Wednesday, June 11, 2014

My Fav'ritist Thangs / One fo' the Hist'ry Books / 16 Lines fo' a Girl o' 16 / Long Distance Lullaby

Johnny Longfellow's poetry has appeared online at The Barefoot Muse, Thieves Jargon, Thunder Sandwich, and Underground Voices.  He is also curator of the online art site, Midnight Lane Gallery.

My Fav’ritist Thangs
                        —after Rodgers & Hammerstein

Sunset in Vegas ‘n’ bottles o’ whiskey
Cocaine on mirrors ‘n’ chicks who ‘re frisky
Hellin’ ‘roun havin’ my meanin’less flings
Them there’s a few o’ my fav’ritist thangs

Bright feather boas ‘n’ red satin sashes
Sprinkles o’ glitter on plastic eyelashes
Black leather bustiers laced up with strings
Them there’s a few o’ my fav’ritist thangs
Coppin’ a blowjob jus’ east o’ El Paso
Slingin’ my Stetson aroun’ like a lasso
Drivin’ so fast that it’s like I got wings
Them there’s a few o’ my fav’ritist thangs

When the cops come
When the coke stings
When I go boo hoo
I simply remember my fav’ritist thangs
An’ then I don’t feel so blue

One fo' the Hist'ry Books 

Her hist’ry’s full o’ cheatin’ men,
Or so I heard ‘er say.
She made the same mistake again

With Verne ‘n’ Clyde she’d made with Ben,
An’ not to mention Ray.
Her his’try’s full o’ cheatin’ men

Like Leon, Bubba, Jake 'n' Ren,
Though Ren—turns out—was gay.
She made the same mistake again

Once she’d hooked up with this guy, Glenn,
Who banged ‘er sister, Fay.    
Her his’try’s full o’ cheatin’ men,

So once, with Liz—an’ their frien', Jen!—
She swung the other way. . .
She made the same mistake again,

When back at my place, nearin’ 10,
I figured, “Fuckin’-A!
Her hist’ry’s full o’ cheatin’ men?—
She made the same mistake again. . .”

16 Lines fo’ a Girl o’ 16

Yo’ mama was a porno queen
Befo’ she was a ho,
An’ come the day ya’ turned 16

She walked on out the do’.
She walked on out the do’ that day
In jus’ the clothes she wo’,

While daddy up ‘n’ had ‘is way
With you the who’ night long.
Now, who in Hell’s the right to say

That what ya’ did was wrong,
That time ya’ waited with a gun
In jus’ yo’ bra ‘n’ thong

To shoot that fool fo’ all he’d done?
To shoot that turkey dead?
To shoot that father of yo’ son
Straight in the fuckin’ head?

Long Distance Lullaby
                       —after Shakespeare’s “Sonnet CIX”

Come midnight, should a gath’rin’ thunder start
To rumble ‘cross a glow’rin’ Texas sky,
Big Mama, don’t believe my wand’rin’ heart
Would give ya’ cause fo’ cryin’, “Why? O Why?”
Your soul’s my double-wide: it’s where I park
When I’m not haulin’ freight through pourin’ rain;
It’s where I lay me down inside the dark,
Returnin’ from my ramblin’ ‘cross the plain.
Now sure, I’ve seen them down ‘n’ dirty chicks
Pannin’ their slinky wares on rainy nights—
But why, fo’ all their wigs, rhinestones, ‘n’ tricks
Would I throw on my brake ‘n’ parkin’ lights?
            Big Mama, cat’s meow!? my one ‘n’ all,
            Across the plain my Wrrrrrrrrrrr! returns your call.

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