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Bowetry
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After
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Barred from the Event
Scary Monsters (and Super Creeps) 1980

Cara Losier Chanoine

Psychodelicate girl,
she had a horror of rooms.
She opened strange doors
that we’d never close again.
Waiting at the lights,
she began to wail jealousies
and now she’s stupid in the street.
Well, I wouldn’t buy the merchandise,
but she asked me to stay
and I stole her room.

Silhouettes and shadows
watch the revolution.
They were blue, but nobody home.
Those midwives to history
put on their bloody robes,
as ugly as a teenage millionaire:
ashes to ashes,
funk to funky.

Sam was a gun—
little metal-faced boy,
one slash of light
but no smoking pistol.
He punishes hard,
says,
Please,
give me the night.
No, I’m not a piece
of teenage wildlife.

Well,
I wouldn’t buy
the merchandise.

They’ve got a message
from the Action Man,
so Earth keeps on rolling
uphill backwards.
I’m hoping to kick,
but the planet is glowing,
just big heads and drums.
Well, how come
you only want tomorrow?
It’s love back to front
and no sides,
trying to draw the blinds
on yesterday.

A broken-nosed mogul
is just the same old thing
in brand new drag,
so I train by shadow-boxing.
Don’t let me see hope
in those squeaky clean eyes—
I throw the rock against the road,
against the vacuum created
by the arrival of freedom.
There are no more free steps
to heaven
but the little green wheels
are following me,
and those midwives to history
put on their bloody robes.
Ashes to ashes.
Funk to funky.



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