Sometimes the twain doesn’t get out of the station

Sometimes the twain doesn’t get out of the station

I radioed her immediately and broadcasted through the night.  I spit rhythms and hummed melodies minding my own business, I screamed Aeons of flux across the night.
Master levels and mixed on, with headphones the size of shrunken heads shrieking black metal over a mainstream of gangster rapping at my chamber door, in the studio- nothing more.
I sat upon a balcony watching her hiccuping, amicably mimicking this so called life with hippy hop hipsters.
Who said I was a heterosexual.
I would prefer to describe myself as other
Because so far I haven’t met a description that has met me on equal terms, so I will be simply- other.
Save the voice for the right moments, when listening has ended, speak up, sing out, deliver us.  Messages from beyond ourselves.
The midnight jelly sandwich plastic knife fed from the jar behind the J’s- Janus to Joplin- cinnamon raisin bagel, day old, on the director’s shelf, Thomas.  It’s the nooks and cranny’s man, the god damn nooks and crannies.  Scarf on, cold dry third floor floors.  Dance around the live studio naked hot cocoa from the coffee machine, and we’re back in for another set, from here on, hear, hear!
Listen closely the vinyls whisper, my thumb pick up their grooves, the prints of my fingers riding the crest of each harmonic wave
Stop, fizzle fistle
Rock it back into an old groove smooth it slowly back into a graze lighten up as the jams start coming in Jammie’s on parade they bounce about over a funky tune my hormones crave that, getting’ my stew on I forget paperwork to find another one, a sweet romance I think i might find in the ramones, no go back, Freddy, how did you know?  Another one bites the dust?  Too much,  “Under Pressure” with Bowie live in where ever?  No.  It’s good, but, forget it, “Who Wants to Live Forever,” perfect!  Toss it over cop killa. Beats with Mos Definately my man Common Saul the J-Z izzle-est of the Wu Tang Clansmen, it’s fantastic and tucked inside is a smattering of cartoon theme songs, and our friend, Kermit, the frog.  Freddy and I car chase cop car over a San Francisan hillside into the bay of foreverhood.  There could only be one highlander, so it was going to be me.  And only me.  Forever.  Freddy’s dropped dead, he’s rotting away, pill pops my dreams into the 80’s and we’re back again shock jamming the airwaves with doo wop lullabies ghost faced killah’s on the microphone zombie shooting lives away from lives,
Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s