My Idea Of Poetry

My Idea Of Poetry

Something I just wrote into the Keneally newsgroup in a thread about donuts:  

An observation from the unashamedly degenerate portion of the crowd:

At 5:45 on a Sunday morning, when you've just woke up in your car in a
rest area (from a dream where you've just driven into a cornfield
because you can barely stay awake) after two hours sleep following a
four-hour gig beating the living hell out of both a bass and a guitar
and throwing Zappa quotes into Roadhouse Blues (I'm gonna nail that
quintuplet in Peaches SOMEDAY, I tell ya), then downing two shots of
brandy and two Pabst Blue Ribbons (because it's Indiana and your
options are slim, and the "groupie" you met three weeks ago stood you
up AGAIN) and you suck down a two-day old low-carb Monster drink you
just remembered was in your cooler under a decomposing ham sandwich,
and you drive to a BP station feeling the need for something, ANYTHING
to stuff into your face as some kind of makeshift breakfast, it don't
mean SHIT what brand the donut is, just that it's fucking SUGAR. You'll
eat a rancid fuckbiscuit from the Mesozoic epoch that you found with a
couple drops of chocolate JIZZ on it under such conditions.

It's a long way to the top if you wanna rock and roll, bitch.