"zappa" poems
Enter—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
There are crop circles dancing
in a wave on Neptune,
with corn rows gleaming from
the man on Mars.
Tail feathers toss toward a
flute near Venus.
Fly me like a rainbow
to the nearest star.
Sirius B
has nothing for me.
Anunnaki women want
to dig my scene.
Don’t take me seriously;
I’m bluffing like a rookie
with a pair of queens.
Moon Unit lands with a
Zappa on Pluto.
Yoda on Saturn
plays steel guitar.
Moses rides in on a
doggone quasar.
Captain Trips sleeps
by a medicine jar.
Sirius B has
something for me.
Hot Nibiru babes try
to make my dream.
Don’t greet me furiously.
I’ll drop you like a comet
heading to the east.
Exit—the transitive nightfall
of diamonds.
Jul 30, 2014
Jul 30, 2014 at 9:13 PM UTC
Sinking like a carelessly cosmic ****** on the 4th of J-U-L-Y, while a distressed young mountain lion lies on your feet.
Watch out for the cautious rubber shark inside the lines. It'd be something like Frank Zappa stuck on a deserted island with a dealer of his liking or disdain.
I believe in outlandish crazy industrialists in the distance between here and nowhere.
Lucifer has been infused with witchcraft and crack ******* Mindless ******* Thank your God.
Excellent nutrition is being presented as gluttony. Which in turn has caused your little sister to make daily offerings to a porcelain god.
Pleasure didn't invent rebellion but rebellion did however invent pleasure. Don't confuse the two.
A believer is magnetically drawn to immorality, much like man is to faith.
Inspiration simply radiates free energy and a smile should never be compared to a frown.
Dreaming can be mistaken for productivity. Dream big people, dream big.
Jun 19, 2012
Jun 19, 2012 at 3:56 PM UTC
.*i can think of one cool job... a nighttime DJ on a radio station... anything more cool than being a DJ between the hours 12am through to 5am? honestly... can't think of a cooler job... all the song requests are gone from the classical.fm show between 3pm and 5pm... now one is telling you what to do... **** me... as a kid... either a veterinarian, or an owner of a music shop... now? an insomniac DJ... they would never play Christopher Young's Something to Think About in the afternoon... sorry... i'm a Hellraiser cult-follower of the first two movies... and that song? why? i just can't be bothered with listening to that Braveheart over-scratched Song of / for a Princess... it's good... once in a while... but, come, on!*
just one of those nights...
having listened to the scoops
from the alternative...
worried your to hell
about not having *******
enough concerning
the previous day's load
which would make the pleasures
of **** *** look tame...
perched on a windowsill -
solving a sudoku -
and listening to
Frank Zappa's occam's razor...
and wishing:
making sure it was never
hot in the city
by Billy Idol,
or Kiss' crazy nights
to usher in the night,
and the watchman...
why?
it's not your standard
guitar solo...
it's a medley...
big difference...
guitar solos are bound to
a strict return to the rhythm
section...
they are caged beasts...
composed of a restricted
time constrain in a song...
but a guitar medley?
**** me...
it's what obliterates
a need for vocals...
the guitar medley is
the vocals substitute...
and that aspect of music?
mm... gummy bears...
jelly in the knees...
which is why i like
the fact that jazz is the antithesis
of classical music symphony...
sure... i get the Schubert / Schumann
piano duets...
nice...
but jazz?
the breakdown of the quintet?
**** let me count...
piano, drums...
bass... horn... sax...
yep, a quintet...
that moment in a jazz
song? where each instrument
player gets his solo?
genius!
the same with a guitar medley...
neither solo,
nor the rhythm section...
what a beautiful opening
to what i expect to be,
a beautiful night:
as the watchman once said.
Aug 22, 2018
Aug 22, 2018 at 6:34 PM UTC
( To the tune of Jailhouse Rock )
Party night came to the hp site
Singing and dancing till late at night
Friends dropping by said count us in
Man you shoulda seen them poets swing
Let's rock
Everybody let's rock
They all got together in a flock
Rockin at the hp hop
Well I didn't know you played the saxophone
Frank Zappa Davis on the slide trombone
Along came Embers with a whole brass band
Man that thing was getting out of hand
Let's rock
Everybody let's rock
We were rockin and we couldn't stop
Boppin at the hp hop
Music getting louder as the night wore on
Hands clap feet tap sing that song
Grab hold o' somethin just to play a tune
If you don't play the piano play the wooden spoon
Let's rock
Everybody let's rock
We were givin it all we'd got
Boppin at the hp hop
Someone made a speech, said we're all friends here
We all shed a happy little single tear
Then she said oh for goodness sakes
I love everybody in the whole **** place
Let's rock
Everybody let's rock
Keep it up y'all don't stop
Boppin at the hp hop
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 4:44 PM UTC
zappa blows cartoon music
out of a cerulean blue kazoo
in my kitchen while i
eat greasy cold pizza
out of a crusty cardboard box
& marcus the kitten gnaws
on my sock ankle achilles
& it's in moments like this
that i'm a-ok with being alone
my **** could stay soft for the
rest of my life no problemo
i'm beautiful alone i tell myself
out loud & marcus stops chewing
acts like he understands me
but i know it's only
temporary this feeling of adequacy
& full-time fulfillment tomorrow
i'll wake up cold & lonely again
& pining for smooth thighs
& butterflies
& a girl whose best friend committed suicide
Jun 8, 2015
Jun 8, 2015 at 1:10 PM UTC
A poet was given
a life sentence today.
He'll be going the way
of Bob Marley and Frank Zappa.
I saw him perform
over the last few decades.
Hip he was and always will be.
In the ranks of Canadian poets,
his peers being Gordon Lightfoot,
Leonard Cohen and Mister Neil Young.
He wrote about the Canadian Prairies,
about New Orleans sinking and nautical disasters.
All with soul and intellect.
A friend said,
"You didn't have to
Know know know him
to love love love him".
And that's true.
With a heavy heart I ponder the noon news.
I recall the day I heard of John Lennon's ******
The only time I ever cried
over the death of a celebrity.
Thoughts and prayers out to you Gordie,
and your family and friends.
Ironically tragic for one so Tragically Hip.
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 8:29 PM UTC
Moon unit Zappa
smile
whip *******
Zowie Bowie
alias
Duncan Jones
Zappa film Moon
Rolan Bolan
the real
pinball wizard.
Nov 20, 2013
Nov 20, 2013 at 8:55 AM UTC
will you walk with me?
around the moon and beyond the stars
up and up
until our brains feel light and our lips turn blue
When we look over our shoulders
we notice the insignificance of things that are truly insignificant
the dog the car the microwave oven
that set of keys I lost and still can't find
the movie that comes out this weekend that you can't wait to see
my English degree
the lawn that we accidentally forgot to mow for four straight weeks
my mother
your mother
the way you take your coffee with milk and sugar
the list of unwatched romantic comedies on our Netflix que
the advice I get from Suze Orman
the indent your body made in my double bed
our leaky roof
your Dean's List grades and above average MCAT score
our set of home decor from IKEA that we assembled ourselves
Frank Zappa's Tinseltown Rebellion
that trip we always wanted to go on but never had the time to plan
Our aspirations that we neatly folded up tucked away and pretended to forget.
Even you.
Even you. Even you don't affect the way the world turns.
No matter how hard we stomp or yell
or scream
or push or pull
or heave
We can't stop the world.
Not even for a second.
Dec 18, 2013
Dec 18, 2013 at 6:51 PM UTC
.
Wine, enchilada and pickle sauce,
corks and safeties,
just like The Penguin In *******
in Ronnie and Kenny's shed.
The Idiot ******* Son
sits eating the deadly Yellow Snow,
whilst Joe hums Zombie Woof
at the Poodle in his Garage.
Dinah-Moe Humm finally gets off;
in the Dangerous Kitchen,
with the Muffin Man's ***** Love,
and the Illinois Enema Bandit.
The Fine Girl and the Latex Solar Beef
bathed in The Blue Light,
shout 'Pick Me, I'm Clean',
along Inca Roads, to Find Her Finer.
Cosmik Debris exclaims Zoot Allures!
From the fat, floating, maroonish Sofa
because the Bow Tie Daddy
sings Nasal Retentive Calliope Music.
Yo Mama! there's the Disco Boy
who gets in More Trouble Every Day,
so The Torture Never Stops,
with Damp Ankles, Peaches & Regalia.
Sam With The Showing Scalp Flat Top
dances with Camarillo Brillo upstairs,
catching Stink-Foot once again,
like In France from the Valley Girl.
And so the Watermelon In Easter Hay
rides off with the Duke Of Prunes
to the Carolina ******** Ecstasy,
visiting Billy The Mountain, and Montana.
© Pagan Paul (2016/2017)
Frank Zappa
(21st December 1940 - 4th December 1993).
Musician, Diplomat and Lyricist.
Dec 1, 2017
Dec 1, 2017 at 4:43 PM UTC
When I take notes in school,
I write down what I want to know,
for my own personal growth.
Not necessarily what's going to be on the next test or quiz,
which I believe sometimes are two completely different things.
I copy what gives me interest or intrigue
and what I think I should see.
I am not going to let myself over-look information I deem important
to conform to cirriculum and write down what the masses are.
It screws with my grades.
But I'd rather have the satisfaction of knowledge inside me than on a piece of paper.
Call me selfish, but I think the school system and who runs it is selfish."
Oct 7, 2014
Oct 7, 2014 at 11:10 PM UTC
you know there are neo-nazis in poland? a friend once joked. i looked at the news and would have asked had i the chance: you know there are neo-nazis in dover?
well given china and india, and given the freaky
scientific Europeans spiked-up with power
having conquered the Mongolians in Bohemia
but being defeated by nozzles of greedy mosquitoes
in the resurrected Aztec man as the atomised
mesoamerican re-awoke:
with the peak the zika viral
infection that's hardly an imitable dance
on a saturday night (pigeon brain
in a cranium aquarium five times the size);
lazy *** with ants making it move
and set sail... play terrible unthinking
chess with hope of a robot beating a russian
known as deep big bogus blue...
well, we have someone named samuel
passing a short-change economy as a banker's bonus...
while the hyenas grew feathers and flew
into darwin's paradise of high-brow concords:
the dumb ones said: the rollin' stones vs. the beatles?
the smart ones said: frank zappa vs. bob dylan?
Feb 1, 2016
Feb 1, 2016 at 8:25 PM UTC
Some past details are sketchy now,
There's things I know I've done:
I did a spliff with Neil Young,
Had a pint with Pete's best singer,
Walked on Nelson's ship,
The ship that shook Napoleon.
Stole The Dubliners cigarettes,
And the matches too.
McCartney once played for me,
Cat Stevens served us tea.
Leonard was with Suzanne,
He'll always be your man.
I imagine Lennon at his white grand,
Making love to ivory keys;
Krishna George on a cushion,
With sitar on his knees.
Joni's paradise was paved,
But we saved many trees.
I once floated on a zeppelin,
Beneath the dark side of the moon.
I didn't need an aqualung
To help with songs I sung.
We were changing with the times,
And the times they were a changin.
ELP and Alice Cooper,
Zappa, Jackson Brown,
Brought us high,
But we came down.
There's so much more to be done,
But when this life has been run,
I'll cross my legs and play some chords
Of yesterday and days before.
Dec 3, 2014
Dec 3, 2014 at 10:13 AM UTC
Walked in with your eighties fashion.
Hair tumbled in front of wide ****** eyes.
Thought you loved Bowie once.
Fleetwood Mac.
Kate Bush.
Pete Gabriel.
Frank Zappa.
Genesis.
Pink Floyd.
Supertramp.
Dylan's blues.
Living fast.
Acid trips.
Frantic hips.
43, pass it to me.
That's what they said in my day.
Hay day.
Years gone by.
Hazy,
Crazy lady.
Club Manhattan
Mados' bar.
My God,
Those times they were a changing.
At the time I never knew.
Hard to believe normality,
Would kind of capture me and you.
Know no-one from the past.
Anymore.
Maturity.
Changed the score.
*** and drugs.
Became a bore.
Creativity does it for me.
Lurks inside my funny head.
Goodnight,
Gods bless the friends,
I left there in the past.
Except the music,
Still plays power in my heart.
(c)LIVVI
Jan 10, 2016
Jan 10, 2016 at 6:08 PM UTC
'A mind is like a parachute..it serves no purpose unless and until you open it.'
-Frank Zappa
Jan 28, 2016
Jan 28, 2016 at 1:26 PM UTC
experiencing overwhelming gratitude
for so many aspects in my life
the sun rising again to shine upon my face
the feeling of warmth and total encompassment
that one has standing in the morning sun
in a quiet meadow –
three big dogs bound into the living room
slobber flying and loudly panting
flopping, rolling, kicking their legs
I laugh at the spectacle
giving them all a vigorous rub down –
from out behind the overgrown spider plant
the little black and white Waffle cat
stretches his long leg into view
rubbing against the edge of the couch
arching his back to brush it
against the chin of my old lab
before coming up and offering me a small ‘meow’ –
the pack follows me to the back porch
grabbing a handful of fishy kibble
I toss the lot into my hand-dug pond
5 to 8 inch six year old goldfish splash
and gulp down the bounty
tall bamboo shoots sway gently in the backdrop
creating both shade
and an exotic feel to my little oasis –
the Kia starts right up
Frank Zappa announces the variety of ways
in which a Jewish Princess is a good catch
and I smile
knowing today will be a good day….
even if Ice Cube did have to pull out an A-K –
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 10:16 AM UTC
A snakepit, a lion’s den,
a second-hand shark cage.
The Big Apple, the Little Rascals,
everything after the Victorian Age.
These things scare me on sight,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
The Trix Rabbit with a gun,
The Dodgers winning a World Series.
Parallel parking with Mark Hamill,
Sesame Street conspiracy theories.
These things make me shake at night,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
The White Album, the Black Plague,
toenail clippers, salad bars and Disneyland.
The Richter scale, the Mendoza line,
Any and every last teenage boy band.
These things give me such a fright,
but not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
Television reruns of H.R. Pufnstuf,
An opened jar of Miracle Whip.
The names of Frank Zappa’s kids,
vacationing on a Carnival cruise ship.
These things horrify me alright,
but still not as much as
Veronica Cartwright.
Feb 27, 2020
Feb 27, 2020 at 6:00 PM UTC
Dreaming is not the same as wishing it's true
saying love is love is all a mind may do,
peace, however,
peace, any mind can chose to make,
this is true;
or as they say,
what the hell.
------------------
Now, for me, PKD is more long term distracting
than Lovecraft or King, but tiny tastes,
like Zappa, on the spectrum,
ever re verb reverb yoweee I see we
intend
to go a tad past last time we all sang
WE ARE THE OTHER PEOPLE
YOU'RE THE OTHER PEOPLE, TOO!
boop boopee do.
This is the effect of a life lived in this one body,
for as long as I can imagine,
and I am learning, it ain't this good for losers,
who never learn to change the **** game.
Score. God, I love the future.
Apr 3, 2021
Apr 3, 2021 at 8:13 PM UTC
I'm not sleepy, and there ai
n't no place
I'm going to, this is it now, … then I come again, return,
interrupting my self with crosscurrents,
these are those
riptides in opposing forces shifting
enemies
to good fellow earthling survivors, spinning in the system,
pole to pole and back
never the same river twice,
but always the pattern,
meandering,
serpentine, path of least resisting
we know we are of the samesame value,
goodwise. truewise freemade with a will
to live in happy, the state of mind,
ever after all of that…
from now on
whatever ever changes, we are
in the mix,
this is id est time-ated, tict to
silent breathing commas,
in our mutual mind space
aloud
at any given instant
or moment, moment
works instant in season
out of season,
how did you make sense of that?
This way, right.
I knew at the moment then it was past,
this is ever after, never the same,
fluid-ity enticed to artifice interfaces,
knows to gnose, epistemic tehkne
sci-psy-psi
with use, knowing takes on a second nature,
less guessing, let the cloud calculate the tip, wait
what is this tip, this social debt, I owe the server?
Stupid question, certain
impulses
urge me to declare, look it up, but you know,
if you were the server,
you know…
if you were the aimer,
you know,
if you were the trigger, you wait
to be the joke that starts the whole world laughing.
------
Survival of the we-ity bits of wits,
was we an effort
to imagine?
We, the idea. Who imagined that?
I could not form an image,
imagine, yes
form, in form fit an
i-dea
ology **** where did she come from,
wait, is she the mother of all living?
who told this story, after whatever
resulted in now,
when we know, we all are related,
matrilineally,
mom-wise,
...?
if we were to reason, for a moment,
of the expansive sort, see
without the knack for vision my
people
perish. So seeing eyes and hearing ears,
goodsense forethought, backup
senses
great ideas in the ongoing perfection
of ever after,
post Disney ification of the servant corp,
and creds to Berners-Lee and the CERN
concern for how ideas may
evolve from necessity inventing
Frank Zappa in time to fix Romania's budget.
Dec 7, 2020
Dec 7, 2020 at 1:47 AM UTC
melodic memories momentarily move me
gently swaying to inconceivable beats
imperceptibly
feeling the motion
insides swim
cool breeze moves conditioned hair
Sid Barret beckons me down untraveled hiways
grass littered
rabbits dash
washed out sun fades to white light
surrounded
Morrsion, drunk, leans over as if to whisper
but only soft ghostly lips breathe warm air
against disturbed skin
red and swollen—
silver flash across the sky opens a flood of possibilities
fixated, I stare into the blue
seeking connections
a sense of belonging
to be a part of
universal love
truth
understanding –
shadow slips quietly into the fold
expressing want and discontent
stringing doubt through prairies of hopeful exuberance
sobbing children who have forgotten the joys of fresh cut grass
hold their heads in their hands
partly to hide from the lies
perpetuated by the indoctrination machine—
a low hum begins to grow
rumbling
shaking foundations and creating pause
eyes dart, worried
was the elder Zappa right?
broken records skip
and a toe taps absentmindedly --
May 30, 2014
May 30, 2014 at 12:42 PM UTC
A cove no one knows, quite out of the way
I lie on my back, among poppies that sway
The waves lick the cliff, the wind whispers kind
I wonder what is there, left for me to find
Jumping Jack Flash, a dance in the rain
D.B. , my hero, jumps out of a plane
The heavens come crashing, the world goes insane
With Doobies in London, and Zappa in Spain
Baby crow on my shoulder, drinking beer from a keg
Dreifuss the feline is missing a leg
Jasmine the feisty, Simba the Zen
Don’t worry my Budman, we’ll hook up again
Minuet me so tender, Sarabande me so sweet
With Bach on the rocks, yet Haendel just neat
Vasarely my vision, Jack London my soul
Let it all come together, in a crescenduous feat
Apr 29, 2017
Apr 29, 2017 at 5:48 AM UTC
take an itch, wait
scratch it,
did the itch ax fo d scritch or was that
you
voice in the head of the ehearer
radio, maybe so
maybe so
Frank Zappa, or
Emily Dickenson
or Suzie Creamcheese,
only her words reamain, yet
remain
mainly in my head a phrase
it seems, a phase shift
maybe so
electric trickery, I don't know
can you hear me now, is there reason?
is reason being
reasoned with?
Are we, reasoning together,
and you know not
is it me, it is
maybe so. May is thy word,
in this phase of
your moon
fuzzy light croissant logo,
Batman or is that a cross, and a rho?
Chi Rho praxis nexus Latin lying
demnation time wastin'
funny books, retelling stories
as if it's true, as if
I heard it, I told it, as I read it,
believing every word.
Classic Illustrated.
What good does that do you?
I confess,
Professor, I don't know
if, right or wrong, ification is
done by me or mere
fictional
May, the power, given a go.
I could say. May is my word, now.
May my best wish be,
the quest is,
good beyond reason,
doing that phase shift
electional trick to May,
seasonal reason
for unbridled joy.
Tending, pretending, trending
means more to AI than I.
May I make the difference?
Say I may.
May is your word now.
May 7, 2019
May 7, 2019 at 6:57 AM UTC
Come on, comma,
#hashtag, pound for pound
Embedded endash–
WHIPLASH!—EMDASH!
There’s the exclamation!
But the crux of the biscuit:
Zappa’s apostasy*
Is the apostrophe
Suave semi-dash-colon-
A change of ideas, but not;
Punctuation as comedy:
And th-that’s all, folks…
Period.
*(don’t get me started about the $#%¥!ing little upper right circle degree thingy)
Oct 14, 2017
Oct 14, 2017 at 6:14 PM UTC