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valley of democracy no. 22

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Well, I slept with Juneena, I slept with Nadine Bonapartie

with a young woman on the bus I had a 3-day motel-room party

never did get to really sleep with the high n’ mighty Laura Gwen

and with Glidia, well, it would have been a sin

~

Yippy tie-oh, here I go to die out yonder

Yippy tie-aye, let me lay beneath the thunder

the sky will split, it’ll be a hearty jolt

when I’m burn’t to a crisp by a lightning bolt

~

Well, Juneena got away and so did Ms. Bonapartie

and there is no such thing as an eternal party

Laura Gwen, these days, is living with the college dean

and with Glidia I just got too damn mean

~

Yippy tie-oh, here I go to die out yonder

Yippy tie-aye, let me lay beneath the thunder

the sky will split, it’ll be a hearty jolt

when I’m fried to a crisp by a lightning bolt

…

rawclyde

!

text: (Copyright Clyde Collins 1999, 2025)

dancers: https://www.youtube.com/@LenaGukina

boot hill, boot hill, so cold, so still

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VALLEY OF DEMOCRACY NO. 16

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I gave Harry the drunk buzzard a ride home at sundown

the Big Dipper poured a sparkling lullaby across a sky glory bound

a certain decision made me sad, but I was somewhat glad

to float thru a village church and a vision of my old drunk dad

~

Driving home at night on thee olde Indian reservation

had me a burro chowin’ down on thorny grass revelation

if the White world stood on its head instead of its feet

its brain would be closer to the earth and easier to greet

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Holy Mary took her seat next to the passenger window

talked about cookin’ for Jesus when she was a widow

said He had a good appetite but was kind of preoccupied

with saving everybody by having to get Himself crucified

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I parked under my tree & greeted the easy-going hombre under a cowboy hat

who lets me squat next to his gas station for free, how ’bout ‘dat?

I bent his ear for a while & then, & then crawled into the sack

and in a burst of insanity turned into meat-whacker Jack

~

I got over that pretty quick, eventually fell asleep

had a dream about an old girl friend who started to weep

this broke my heart but worse, in the morning there was no coffee

but I found a free cup some place else in this Valley of Democracy

…

rawclyde

!

(copyright clyde collins 1999)

god bless kaia ra

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rawclyde!

~

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

~

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?

~

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

~

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

~

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. 3

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~

by rawclyde

!

Fortress Ann, she’s quite a gal, her beauty volcano-izes men’s lust

where ever she goes she deals with it as she must

I’d like to wed & bed her myself & raise kids who have her chilling dark eyes

she runs her life like a fortress, though, beneath these desert skies

~

She may not know it, but she’s a desert woman tranquilized

by a healthy small city culture that isn’t too much advertised

I love her much but fear such love will never be returned

so I bequeath to her a futile friendship rather than get my heart burned

~

So her and gutless me, we sat in the restaurant talkin’ true n’ silly

when she gave me the Chicano Girl Look, it was quite a dilly

I’m only 15 years older than her and poor but what the schmuck

her Chicano Girl Look has given me nothing, nothing but good luck

~

In her past, I bet, low-down miners drilled too savagely into her rapturous mines

so here I sit in the desert relaxing with the memory of our lunch-time times

I remember sittin’ across the table from her watching that Look seductively glow

“I’ll have one more cup of coffee before I go to the valley below”

…

(copyright clyde collins 1999)