Jo Jo’s Dream

smoke test

Slow dissolve of self
winging with the eagles high
above the river

Inside, the dopers wasting time
their burning quest
the thin bones of another high
Chewing the chude
Same old same old
their lyrical recitations
as flat as a fine crepe
Inside, and warm
but out in the cold
as spirit’s succumb
to internal gravity’s
slow inevitable pull
gone back to the pipe
the bottle
the injecting room out back
tripping with Syd
masturbating to the pole dancers
strutting the stage
licking each drop
as it falls
from the chalice
within his lost boy,
fantasia fuelled
dream for the day

It’d be amusing
Should be funny
Someone should laugh
The clown laureate here
cracking wise
crack shot eyes
The human saga
Part, the first
By this tuppeny bard
gyring in on your frenetic orbit
On sky wings, face aglow
No well feathered nest for this freak

Praise ye gods of mirth
ye demons of mire
The white hot blur of creativity
Or lunacies first light
this poet bird
falling from his perch
“Is it sundown?”
“Maybe in America cher”

So now, the last word
The masses mourning
He, ripped from perversions underbelly
“With this ring I thee subdue”
Poor satyr,
wind whipped
fluid corroded
jerking off in the back seat
of a deep red cadillac

“Move on folks,
nothing to see here!”

prayers, lifting on smoke
hold sway over grim death’s grin
river, uncaring

(inspired by Jo VonBargen’s most excellent index to her more recent work. As there’s no “google” definition… chude is a Bengali word. It’s the pressed pulp of sugar cane. The term is used to imply that one is trying to get sweet out of something that’s already been sucked dry.)

As this has become a piece of music as well – the copyright credit is now:

Words by  Jo King VonBargen and Phillip Barker. Music by Phillip Barker

Jun 2010


4 Responses to “Jo Jo’s Dream”

  1. jvonbargen Says:

    Brilliant, Phill!! Appreciate being targeted. Put it to music – it’d make a great song!

    I once had a Bengali lover who loved to get up and sing at parties. My friend, Chittarupa, who studied Rabindranath Tagore with me, taught me how to say, in Bengali, “Keep singing and the donkeys will come running home in the evening dust.” His jaw dropped and he fell down laughing. I don’t think he ever sang in my presence again…for which I am truly regretful. I stifled the poor soul in a silly attempt to tease.

  2. jvonbargen Says:

    Crikey, you are easily distracted! Earth to Cerberus!

    • :)) I found fleas to scratch – and the three of us all sensed a different location… I know – I know – I’m easily distracted… it goes with the bobble heads.

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