. there's a reason for the paperbags of dysphoria and cheap bourbons lying untouched beneath my bed, and for the days when my bed felt like home and home meant emptiness and emptiness was preferable to my favorite song or to the scent of the beach. there's a reason for letting go of all the obvious lifelines and deliberately sinking into this disarray of black holes. but you breathe marigolds and sunlight dipped in bottled petrichors

and tonight, i no longer know how to translate my storms into a weather you can understand.

Whispers of death
   crawl through the protective cloud of smoke,
and pierce the worn armor
   built to protect all dreams and hope.
They funnel in their doubts,
   silencing the crow.
Whirlwind round and round,
   while obfuscating home

A quiet voice at first,
   like a stranger shouting fields away.
Yet still it steals the focus
   and turns the sharpest hues to gray.
There seems to be no plan.
   Crowned chaos rules each day.
One by one they come and go,
   but still the voices stay

They are masters of volume,
   calculating for the optimal strike,
like when they scream during sleep,
   keeping the children up through the night,
or softly during work time,
   counting all that isn’t right.
They reach out their hand,
   but it’s nothing more than a vice.

Now laughter’s no cure,
   but it sure can help the pain.
And if no one’s telling jokes,
   three tall bourbons will do the same,
No one ever wins this war,
   but they can be kept at bay.
Oh the fight to cling to sanity
   is enough to drive a man insane.

Why do I introduce her to my bed,
Two fold and larger than she's ever seen,
Swimming through the sheets to meet diamond eyes and bare shoulders -
Her hands are spring's cold river currents as they meet my skin,
They are icy splashes singing the heat from my flesh.

Why do I put down my drinks in strange wonder
To watch her intoxicated dance,
To watch her hips shudder and sway,
To see the darkness burgeoning beneath her eyes
As she lives in the shadows of her depression.

And why do I watch idly
As she scoops shallowly into the sandy waters of her soul -
The salt and the ocean just keeps filling back up
Every time she tries to live in the antithesis of
Him.

Four years, she told me
Then here she is again,
Six shots and two bourbons, *** and all,
Whiskey running through her veins
Like a race to forget how broken her heart truly is.

She is bent over the toilet hurling up the memories of him,
God, they are splashing wildly
They are reaching for her face
She can barely keep her eyes open,
Her face is bone white.

I ask myself about the night she falls asleep in my car
She is wrestling with her slumbering breath like repose isn't so easy,
Inhale, exhale,
The rise and fall of her chest spinning the night in motion
As it flings itself about painfully outside of my windshield.

Why do I stare at her, putting my coat over her,
She has closed eyes and her lips are ready to kiss.
Why do I let her toss me about, why do I let myself bleed.
Why do I let her etch her sorrows across my flesh, watching the ink as it dribbles down my spine,
Why have I become the paper to a broken melody?

C'était le sept août. Ô sombre destinée !
C'était le premier jour de leur dernière année.

Seuls dans un lieu royal, côte à côté marchant,
Deux hommes, par endroits du coude se touchant,
Causaient. Grand souvenir qui dans mon cœur se grave !
Le premier avait l'air fatigué, triste et grave,
Comme un trop faible front qui porte un lourd projet.
Une double épaulette à couronne chargeait
Son uniforme vert à ganse purpurine,
Et l'ordre et la toison faisaient sur sa poitrine,
Près du large cordon moiré de bleu changeant,
Deux foyers lumineux, l'un d'or, l'autre d'argent.
C'était un roi ; vieillard à la tête blanchie,
Penché du poids des ans et de la monarchie.
L'autre était un jeune homme étranger chez les rois,
Un poète, un passant, une inutile voix.

Ils se parlaient tous deux, sans témoins, sans mystère,
Dans un grand cabinet, simple, nu, solitaire,
Majestueux pourtant. Ce que les hommes font
Laisse une empreinte aux murs. Sous ce même plafond
Avaient passé jadis, ô splendeurs effacées !
De grands événements et de grandes pensées.
Là, derrière son dos, croisant ses fortes mains,
Ébranlant le plancher sous ses pas surhumains,
Bien souvent l'empereur quand il était le maître,
De la porte en rêvant allait à la fenêtre.

Dans un coin une table, un fauteuil de velours,
Miraient dans le parquet leurs pieds dorés et lourds.
Par une porte en vitre, au dehors, l'œil en foule
Apercevait au **** des armoires de Boulle,
Des vases du Japon, des laques, des émaux,
Et des chandeliers d'or aux immenses rameaux.
Un salon rouge orné de glaces de Venise,
Plein de ces bronzes grecs que l'esprit divinise,
Multipliait sans fin ses lustres de cristal ;
Et, comme une statue à lames de métal,
On voyait, casque au front, luire dans l'encoignure
Un garde argent et bleu d'une fière tournure.

Or entre le poète et le vieux roi courbé,
De quoi s'agissait-il ?

D'un pauvre ange tombé
Dont l'amour refaisait l'âme avec son haleine ;
De Marion, lavée ainsi que Madeleine,
Qui boitait et traînait son pas estropié,
La censure, serpent, l'ayant mordue au pied.

Le poète voulait faire un soir apparaître
Louis treize, ce roi sur qui régnait un prêtre ;
- Tout un siècle, marquis, bourreaux, fous, bateleurs ;
Et que la foule vînt, et qu'à travers des pleurs,
Par moments, dans un drame étincelant et sombre,
Du pâle cardinal on crût voir passer l'ombre.

Le vieillard hésitait : - Que sert de mettre à nu
Louis treize, ce roi chétif et mal venu ?
A quoi bon remuer un mort dans une tombe ?
Que veut-on ? où court-on ? sait-on bien où l'on tombe ?
Tout n'est-il pas déjà croulant de tout côté ?
Tout ne s'en va-t-il pas dans trop de liberté ?
N'est-il pas temps plutôt, après quinze ans d'épreuve,
De relever la digue et d'arrêter le fleuve ?
Certes, un roi peut reprendre alors qu'il a donné.
Quant au théâtre, il faut, le trône étant miné,
Étouffer des deux mains sa flamme trop hardie ;
Car la foule est le peuple, et d'une comédie
Peut jaillir l'étincelle aux livides rayons
Qui met le feu dans l'ombre aux révolutions. -
Puis il niait l'histoire, et, quoi qu'il puisse en être,
A ce jeune rêveur disputait son ancêtre ;
L'accueillant bien d'ailleurs, bon, royal, gracieux,
Et le questionnant sur ses propres aïeux.

Tout en laissant aux rois les noms dont on les nomme,
Le poète luttait fermement, comme un homme
Épris de liberté, passionné pour l'art,
Respectueux pourtant pour ce noble vieillard.

Il disait : - Tout est grave en ce siècle où tout penche.
L'art, tranquille et puissant, veut une allure franche.
Les rois morts sont sa proie ; il faut la lui laisser.
Il n'est pas ennemi ; pourquoi le courroucer,
Et le livrer dans l'ombre à des tortionnaires,
Lui dont la main fermée est pleine de tonnerres ?
Cette main, s'il l'ouvrait, redoutable envoyé,
Sur la France éblouie et le Louvre effrayé,
On l'épouvanterait - trop ****, s'il faut le dire -
D'y voir subitement tant de foudres reluire !
Oh ! les tyrans d'en bas nuisent au roi d'en haut.
Le peuple est toujours là qui prend la muse au mot,
Quand l'indignation, jusqu'au roi qu'on révère,
Monte du front pensif de l'artiste sévère !
- Sire à ce qui chancelle est-on bien appuyé ?
La censure est un toit mauvais, mal étayé,
Toujours prêt à tomber sur les noms qu'il abrite.
Sire, un souffle imprudent, **** de l'éteindre, irrite
Le foyer, tout à coup terrible et tournoyant,
Et d'un art lumineux fait un art flamboyant !

D'ailleurs, ne cherchât-on que la splendeur royale,
Pour cette nation moqueuse, mais loyale,
Au lieu des grands tableaux qu'offrait le grand Louis,
Roi-soleil, fécondant les lys épanouis,
Qui, tenant sous son sceptre un monde en équilibre,
Faisait Racine heureux, laissait Molière libre,
Quel spectacle, grand Dieu ! qu'un groupe de censeurs
Armés et parlant bas, vils esclaves chasseurs,
À plat ventre couchés, épiant l'heure où rentre
Le drame, fier lion, dans l'histoire, son antre ! -

Ici, voyant vers lui, d'un front plus incliné,
Se tourner doucement ce vieillard étonné,
Il hasardait plus **** sa pensée inquiète,
Et, laissant de côté le drame et le poète,
Attentif, il sondait le dessein vaste et noir
Qu'au fond de ce roi triste il venait d'entrevoir.
Se pourrait-il ? quelqu'un aurait cette espérance ?
Briser le droit de tous ! retrancher à la France,
Comme on ôte un jouet à l'enfant dépité,
De l'air, de la lumière, et de la liberté !
Le roi ne voudrait pas ! lui, roi sage et roi juste !

Puis, choisissant les mots pour cette oreille auguste,
Il disait que les temps ont des flots souverains ;
Que rien, ni ponts hardis, ni canaux souterrains,
Jamais, excepté Dieu, rien n'arrête et ne dompte
Le peuple qui grandit ou l'océan qui monte ;
Que le plus fort vaisseau sombre et se perd souvent
Qui veut rompre de front et la vague et le vent ;
Et que, pour s'y briser, dans la lutte insensée,
On a derrière soi, roche partout dressée,
Tout son siècle, les mœurs, l'esprit qu'on veut braver,
Le port même où la nef aurait pu se sauver !
Il osait s'effrayer. Fils d'une Vendéenne,
Cœur n'ayant plus d'amour, mais n'ayant pas de haine,
Il suppliait qu'au moins on l'en crût un moment,
Lui qui sur le passé s'incline gravement,
Et dont la piété, lierre qui s'enracine,
Hélas, s'attache aux rois comme à toute ruine !
Le destin a parfois de formidable jeux.
Les rois doivent songer dans ces jours orageux
Où, mer qui vient, esprit des temps, nuée obscure,
Derrière l'horizon quelque chose murmure !
A quoi bon provoquer d'avance et soulever
Les générations qu'on entend arriver ?
Pour des regards distraits la France était sereine ;
Mais dans ce ciel troublé d'un peu de brume à peine,
Où tout semblait azur, où rien n'agitait l'air,
Lui, rêveur, il voyait par instants un éclair ! -

Charles dix souriant répondit : - O poète !

Le soir, tout rayonnait de lumière et de fête.
Regorgeant de soldats, de princes, de valets,
Saint-Cloud joyeux et vert, autour du fier palais
Dont la Seine en fuyant reflète les beaux marbres,
Semblait avec amour presser sa touffe d'arbres.
L'arc de triomphe orné de victoires d'airain,
Le Louvre étincelant, fleurdelysé, serein,
Lui répondaient de **** du milieu de la ville ;
Tout ce royal ensemble avait un air tranquille,
Et, dans le calme aspect d'un repos solennel,
Je ne sais quoi de grand qui semblait éternel.


*

Holyrood ! Holyrood ! Ô fatale abbaye,
Où la loi du destin, dure, amère, obéie,
S'inscrit de tous côtés !
Cloître ! palais ! tombeau ! qui sous tes murs austères
Gardes les rois, la mort et Dieu ; trois grands mystères,
Trois sombres majestés !

Château découronné ! vallée expiatoire !
Où le penseur entend dans l'air et dans l'histoire,
Comme un double conseil pour nos ambitions,
Comme une double voix qui se mêle et qui gronde,
La rumeur de la mer profonde,
Et le bruit éloigné des révolutions !

Solitude où parfois des collines prochaines
On voit venir les faons qui foulent sous les chênes
Le gazon endormi,
Et qui, pour aspirer le vent dans la clairière,
Effarés, frissonnants, sur leurs pieds de derrière
Se dressent à demi !

Fière église où priait le roi des temps antiques,
Grave, ayant pour pavé sous les arches gothiques
Les tombeaux paternels qu'il usait du genou !
Porte où superbement tant d'archers et de gardes
Veillaient, multipliant l'éclair des hallebardes,
Et qu'un pâtre aujourd'hui ferme avec un vieux clou !

Patrie où, quand la guerre agitait leurs rivages,
Les grands lords montagnards comptaient leurs clans sauvages
Et leurs noirs bataillons ;
Où maintenant sur l'herbe, au soleil, sous des lierres,
Les vieilles aux pieds nus qui marchent dans les pierres
Font sécher des haillons !

Holyrood ! Holyrood ! la ronce est sur tes dalles.  
Le chevreau broute au bas de tes tours féodales.
Ô fureur des rivaux ardents à se chercher !
Amours ! - Darnley ! Rizzio ! quel néant est le vôtre !
Tous deux sont là, - l'un près de l'autre ; -
L'un est une ombre, et l'autre une tâche au plancher !

Hélas ! que de leçons sous tes voûtes funèbres !  
Oh ! que d'enseignements on lit dans les ténèbres  
Sur ton seuil renversé,
Sur tes murs tout empreints d'une étrange fortune,
Vaguement éclairés dans ce reflet de lune
Que jette le passé !

Ô palais, sois béni ! soyez bénie, ô ruine !
Qu'une auguste auréole à jamais t'illumine !
Devant tes noirs créneaux, pieux, nous nous courbons,
Car le vieux roi de France a trouvé sous ton ombre
Cette hospitalité mélancolique et sombre
Qu'on reçoit et qu'on rend de Stuarts à Bourbons !

Les 10 - 13 juin 1839.

Donc un homme a vécu qui s'appelait Varron,
Un autre Paul-Emile, un autre Cicéron ;
Ces hommes ont été grands, puissants, populaires,
Ont marché, précédés des faisceaux consulaires,
Ont été généraux, magistrats, orateurs ;
Ces hommes ont parlé devant les sénateurs
Ils ont vu, dans la poudre et le bruit des armées,
Frissonnantes, passer les aigles enflammées ;
La foule les suivait et leur battait des mains
Ils sont morts ; on a fait à ces fameux romains
Des tombeaux dans le marbre, et d'autres dans l'histoire.
Leurs bustes, aujourd'hui, graves comme la gloire,
Dans l'ombre des palais ouvrant leurs vagues yeux,
Rêvent autour de nous, témoins mystérieux ;
Ce qui n'empêche pas, nous, gens des autres âges,
Que, lorsque nous parlons de ces grands personnages,
Nous ne disions : tel jour Varron fut un butor,
Paul-Émile a mal fait, Cicéron eut grand tort,
Et lorsque nous traitons ainsi ces morts illustres,
Tu prétends, toi, maraud, goujat parmi les rustres,
Que je parle de toi qui lasses le dédain,
Sans dire hautement : cet homme est un gredin !
Tu veux que nous prenions des gants et des mitaines
Avec toi, qu'eût chassé Sparte aussi bien qu'Athènes !
Force gens t'ont connu jadis quand tu courais
Les brelans, les enfers, les trous, les cabarets,
Quand on voyait, le soir, tantôt dans l'ombre obscure,
Tantôt devant la porte entrouverte et peu sûre
D'un antre d'où sortait une rouge clarté,
Ton chef branlant couvert d'un feutre cahoté.
Tu t'es fait broder d'or par l'empereur bohème.
Ta vie est une farce et se guinde en poème.
Et que m'importe à moi, penseur, juge, ouvrier,
Que décembre, étranglant dans ses poings février,
T'installe en un palais, toi qui souillais un bouge !
Allez aux tapis francs de Vanvre et de Montrouge,
Courez aux galetas, aux caves, aux taudis,
Les échos vous diront partout ce que je dis
- Ce drôle était voleur avant d'être ministre ! -
Ah ! tu veux qu'on t'épargne, imbécile sinistre !
Ah ! te voilà content, satisfait, souriant !
Sois tranquille. J'irai par la ville criant :

Citoyens ! voyez-vous ce jésuite aux yeux jaunes ?
Jadis, c'était Brutus. Il haïssait les trônes,
Il les aime aujourd'hui. Tous métiers lui sont bons
Il est pour le succès. Donc, à bas les Bourbons,
Mais vive l'empereur ! à bas tribune et charte !
II déteste Chambord, mais il sert Bonaparte.
On l'a fait sénateur, ce qui le rend fougueux.
Si les choses étaient à leur place, ce gueux
Qui n'a pas, nous dit-il en déclamant son rôle,
Les fleurs de lys au cœur, les aurait sur l'épaule !

Londres, le 10 août 1852.

The bars on the graph grow taller.
The bars on the windows grow stronger.
It’s nice when the moon is visible during the day;
it reminds us that it, the moon, is always,
that we are always.
The bars on our phones let us know that
our signal is strong, able to be heard.
Our opinions are that much more valid as a result.
The bars, with the beers, bourbons, and wines
are closed against COVID,
so we sit self-righteous in
our quarantined quarters,
pecking our keyboards hatefully,
against hate…
Punching Nazis with posts to our
social media accounts,
but little else.
No sweat equity?
No sweat.

The delineations that we create are constructs.
Complete and utter *******.
They were either created for us, before we were ever born
or
we created them.

The only difference is light
and
darkness.

This maze is shifting,
the starting point
seems
different for every single
life being lived.
Fair?
What’s that?

All Lives Matter.
Yes.
But, not right now.

In this moment, certain lives matter more.
The focus,
too sharp.
The crosshairs,
too centered.
Aimed all too well.

Another wall of the maze
of inequality, inequity
societal instability,
insanity.
Eugenics?
Genocide?
Systemic stupidity!

Orwellian,
anti-human
attitudes!

Ruled by wads of green paper
or
small slivers of plastic
riding our *****,
slid snugly inside of our
wallets.

The walls of the maze grow taller,
the bars on the graph do the same.

As long as it all comes with
an “I voted’ sticker,
Right?

Inalienable rights?
What are those?
Did we learn about those in school?
Did we?
I forget.

Oh well...

What time do the bars open?
*
-JBClaywell
©P&ZPublications 2020

Everybody Cries with
Dr. Henry Louis Gates Jr.
Eyes are opened, floods of
crying, knuckles of gratitude.

Be the recipient of family lore.
Cry if you might, determine that
the path to history is wiped across
centuries.  Everybody Cries.

The album of black pages, the
erudition of Dr Gates, the heat
roiled by emotion is the evidence

of harrowing challenges, of
generations of breathing in
ancestral DNA.

I reject the family tree my
parents laid out as if it were
unique. The tiring conversation.

Dr Gates would not be interested
in the memoir of my mother's fantastical
ancestry.  Her blood was sanctified
by the Bourbons!

My father's "pig-**** shanty Irish"
was the ongoing lyric of our
youth.  Dr Gates would find
the lunatic fringe to which
I belonged unenlightened.

Today I will tear my history
from my mother's voice. I will
rejoice in my father's greatness.

(There is no such thing as the past,
Eliot wrote.  Many have argued.)

I paste my past into notebooks.
I am in

the final quarter acre of my life
and I am neither better nor
worse for the pages of my
family tree.

I am unholy and entombed
in a metaphorical  book

scribed

of an unconsecrated life.


Caroline Shank

9.11.2022

Like a flower,
A corpse
In the scorching heat
Of summer
Clipping wings
Off bones
Sweet bourbons
kisses goodbye
Felt like
A Summery slow death
If I must admit
Running from cruelty feelings
Only to jumped
Into autumn misery
Perfect weather
If you’re a vulture
The kind of love
you only dream of in storms
False excitement,
All ten fingers
Caressing Rosaries
Not a second later only to be
Struck  by flowing stones
As her kiss showed its teeth
Crushed out of air
Only to get high on spanish fly
Written in Haitian cursives
The language of death
These Silly rabbits,
These fu* heartbreakers
They have never learnt,
Forevermore forgotten
Feathers do grow back
There isn’t a single day
I’m not eying the blue sky
Of love,  no matter the weather
Gosh ,
I’m always misunderstood

TEA BREAK EVERY OTHER DAY

"Tea?" enquired
the Jabberwock
pleasantly

"Thanks awfully!"
smiled Alice politely
pleased to take a break

"One lump or
. . . two?"
growled the Jabberwock

"None, thank you very much!"
Alice replied
in her best mimsy voice

"I keep changing
dress sizes
these days!"

"Blueberry Bakewell ****?"
smirked the Jabberwock
mockingly

Alice shook her head
furiously
trying to rid herself of the thought

"Or maybe...."
beamed the Jabberwock
"Some Callooh! Callay! Cake!”

"Eh...ah...no - YES...FRABJOUS!"
Alice had no sooner
made up her mind but

she changed it again
as her mind kept
jumping around

"I keep hearing voices
. . .reciting me!"
burbled the Jabberwock

"What! You hearing them too!"
wondered Alice uffishly
"...how....curious?"

"And in languages unknown
'Fushigi no kuni no Aris.'
I can't even speak Anime!"

"And I seemed to be
made more and more of words?"
she stood awhile in thought

"Ok! Mr. Jabberwock...Miss Alice
curtain up in five please
a child is about to read you!"

"Well here we go
it's brillig again!"
whiffled Alice frumiously

"Maybe this time
I'll win perhaps?"
galumphed the Jabberwock

"Ha!" said Alice
"You wish...Ha!"
she haa'd again

and then the child
turned the page
and the poem appeared

for the first time
in her eyes
as new as forever

*


(ふしぎの国のアリス, Fushigi no Kuni no Arisu) is an anime adaptation of the 1865 novel Alice's Adventures in Wonderland which ran on the TV Tokyo network and other local stations across Japan from October 10, 1983 to March 26, 1984. The series was a Japanese-German co-production between Nippon Animation, TV Tokyo affiliate station TV Osaka, and Apollo Films. The series consists of 52 episodes, however, only 26 made it to the US.
In the English language, this series is generally overshadowed by the success of Disney's 1951 feature film version of the story; however, the anime series was quite popular in various European countries, in Israel, in the Philippines, in Latin America, in Iran, and in the Arabic-speaking world. The series was also dubbed into Hindi by the national film development board of India and telecast on Doordarshan in the early 1990s.

The language with the most editions of the Alice in Wonderland novels in translation is Japanese, with 1,271 editions.
This was inspired by the photographs on the set of Frankenstein which show the Monster and his creator having a *** and a cuppa and one could imagine somebody calling "Ok guys....back into the scene!" And Boris stops being Karloff and lumbers back into being the Monster whilst still chewing a Custard Cream. "Ok...action...,lights!"

So I also thought that the Jabberwock and Alice get breaks from being themselves in a fictional way until someone somewhere picks up the wonderful book and begins to read the famous poem. The Jabberwocky, his mouth stuffed full of Chocolate Bourbons as he lumbers after Alice and hopes that this time he will come out on tops...not realising he is doomed to fail time after time.

and when Qais blacked out after a sporadic
moment of "malnutrition"
on a Ramadan bout of "purification":
o.k.: i get the medieval insistence
on the practice, esp given the desert environment
but now: it almost feels like
a stance: albeit i know, i know: it's not that
but in this other kind of desert
of concrete, jungle, concrete:

            anyways: apparently he was calling
me for me or he imagined
i was the face he saw... but i was: "miles" away
yet...
   so it's not even about being "re" educated
when it comes to foreign cultures, peoples,
i'm not going to write **** poetic immigrant
ballads about not fitting in:

as i told: let's call him Richard...
a West Indian: although Indian is hardly
a way to describe...
so now collaborative effort on both parties
involved...
a sensitive topic, considering the bleaching
of history
and how i love Heidegger and his obsession
with historiology:
his, is a writing: filled with allusive -
let's say metaphor-morphing:
i love how he understand his own writing
and the reader: is not supposed to:
like Nietzsche predicted:
the German ethos of idiosyncratic
endeavor:
       even in Thuringia they were spelling
out to the English hooligans
a "welcome home" party slogans

          because Brexit happened because
the Polish plumbers got the better of them:
so i was telling "Richard":
there was once a "thing" called a:
protestant work ethic...
which is not to admit to drinking too much
alcohol on the job...
or the night prior:
           even i don't do that...
but there was such a "thing"...
even...                                          now...
but Brexit happened because
the Slavs "invaded" Europe: or were merely:
neighborly: brotherly: well, apparent: **** that!

so the Empire imploded
and there was no Hippy Regeneration
no Trail of Cid and Acid
and multi-color versat: versing: shortening:
quickened: equipping...

Qais... 21... such a tenderness in man:
wants to bulk up... Hulk mode...
weighing in at 90kg...
give it time, Qais, gravity and time...
by the time you're 40 you'll put on weight
some of it will be useless
like the grudge i now have for cycling
is...

                     just ******* impossible to
deviate from...
i want to canoe, ******* paddle...
then i saw a glimpse of evolution
in the origins of the Polynesian people
a glimpse a ***** a blink
a Thai wink
in this: "brute": and it coincided with:
well thanks for the olives (and skin)
but where did you get your HASEL:
not hustle: HUSSEL? no, not Husserl...
hassle... ah: hassle not hassel:

glum eat the vowel: 'sle not fish netting
'sel
                by what date? sell by?
well...
                    DAHOMEY & ASHANTI

perfectly honest: i don't understand why
these English folk put up with
Sudanese Ahmed(s)
who s.p.e.l.l. out the stink of India
and Israeli skunk bombs
with terms like: NOT ABORIGINAL
but native and PUNK is butter is cute
is like: nothing rebellion against
the tectonic status quo of people
like water constantly: constant "being" born
and "being" dead...
like this preserved instance
in a format of a democratic fashion
exemplified with: squandering the use
of these idle tools of communication:

my grandfather Joseph would be proud
i hate being told
like no other ****** would be told
just endeared with "mr trouble"
but the moment i give Qais
a ******* 10min runner ahead
to catch the train i'm involved with
c.c.t.v. paranoia like the "almighty"
control room doesn't see how
i do my verk...
    
       because that's how shifts go
and how people get all ******* friendly
at work: then start whatsapp groups
and try doubly friendly to be
boss ***** and poor poor pooh bears
and that's just ******* disgusting
i'm not in high school but: there's the yard

one bourbon two bourbons
the kingdom of Burgundy and that was
me ******* into the cup of wine
to spike the aging fruit of garden
and Jerusalem
feeding me happy thoughts...
because new serpent arrived
without an apple but a morphed bunch
of grapes and some fudge packing
**** into bread
resurrected on the crucifix

at least i know that Islam is a religion
for men
and i can't be doing with this
hijacking of words with images
that culminated in emoticons under
the banner of Christianity:
i think i'm smarter than to have to adhere
to Christianity
this religion that's zenith came without
but with the Exodus into Dust of Auschwitz...
and clearly: no one panicked
or picked up on the slaughter
since so much was "achieved" given
the numbers...
now i will clearly spot a few Watermelons
gleeful in my scribble and:
no matter...

              i stopped admiring the American
intellectual English this is just my
Lingua of the commerce of ideas some will
go no further than the sputnik of ****
i flush down the toilet
while jerking off over a could-be Madonna
such a pretty face
but such ugly **** and stomach cramps
when reaching ****** with multiple dudes
and ******

*** some amphetamine vitamin numbing...

i'm still so bummed out about
getting a Green Day t-shirt
from the shift...

do you know your enemy...
do you know your enemy...

sad story about Qais: 21... already
traumatized by women
had a girlfriend and a *******
but still a ******:
was accused of ****
the girl wasn't a ****** but probably
wanted a notch on her girth:
hardly a belt... smacker: push a plum
into a piece of bread:
but him: unwilling became a HASHTAG
memorandum of: dangerous loop...

origins of ****** dynamic failure:
too many drugs now i'm
waiting for the death of the last Holocaust
survivor like i'm waiting
for the last instigator of the 1960s revolution...
when Paul "the pauper don" McCartney
and McCarthy are but recycled newspaper
click-baits: i'll go swimming with the alias:
skinny: for naked...

       i think i might just feel fine: then...
until then:
Qais... i don't suppose i can recommend
you an objective-affection for loss of sentiment
for emotions when having ***:
with prostitutes?

     but why the **** do people speak to me
so openly
then i remember those little ****** and little *****
bothered about social hierarchies and
climbing ranks
and i'm reminded by the demeaning language
they use concerning the roles
they once filled and it's so ****
sad
makes me want to think about being
a garbage man or a poet:
apparently a Swiss entrepreneur would know
how to understand what poet is these
days: a LOSER or NOT a fifty shades
of grey scribbler:            but that's just fine
i'm sort of happy not having
to laugh out loud into his face...

it's a slow burn sort of erosion type of
happiness...

          but i will never "feel" English among
Englishmen and i will never "think"
to be Polish among the Polacks - the John
Lackland luster of history:
sold a land for paupers and Gypsies...
and then bold: behold: bowed and blew
into split grass shafts for lack of proper flutes...

so demeaning that i didn't learn
how to whistle by putting *******
into my mouth:
but sure as **** i managed to teach myself
how to regurgitate doing the same
and whenever overeating
i will resort to a now perfected reflex
of the oesophagus: BLURP BURP BLAH...

but i still feel suffocated by:
well who knows who's right side of a WHIM
i will wake up on and what
sort of SPASTIC MR FANTASTIC
SUPERDYSLEXICMENSCH
will find my writing and achieve a realization
dynamo of: OFFENCE OFFENCE!

i believe that: if the Chinese government
and the Moscow Mongols
are not after my skin:
any attack from the Western Echo Ethos
is more likely to give this feeble dream
of democracy and freedom:
otherwise pandering to the loud-mouth cripples:
even i have to queue even
i have to commute but SPEZIAL TREATS
for SPAZ is like: glory to god the sun is shining
on four wheels and aubergines
contortions in cubism... alive...

because: just because: someone had no
******* clue about the dangers of ***
so they had *** anyway...
sitting in a brothel contemplating STDs...
perplexed: so how come i haven't had any?
personal hygiene?
that's a good start...
            maybe i'm more of a cat or a dog
and i'm sort of able to lick my *******...
although i can't:
but maybe i'm just surrounded by these horrors
and find myself imbecilic
not having to deal with such instances
of being accused of ****...

              so there was Walt Whitman
and i'm dry on pride:
just don't have the stomach of being forcefed
a sexuality
my own is distraught by the distance
from London to Kauai
and i'm not about to go "hunting" for some
fertile 20 year old
just bored of the conversation
just not: having one...

                 the ****** revolution (supposed,
"revolution") brought nothing but
a deepening of: anti-resolve to the revolving
glitter of moon and earth around
a star of many
                       and i'm... not about to start:
but happy to know that other people
will breed indefinitely in grey
to the matter of fact of: like everyone
might need a plumber or a bus driver some
day: like tomorrow...

as long as "we" persuade all those nurses
to stop dancing and making TikTok videos
miming sirens...
                          even writing this: *****.

G’day and welcome to Kepler sports club and my name is bimmy jarnes my first song is this crazy dream

You see when I lay down to sleep last night my head got many thoughts, of tackling sleep apnea yes, what a ****** it was, you see I tried to sing flame trees, but I lost my train of thought and I hated my version of working class man, it sounded as if I was a bludger, you see I really like to party, drinking this lovely drink, maybe this Victoria bitter for a hard earned thirst, you see I tried a bit of surfing but got a attacked by a shark, I ran outside the water saying never ever again and I went back in, the shark was still there
So I went to the beach to relax on the surf and I tried drinking heavily but that never worked at all, because I sat down outside the police station and they said c’mon we’ll take you home
Then I went to the club and danced with the teens, I wasn’t being inappropriate just having a dance, but the barman threw me out, I told him to get lost, then he said, mate you have no right to do this and then I did a **** right on the front of the pub and he said I am keeping you and he rang the police, but when they came they just drove me home, giving me an lecture as they drove, then there was a drunken man who really needed a drink and I came into another and used his money to buy me a drink, we got ****** together and when we were totally drunk and he was plastered as hell, I took $300 from his cash to buy 4 cases of beer and I nicked off back home with the cash and beer but after I finished the last drink I regretted it a lot, but wait a minute, no I didn’t he might have been a phedaphile, you see you see, that is what I wanted to do

My next song is my version of g’day g’day

G’day g’dsy
Welcome to my world
It is make believe
And full of drinkers who
Want to bash you up
G’day g’day
You could be gullible
So I want to tell you this
Let’s try and understand
Just one little thing
If you as dinky die as an Aussie
You would drink him down to the ground
G’day G’day
Using a ****** to have *** with a model
And then we say to him
That this model isn’t as dinky die as a eculyptus
Tree bring planted right outside
You see mr Robert hughes
He was a real mate of mine
Untill he molested his youngest
On-screen daughter, a real stupid thing to do
I don’t want to look at Martin fucken Kelly
The name really scared me mate
But when I hear these simple words
Of
G’day G’day
He was an Aussie
You see that he was very dinky die
So I took him out the back
And I punched him
Knocked him senseless in the park
G’day g’day
I am a drunken *****
I was saying to this idiot
That what he did was unAustraliwj
And he said, how about I do it to you
I went over to the phone
And rang the police
He said, what are you doing
I am getting you off the streets
Kepler doesn’t need you
So I picked him up and threw
Him in the bin and said G’day
And he said G’day back
And said this one little thing
Just say G’day and go back where you belong

My next song is I can’t wake up

I can’t wake up
My head is getting clogged full of apnea
It is wrong to think you have it
Especially when people think you are crazy
But I say no mate, I am not crazy mate
I am just a man who can’t get up
Because I can hardly breathe
I can’t wake up
You see I wanna drink a few bourbons
And show you the Kepler night life
There are hookers and strippers
And religious figures who want
To see their religion getting a lot of cash
And I say you are a stupid mess
You see I like this place
There doesn’t seem to be any wars
But the war that goes on in the pubs and bars
My friend, is really really bad
I can’t wake up
From this stupid bed
Because I could feel that Kepler
Is the place for me
To rest my weary head
I just can’t wake up

Here is my next song called living off an all night hot dog

I had fun at the club
It was the single party night
At the labor club
And the time was 1-00am
You see I went with my best friends
4 of them, 3 found chicks
And the other one didn’t
Because he was so gay
Not that there is anything wrong with that
And we got onto the dance floor
And half my eye was on my date
And the other eye was on finding
A gay man to go out with my friend
You see one guy said, are you happy
With your sexuality mate
I see you are looking at this man
And I told her, yes I am straight but
I am here to find a lover
For my gay mate
She told me, waste of time
All the men just like girls
Not that there is anything wrong
With being gay my friend
But overall it is a nice gesture
To help find a friend for him
But Kepler has a gay bar
Two doors down
Do you should’ve taken him there
But I will help you, so I need a hotdog
Will you buy me one
And we can talk about your friend
Oh yeah party yeah
On a hot dog cooked at 1-00am
Oh yeah party yeah
Drinking at a place that drinkers go
To celebrate good tidings
Then we sing 99 bottles of beer on the wall
Till the lady said
Sing that song again my friend
Sing that song again
I will come up and knock you senseless
Then you will say to me
Those 99 bottles of beer my friend
Were putting curls in your hair
You see I went inside and a man was talking to my friend, I went over and said
Did you know this person was gay my friend
And he said, I am too, I came here cause I broke
Up, mate with a Kepler security guard

My next song is my friend Matilda

Once a pretty lady walked in a social club
Ready to drink a few ales with the boys
You see she got really hammered
And the man sitting at the bar said to her
It is fun to see if will work with her
You see my friend Matilda
My friend Matilda, my friend Matilda
She is a lady that I love
You see I talk to her
In a club up here on Kepler
I want to marry Matilda tonight
Matilda said I don’t marry
On first dates no way
I am a traditional man
Who marries the normal way
Who watches both of us get plastered
My friend Matilda, my friend Matilda
Loves to drink on our wedding day
You see she gets drunk
With everybody watching her
You see I can’t my friend Matilda doing this
You see Matilda went to Alcoholics Anonymous
To tell them she has a problem with the bottle
But they told her the problem wasn’t her drinking
It was the problem of her shacking up
My friend Matilda, my friend Matilda
AA wouldn’t help her
Because she wanted a relationship
With a nice man
With a nice man
With a nice man on the block like me

See you next time I hope you all enjoyed my show
Everybody cheered as he walked off stage