god bless kaia ra

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rawclyde!

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VALLEY OF DEMOCRACY NO. 9

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Ah, to be a vibrant spiritual energy beneath the sun and moon

perfect as an angel whether it be midnight or high noon

rather than a tranquilized benumbed stumbling baboon

pissing all over myself, unable to find my spoon

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Ah, to accept with graceful nonchalance the imperfection in others

to gently warm with my humble presence all sisters and all brothers

rather than buying a sawed-off shotgun to blow off some drunk’s head

‘cuz I think the world is better off if his worthless hide lay dead

~

So I killed a scoundrel, who cares?  I’m Jack Butt

I love my wife, Jane, such a pretty power-hungry slut

I love it when she humps one of her black bucks n’ then comes home

sits on my face as my whip of a tongue fastidiously makes her groan

~

When she sits down in a short skirt that advertizes the texture of her panties

framed by fuzzy wonderment that pulverizes a poor man’s fantasies

when she tells me what she wants for dinner & demands my tongue for dessert

how cannot I kneel & slither up beneath that magic skirt?

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Oh I try to be good, love Mother Mary & Jesus too

but apparently I married the wrong woman, ’tis true

the hot wet demonettes of her soul screamed down my throat of doom

and then the sawed-off shotgun I purchased, well, booooooom!

~

I didn’t mind her gettin’ it on with Harry, the amiable Indian drunk

I’m willing to share, but he was such a disrespectful skunk

besides screwing my wife he kept asking me for money for beer

relentlessly I bought the cah-boomer, now he’s a memory, I fear

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Ahhhhhhh, it’s the gouche moment that kills for-ever-more

why’d I marry Jane, the saucy power-crazed whore?

i could’a been a saint, i truly believe ’tis oh so true

instead, I’m a vanished hobo beneath this desert blue

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Oh, to be a vibrant spiritual energy beneath the sun and moon

perfect as an angel whether it be midnight or high noon

rather than a tranquilized benumbed stumbling baboon

pissing all over myself, unable to find my spoon

…

(Copyright Clyde Collins 1999)

from the out-of-print book

A Love Song To The American Lizard

by

Rawclyde!

valley of democracy no. 8

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“Dissolve the Duma!” replied the Czar as he picked his nose

and the proletarians advanced, that’s just how it goes

meanwhile, there’s bats, remarkable creatures, darting to n’ fro

picking off all the flying insects in the desert lamp-post glow

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Lenin, quite a Russian, never did get a job in a factory

however, he did take over the Revolution, some say very satisfactorily

meanwhile, a dog sidles up to me so that I can scratch away a biting flea

as I sit here “selling books” in the Valley of Democracy

~

Elmer Gantry, quite a guy, wanted to be the dictator of morals in the USA

thankfully, he was only fiction, so nobody had to drive him away

meanwhile, destroyers of the desert stop to fill up with gas

their three-wheelers sparkle & over by the tree I’m a donkey’s ass

~

Of course, I’d rather be a donkey’s ass than be them dumb mother-fuckers

God almighty, what a bunch of stupid fricking thorn-pluckers

look at ’em:  yeah, duh, I’m having a good time today

fucking-up the desert with my expensive toys, hey hey hey

~

Can’t we get them ass-holes interested in something like donkeys?

riding a donkey would no doubt be just as much fun, though kind of funky

high-tech baboons, reaching for the stars, we are

scream it ultra loud, my son, upon your electric hollering guitar

…

rawclyde

!

(Copyright Clyde Collins 1999)

valley of democracy no. 7

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I was sitting under my favorite tree right where I belong

in the desert, you see, a part of thee ol’ desert song

I’m not saying how it came to be or making it into a big deal

so this story has no beginning nor does it have a sequeel

~

It’s just a little happening I don’t ever want to misplace

you know, like two big brown eyes in a little Indian girl’s face

you know, looking up at you like you’re part of the human race

like a little piece of charity turned around & dealt you an ace

~

I mean, Indians talk to me now that I’m parked on the other side of the highway

they look at me and talk, in fact, no matter what I hint or do, they won’t go away

I mean, last year, well, it was okay with tourists and all

but now, well, I guess it’s People Time in the desert this fall

~

Here’s what happened, let me try to get this right, let’s see

I was reading to three little Indian girls sitting on the ground at my knee

and then, and then, well, that’s all there is to this particular song

I was sitting under my favorite tree right where I belong

…

rawclyde

!

(copyright clyde collins 1999)

smiling camel adventure

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VALLEY of DEMOCRACY # 6

by rawclyde !

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Take Salvador, a maintenance man at Campland On The Bay

when someone tries to get him to do something without a delay

but he’s got something else to do, he’ll just sympathetically say:

“sorry, senior, I’m on a mission from God,” and drive away

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And plugging along down the Campland lane on a little golf cart

loaded with tools and me beside him playing a viable part

off to the rescue of someone’s plugged drain, I whine as we go:

“i would’ve liked one more cup of coffee before we left for this valley below”

…

text: (copyright clyde collins 1999)

post editor: spitball fury

from: a love song to the american lizard, an out-of-print book by rawclyde !

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