Friday, March 21, 2014

Murder at a Brooklyn Hall

Making love to Ella with our eyes, on this night of a Brooklyn orgy
Star struck; watch as we rattle tables and chairs, calling out Goddess
Sister rock and roll, maim us, rope our throats one by one to the ceiling
We are dieing from the music, electric instruments, modern day sex toys
Dance the snake dance, microphone cord around your ballerina body
Sweat, seethe, send sensations plunging deep inside, clitoria, cuntus
Female divine, angels fall here upon us, hiding behind amplified walls
Outside boys pose like fire, they become purchasable, selling their souls
White fish, she coils into me, our fingers form into one, love symbol
Boyfriends, beside the bar, labeling themselves available, why now
Before us is spectacle, voice superior, watch her lose it, come completely
Her words are poetry, she confesses, brunette hair falling over face
Desire, he desires her, calls out her name, aroma of him, so desperate
Long haired and bearded, beer bombed, stray hobo, Whitman mysteriso
Alone in his allure, that bottle stature left empty, broken, he whispers
Drummer crashes, freakish sound goes off amidst the clutter, spinning
Beat down this heat, paradiddles paranoia, slam the snare drum down
Rhythmic fetish, feed the bang along, gong, thunder among the ruins
Stage delirium, light flashes in red hue, oh beautiful madam, seizure
Trip around until you fall, breath of a cat catching furs, heart’s beating
Pull yourself along the pole, stand again, redeem yourself, you are gold
Reason we came, this evening has no end; we shall murder ourselves again

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