Bullet in the brain

06May08

Sitting on the desolation row,
I looked at the captain’s tower.
Pound and Eliot were not seen,
perhaps gone home having got tired.

The poisonous words were still floating around,
the lover boy done in by them.
Cinderella was sweeping the shining floor
shedding a tear at the pumpkin rotten.

The forces were out there lying in wait,
keeping a tight watch over the bait.
For they knew what it was like
to be on the desolation row.

The Waste Land shimmered
far in the east beneath the setting sun.
The Gatsby’s party had begun
as the lights came on.

Dark it was still on the row though,
the blind Romeo still searching for her,
at the wrong time in the wrong place
with a terribly wronged face.

The man with a little moustache and
the man with little hair
were conspiring against men
of better hair and moustaches.

They talked of speeches and marches,
the centres had come up they agreed,
time to barge in through
the fences and the arches.

The voice was still speaking
from the altar heard by none
for in the madness around,
nobody heard the ancient sound.

‘Can I have a light?’ asked Munro,
wearing a soiled trench coat.
As I fumbled trying to save him,
he went away, ‘Never mind’.

Einstein was long gone,
Newton locked up in prison,
Holmes had lost his touch,
doing time in the desolation row.

I heard the wheels on the streets
they had arrived clattering.
Dickian agents poured out
armed with flushed minds holding sparkling wines.

The power of love sang somebody
as the clock chimed and went on,
they put out their cigars
and brought out their guns.

I blinked and sighed and closed my eyes,
in a moment of panic when
they put a bullet in my brain,
I found I’d been shot on the desolation row.

Filed under: Boredom, Crap, Frustration, General, Insanity, More Crap, Personalities, Poems, The Dark Side, Uncategorized   |  
Tags: Bob Dylan, Desolation Row, Plagiarism, Mundane, Copy