OK, Now where were we?

Hi, Remember me? Yeah, that’s right-I’m that lady that comes and goes... and stays away much too long…But I’m back now, and though I probably owe you an explanation for why I’ve been away so long, I’ll skip it for now…its mostly boring anyway-seriously...

So here we are, at the end of summer and I’m ready to commit time to blogging again…I know this post will be ridiculously short and you’re probably feeling just a little bit cheated, but I promise to post again soon…as in tomorrow or maybe even later this evening soon. Unfortunately, I have the rest of  today planned and none of it is screaming FUN! But the sooner I get the UNfun stuff finished, the sooner I can get back to doing things like this, right?

But guess what: your trip to the Underground wasn’t a total waste: Just this morning, I reworked American Darkness (minor tweaks, but still an improvement in my opinion), and rather than wait for my lovely, new ohsomuchmoreprofessionalthanmywonkylittlemic microphone to be set up, I’ll go ahead and leave you the ‘rough draft’ of the newly tweaked American Darkness which I just recorded about an hour ago. Believe me, I realize its rough and there’s no music (story of my life), but at least I came bearing some sort of won’t you forgive me forditchingyouforsolongand notreplyingtoemailsorupdatingmyblog kind of gift…even though the recording is about as fabulous a gift as a homemade fruitcake…at least its a tasty fruitcake, I think.

I’ve missed U and I STILL loooooooove U so!

Madness & Kisses,


P.S. Below is the reworked American Darkness, click here to preview or download the new copy (and of course-as always, you may download rather than preview if you want)

American Darkness

She got an American spread.
Butterscotch sweat down the small of her back,
Warm honey thighs pressed tight against your mind.
Tiger-lily girl with sweet petal folds,
Georgia O’Keefe’s midnight lovechild.
She got candy in her veins and licorice eyes that refuse to close.

She got gold chains clasped tight around her strong ankles
And impatient serpents licking the nectar running down past her knees.

She’s hand-feeding your obsessions now
as she drinks time from a paper cup,
and she’s chewing on the stem of your subconscious impulses

She’s got the taste of sugar daddies behind her crooked smile,
And she’s walking her sticky fingers up the backbone of your secret world.
She got a river of rusty blood bath water so you better run.
Ah, She has you…Yeah, she got you now.

American Darkness with her slight southern drawl tucked beneath curious Anglophilia,

She’s your own precious tragedy
Grinning her Sunday school grin
As her sword hand sings songs upon your mind,
Leaving little tattoos upon your life
Like her teenage scars that confess those yesterdays

Darkness got more daddies than fingers,
And more sorrow than daddies.
Sometimes plays Electra,
Resting that wicked complex against her warm soft belly
While a million psychoanalysts stutter and choke on their theories.
She’s waiting for you to chase away the citrus tears
With the bruising blue thrust of your foolishly brave heart
You’re bringing her cherry smiles with the aching lullaby
you’ve wrapped around her olive-colored shoulders.

She’s wearing dirty black boots for you,
Splashing through the puddles of your world;
Wrecking those paper boats,
Drowning those paper dolls,
And slaughtering your ‘good common sense’.

She got decades of dirty words
Smeared across the whipping wounds,
And she’s gone sadistic on those faceless fears from once upon a time
But she finds laughter in your half-sleep
As she climbs upon your pillow to share your exhalation

My God, darling this is beginning to feel terminally serious

She got a morbid idea and her dark necro-dreams
Keep cocking your gun and pulling your trigger,
Hammering your deeper into the into her graveyard maze.
She calls you by a savior’s name,
And whispers words you can only pretend to understand
As you follow her down to that wet hiding place
Where she buries her broken dolls
And your still born boundaries.

You want more of this heady feeling,
But your footsteps are heavy
As you watch your American Darkness
Through the spaces between your fingers,
but your raging hard hunger
Pushes you toward her gentle beckoning
And the soft pink walls of her wicked wonderland.

She got the stench of funeral parlor orchids
Beneath her mad Medusa hair,
And the taste of Egyptian sunshine within her hidden, damp desire
And when you come close to that sunshine
It’s easy to believe that for your whole life you’ve been waiting for this.

She got her shiny nails,pink and sharp-
Digging trenches into her palm
As she grips your Lazarus
Daring him to rise again.

She’s a good time gal,
Making shadow puppets with the angels,
And swapping secrets with the devils,
And she’s cuddling with the others
Who are too much of both
To be either of the two

And you know you got it bad,
Because you daydream of dressing her in blue,
And claiming her now as your own party piece
You long to flaunt her to the world
but all of the while,
Your once forbidden secret
Has become everybody’s new blue heaven
And she giggles her bedroom giggles
And she’s whispering Oh Daddy in your ear
And suddenly the room swells
With the endless jealous Freuds
Shedding lonely tears
And adjusting tight masochistic trousers

She’s your dark Lilith now,
Just seconds above your lips
The succubus sweetheart
Ready to mount your big, big world.
She’s coloring your vanilla pages
With lost girl scriptures
And lusty boy litanies,
She’s drawing armies of tomorrows
To devour the legion of murderous yesterdays

And you’re spinning
Darkness got you spinning now
With a new intoxication as dirty as rot gut wine
And sometimes you’d swear you’d sell your only mama
For a splash in Darkness’ pool of delirium

But you gotta keep telling yourself to hold back,
To wait for her next move
while you eye those boys
Who keep coming much too soon
Stroking their young mediocre ideas,
Bringing her  palm-fulls of their watery boy efforts
As an offering in hopes
She’ll rescue them from their mandatory bedtimes
And their mundane 24 hour days
But she looks right through them
Her eyes fixed on you
And she’s watching your palm
And wondering about your grown man ideas
And your thick tasty efforts

I bet your mama told you
To sleep with one eye open
In the presence of such a misbehaving disaster.
And perhaps your daddy told you
To keep one hand on your heart
And another on your gun,
But she’s waiting behind your eyelids
To give you such awful sweet dreams
And your hearts in the backroom coupling
With Darkness’ demands
And she’s carrying your loaded gun
Inside her dark velvet promise

You best be wrapping new razor wire
Around your crumbling world
Because it won’t be long til she’s tiptoed up beside you
Wearing that anachronistic Victorian charm
That hides the scarlet whore’s heart
And the bird mad girl beneath

What’cha gonna do now?
She whispers through an all knowing smile,
And your words just disappear,
They fall right out of your mind
As she dances around your legs,
And she writhes and she thrives
She sucks and she pulls
She grinds and she shoves you
Even deeper still

Will she savor you?
Swallow you down and keep you there?
Or will she tease you with her tongue,
then chew you to bits
only to spit you out in the end,
leaving you with nothing but those tiny tattooed-scars
And her drawings upon your empty walls?

American baby doll
She got a pout that catches you
And swollen lips that hold your nervous intentions

Snake flower girl
Shamelessly narcissistic
And deliberately orphaned
Playing those mock analysts
for the foolish boys they really are
Bringing her sugar daddies back to life
For  monetary daydreams
And another new blue dress
Ambiguous, allegorical, ambitious queen
Lazy but full of promise
And rock-candy mercy fucks
And though she’s dragging around her heavy basket
Of salt water taffied sorrows,
(Some borrowed but mostly earned)
She may tell you a sweet, sweet story
Maybe help you choose your future
Make you forget all about your past
Either way she’s gonna show you the pictures she’s been drawing
All over the maps and the bones of your dark American dream.

You may taste your Darkness’ words, but can you speak her slippery language?


2 Replies to “OK, Now where were we?”

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