This poem is something of a shout out to the raucous songs of Ginsberg and a few other poets. I have no idea if the songs they wrote were songs or if they were just poems with strong, basic rhythms. Anyhow, mine is the latter. It is an odd to masturbation, as told through a skeleton. Or well, I think it is. I may have been drinking when I wrote it. I really do not remember.
"Skelly Boy"
Come on skelly boy, shake your stones! Let's call it a night and get right down; I have a lung full of air and no need to breathe And your face is just a grotesque thing. [chorus] Its a match made! Its heavenly! A man and his bones taking a chance! Its a beaut! It's just damn near perfect! A man and his bone doing the dance! Its true, they say, I'm a blind man 'Cause I never saw exactly what we might Have together if we could last. Looks like its another night alone ...for me. [chorus] We walk into the space port bar, but alas They don't serve your kind here. A sack of white, they want you served up In some dank laboratory! Your clacking little bone toes echo All night long, we'll swing another song! Come on, skelly boy, you're my best friend And I got a plan, let's go... hand in hand. It's a match made! It's exquisite! A man and and his bone all wild! Its a match made! Wondrous! Walking my bones for miles! [chorus] ALL WILD! ALL WILD! FOR MILES! FOR MILES! TAKE A CHANCE! DANCE! DANCE!
This poem written by W. Doug Bolden.
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