...Poetry / Dialog

Gigland is ruled by King Tin Ear and his Queen Anebria...

We,

the Subjects of Gigland are seldom ever heard over the

incessant clang of the Booze machines..

For some time,

the Corporate Wizards have had all the drowsy clientele

Completely under their spell.

The stages sit, silent now

as the sun has caused us to retreat

deep into the bedding of dark coffins.

But the night minstrels will rise

fully armed with an arsenal of ripping guitars,

whirling keyboards and pounding drums...

All linked by the new soul of technology-

Then,

a billion watts of sound will pour forth

onto the ears of it's numb patrons...

And the sensitive,

underpaid Troubadors of Gigland

will join in a rousing chorus-

an electric voice of unity

to protest against the silence

of desperate all-consuming night....

Look out granny-

Here We Come.

_____________

Charred voices burst through the holes

in a booming bass drum....

it beats wildly,

like the heart of a child who wants

to tell the story of the Circus he just saw...

Its' merciless assault falls-

Snap!

on deaf ears.

as we scream lines we've all heard

and uttered-

at least a thousand times....

On stage,

We strike the opening chords

like a calvary charge,

sending forth a rush of sound

into the bodies of our guests.

Our job is simple,

To start the Party off

And keep it going

until closing time.

Prince Valium just came in-

we call him that because

he's a bit lazy

and very rich,

and bears an uncanny

resemblance to a drunk Jim Morrison.

He's fond of slumming on tuesdays and thursdays,

so he comes here to get warmed up-

for the real parties on the weekend...

He rides up in his milk white Porche

knowin full well-

Miss Babylon is peekin' through the curtain.

As soon as she hears that engine

she's off to the john to gas up

practically jumps him at the door

she sure can blow a thick smoke screen.

Although, as far as looks go,

she's near Perfection.

They make a very Happy,

handsome couple

for about 10 whole minutes...

Then Drive Away stoned

at 97 miles an hour.

Over there,

far off in the corner

Lisa May Dances Alone

As always.

It's been that way.

Since she was 13,

She's goes home to Daddy and Daddy Only...

if you get what I mean...

Achilles the Heel,

Did make several passes at her though-

Keeping his other heel on Lady Marmalades'

Crimson Satin Disco Gown...

Who, for some reason,

never even spoke

To long time friends

Tragic Fanny or her daughter Fae tonight.

They drank their four Ice Tea's

pouted a few minutes,

And then left-

complaining-

About the lousy juke box selection

that fills up our breaks...

All in all though,

everyone is pretty subdued this evening

Except maybe,

Queen Jane-

the former porno star.

They say she was Lou Reed's pusher in the seventies...

she drops in six quarters for that song

"Her Tears Say, What She Never Could"

You know the one...

If i hear it one more time

i may get violent....

All the girls here play that stupid song...

it’s a late night anthem

Somehow tapped in with

the feminine mystique

i don't understand either...

They'll probably have to replace the whole CD now.

The Sooner The Better, man

It's sounding pretty worn...

The smoke's not too bad up here on stage

As our darling club owner Charlie

Has had the filters replaced for

the first time since 1973

our asthmatic keyboardist - Brian,

Is Breathing freely now

And complaining only mildly

about the watered down wine coolers.

He'll frequently Blame It On The Wine

When his lame chops get blasted

By the rest of us-

he's reliable though,

And sings like a burned out Billy Joel.

It's always better to have

an alcoholic keyboardist

rather than a guitarist-

drunk guitar players go off on some

bizarre tangents-

solos start taking on strange patterns

like Appalachian scales-

around some Greek chorus in

the reverb chamber of his mind.

Our bartender tonight is young Ray-

his father, Citizen Daze

Just called to warn him that Harley Tatoo

was seen with his ex-wife so be careful.

Harley's buddies are always near

just within muffler reach....

Chopper Joe and Chopper Jerry

being the most dangerous

But Ray says,

"Hey, the Honeymoon's more than Over

And wait til he tries her lasagne..."

The Judge and his Jury

showed up wednesday nite

to condemn a few faithless

non-patrons of their lowdown ways

and to remind all present

of a sale on friday in the meat department...

He says, If The Price Is Right

the consumer is too- and

if you show up,

you could win the big store raffle

fifty dollar jar of soap....

The judge then made some off-handed cellulite

remark

wherein Blimpy got sore and dropped his hot dog,

they're still cleanin' up themustard.

Salome Hosier dances for us now

in the red light-

seduces the boredom away...

a white trash trailer princess

her mother, Ma Barker

raised her to bite down hard

and leave a good mark,

find his weak spot and get on the lease...

She's sexy enough to be fatal

to even the most solid ego,

as those chalk outline on the dance floor clearly

show...

She slowly gyrates in the shadows of

deceit and floorplay

letting these drunk horny truckers

slip on their own testosterone drool...

After all,

a Pretty Face is a rarity round here

it's like a new Beer billboard

a splendidly painted sign post that there's

fresh dainties up ahead...

For us,

some needed mileage for

a dead end set...

In a place of wounded dreams,

limbo dances and mumbling spirits,

dead ends are common...

Again,

we're getting the rolling eyes

from our sound tech

the one with the P.H.D.

in obnoxious behavior.

his only true joy is robbing musicians of theirs...

I really envy him his three bills a week though....

Mary Magdoline has come in to see

the used car dealer about a Pontiac...

hope he don't rape her on the mark up...

Sandra, the Spider woman

is still looking for a Texas millionaire

with an  Ocean Liner yacht...

using sticky cigarettes fingers

and Raid perfume as her bait.

Her web seems to be thinning lately....

Both drink Rum and coke and glare

at Evita - ah, yes...

the pretty Cuban waitress

they're lucky she just works weekends

she has a great Amadeus laugh...

and a birthmark on her-

never mind....

The guitar player in the clown suit

is smiling this set--

He's smiling because he knows

where all his C chords are...

he keeps all his simple triads

in an old shoe box in his busy mind marked "junk"

he's smiling cause he's had two watermelon

shooters and he might get laid if Diane has another

budweiser...

He's smiling because he doesn't know

that Terry and Diane

punched a hole in heaven two nights ago

in His mustang....

the three 6's on his skull

don't show anymore

cause of the new wig,

he's a ram rod,

with Fusion impulses

and No style.

he quotes Benny Hill and Caligula

non stop-

he has the personality of a cobra

a real class act-

My buddy.

Half Loaded and Giddy

Were just 86'd,

kicking and scratching

All the way out the front door.

Everybody seemed genuinely pleased,

or at least momentarily amused....

But not near as much as

The Jackal and his hyenas

They're impersonating stallions...

Hate the real ones,

those smelly Italian braggarts...

Mild mannered Harry Samson

Who guards the temple door,

is said to have crushed Popeye Rayvin's hand

in an argument over Daphne Moses bra-size...

He's a big pussycat-

I still don't believe it...

And nobody saw the Lady on Reds leave-

and jump off Guilt-lust Ridge that night she made 11 trips

to the ladies restroom,

and was overheard sayin' "he'll be sorry then“ in the stall....

i thought she was drinkin' strawberry daiquiris,

and was doing swell...

It's the Middle of the week...

the natives are restless and swollen

like polish sausage bursting on grill,

or a water balloon rolling on hot dead grass...

So why is everybody still here?

it can't be the tacos,

Or the Band...

Those Mother hens in the front row

all night sqwuaking about how cute my boss is-

He points at them as if to say

"You're The One " babe

Then pokes fun at the same aging beauties

in the dressing room backstage

the ones who eat too many leftovers and

broke all the mirrors at home...

Gentlemen always prefer blondes

but there ain't any of those here

so the brunettes are cleaning up...

It 's half time, have to get back up there

the game draws much better than the band

so it 's top dog around here-

I'm merely another Jester in

Emperor Footballs royal court..

Spent the whole break

Talkin' to Doris Clay

She had a wholesome past

but has a doleful present,

and was wondering why

Rock Huggy-bear and

Cary Gram-cracker turned gay?

I'll give you a clue there sister...

And Everyone's wondering about-

the morning after.

Will it be foreign sheets or Winchells again?

I have no such delusions

Or Illusions-

Probably Dunkin' Donuts for me....

Non-Fiction is always stranger

and much thicker,

Than the other stuff-

Nobody reads anymore...

This Report from Gigland-

Good night.

__________

{Gigland Game Object...Find 15 Hidden Song Titles}

*PERFECTION

*MISS BABYLON

*HAPPY

*THE HONEYMOON'S OVER

*LISA MAY DANCES ALONE

*BREATHING

*THE SOONER THE BETTER

*BLAME IT ON THE WINE

*ILLUSIONS

*HER TEARS SAY

(WHAT SHE NEVER COULD)

*PRINCE VALIUM

*NON-FICTION

*DRIVE AWAY

*YOU'RE THE ONE

*IF THE PRICE IS RIGHT

_____________

BLAND MOMENT

In this Bland moment, dearest one,

you look as tired as a cold fire-in Ashes and dark eyes-

The Pressure can burst rusty pipes

I have to linger back and wait for Raw feeling to Cook...

the grinding of dishes and glasses gets a jagged response-

Masks are lifted -

but only briefly

for urges to be exchanged

for Love, sins, and remorse-

remorse gets first crack

at the Naked pages cradled in an Alcohol fog...

Razor sharp words and hidden meanings find knee Jerk smiles-

The Potion is working

Splendidly tonite...

The rattling wind outside

Slams against too much Carnage

and a solace Mix we choose this Dungeon instead-

cold Coffee and Candles unlit

watch the wet battery minds sputter.

The game is Courage but the Questions remain the same

re-runs and baffling simplicity

Tip driven cohorts Brag & complain

ever mindful of their Power...

We bounce from Waitress to bartender in a flux of Shop-talk-

voices in chatter

Drift like balloons through the air

Crude words used and abused the pleasant tones

as moods shift

Lotus land is covered in Blankets of forget...

the cold acceptance of

the advertising War on intelligence

Shit is what the Public embraces...

__________

DARK

Gigland is especially dark tonite

all the fires are out in my head

I'm swaying to a different sound

that of peace and stillness

the unwavering drops of time have pooled

in a place for these precious few moments

...Gigland is far off from this resting

Stop-Stop-Stop-

Cocktail sign doesn't flicker or show any signs of life-

Can real meaning find it's way in here?

can I afford to care? Lounges are full of dishonored guests

all around the world the Poisons collect-

I'm infected and have been for a long time...

_____________

The lounge is safe haven to the same losers-

here, we comfort each other with our presence....

some of us are only here for the money...

some of us are here for the women...

some of us are only here for the attention....

some of us are here to drink...

(If the boss will allow it)

There is still hope in our heroes and our creations...

and Hope has many followers...

Like these women only half aware

of the sad boyfriend trials

they will some-

day face...

Only vaguely mind-ful

Of the Mommy Missing Misfits we have

become

Hearing the horrible tales told over Kamikazee shots

thinking 0"that won't be my guy

that will never be- mine

is forever faithful"...

as He eyes the waitress and flirts with the chicky singer

playing table games they all despise but preferring

them

to the ostracized position of band-outcast

stuck-up wench or supreme-bitch

parked at home...

When crashing egos hit faithless patrons

in a fury of despair

when red eyes get

beaten shut with spreading coma-tose-syndrome

When fish-head-body-odor stench

piles up fast

in the back room/ kitchen/dressing room

and insults tighten the air.

There is no purer competitive agony than that of

entertainer angst...

That's when I hide...

Deep into the forest of distraction

in a corner booth reading comics and philosophy

for a temporary escape

it's a comic book dream here with 3d graphics...

You find yourself further in the corner

Than when you started out

And wonder how this dark room could get any darker...

As the words cave in on you,

You find out more things about people

that you didn't want to know in the first place.

All of us

Crying for renunciation

from a pitied present...

Tension-

For in all of Gigland there

is only the familiar smirks

and no mention

of the stupor.

I recognize sublimity in the faces of a fanciful few

Who can escape then?

What scream can shatter such a deep human trance?

And release the mind that's never seen a real light?

Music is a watery force here-

Diluted to the point of a background hum-

I am nothing but a suited noise maker....

i've been a part of the hoax for a long time now

there is no hiding from the cycle of showtime highs and lows

of broken sound boards

and ugly cheap lighting of frowning players whose tired mates are now leaving

or have left...

Where thin skinned insecurity is forever pounding

on the back Stage Door...

____________

INSOMNIACS PRAYER

5:30 AM

Sleep is a challenge here-

shaking off the frozen glare of a hundred vacant eyes

that seem to drip like acid into your soul...

the Indians thought cameras extinguished a soul

big deal...they come and will not go...

home, to their own nightmares....

People that collect their garbage for weeks and bring it here

to dump

folks who revel in the fact that they got off their leash

they escaped,The trouble is,

there is no leash...and there never was....Their short spurts of freedom

Have been wrestled away from fogged up windows

whose imaginations are

Volkswagons without wheels...

_____________

MAIDS IN WAITING

The maids can't wake the music people-

Up.

Low whispers heard in the hall

They never rise early-

enough.

Immoveable ghosts,

behind pale yellow silent

doors...

Like that scene

in "The Shining" where

little boy rides through

Lamp lit corridors...

The maids push squeaky carts and shuffle towels

into position-

tidy Bathrooms, and make beds

in all rooms-

but Ours.

We are the True Vampire Race

and will rise late

just in time for dinner-

and a show...

Quiet please.

___________

GIGLAND GOSSIP

You need a road map for the conversations

around here-

they take some very bizarre turns

You keep saying in your head,

Don't go there,

Don't go there,

But you're already

there...

A penny and a shot

for those deep thoughts...

__________

Margaret Must Decide -

A decision must be reached

Her faith has been well bleached

the pigeon toe prostitute gives up one for the money

and two for the show...

Then Silos Mariner creeps-

In... he needs a woman

he knows a fair price he raised a lady ya know.

Gladys is here for her

medicine

Burgundy 500 miligrams- it soothes the arthritis and ties up those fraid nerve

ends-

thinking about that concubine she called her daughter

once....

________

And Martha misses her husband

now that he's dead

she did'nt miss him a day he as alive-

We called him Tired Ted...

_________

Shirly tries to get rid

Of a cold-

She's sipping

Too much and Talking too

much-

feels old..

_________

Lanz has clients with expensive

Gripes-

he can't seem to make the bills freeze

or shrink...

He's here to drink

either Tequila for a tooth-ache

or beer for a belly ache

winks-

at Brenda,

who is still very pretty

and on Ladies night a bit wittythere's still no one at work

She likes-

she's lonely only after dark

and tired of wasting time...

Wants to move on

or in - with someone...

Does it really matter who?

__________

These ancient beauties might still be attractive

if they had all their teeth

and a few thousand in the bank...

____________

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