Pavement saw

pavement saw

in a circular motion from here to there as young girls in pink climb
the stairs in dizzy spins &; dodging in &; out &; around the
penis sized MAY POLE... gaudy ribbons fly flay flop in the spring
breeze way is filled with old broken toys waiting for a reprieve by
patient hands shaking with some unknown disease &; stuffing rose
petals under the door to the LOST LADIES hosting a silver edged S &;
M party on the CATHEDRAL LAWN? or some such agent of 2nd chance to
enhance the chance of young girls with patient hands to merely sit in
the morning sun &; dream of whips &; scorns of a life to come ...
o bless this house &; plead your hopeless case knotting the carcass
of a HOLY COW into a bloodied wind chime tolling out the time of day...
or dazed &; wandering along a line of debilitation...
procrastination... deviation?

come with me &; climb the stairs with broken toys &; dreams for
sale... say your prayers &; do not fail to go past go &; get your
200 BUCKS... so dont be a schmuck... dont be a dolt... pull back on the
rifles bolt &; BANG go the dream clusters of calculated years where
whispers become screams &; the screams slowly fade into a field of
smokeless gun powder...the scholar still sitting on the back fence
deciphers the scrawling lines that meander across the cloudless sky...
much easier than deciding on what to have for a fore hand dinner or
fore play on a rickety bed of roses it may not be but the lust is happy
to be involved in cuckolding the GOLDEN FLEECE... or delving into every
day decisions of getting from here to there so where do we go from here
to find the next WHISKEY BAR bar... yes tell me where to find? in the
callow darkness? the next WHISKEY BAR...

the door... where for GODS SAKE or HEAVEN KNOWS Mr. KNOWITALL is there
a rose bud door or two for old times sake? for the sake of a sack of
potatoes lying in the corner of a room that has ceased to exist due to
a LACK OF INTEREST? or did it even exist outside the vague ripple of
brain waves trying not to get bored... but dont hoard away your secret
thoughts when they need the light of day... just spray the little
thoughts like OL TOM CAT marking off its territory with its well
defined odor... but be on the lookout for motley ideas that pollute the
fast track... pack... stack... splinter the road with a PAVEMENT SAW...
the imposing sound of a PAVEMENT SAW as the GRAND ILLUSION tumbles
before the circular spitting of its power? to the rhythm of a STRAUSS
WALTZ played before an audience of unbelievers?

a sly pretense inserts it ugly little face in the COKE machine forcing
the off center ideas into a down load mode... or ala mode... or dump
your load in the nearest trash barrel while the fire burns in emptied
OIL DRUM upon the side of a chipped tea? then read the leaves &; the
shadows between the leaves producing anguish in the hearts of children
playing in abandoned buildings?

chastise the wind for blowing around the sluggish corners of hot sticky
nights? then crashing into an abandoned police barricade? the blood
stains have been washed away &; the area perfumed with swatches of
carbolic acid?