The Party, The Hangover, and the 'Priest'

On the road less travelled, depression with Jesus, and a pretender priest.

THE BAR

Off again to where cold beer and lack of cheer go. That place where the beaches are black and I’m under attack by ghosts and unholy hosts who talk jabberwocky like me.

HEY! Fuck that! Shout at the buildings. Shout at the street. Pull down the sun and blow up the moon.

Hey God, get off that pedestal and stretch your mind. It’s party time and you’ve got to move your feet (“to the rock steady beat”).

Let’s drink whiskey and vomit feelings. Bring some angels and let’s get laid. Pay the devil. He needs the cash. Let him stand on the stage, a messiah of a rock band that will sing poetically in throaty baritone about you and me and breasts.

Let’s become art.

THE HANGOVER

Once upon a time I was in love. Instead, I...

...walked out of the pub, and the pavement caved in. I fell into this hole where Jesus lived. He said, “Hey, Man, what did you do so wrong that you made you join me?” “I loved,” I replied. He nodded: “So did I.” We opened the bottle and got drunk on our tears.

Once again, the cold wind blows where only love, pain and warm beer go. Intellect and Pathetic meet and I know that it’s not a gamble, as the latter always wins. Faith, Trust and Happiness are killed beneath my feet, and my fingers drip the blood of Sadness whose returned to make love to me.

CHARLATAN

Hey, Preacher Man,
I caught your show the other night
You act so well
when your own religion doesn’t sell
Don’t deny it ‘cause I know your kind!
Your bible says light a jay
and play with the kiddies in forbidden ways
I laugh at your stupidity
for your God thinks
you’re as important as shit
So who’re you going to run to
when someone down here lifts your charlatan skirt
to jerk your daemon tail.

(For Jimmy Swaggart)