Living in LA

An Old Poem of Mine Based on My Home City

Living in LA

a real great offense

some dirty clothes

and a few helmets

makes a good team

said the fat man with a mustache

a few high notes and a few low notes

too bad Mozart did not know

but Marilyn Manson provoked

Boobs, butts, and big bellies

what strippers have in the valley

they can run a defensive linesman

or have a cat chase by a dog

and rats can really like the trash

birds poo on windshields

and cats poo in their litters

reading and relaxing at the beach

seaweed around my ankles

riding a wave on my long board

doing a hang-ten

falling off and breaking my leg

it’s television’s biggest night

all artists are dressed in gala

with horse hair dresses and wedding bans

why are they so materialistic?

maybe they feel like they’re insufficient

makes me want to stay

cause they have a big gimmick

they also have interesting people

and all the pretty stars

they get beat up

a woman married to the mob

why not be normal

maybe it’s too vacant at her house

escape to nirvana

12 gauge another rage

the next dimension of clean

is at the urban scene

but everything could go wrong

imagine yourself like an old man

going to Disneyland for salvation

no one tells you they’re going to kill you

you know what I’m talking about, kid?

the babes in the woods routine

your only salvation is to disappear

but keep the sugar-bowl and the car

everything is for the taking

when your a nobody

but someday be anybody

I feel like LA

why not Chinese?

parking lot black pigeon

karate chop the speedbump

skid marks are red tone

sing to me baby

hurt me and make me feel good

the spirit of Jimi James and the Blue Flames

lives through the streets of intoxication

and living in a patented trashy circle

check the labels

your hope will save the world

television really cares

for magnificent fortresses and lavish gardens

with artistry designed for ceilings

what a beautiful view from the Geti

out to the stoic city

own style of clothing

refuse to wear condoms

how about that protection?

believers neglect their appearance

ancestors come for your soul

graves of concrete

two burials for the price of one

cause is the bargain of the month

the colors you dream in

rests in the hands of God

how much is a body worth?

a pack of cigarettes

or some boots

language of silence

I actually got it

keep the cool longer

fuses are burning

trixters are fooling

fire to the heart

like untreatable form of cancer

you’re playing a game

snake eyes can be your friend

with a beer in your hand

marinated thoughts of distress

of life’s foolish fixes

performance poetry
Bazooka Teaches
Bazooka Teaches
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Bazooka Teaches

A regular Joe with a peculiar noodle inside his helmet. Loves to write and is constantly fighting the forces of evil.

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