Book of Blues Read Free

funny fat
    Cherubim
    Leading that serious
    Hardjawed sincere
    Negro stud
    In at morn
    For a round of crimes
    Is Lucifer the Fraud
17TH CHORUS
    Little girls worry too much
    For no one will hurt them
    Except the beast
    Whom they’d knife
    In another life
    In the as well East
    As West of Bethlehem
    And do of it much
    Rhetorical Third Street
    Grasping at racket
    Groans & stinky
    I’ve no time
    To dally hassel
    In your heart’s house,
    It’s too gray
    I’m too cold—
    I wanta go to Golden,
    That’s my home.
18TH CHORUS
    I came a wearyin
    From eastern hills;
    Yonder Nabathacaque recessit
    The eastward to Aurora rolls,
    Somewhere West of Idalia
    Or east of Klamath Falls,
    One—Lost a blackhaired
    Woman with thin feet
    And red bag hangin
    Who usta walk
    Down Arapahoe Street
    In Denver
    And made all the
    cabbies cry
    And drugstore ponies
    Eating pool in Remsac’s
    Sob, to See so Lovely
    All the Time
    And all so Tight
    And young.
19TH CHORUS
    Pshaw! Paw’s Ford
    Got Lost in the Depression
    He driv over the Divide
    And forgot to cleave the road
    Instead put atomic energy
    In the ass of his machine
    And flew to find
    The gory clouds
    Of rocky torment
    Far away
    And they fished him
    Outa Miner’s Creek
    More dead n Henry
    And a whole lot fonder,
    Podner—
    Clack of the wheel’s
    My freight train blues
    Third Street I seed
20TH CHORUS
    And knowed
    And under ramps I writ
    The poems of the punk
    Who met the Fagin
    Who told him ‘Punk
    When walkin with me
    To roll a Sleepin drunk
    Dont wish ya was back
    Home in yr mother’s parlor
    And when the cops
    Come ablastin
    With loaded 45’s
    Dont ask for gold
    Or silver from my purse,
    Its milken hassel
    Will be strewn
    And scattered
    In the sand
    By an old bean can
    And dried up kegs
    We’d a sat & jawed on—
21ST CHORUS
    Roll my bones
    In the Mortiary
    My terms
    And deeds of mortgagry
    And death & taxes
    All wrapt up.’
    Little anger Japan
    Strides holding bombs
    To blow the West
    To Fuyukama’s
    Shrouded Mountain Top
    So the Lotus Bubble
    Blossoms in Buddha’s
    Temple Dharma Eye
    May unfold from
    Pacific Center
    Inward Out & Over
    The Essence Center World
22ND CHORUS
    For the world’s an Eye
    And the universe is Seeing
    Liquid
    Rare
    Radiant.
    Eccentrics from out of town
    Better not fill in
    This blank
    For a job on my gray boat
    And Monkeysuits I furnish.
    Batteries of ad men
    Marching arm in arm
    Thru the pages
    Of Time & Life
23RD CHORUS
    The halls of MCA
    Singing Deans
    In the college morning
    Preferable to dry cereal
    When no corn mush
    Cops & triggers
    Magazine pricks
    Dastardly Shadows
    And Phantom Hero ines.
    Swing yr umbrella
    At the sidewalk
    As you pass
    Or tap a boy
    On the shoulder
    Saying “I say
    Where is Threadneedle
    Street?”
24TH CHORUS
    San Francisco is too sad
    Time, I cant understand
    Fog, shrouds the hills in
    Makes unshod feet so cold
    Fills black rooms with day
    Dayblack in the white windows
    And gloom in the pain of pianos:
    Shadows in the jazz age
    Filing by; ladders of flappers
    Painters’ white bucket
    Funny 3 Stooge Comedies
    And fuzzy headed Hero
    Moofle Lip suckt it all up
    And wondered why
    The milk & cream of heaven
    Was writ in gold leaf
    On a book—big eyes
    For the world
    The better to see—
25TH CHORUS
    And big lips for the word
    And Buddhahood
    And death.
    Touch the cup to these sad lips
    Let the purple grape foam
    In my gullet deep
    Spread saccharine
    And crimson carnadine
    In my vine of veins
    And shoot power
    To my hand
    Belly heart & head—
    This Magic Carpet
    Arabian World
    Will take us
    Easeful Zinging
    Cross the Sky
    Singing Madrigals
26TH CHORUS
    To horizons of golden
    Moment emptiness
    Whither whence uncaring
    Dizzy ride in space
    To red fires
    Beyond the pale,
    Rosy gory outlooks
    Everywhere.
    San Francisco is too old
    Her chimnies lean
    And look sooty
    After all this time
    Of waiting for something
    To happen
    Betwixt hill &