matt fromm Poems
Blowing Bong Hits At The Moon
For all I know This could be the last show.
But I'm too young to hang up the clown suit just yet.
Re-running happily frightening images of wher I come from.
Where I've been.
Never imagining in a thousand hits
I would've ended up here.
Never fathoming it would be like this.
Carefull jottings of history...I suppose.
Both true and halucinated
while Coltrane and the gang tell me about their favorite things.
It all gets fuzzy these days when I try to think.
Before today speaking and not being heard
Being silent then being ridiculed and blamed.
All because I ...
Too much one evening,
We were at Mel's on Sunset,
had been picked up by The Great Tula
The Great Tula had warrents,
Rick just called, asked if The Great Tula called me
I said no, The Great Tula talked fast, French, English, South African and American, jibber-jabber,
took food off others plates,
Rick want's her to be the next Mrs. Rick
But he won't make a move,