#1
The High Five in Columbus.
Wearing one of my Randy jackets.
My beard is coming in fuller than it's ever been.
Four Indie bands play before me.
One hit a Reverb pedal at the start and kept that up until the end of their set.
One had their set-up in a line.
They all did that trick of pulling away from the microphone and yelling some
bullshit into nothing, all like, "Whoaaaa, feeeeling!"
I've said all I can about this.
Let death sort them out.

I sat at the piano and a guy named Jake bought my drinks all night.
Bleached his hair and owned a beauty salon downtown.
Do the math.
4 dollar glasses of Southern Comfort and Coke.
He originally offered just the one drink, but I charged everything to his tab
when he wasn't looking.
"Hey guys. Um...You're probably noticing the bandages on my head."
Then I played.
Told stories.
Told jokes.
Did impressions:
"The Bro College Student Vacationing in Sicily."
"The City Redneck Visiting His Real Redneck Friends."
"The Metalhead Who Associates Everything With Metal."
"The Over-Excited Teenage Girl Getting Ready For Prom."
Some were hits, some were misses.
I led a group sing-along to Love is A Battlefield then said goodnight.

"Randy, that was amazing. I'm glad to see you're as creative as you've ever been."
I didn't say anything.
Just refilled my Coke and Comfort.
"Don't you have anything to say to me?"
"Yeah. I hope everything bad in life happens to you and no one else.
I hope you die on Christmas morning. I want your death at my hands and
I hope it's so bad that you renounce your faith in God."
I ducked Jake and stepped outside for a cigarette.
The gay variety store was still open.
They have postcards with Noir comic covers on them, so I bought one
to send to a friend, wherever that friend may be, if they exist.
A couple approached me.
"Caught your set. It was really great. But why the bandages?"
I scratched my beard and sneezed.
"Because my stupid parents raised a stupid son."
Poor advice.
#6
no lyrics no lyrics no lyrics no lyrics no fucking lyrics.

anyone want something looked at?
Poor advice.
#9
pretty good, kid. don't know what to say. you can look at my new thing if you want. it's on the first page i think. if not that's cool, it's not like this is really a crit.
#11
Quote by Descendent-182
I really don't like your stuff. It doesn't make any ****ing sense at all.


Wow, if I didn't already have a warning, I'd flame the hell out of you.

I'm going to put some comments here, I just need time to read through again.

EDIT: I don't have anything negative to say about it, your stuff always makes me feel things (shitty description) , which is the biggest compliment I think I can give.
Last edited by rush4life at Feb 12, 2008,
#12
I'd read you before whitman any day. And I wouldnt be suprised to see your name next to his 40 years down the line.

Edit: I loved it. You're totally revolutionizing the way i see poetry.
Last edited by #1 synth at Feb 12, 2008,
#13
This was a good read. I don't usually like your stuff, for various reasons, but I found this piece to have a very honest voice and I thought it was well constructed, even though it seemed to be done quite naturally and felt unedited.
This is not a pipe
#14
Quote by #1 synth
I'd read you before whitman any day. And I wouldnt be suprised to see your name next to his 40 years down the line.

Edit: I loved it. You're totally revolutionizing the way i see poetry.



I am in complete agreement.
マリ「しあわっせはーあるいってこないだーからあるいってゆっくんだねーん 
いっちにっちいっぽみーかでさんぽ
 さーんぽすすんでにっほさっがるー 
じーんせいはっわんつー!ぱんち・・・


"Success is as dangerous as failure. Hope is as hollow as fear." - from Tao Te Ching

#15
I adore that first stanza. I absolutely adore it - especially the pulling away from the microphone and yelling some bull**** into nothing, all like, "Whoaaaa, feeeeling!"

Manchester Orchestra did that when I saw them live. So it made me chuckle.

But anyway. Yr pretty impressive, Randy.
There's only one girl in the world for you
and she probably lives in Tahiti.
#16
Enjoyable, again.

Just wondering, do you see this as poetry or prose?