This poem is something of a shout out to the raucous songs of Ginsberg and a few other poets. I have no idea if the songs they wrote were songs or if they were just poems with strong, basic rhythms. Anyhow, mine is the latter. It is an odd to masturbation, as told through a skeleton. Or well, I think it is. I may have been drinking when I wrote it. I really do not remember.
Come on skelly boy, shake your stones!
Let's call it a night and get right down;
I have a lung full of air and no need to breathe
And your face is just a grotesque thing.
Its a match made! Its heavenly!
A man and his bones taking a chance!
Its a beaut! It's just damn near perfect!
A man and his bone doing the dance!
Its true, they say, I'm a blind man
'Cause I never saw exactly what we might
Have together if we could last.
Looks like its another night alone
We walk into the space port bar, but alas
They don't serve your kind here.
A sack of white, they want you served up
In some dank laboratory!
Your clacking little bone toes echo
All night long, we'll swing another song!
Come on, skelly boy, you're my best friend
And I got a plan, let's go...
hand in hand.
It's a match made! It's exquisite!
A man and and his bone all wild!
Its a match made! Wondrous!
Walking my bones for miles!
TAKE A CHANCE!
This poem written by W. Doug Bolden.
"The hidden is greater than the seen."