The French Whore Who Would Not Sing

When she opens her unsmiling red painted lips
I expect to hear a song in French
Something sultry, contralto,
“Tu es mon amour,
mon coeur, mon tous,
mon avenir et mon passé.”
But she sings in a nasal soprano
without soul, something modern.
It’s an English faux dirge
Filled with what passes for class
But with its knickers showing,
Pale angst included.
Where’s the [...]

Absinthe Makes the Mind go Yonder

Like being underwater,
Voices are garbled and faces waver.
For this night my world is “happy”.
Whatever that means, really,
But there’s a smile on my face,
And nothing morose enters
The bitter-sweet catacombs inside my head
Just the music and the safety of noise
From people seeking this word “happy”,
Much like me…
There’s a certain comradery here.
This sweet state of cheerful oblivion
Is known [...]

Sunday Night At The Orchid Room

I come here to listen.
To youth and vigor spilling out
from inner voices that speak of vinegar and honey,
of sulfuric acid and mercury.
Sweet Voodoo Child tests the waters
giving glimpses of the power of her words
yet to come.
She is what gives us hope for the future,
as delicate as the dew-shimmering webbing
of a dragonfly’s wings
caught under the microscope’s [...]