“THE SLOW TYRANNY OF MOONLIGHT”
The theme from an old western wafted through the big room like the faint smell of pancakes after a long winter of old potatoes and rusted hinges creaking in a frigid gloom of dusk
the sound welcome after the relentless drone of the machine the one keeping the swollen interior at constant sensation not too much not too little the tonal rudder of the thing unchanging an autistic pianist obsessed by the striking of the one key without pause
bifurcating my viscera gelding my ungendered gonads pissing on the sheen of my serenity
I wanted to find the source of that singular discord and defenestrate it the sonic frowst
of the mezzo-soprano whatever eating at the edges of my virtue the one I never had in the first place.
I wanted to throw an old jockstrap at it, order it some bad clams and make it suck em’ down.
I wanted to buy it a lifetime subscription to Readers Digest.
Oh, oh wait! That’s my punishment, that’s my beat-down, my Chinese water torture, it doesn’t have a brain, no awareness, no self-consciousness, no brain cells to rub together, it’s just a motor, a noise box, moving parts repeating its task, a sonic meditation I found irksome, yeah
that was it, I was irked, it should be the other way round, silent, quiet, still, but it isn’t. Shit.
Inside myself I tried bonding with it, breathing, accepting, caressing, crocheting.
My feet hurt. Suddenly I got that fat feeling like I just downed a gallon of ice cream and couldn’t move. A harbinger of doubt tickled my innards, and suddenly I was in the cut, surfing, robot seagulls moaning dizzily above, the twilight singing, sea creatures without eyes calling my name, I knew I was dead, and yet quite alive, kissing a sonic boom box of pure love, a popsicle of purity, an envelope mailed by a mime holding a seamless message inside.
– Joe Kennedy
(Joe writes & reads his witty poetry in Los Angeles)
© 2013
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Joe, even better than reading your incredible work is hearing you stand-up and read it!
I love your wit & style, you are one of a kind my friend! 🙂
Wonderful and frightening. The duality that is the quintessential Joe Kennedy. Oh, I forgot quirky. Very very quirky. Always great to read your work, Joe, especially on the Juice Bar.
OMG! Joe!!! You are, well, you are incomparably delicious. “I wanted to throw an old jockstrap at it.” Such a wild whacked-up ride. Thank you for being Joe. I adore this poem and you.
Is there a more infectious, addictive, surprising, and knee slappingly gorgeous writer than Joe Kennedy? Nah.
I can count on you Joe for shaking up a concoction of the most wonderful, outrageous ingredients that play like a quirky and intriguing movie in my head. Awesome. I want more.
Ah, Joe – that damn moon. This one hurts in the best way.
Joe is the new noir. The more I discover of him through his work the less/more I want to read and hear. Paradox is a funny thing. Thanks Lisa!