Dedicated To America, Whatever That Is...
(slapping dime down on counter like killing a fly with hand)
-America, the word, the sound is the sound of my unhappiness, the pronunciation of my beat and stupid grief- my unhappiness has no such name as America, it has a more personal smaller more tittering secret name- America is being wanted by the police, pursued across Kentucky and Ohio, sleeping with the stockyard rats and howling tin shingles of gloomy hideaway silos, is the picture of an axe in TRUE DETECTIVE MAGAZINE, is the impersonal nighttime at crossings and junctions where everybody looks both ways, four ways, nobody cares- America is where you're not even allowed to cry for yourself- It's where Greeks try hard to be accepted and sometimes they're Maltese or from Cyprus- America is what laid on his soul the onus and the stigma- that in the form of a big plainclothesman beat the shit out of him in a backroom till he talked abotu something which isn't even important any more- America (TEENAGE DOPE SEX CAR RING!!)is also red neon and the thighs in the cheap motel- It's where at night the staggering drunks began to appear like cockroaches when the bars close- It is where people, people, people, are weeping and chewing their lips in bars as well as lone beds and masturbating in a million ways in every hiding hole you can find in the dark- It has evil roads behind gas tanks where murderous dogs snarl from behind wire fences and cruisers suddenly leap out like getaway cars but from a crime more secret, more baneful than words can tell- It is where I learned that people aren't good, they want to be bad- where I learned they want to cringe and beat, and snarl is the name of their lovemaking- America made bones of a young boy's face and took dark paints and made hollows around his eyes, and made his cheeks sink in pallid paste and grew furrows on a marble front and transformed the eager wishfulness into the thicklipped silent wisdom of saying nothing, not even to yourself in the middle of goddamn night- the click of coffee saucers in the poor poor night- Someone's gurgling work at a lunchcart dishpan- Ah and nobody cares but the heart in the middle of US that will reappear when the salesmaen all die.
America's a lonely crockashit...
"See my hand untipped, learn the secret of my heart, give me the thing, give me your hand, take me to the safe place, be kind, be nice, smile; I'm too tired now of everything else, I've had enough, I give up, I quit, I want to go home, take me home O brother in the night, take me home, lock me in safe- take me to where there is no home, all is peace and amity, to the place that never should have been or known about, to the family of life- My mother, my father, my sister, my wife, and you my brother and you my friend- take me to the family which is not- but no hope, no hope, no hope, I wake up and I'd give a million dollars to be in my bed, O Lord save me."
-the plight of us all, all alone, all beggars in the night...
-America, the word, the sound is the sound of my unhappiness, the pronunciation of my beat and stupid grief- my unhappiness has no such name as America, it has a more personal smaller more tittering secret name- America is being wanted by the police, pursued across Kentucky and Ohio, sleeping with the stockyard rats and howling tin shingles of gloomy hideaway silos, is the picture of an axe in TRUE DETECTIVE MAGAZINE, is the impersonal nighttime at crossings and junctions where everybody looks both ways, four ways, nobody cares- America is where you're not even allowed to cry for yourself- It's where Greeks try hard to be accepted and sometimes they're Maltese or from Cyprus- America is what laid on his soul the onus and the stigma- that in the form of a big plainclothesman beat the shit out of him in a backroom till he talked abotu something which isn't even important any more- America (TEENAGE DOPE SEX CAR RING!!)is also red neon and the thighs in the cheap motel- It's where at night the staggering drunks began to appear like cockroaches when the bars close- It is where people, people, people, are weeping and chewing their lips in bars as well as lone beds and masturbating in a million ways in every hiding hole you can find in the dark- It has evil roads behind gas tanks where murderous dogs snarl from behind wire fences and cruisers suddenly leap out like getaway cars but from a crime more secret, more baneful than words can tell- It is where I learned that people aren't good, they want to be bad- where I learned they want to cringe and beat, and snarl is the name of their lovemaking- America made bones of a young boy's face and took dark paints and made hollows around his eyes, and made his cheeks sink in pallid paste and grew furrows on a marble front and transformed the eager wishfulness into the thicklipped silent wisdom of saying nothing, not even to yourself in the middle of goddamn night- the click of coffee saucers in the poor poor night- Someone's gurgling work at a lunchcart dishpan- Ah and nobody cares but the heart in the middle of US that will reappear when the salesmaen all die.
America's a lonely crockashit...
"See my hand untipped, learn the secret of my heart, give me the thing, give me your hand, take me to the safe place, be kind, be nice, smile; I'm too tired now of everything else, I've had enough, I give up, I quit, I want to go home, take me home O brother in the night, take me home, lock me in safe- take me to where there is no home, all is peace and amity, to the place that never should have been or known about, to the family of life- My mother, my father, my sister, my wife, and you my brother and you my friend- take me to the family which is not- but no hope, no hope, no hope, I wake up and I'd give a million dollars to be in my bed, O Lord save me."
-the plight of us all, all alone, all beggars in the night...