As always, Deborah, your pome packs punch with purpose. You carefully
record those misrepresenting themselves (the Satan in them?), yet still
wonder why you can't enjoy "it." I don't wonder at all!
My favorite part:
"I move through the scene
like the scent of funnel cake . . ."
Judy
From: "deborah russell"
Subject: poem, sorta
>I Don't Take Shit From Satan
>
>
> Anasazi, Kokopelli, Buddha,
> God and Satan arrive
> (at the same time)
> for the Fort Collins, New West Fest
>
> God, of course, has His hands full...
> Satan is a real ass and looses face
> (pretending to be an athletic
> biker/skier type who digs Feng Shui)
>
> I do my best David Bowie
> (dance with myself to a sixties
> rock n roll cover band -
> hands full of poems, baklavah
> and cheese quesadillas)
>
> I don't take shit from Satan,
> I tell him straight out
> he must be on drugs . . .
>
> I'm here to have fun, period.
> To hell with you, Satan!
>
> I move through the scene like
> the scent of funnel cake,
> Thai Steak and Buffalo burgers -
> in and out of crowds
> and so called, artisan's tents
> (their ignorance accelerates
> my steps) . . .
>
> I pick up a Neo Inca CD
> by South American Musicians
> (living in New Mexico and Denver)
> who record Peruvian spiritual songs
> in a production studio
> somewhere in Texas
> A recording studio which dictates
> which cover songs (Pink Floyd,
> Rolling Stones, etc.) they will record
> (under contract)
> with "original" and ancient Holy songs
> of the Incas? I give up, and try on
> a "Western" hat (made in Colorado)
> that looks remarkably Australian
> and then try on some "original"
> Native American jewelry (made in Taiwan)
>
> At the beanery, I order a large, iced coffee -
> trying not to think of anything
> except my copy of Adrienne Rich poetry
>
> I decide to call "it" a day but can't help
> wondering why . . .
>
> Deborah Russell
>
>
> (For DZ, in the light of Bob Dylan)
>
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