Sherry Shahan

A Most Disgusting Poem: Homage to Sixto Diaz Rodriguez

I’ve written in every kind of pleasure dome
I’ve scrawled in bowling alleys, biker dives
Dance halls, strip bars, old folks’ homes.
All the times I’ve hummed requiems
The same lines, rhymes, sooty impromptus.
So if you read on you might see yourself in this poem.

A most disgusting poem.

A future ex-husband limps through the door 
Eying an after-hours’ beast hoping to score
The bartender mixes a dirty bloody Mary 
And sightless Andy chokes on his cherry 
Then the local convoy be-bops in
And bit by bit the party begins.

There’s Vinny “Do-Diddy Pimp” Victor
Looking to procure a virgin stripper
Preaching is a sullied pope
While everyone downs the soap
That cannot revive their hopes.

And there’s old horn-dog Jeff
Who underwhelms even himself
And a topless waitress with a silicone ass
Who assumes little more than she grasps.

Yeah, every night it’s the same old scene
Smoking dope, sloppy drunk, being horny
At the Halfway-Inn, again. 

And there’s old preacher Jerry with the pool boy wife
A blue-eyed voyeur with a martyred life
And the professor with blue pills in his drink
Who never gives love, only nervously blinks.

Yeah, rank and file it’s the same old scene
Placated, unsubstantiated, masturbated at Mr. Spate’s Inn, again.

And there’s the young blood with the homespun soul 
And the Queen of Hearts stumbling down a rabbit hole.
And there’s ice-maiden Jane who forever reminisces 
She kneels, blesses herself, and doles out French kisses.

Yeah, they all show up, the Iggy Pops and Jim Crows,
Deadheads, redheads, and dirty blondes stealing the show,
Who speak in tongues, consult with nuns, and wish to be mistreated
Who misplace their dreams only to claim they were cheated.

Yeah, every night it’s the same old scene
Smoking dope, sloppy drunk, feeling horny
Mislaid, even, at Royal Albert Hall, again.

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