A punkish postscript*

After nights with the knight
I live days in a daze
speak in clichés  –

What? Only a phase ?
Might just be colic or flu
or some brain disease ?
Jeez, you sure know how
to put someone at ease!

So tell me, Iago, how’s tricks ‘round
your place – Everything ace?
Howzit goin’ ‘round your house ?
Still in solid with your spouse ?
Lovin’ that sweeeeet little
brown-eyed girl ta bits?
Or’s your life just the pits ?

Hmn; job too; I see; I do: I see
and it looks like to me
that that is mostly why
you’d like nothin’ better
than to bring my house down
cause yours stands in need
of more than just paint –
like, jesus, picturesque it ain’t.

Well too bad, for you dude
I’m sorry you’re screwed
Sorry (I am) you don’t know neither
which end’s UP – Living water is free
& you don’t need no cup
just your head unspiraled, realigned –
heart and mind reassigned
to their rightful places –
need no radios on all night
to see to it you sleep, just
bow out of dumb races.
& learn that Love’s all there is
that’s got any decent fizz.

.

*to Othello, natch

.
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