MISTER HAY'S TRIPPY MOEBIUS|
by Edwin Torres
where could we be - if music is
goldy thoobras and chappy quick...how
tubely to instill one's beer upon
a whole denegration...royal
lefty slowpoke disintegration...there...
I use her again - I am so
"the loudmouth" inside m'lips
I screamer - with intensity groiled over
kingdom weedless...necessary spoily brats
unalcoholy criks...bending they ear huss...
such a I - such a town without city...who took
middle a-WHORE-rica and dumped all over here?
who wasted a cab ride onna rusted hour, creeping
Ahoy yu pirátz o' p'nis...
don' follo me until yur darkness shuffles
off wit' yu... was a fan of krazy glue
til I saw what I was stuck to...decided forever
was too long to be the sucky on you! and you...IS THAT
YOU REAL YOU HAY-UH? S'THAT WHUT YOU
CALL HAIR -- HEY MISTER YOU CALLIN' NOW!
YOU, YOU...S'THAT YOU S'THAT REAL JUST MOP!!!
flopped over trunkyard gristle...S'THAT
YO REEAAL? YO HAY-YUH...MISTUH MISTUH HAY!
smokes me an "o"pera I can't de-fuse...3 stooged
millicent...magnicat of 3 cents...turmoil over pennies
none of ‘em gonna fill you food...boy
once changed my name...to stand out...
after I stood...forgot who I was...
Edwin Torres Author Page
Pub. May 2000