Lawrence Carradini

 

MOOD "E"

I feel like
some
stuffed
mushroom
caps.
Fry um up and serve em.
Like swan lake boats an' butta.
Like little tubs of yumma!
Give me a tall
amber
ale and a paper
or a
piece.
This is what living all about is made of.
If Monday morning rolls around
and I haven't had my fill
then I'm just full of haven't.
I haven't laid the ground work
for another afternoon.
I haven't made my mind.
Haven't paid my doo wa.
I'm as good as ditty.
No, don't give me that.
I don't want another one
excuse is no good as a
'nother.
I'm in the mood for some
stuffed mushroom
caps.
I'm in the mood for fun
and a job I like doing
which is exactly what I do
when I don't let someone else's
head back me into a corner
or tell me I should do
another.
Yum!
Yowza!
Can ya taste the butta?
Be a daisy, monkey-flower.
Roses
really don't care.
Walk around the corner.
Talk to the show and listen.
Let me be a bonnet if I want to.
Blue, and butter on it.

 

Long John Silvers

What's this desert about
any      how?

You've got your snakes and antlers,
and dried out cow bones.
Cacti when you're lucky.
They told me that this was the throughway
to the true hotel sics and crazy
eights.
What the-hells-atspose t'
mean?
I just keep wandering,
finding the same
thing.

Why is it,
"it's just

never          e-nough?"

These people keep getting clean.
They talk to me

telling
'bout some special of the day.

Some day some body else is
gonna
grave on this big fish thing—
scratch it ona
rock.

They'll sell    millions.

But, right     now    —    I'm gonna have

this

        dance.

 

Mass. (Avenue Blues)

God sPoke t' me
an' said
          "Go Out:
Go Blow;
Blow the wildest deep.
Sleep when y' time comes.
Sing where they let ya,
& hum softly where th' don¹t.
Roll wit' da punches, Man,
Don' b' scared.
Get smart when yr dumb,
then—
          shut
up,
cause everone's got to find
          their
o  w  n;
if—geeze, The Holy,
Man, canned water to the horses
lead,
what whole can you hope t' show.
Go!
          Go Blow,
b' don' spect a pat,
or t' butta y' bread;
more like a
                slap
back
a-cross th' temple.
You   a  r  e.
               Money changes
but the price remains
in-
 's a n e."

 

© by Lawrence Carradini