Slam Poetry (4 seconds Under)
DopeBeastie
Posts: 2,513
You talk about the mess
on your dress
and in 60 seconds or less
four men in a rubber truck’ll come
and hoss your ass to the methadone floor
See what you get when you’re trying to score?
You never knew what the acid would do
when you stuck out your tongue for the
rain
flake
hip trippin
acid dippin
Skippin’ down Main Street,
Parking Lot U.S.A.
Stripping that paper-thin ripped up shred of a dress
You just bought yesterday
Dripping Leaking Tweaking Freaking
You never guessed that the Love Light would crush
your chance-taking, blind-eyed suburbian plush life
hush, my love, hush
~ no, this isn’t a needle,
~ it’s my 1975 Issue BUSH wacker ~
I'm gonna hack down this high
and I will make love to you right where you sigh
Fly, little girl, fly
see how you smile?
They they
have have
a a
file and a phone number too
And your Daddy’ll come
And he’ll cart your ass home.
And he’ll make you lie up in your bed for a week
He’ll schedule a shrink, he’ll take all the keys
And this day, be remembered in your history
as the day the drugs brought you right down on your knees.
And there I was, above of it all. Trying to trade the double-fat Herkimer Diamond I helped mine two summers prior for a Bright Orange bead-weave necklace I’d eyed since the dawn of tour.
That show, that first show, when I sat with a man turning threads and beads and needles in his unwashed hands, smiling. Proud that one little green-eyed hippie chick wanted to trade a crystal worth 500 bucks for it.
“I am making it for a friend.” He said.
And I said, “Well, trade it for the Dead?”
Then his people came back with their scores and their cash and with a great crashing back in the van, he said he had to go. I thanked the man and said I’d see him at the last show, and that I’d have this little ol' crystal of mine… just in case, he changed his little ol' mind.
I spent the next 8 shows, in 5 different states, turning down offers, turning down trades. 4 Sheets of fly-paper, Big bags of weed, thinking, No… it’s the necklace, it belongs to me.
I picked up a dark-haired man named Tom Long, and we drove to Alpine Valley, singing Wisconsin Songs. And while he was out, scoping free drugs from total strangers, I looked for the jeweler and I hoped he would trade.
I found him, he laughed. He sent me away.
And then, here she came.
Skipping down Main Street, Parking Lot USA
aiming her wicked smile and an LSD water gun at everyone she passed by
She was screeching DOSE ME! DOSE ME!
(my eyes grew wide and then I tried to hide)
I watched her as she tripped away
cackling some weird witches haunt
and everyone looked at each other, thinking… Ho-ly fuh….
the back of her dress was in shreds
the backs of her legs, smeared in red
into the back of her dress went her hand
the taboo, extreme.
The Grateful Dead
A few moments later, an ambulance came
and four rubber-gloved hands gently forced the girl in.
I made a face
and then
they
drove
away.
(lemme know where it trips you, please... thanks. and a wave... to all my friends)
on your dress
and in 60 seconds or less
four men in a rubber truck’ll come
and hoss your ass to the methadone floor
See what you get when you’re trying to score?
You never knew what the acid would do
when you stuck out your tongue for the
rain
flake
hip trippin
acid dippin
Skippin’ down Main Street,
Parking Lot U.S.A.
Stripping that paper-thin ripped up shred of a dress
You just bought yesterday
Dripping Leaking Tweaking Freaking
You never guessed that the Love Light would crush
your chance-taking, blind-eyed suburbian plush life
hush, my love, hush
~ no, this isn’t a needle,
~ it’s my 1975 Issue BUSH wacker ~
I'm gonna hack down this high
and I will make love to you right where you sigh
Fly, little girl, fly
see how you smile?
They they
have have
a a
file and a phone number too
And your Daddy’ll come
And he’ll cart your ass home.
And he’ll make you lie up in your bed for a week
He’ll schedule a shrink, he’ll take all the keys
And this day, be remembered in your history
as the day the drugs brought you right down on your knees.
And there I was, above of it all. Trying to trade the double-fat Herkimer Diamond I helped mine two summers prior for a Bright Orange bead-weave necklace I’d eyed since the dawn of tour.
That show, that first show, when I sat with a man turning threads and beads and needles in his unwashed hands, smiling. Proud that one little green-eyed hippie chick wanted to trade a crystal worth 500 bucks for it.
“I am making it for a friend.” He said.
And I said, “Well, trade it for the Dead?”
Then his people came back with their scores and their cash and with a great crashing back in the van, he said he had to go. I thanked the man and said I’d see him at the last show, and that I’d have this little ol' crystal of mine… just in case, he changed his little ol' mind.
I spent the next 8 shows, in 5 different states, turning down offers, turning down trades. 4 Sheets of fly-paper, Big bags of weed, thinking, No… it’s the necklace, it belongs to me.
I picked up a dark-haired man named Tom Long, and we drove to Alpine Valley, singing Wisconsin Songs. And while he was out, scoping free drugs from total strangers, I looked for the jeweler and I hoped he would trade.
I found him, he laughed. He sent me away.
And then, here she came.
Skipping down Main Street, Parking Lot USA
aiming her wicked smile and an LSD water gun at everyone she passed by
She was screeching DOSE ME! DOSE ME!
(my eyes grew wide and then I tried to hide)
I watched her as she tripped away
cackling some weird witches haunt
and everyone looked at each other, thinking… Ho-ly fuh….
the back of her dress was in shreds
the backs of her legs, smeared in red
into the back of her dress went her hand
the taboo, extreme.
The Grateful Dead
A few moments later, an ambulance came
and four rubber-gloved hands gently forced the girl in.
I made a face
and then
they
drove
away.
(lemme know where it trips you, please... thanks. and a wave... to all my friends)
Post edited by Unknown User on
0
Comments
I suppose we shall see, yes?
Thanks, Fins.
Rachel
and I personally think that kind of rocks, myself
sometimes
there's no doubt that Dickinson must've written this way
so much the journalist and sometimes so shallow
but dang...
sometimes so deep
My life had stood
a loaded gun
in corners, till a day
The owner passed,
identified
and carried me away
i dunno
I wonder how hard she worked on that one? you know?
Thank you SO much!
hope you'll let us have a peek now and again.