Monday, March 2, 2009

Nonsense

Hmm. There really hasn't been anything up here for a while. Keeping the dream alive, here's something from my side. This is just a bunch of silliness that just hopped into my head. It pretty much makes no sense, but I like the name Retro Dog:

Retro dog is doing the hula across the universe while inferiority llama sings his blues, but they aren't his blues. He sings for a generation lost, in pain, looking for some star to hang its hope on. But the starry eyed Hipsters have taken the taste right out of his mouth, and there’s nothing but a husk of his hope. He sings for them, for the ones never had and never were, and he sings for that hope to return. He sings alone.

But retro dog, he don’t care. He’s rolling high and dry on the PCH down to Mexico, a world of troubles left behind him in flames. He could have taken her with him, but now there’s no time or place for her in his life. That’s all over, and as he vanishes into the electrified evening, he winks to her in his mind. His third eye says everything that she could ever want to know.

She doesn’t here it though, or see it. Her chakras are cloudy, her karma pure. She’s lived a life of lies and deceit that would make a lawyer brushle. He was the one good thing in her life, but the fire and the flames have broken them. What once was whole is now two pieces, two isotopes exploding in a Hiroshimatic ejaculation of broken dreams and desires.

And yet inferiority llama sings on. He’s doing his thing, and his thing is good. Some cry when they hear the llama’s song, when they hear of the hope he sings about. Not retro dog. That guy is on his way out. He’s gone so far west, he’s south. The devil’s domain. Downtown where the daisies grow. And she’s on his mind. But the llama sings on, for them, for the dog, for himself, but mostly for you.

And you don’t even know why.