Mick Jagger the Bully
Screams in my face
and stuffs greasy cheeseburgers in my ear
and they
clog up my heart (then they tell me it's ART)
He's the Ambassador to the Commonwealth of Ronald McDonald.
and he grows Rich. Yes! richer and Rich!
With every passing year.
Mick Jagger the Bully. Pounds and pummels his path with his fists,
and licks Lady Gaga like a Leprechaun Lion
all up and down her meat dress
with his giant Corporate tongue.
Mick Jagger the bully gives torture out well
Yes torture
And the shelter he gimme is elevator music
endless and eternal,
to white guy common labor.
at the POW camp,
and is starting to smell.
Mick Jagger the bully gave God a nasty shove last week,
when I went to church.
And Plato a push, and, so
It left me in a lurch
And I'm deep in Debt,
and will always be so,
while Mick Jagger the bully plays on
since puberty
and never allows me to grow old.
Over
and over and over and over
and.....over.
And as I float through time and space, all I will ever hear, for the rest of my life,
as I grow weaker, and weaker
and weaker.
is Mick Jagger the bully.
The Rich, Rich Bully,
who never took out a Student Loan.
Mick Jagger The Bully
Mick Jagger The Bully
the
Cruel, Quiet, Financial backer serving, unenduring, Wall Street, selfish and inhumane Bully.
Your Just a Great Big, Pushy, Loud, Aggressive and Mean Bully!
When the Hu ha Hoos are all done, you stamp your uneducated, and rich, Mick Jagger, Capitalistic, custodial feet on the very old soul of mankind, and skip off to your mansion, and bolt the door.
And, unlike you, you evil Leprachaun, WE are educated and poor.
You Fucking Rich Bastard, culture, life and soul destroying old Satan MONSTER!
And you are old, And OLD! And now, ever loving and forever OLD!
And may old age deliver all of its charms, and visit itself upon you now, and may the hail of foreboding of mortality and death from disease, rattle upon your rich, rich roof tiles, which will never save you now, you old piece of fucking civilization, and culture destroying DEVIL!
(BTW, this is all just trite satire, and all art, and protected speech, so no offense to Mick Jagger intended, just as an upside down cross in a jar of Urine is protected speech as well) It is all ART and Poetry, and everyone understands that!
* Besides, I'm part Hungarian, and I'm just having a little Transylvania fun ;)
And what the Fuck do I know anyway?
I'm just a house painter. A worthless, indebted nothing with a life drawing to a shamed, and rapid close.
A piece of shit blot on the landscape.
Paumanok, Bron-yur Cottage
___________________________________________
OZZY OSBOURNE THE CREEP
Ozzy Osbourne the Creep.
His wife throws a drink in your face.
(Yeah Baby!)
Ozzy Osbourne the Creep.
(Yeah! Baby!)
He is a graduate of Warren Buffet's School for Sideshow Freaks, and was a fourth tier valedictorian effluence
of voluptuous water.
He is Ozzy Osbourne the Creep.
(Yeah Baby!)
Ozzy Osbourne the Creep.
His wife throws acid in your eyes.
Then flies to the top of your head and, grasping
with all four clawhammer claws,
Pecks at your brain, for her brood, and their sustenance.
Ozzy Osbourne the Creep!
He is the wooden son of Gepetto, the puppet guy
and, under Dad's eye, got away
from Pandora's Box.
and upon his nose, a thing named sharon
with stop sign colored hair
perches and gloats as it grows.
Ozzy Osbourne the creep.
Ozzy Osbourne the creep.
Ozzy Osbourne,
the,
creep....(Vroom, Vroom)
(Yeah Baby!)
His wife undoes your pants
and fills them with rodents.
(Yeah baby!)
Ozzy Osbourne the Creep.
Got that kid to blow his face off. (Only kidding)
(Yeah Baby!)
Ozzy Osbourne the creep, got his picture taken with
THE LORD!
And is Rich!
He's Rich!
and, may dear God help me,
He never took out a Student Loan.
JD Painter
___________________________________________________
BULLIES
Bullies with money
Bullies with money and all full of blusterBreak open the noses of punksand cold cock them on the chinwith a mean nasty grinBecause Bullies with moneyget away with grubby nails and greasy fingers.And Bullies with money with fists full of musclelike to squeeze on the necks of the women that hustle.
Bullies with money make the crybabies cryand yank on the tiesof kids out of College.
Cause Bullies with money get great big boners as they bash you, and bash you, and bash you some more.
JD Painter
________________________________
4:58AM June 17. Up again since 3AM. Torture. Pure torture, but I'm a bit drowsy, so might fall asleep. Sometimes if I go for days on end like this I finally end up crashing one night and sleeping long and hard.
A nice rain outside, which has cooled things down a bit.
Tomorrow evening, or actually tonight, I plant the tomatoes. A little late this year, but they will be fine. I will also be trimming hedges. Meditatively doing yard work, just as I seem to be very meditative and introspective now when painting, which helps get through the drudgery sometimes.
I used to turn the radio on at noon and listen to 3 full hours of Rush LImbaugh, and then 2 to 3 hours of Shawn (Spelling?) Hannity, and I can recall the many locations I was at while doing so, and what was spoken about by Limbaugh and Hannity.
I think Rush L finally lost me when he paid a million bucks for Elton John to play at his wedding. I thought it odd and I could have saved him the money by explaining to Rush that Elton John is just another "Custodial" Financial artist from Corporate Ronald McDonaldland, just like Mick and Ozzy and Lady Gaga, But there I go again.
I wish I could swim in the Ocean and emerge cleansed of Debt, which feels like Original Sin. I feel so lost sometimes, and, like Ashley Wilkes, stare at the shadow show of life and watch it go by. Contemplating the shapes behind the gauze, which almost become tangible, but never really do become tangible.
Or maybe the shadow play isn't a show at all. Maybe it is myself viewing the phantom of my own mortality. My soul, which has decided to emerge from myself, and stand outside of myself, and put on a performance that seems to resemble something familiar, but at the same time is unfamiliar.
But maybe that isn't it at all either. Maybe I am the shadow play, and the Ashley Wilkes person, that other person which is in fact my soul, has been watching me all the while.
(All this is the Robert Penn Warren Prose style influence BTW, which I Love)
Tomorrow I do a poem about the Aerosmith guy. Steve Tyler, and I will hatch it up while painting.
The rain sounds so nice on the Air Conditioner.
It is now 5:15AM. I think I will get a little bit more sleep after all, as I really do feel sleepy now.
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