OH DARLING, WILL YOU BE MAYAN?

Imaginary Garden With Real Toads--d'Verse Poets Pub

We stand in the antechamber
of the apocalypse
surrounded by the changing
faces of love.

Jennifer gets a boob job
then wonders why men
don't appreciate her mind
.
Amy is stressed because the guy
she met through a personal ad
is getting too personal.

David has fallen head over heels for a 350 pound drag queen
who is posing as a petite nineteen year old blonde online.

Men are women
and women are men--
one's from Mars
and one's from Venus
but it's getting harder to tell
who's got the penis.

Spice Girls on the BBC
were playful
even impish
tucked inside their gowns so skimpish
but for America they wore their attitude
posturing for the average dude
who stands on the corner crying
I AM THE MISSING LINK
DON'T GIVE A CRAP ABOUT WHAT YOU THINK
ME AND MY KIN WE LIVE IN THE TREES
PICK MY NITS AND I'LL PLUCK YOUR FLEAS!

Old gent greets the Avon lady
in the doorway with his joystick in hand
inside the house his wife chirps:
pay him no mind, dear...he's only keeping it up
for appearances sake!

And love was simple when it was
like a jackhammer penetrating your indifference
like a lumberjack chipping away at your resistance
like a finger on your trigger
like a ditch digging its digger

And in retrospect my life has been
a blue blur of contradiction
a rolling juggernaut of misjudgment
charging headlong through the rain
and pissing into the wind
a constellation of calamity
chasing dust devil dreams
down a star-speckled highway
in a last ditch attempt
to catch the champagne night flight
to Nirvana.

Still, I've never wanted to be anyone else--
just in a different game
cavorting with the Duchess of York
getting a grip on those love handles
and holding on for dear life before
she starts her next diet

And I kiss the ASS of  the sixties
for allowing me to stand here before you today--
spitting on your false piety,
your nightmare dream of polite society--
brains lobotomized
and our butts in a Singapore sling.

I kiss the ass of Ginsberg, Burroughs, and Ferlinghetti
I kiss the ass of  Lenny Bruce
and everyone who spoke the truth

We stand in the antechamber of the apocalypse
.or so they say...
But remember Y2K?
it was just another day

So don't run for the hills
no, that would be WACK
cuz you'll be back
TO GRAB SANTA'S SAC!!!