Anvil

Anvil Booker was no guarantee, 
        Nimrod's son, wide awake, my generation,
     not what you wanted, not now not here
coy, once upon a time nickels and dimes
one way or another one of these days out of time
Mrs. Brown's lovely daughter, 
broke paperback writer,
only a pawn in their game, swallows peppermint twist
open all night, parade of the horribles, 
     Nadine Brown put 'em on the glass 
like old fashioned love songs
           "My brain is hanging upside down, neat neat neat"
a few observations, sunspot backyard garden party
forsaken fragments of fresh flesh must of got lost
met privately with their lawyers, guns, and money
fortunate son sitting to my right in submission,
no sanctuary, superstition, surrender,
none but the brave, 
nobody's diary.

                         Mrs. Robinson snatches Mr. Tambourine Man, 
and the one they called Mr. Integrity. Ooh la la. Each other's bad company,
girl gone wild, night moves, sultans of swing, mother and child reunion
only the good die young in Oliver's army, 
Mother's little helper not faking it, 
         one man's a gang, one headlight.
One tin soldier on the sea of Galilee,
Arial Sharon still in his coma after seven 
years of plenty, on the road again,
one way out, not a trillion dollar golf game
                 peace minus one, pay you back with interest
one step into the light, one of us, Obama's presidential rag
people who died, peeling back the foreskin of liberty
for the piano man Pee-ro Juan Valdez Sam Quixote
parasite host, pump it up, it's a political world.

                           Private Idaho went M.I.A.
planet earth 1988, police story pretty vacant, 
plastic bag, picture this, get a grip on yourself
perpetual personality, the pied piper,
please push no more, the power genocide
gunpoint affection, this year's prophet
get back, get down, get ready, get up, 
golden shower of hits, going going gone
get your body beat, get off, harvest 
          halfway to crazy said Avil,
the happiest days of our lives,
hate to say I told you so
growing up the children
of dust, groom's still waiting.

         The church of the holy spook, 
cigarettes and citizenship
packed into an old blue chevy van,
made it to oh Atlanta and back then died
after that singular trip from Corpus Christi,
sold it back to the same gypsies I paid on eggshell. 

Elvis is everywhere, a field of opportunity
Eli's coming, eminent domain, embryo dead, Elvis on velvet,
fire on the mountain, flowers on the wall, civil war
face to face, remarks Eve, of destruction, Ezra's Cantos
fake friends fading fast, long as I can see the light
pipes Anvil, looking for a leader lost in America,
a brutal planet, every picture tells a story,
every grain of sand fighting in the streets,
Cleveland rocks, Detroit City falls,
drops into the night, city baby
attacked by rats coast to coast
cold professional, common people
coal miner's daughter, glory days
               claw at idiot wind,
as somebody screamed give peace a chance,
others bellowed they would go down fighting,
same fate, no regulation, no legislation
prepared the goon squad, the goody two shoes
troops of tomorrow, red shirted radicals,
the queen of the silver dollar,
rabbit fighter, punk rock girl, the righteous ones,
or the green shirts of the green green grass of home
                    for the grinder, the grey seal.

Richard hung himself,
the rhythm of the rain was 
a major contributor. Famous last words,
return to sender. Over my head. Pablo Picasso
never had to paint it black, use magnum force,
just his lyin' eyes, mandolin wind, 
and maybe I was a golf ball, 
quips Anvil, adding

                Massachusetts was his favorite nation,
miles from nowhere when you live in sweet home Alabama
especially when the Medicine Jar 
still owned Maybelle's guitar. 
    Now it has always been mate, 
spawn and die (probably of mind games)
so the show must go on,
but things smell a bit fishy,
Shirley, should I stay or should I go?
The silver dollar forger is a Shi'ite punk,
Master Jack, you know Sister digs the sharpies;
Modern Romans haven't a clue, have no momentum
again miles from nowhere when Michael rows 
the boat ashore itchin' for action,
the memory of Mesopotamia not lost
in the air that I breathe
the age of consent
blindhammer in bikini 
red between the lines
or the defenders of the faith, 
deep one perfect morning
because the night principals 
of the death & resurrection show,
        are dedicated followers of fashion
                          moving in stereo,
ignoring my back pages no matter who you are
as the age of quarrel plus outsider sacks 
our comfortable lives. Anvil 
with his never say never 
lonely teardrop Mike Twigger ax
admires the question.

Why are you so paranoid, they accuse. Anvil's quick
to point to territorial pissings, then indigestion.

[ 2013, Lovettsville ]

© 2013, Gabriel Thy. All rights reserved.

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