‘Twas the night before Christmas in the Streets of Despair
The stink of stale urine it hung the air
The homeless was huddled round a dumpster that night
In hopes that the PO-lice wouldn’t give ‘em a fright
The children was nestled all snug in the alley
While the Indian Nations danced in Death Valley
And mama in her kerchief, and me in my beret
Had just chugged a gallon of Gallo tokay
When out on the street there arose such a clatter
I sprang from my dumpster to see what was the matter
The moon on the breast of the urban decay
Gave a nightmarish luster to the wretched display
Hosanna on high, I heard someone mutter
As a drunk staggered past and threw up in the gutter
Then my eyes did behold a most glorious sight
A black and white squad car with a bright flashing light
And a big strapping driver, well over six feet
I knew in a moment he must be the heat
He was dressed all in blue, and I have to admit
He looked mighty scary with his revolver and shit
He looked like a peddler just opening his pack
Or a vision of a Nazi like you might see on crack
A huge snarling dog had he on a chain
The kind that’ll go for your jugular vein
A wink of his eye and a twist of his head
Soon gave us to know we had plenty to dread
More rapid than eagles his orders they flew
You I said you and yeah you I mean you
Raggedy Andy and Mother MacCree
Asses in gear, let’s see some ID
And he whistled and shouted and called us by name
Now Boozer, now Loser, now Abel and Cain
He wasn’t the kind you’d wanta reach out and touch
Cuz he treated us like we was garbage and such
As dry leaves before a wild hurricane fly
We gathered around with a tear in our eye
A fella who lost both legs in the war
Said I don’t feel like human being no more
Then a grandmother lady poked a hole in the sleaze
And I heard her mutter listen to me please
I’ll tell the world that somethin ain’t right
When a mother of three aint got no bed for the night
But the biggest joke, oh mama mia
Is when people walk by and pretend they don’t see ya
As for me I wished that I’d slept in a thicket
When I heard that cop say he was gonna give us a ticket
He spoke not a word but went straight to his work
The citation I got made me feel like a jerk
Three hundred bucks for sleepin outside
Where festering feces and garbage abide
His droll little mouth was drawn up like a bow
And in so many words he gave us to know
The law is the law is the law is the law
It was the goddamnedest thing that I ever saw
Then laying a finger aside of his nose
Well you know how the rest of it goes
He sprang to his cruiser, to the dog gave a whistle
Frowning as if he’d wiped his ass with a thistle
And I heard him exclaim ere he got on the trail
Next time motherfuckers you’re goin to jail
© Donald O’Donovan 2010
Books by Donald O'Donovan
The Sugarhouse
Night Train
Sunday, August 22, 2010
Friday, August 20, 2010
Telemarketing Blues
I was looking to buy a bling-bling
For a girl who’s turning tricks
I didn’t want to go to Sing Sing
Like them gangsters in the flicks
So I got the morning paper
To try and find a gig
Next to the photo of a baby raper
I seen somethin I could dig
If you can sell your sister
Try telemarketing
I heard a small voice whisper
This looks like just the thing
Past a sea of tattooed faces
Down a dirty flight of stairs
It looked like one of them places
Where shady ladies sell their wares
Everybody dialin
Like monkeys in a zoo
The boss man he was smilin
What can I do for you
I said sir I don’t wanta steal and rob
But I need money fast
He said son I can offer you a job
My name is Mr. Crass
You’re bound for success he told me
With a Tony Robbins smile
Take it from Obie Kanobe
And all you gotta do is dial
He was the slickest operator
That ever blew my mind
A human carburetor
I think you might know his kind
Now here’s a little gadget
Let me introduce you to
Son you’re lookin at the magic
Handy Dandy Dipsy Doo
Mr. Crass can you enlighten me
What on earth is this thing for
In a voice that kinda frightened me
He said it opens cans and more
Why it’ll do the dishes and clean out the sink
Turn on some music and pour you a drink
Take out the paper and bring in the chickens
Make your hair grow like the very dickens
Row your boat when you’re lost in the fog
Paint your nails and flurk the dog
Pick the lint out of your navel
Deal straight aces under the table
Give ya plenty of huggin and kissin
Tell you where the cat’s been pissin
Feed a fever and starve a cough
And if you don’t watch out it’ll jack you off
So I started out sellin the Dipsy Doo
I was makin sales and plenty too
Mr. Crass said I was gonna get a bonus
Fer displayin what you might call the opposite of slowness
I kept on sellin and sellin and sellin
I had big dreams cookin in my melon
So you can imagine how I almost freaked
When I got my check at the end of the week
My pay was anything but immense
Fourteen dollars and fifty-three cents
I said Mr. Crass there must be some mistake
He said son there’s no cause to bellyache
I said I guess I’m just not educated
Tell me how was my bonus calibrated
He said son just so’s there ain’t no doubt
Here’s the way it all shakes out
A percentage of your total sales
Minus fifty percent to balance out the scales
Divided by twenty percent for deficit spending
Plus any penalties for money lending
Minus half a dozen cancellation fees
Minus whatever assets we decide to seize
Divided by sixteen times the depreciation
As determined by your financial association
Then you take the number of Nazis in all of the Reichs
Divide by the price of the three sharp spikes
That nailed Baby Jesus to the cross
Minus fifteen percent for cumulative loss
Well I got a call from a lady in Poughkeepsie
She said there’s somethin wrong with my Dipsy
It fried the laundry and killed the cat
Failed to melt away my baby fat
The problems in fact were rather myriad
It caused my daughter to miss her period
Left us stranded at a busy junction
And gave my husband erectile dysfunction
I said Mr. Crass this operation
Don’t resonate with my vibration
It ain’t nothing but a great big scam
And the Dipsy Doo aint worth a goddamn
So I’ll see you around the quad Mr. Crass
And you can take your bonus
And stick it up your ass
© Donald O’Donovan 2010
Books by Donald O'Donovan
The Sugarhouse
Night Train
For a girl who’s turning tricks
I didn’t want to go to Sing Sing
Like them gangsters in the flicks
So I got the morning paper
To try and find a gig
Next to the photo of a baby raper
I seen somethin I could dig
If you can sell your sister
Try telemarketing
I heard a small voice whisper
This looks like just the thing
Past a sea of tattooed faces
Down a dirty flight of stairs
It looked like one of them places
Where shady ladies sell their wares
Everybody dialin
Like monkeys in a zoo
The boss man he was smilin
What can I do for you
I said sir I don’t wanta steal and rob
But I need money fast
He said son I can offer you a job
My name is Mr. Crass
You’re bound for success he told me
With a Tony Robbins smile
Take it from Obie Kanobe
And all you gotta do is dial
He was the slickest operator
That ever blew my mind
A human carburetor
I think you might know his kind
Now here’s a little gadget
Let me introduce you to
Son you’re lookin at the magic
Handy Dandy Dipsy Doo
Mr. Crass can you enlighten me
What on earth is this thing for
In a voice that kinda frightened me
He said it opens cans and more
Why it’ll do the dishes and clean out the sink
Turn on some music and pour you a drink
Take out the paper and bring in the chickens
Make your hair grow like the very dickens
Row your boat when you’re lost in the fog
Paint your nails and flurk the dog
Pick the lint out of your navel
Deal straight aces under the table
Give ya plenty of huggin and kissin
Tell you where the cat’s been pissin
Feed a fever and starve a cough
And if you don’t watch out it’ll jack you off
So I started out sellin the Dipsy Doo
I was makin sales and plenty too
Mr. Crass said I was gonna get a bonus
Fer displayin what you might call the opposite of slowness
I kept on sellin and sellin and sellin
I had big dreams cookin in my melon
So you can imagine how I almost freaked
When I got my check at the end of the week
My pay was anything but immense
Fourteen dollars and fifty-three cents
I said Mr. Crass there must be some mistake
He said son there’s no cause to bellyache
I said I guess I’m just not educated
Tell me how was my bonus calibrated
He said son just so’s there ain’t no doubt
Here’s the way it all shakes out
A percentage of your total sales
Minus fifty percent to balance out the scales
Divided by twenty percent for deficit spending
Plus any penalties for money lending
Minus half a dozen cancellation fees
Minus whatever assets we decide to seize
Divided by sixteen times the depreciation
As determined by your financial association
Then you take the number of Nazis in all of the Reichs
Divide by the price of the three sharp spikes
That nailed Baby Jesus to the cross
Minus fifteen percent for cumulative loss
Well I got a call from a lady in Poughkeepsie
She said there’s somethin wrong with my Dipsy
It fried the laundry and killed the cat
Failed to melt away my baby fat
The problems in fact were rather myriad
It caused my daughter to miss her period
Left us stranded at a busy junction
And gave my husband erectile dysfunction
I said Mr. Crass this operation
Don’t resonate with my vibration
It ain’t nothing but a great big scam
And the Dipsy Doo aint worth a goddamn
So I’ll see you around the quad Mr. Crass
And you can take your bonus
And stick it up your ass
© Donald O’Donovan 2010
Books by Donald O'Donovan
The Sugarhouse
Night Train
Saturday, August 7, 2010
Easy in the Dark
The Violin Lady’s pigeons
Have toddled off to sleep
You know I heard her pray the Lord
Their so-uls for to keep
Don’t the city streets look beautiful
Just like the stars had fell
Havin fun’s a lotta work sometimes
Everybody’s gotta walk to the well
A fable for the modern world
Is the story of Miss Muffet
A spider ate her curds and whey
Now she’s gotta rough it
The night’s resplendent refugees
Are gathering in the park
They all agree that hunger’s
Pretty easy in the dark
In the City of the Angels
You can’t turn back the clock
The orange groves are inoperative
Mickey Mouse is slangin rock
The cardboard condominiums
Are melting in the rain
But the scarecrows down on Fifth Street
Will build them up again
This city is a paradise
Where survival is an art
If you don’t like what’s on the menu
You can order a la carte
Don’t the Hollywood sign look beautiful
It’s calling us to prayer
Some claim God’s gone MIA
Some say he just don’t care
The night’s resplendent refugees
Are gathering in the park
They all agree that hunger’s
Pretty easy in the dark
© Donald O’Donovan 2010
Books by Donald O'Donovan
The Sugarhouse
Night Train
Have toddled off to sleep
You know I heard her pray the Lord
Their so-uls for to keep
Don’t the city streets look beautiful
Just like the stars had fell
Havin fun’s a lotta work sometimes
Everybody’s gotta walk to the well
A fable for the modern world
Is the story of Miss Muffet
A spider ate her curds and whey
Now she’s gotta rough it
The night’s resplendent refugees
Are gathering in the park
They all agree that hunger’s
Pretty easy in the dark
In the City of the Angels
You can’t turn back the clock
The orange groves are inoperative
Mickey Mouse is slangin rock
The cardboard condominiums
Are melting in the rain
But the scarecrows down on Fifth Street
Will build them up again
This city is a paradise
Where survival is an art
If you don’t like what’s on the menu
You can order a la carte
Don’t the Hollywood sign look beautiful
It’s calling us to prayer
Some claim God’s gone MIA
Some say he just don’t care
The night’s resplendent refugees
Are gathering in the park
They all agree that hunger’s
Pretty easy in the dark
© Donald O’Donovan 2010
Books by Donald O'Donovan
The Sugarhouse
Night Train
Walk a Mile
When you’re all strung out in a phone booth
And you ain’t got a dime
Too weak to walk to the river
Too scared to commit a crime
Wontcha please send up a signal
We’ll try and find a smile
If you’ll just give me a jingle
I’ll walk an extra mile
When you got the heebie jeebies
And you’re prayin for the dawn
And the Phantom of the Opera
Is campin on your lawn
There’s a voice that’s sayin somethin
And I think you know it’s mine
Just pick up your receiver
Cuz I’m still on the line
When you’re sick of getting sober
And your pet raccoon has died
And you don’t see nothin crazy
About committin suicide
Just type me up a message
Go ahead and click on send
Even though you may not know me
I will always be your friend
When your failures gather round you
Like the ghosts of a disease
You just can’t win fer losin
And you got the DT’s
Just give my name to your waiter
Tap on my window too
No matter what the odds may be
You know I’ll stand by you
When you lost your laundry ticket
And you’re goin insane
You took your leg to the pawnshop
And you can’t find a vein
Please call up Western Union
Don’t give in to defeat
You know I’ll come a-runnin
If you put the word out on the street
When your friends don’t wanta know you
And you’re high on despair
And you look in the mirror
And there’s nobody there
If you’ll only try and see me
I know we’ll find a way
If you’ll only try and see me
I’ll walk a mile with you today
© Donald O’Donovan 2010
Books by Donald O'Donovan
The Sugarhouse
Night Train
And you ain’t got a dime
Too weak to walk to the river
Too scared to commit a crime
Wontcha please send up a signal
We’ll try and find a smile
If you’ll just give me a jingle
I’ll walk an extra mile
When you got the heebie jeebies
And you’re prayin for the dawn
And the Phantom of the Opera
Is campin on your lawn
There’s a voice that’s sayin somethin
And I think you know it’s mine
Just pick up your receiver
Cuz I’m still on the line
When you’re sick of getting sober
And your pet raccoon has died
And you don’t see nothin crazy
About committin suicide
Just type me up a message
Go ahead and click on send
Even though you may not know me
I will always be your friend
When your failures gather round you
Like the ghosts of a disease
You just can’t win fer losin
And you got the DT’s
Just give my name to your waiter
Tap on my window too
No matter what the odds may be
You know I’ll stand by you
When you lost your laundry ticket
And you’re goin insane
You took your leg to the pawnshop
And you can’t find a vein
Please call up Western Union
Don’t give in to defeat
You know I’ll come a-runnin
If you put the word out on the street
When your friends don’t wanta know you
And you’re high on despair
And you look in the mirror
And there’s nobody there
If you’ll only try and see me
I know we’ll find a way
If you’ll only try and see me
I’ll walk a mile with you today
© Donald O’Donovan 2010
Books by Donald O'Donovan
The Sugarhouse
Night Train
Tuesday, August 3, 2010
Neon Dust
The photographs of the heroes
Are stamped with Jesus saves
The baton-twirling princess from Idaho
Is waterskiing over the graves
Casual sex
Exchanged for a Rolex
Will brighten up your life
But the real crown jewel
Goes to whichever fool
Has got the sharpest knife
Crazy folks is in the street
They got no place to go
Zombied-out aristocrats
But you don’t know what they know
The neon dust is falling
On the Ghost of Christmas Past
If you know the way
To San Jose
We’d better get there fast
Buy a ticket to the panty raid
My friend it looks like you been played
Pedophile priests on a shopping spree
Welcome to the 21st century
Suzy was a derelict
Before she learned to cope
She buried the ghost of her teddy bear
In the Cemetery of Hope
I heard you got a spin-doctor
There’s no way you can lose
You sold your brother for a silver dollar
And your sister for a pair of shoes
Is God a word that silence speaks
To keep from going insane
Or the laughter of the prisoners
Who are waiting for the train
The phantoms of futility
Are knocking at your door
A still small voice is whispering
I can’t take it anymore
Is it true that all roads lead to Rome
You better take your trick ass home
Pedophile priests on a spending spree
Welcome to the 21st century
Big Edna with her shopping cart
She tries her best to fake it
She’s so aware of her pubic hair
Who knows if she can make it
Closet queens and in betweens
Doberman pincer with a fourteen incher
You read it in the papers
This world is in a mess
We’re cruising down the corridors
Of senseless uselessness
Oceans boil and icecaps melt
Was that an orgasm I felt
There wasn’t no Ten Commandments
When Onan spilled his seed
Just endless Fifth Amendments
Of circumstantial greed
Richie’s life is a constant round
Of chardonnay and roses
He gets to pick the winners
While we fucking pick our noses
You nurse your fears
You grind the gears
You talk about abortion
Is life a phase
You count the days
You measure out your portion
Candy soldiers with melted guns
Colored girls have all the fun
Pedophile priests on your TV
Welcome to the 21st century
Rumors flyin
Babies cryin
Young girls sighin
Soldiers dyin
Politicians lyin
We’re complyin
Buyers buyin
Gay guys guyin
Mom and grandma
Apple pie-in
Showgirls showin
Lawnmowers mowin
Pizzas throwin
Rivers flowin
Winds a blowin
Hey I’m goin
© Donald O’Donovan 2010
Books by Donald O'Donovan
The Sugarhouse
Night Train
Are stamped with Jesus saves
The baton-twirling princess from Idaho
Is waterskiing over the graves
Casual sex
Exchanged for a Rolex
Will brighten up your life
But the real crown jewel
Goes to whichever fool
Has got the sharpest knife
Crazy folks is in the street
They got no place to go
Zombied-out aristocrats
But you don’t know what they know
The neon dust is falling
On the Ghost of Christmas Past
If you know the way
To San Jose
We’d better get there fast
Buy a ticket to the panty raid
My friend it looks like you been played
Pedophile priests on a shopping spree
Welcome to the 21st century
Suzy was a derelict
Before she learned to cope
She buried the ghost of her teddy bear
In the Cemetery of Hope
I heard you got a spin-doctor
There’s no way you can lose
You sold your brother for a silver dollar
And your sister for a pair of shoes
Is God a word that silence speaks
To keep from going insane
Or the laughter of the prisoners
Who are waiting for the train
The phantoms of futility
Are knocking at your door
A still small voice is whispering
I can’t take it anymore
Is it true that all roads lead to Rome
You better take your trick ass home
Pedophile priests on a spending spree
Welcome to the 21st century
Big Edna with her shopping cart
She tries her best to fake it
She’s so aware of her pubic hair
Who knows if she can make it
Closet queens and in betweens
Doberman pincer with a fourteen incher
You read it in the papers
This world is in a mess
We’re cruising down the corridors
Of senseless uselessness
Oceans boil and icecaps melt
Was that an orgasm I felt
There wasn’t no Ten Commandments
When Onan spilled his seed
Just endless Fifth Amendments
Of circumstantial greed
Richie’s life is a constant round
Of chardonnay and roses
He gets to pick the winners
While we fucking pick our noses
You nurse your fears
You grind the gears
You talk about abortion
Is life a phase
You count the days
You measure out your portion
Candy soldiers with melted guns
Colored girls have all the fun
Pedophile priests on your TV
Welcome to the 21st century
Rumors flyin
Babies cryin
Young girls sighin
Soldiers dyin
Politicians lyin
We’re complyin
Buyers buyin
Gay guys guyin
Mom and grandma
Apple pie-in
Showgirls showin
Lawnmowers mowin
Pizzas throwin
Rivers flowin
Winds a blowin
Hey I’m goin
© Donald O’Donovan 2010
Books by Donald O'Donovan
The Sugarhouse
Night Train
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