Tuesday, September 10, 2013

Stop Torturing Carly Simon!

It's not right
it's hurtful
intentions left hanging out like broken bones jutting from
ribbons of horribly colored flesh
limbs burned off cauterized stumps or
looking like carcasses blown up
but still alive and crawling begging for something more
hands claw shaped and digging
showing these images is upsetting
yet she says necessary
tears streaming down her blackened face
it gets you right here
right in the ol' bread basket
right here in the bag of oranges
tender and pendulous
it's not right the way they keep
doing that to her
making her put down her guitar
carefully peel off the clipped on microphone
pull out her in-ear monitors one by one
tilting her head first to one side then to the other
her face blank her fingers nimble but slow and careful
anticipation making me wait
the intentions revealed as mean-spirited harsh spiteful and cruelly blunt
smoldering holes blown through studio walls the materials just dust now
the skin to continue this sick array in metaphor
pulled and drawn with stress
yet still having the tired sag of age
it's torture they keep saying
it's torturous
and so obvious
this lust for blood or cum and such
rabid and frothing
chomping they churn
picking up every drop
of your sick shit
it's not right
it's hurtful
hurtling through the broken store windows
sick swipes at a car barely going 35
limo black windows distorting
each leering face leaned in toward the glass
her hair was lovely until this shit happened
burnt sulfur smell and singed ends
her makeup alone took hours
and the lights and filters the set and stage
all these people left standing around
the stress of knowing that at some point
this shit would actually happen?
it's just not right
intentionally hurtful
such a mean display
making me wait
making us wait
making her weight

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