Thursday, May 15, 2003

Anthony Burgess, he came to hate A Clockwork Orange/ There ain't no rhyme for that but we gonna poesy on/ Vladimir Nabokov he wrote about Lolita/ That made him some money and money makes things sweeter/ Even so it didn't work out how he had in mind/ Books is errant children, ungrateful and unkind./ Kafka had the right idea: burn up every word/ Nothing bad can come of nothing being heard/ But then your friends'll dig you out even when your dead/ So what you gotta learn is to let nothing out your head/ Let nothing out your head, let nothing out your head/ Then no words come back at you and make you blush beet red./ That ol' Zip Coon is such a joke, he thinks he is a scholar/ Cos he wears a dead man's morning coat and a shirt with a collar/ And even worse those Wiggers who follow him around/ Listening to his doggerel and scribbling it down./ God's gonna burn these poseurs up for their artistic pretention/ Their filthy dreams, their stupid schemes, their endless dissention. / God's gonna burn the poseurs up, that miscegenating crew./ Stay away from that kinda trash or God gonna burn you too. 2:08:27 PM    comment []