Friday, July 22, 2016


His blues still shouts blind
in this darkness we're in.
It's a piss-poor choice
to choose from and gleefully
lick our hands anyway.
Mussolini on the balcony
tossing bouquets of bombast
while the Wicked Witch tries
to sniff out infidelities
and infidels. Who could
blame her
for feeling entitled
after living with God's gift
to neurosis?
She can still hear
his honeyed voice
full of Hope
& bullshit say:
"Had a hard day,
need to shower."
And still she could smell
sex all over him.

Mussolini had Fred
& Roy Cohen to get him hard
& now he keeps his daughter
closer than his wife.
Something's up
with that
is something
he might say.
I'll just lie down
on the nearest couch
& wile away my days
waiting for the world
to whimper & sputter
& spill from the sounds
& the furies of

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

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