DO I GIVE A FUCK?

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DO I GIVE A FUCK?

There he was,

As I bit into my Big Mac,

Throwing shapes;

At whom I am not too sure,

Maybe at himself

Or the devil he clearly had in his pocket;

Because he was dancing on dandelions,

Hopping on hot grilles,,

Twisting, grimacing,

Playing to some mad gallery in his head,

Laughing at a joke somebody was playing,

Or maybe he was just out of his

Dope-fucked mind.

Either way it didn’t matter;

I just wished he would let me

Eat my fucking burger in peace.

EVOLUTION

EVOLUTION

I was weaned on country music

Rock-n-roll and poverty

Irish style.

Son, the priest said,

Put that guitar away

And get that hair cut right

And don’t play

‘I Can Get No Satisfaction’

Tonight.

 

It’s a sin to call yourselves

The Red Devils, he said,

And in his shadows

I could see mother nodding her head.

So we became The Royal Dukes,

Zig-zagging across Munster

And played ‘Nineteenth Nervous Breakdown’

Instead.

 

This will not do, he roared,

Rattling his pulpit,

The youth of my parish,

Harbingers of the Devil’s music,

What is wrong with Frank Ifield?

Dead music, Father, I told him

And offered to debate it

But he wouldn’t listen.

So I emigrated.

THE ANIMALS.