Stomping tonite on the Pennsylvania/Alabama Border
They threw us all in a ditch
with a punk-O-rama skeleton
& the Voice of the Turtle, black candles
and a skull-fukt, shellacked,
post-amazement dirge.
O discord —
            Don't worry, they say
            as they say,
            i told nobody where i was gonna stay tonight
            and no one can call the cops.
            Death chants, a clatter of tongues and a
foreign light floats in from
the mist on the river.
            i could be schizoid, honey
            i could be
            an insane tree.
frost and shaved knees and i forget who
called us here
there's a figure up ahead
and he's waving
and shouting and it looks
like he's holding
an oar.
history is a swollen beatbox
left to squeeze honey from a deflated
had i ever remained
(a siren-born little gremlin maybe)
You’d be noticing us more and more... and when nothing
shackled itself
to the bathroom stall door,
while they pistol-whipped the fuckers
and left them with the
sack over their head,
i crept up the stairs
and found the carbine...
singing "god bless america!"
i blew a hole in the hearse,
and the lemon-juice IV i had
was still glowing
like a radioactive disco-ball...
where were you
when the brits stormed philadelphia?
© Anthony Vieira