the HARANGUE/Scott C. Dragoo

 

She’s an Addiction

You are there when my eyes are open
you are there when my eyes are closed
I just can’t seem to shake you loose
once just a dream to me
you used to be my love
used to mean the world to me
now your just a noose

I’m not sure what I’ll do
not really sure where I’ve been
I don’t know where I’m headed
but you are sure to tag along
determined and destined
to be my shadow
waiting at every corner
hiding behind every door

Life is a labyrinth
some confusing riddle never to solve
unlike you
easy and predictable
and the outcome I’ve been rewarded
is a trying future with you for me

 

Grandpa

I was expecting an old dusty skeleton
when I went to see you today
but you looked just like I remembered
in just as good humor as ever

I expect to see you on your red motorcycle
80 years old
now banished from two wheels for life
Betty’s orders
and her word has always been the rule

doesn’t stop you from smoking your cigars
or drinking cheap beer

(we didn’t say a lot
its difficult for me to yell
making pleasant conversation)

You asked me if I drank and what
I know what’s golden in your life
but you still makes me proud.

 

I have my own way of dealing with trouble makers-

You know
There is gonna be trouble

When I bring
My tweezers with me
Looking for a fight

Stand back
Or lose an eyebrow!

 

Can’t Catch Me! I’m The Gingerbread Man

Down with physical laws
and natures way

Adjust your own
reality
and live in a more
assuming lifestyle
devoted to the
contradictions at hand

Hallucinations
and false ideas
to make up the rules
that aim your days
forward

You haven’t given me
a worthwhile cause
to fit in this world
so now
I manufacture my own

Follow me down this shortcut
if you dare
I have something to show you
if you can see




Hot outside, cold down here, where I write, where I write my words, words and nonsense, nonsense and words, nonwords, wordsense, I write purely for profit, purely for the profit of my limbic system a thing they sometimes confuse for the soul, I write for the profit of one or two good eyes to chuckle once or twice from what the see, I profit from making someone think once, I profit from giving someone an idea if only briefly and if only for the etch a sketch, I profit from disturbing the uninitiated.
I forget my age when I write, I forget Im a man, I forget Im a human, I am just a device that batters together strange symbols that someone told me is a word, a sentence, a paragraph.
I don't care for rules or oppression, I don't care for the unscrupulous that flock about me or for the places they eat and swim.
I am just another thing this universe shat out as it did all things and one day it will swallow me back up as it does all things and when this happens I will again be gone.

audioicon.gif - 586 Bytes
goo
Scott C. Dragoo



messageboard feedback

interview | website | email | to forum | BACK to front
© 1998-2002 the Harangue - Scott C. Dragoo / the-hold.com - all rights reserved
[ TOP ]