Dragonfly's Poetry & Prolixity: Drunken Poet's Dream by Ray Wylie Hubbard

Sunday, September 2, 2012

Drunken Poet's Dream by Ray Wylie Hubbard

Thank you, Annie, for introducing me to Ray. (Snicker...) I'm seriously in love with him. xoxo

Drunken Poet’s Dream

By Ray Wylie Hubbard

I got a woman who's wild as Rome
She likes being naked and gazed upon
She crosses a bridge then sets in on fire
She lands like a bird on a telephone wire

I'm gonna hollar, and I'm gonna scream
I'm gonna get me some mescaline
Then I'm gonna rhyme that with gasoline
It's a drunken poet's dream

There some money on the table and a pistol on the floor
A few paperback books by Louis L'amour
Whisky bottles are scattered like last night's clothes
Cigarettes, papers and Oreos

My harmonica's got a busted reed
My lips are chapped and about to bleed
She says, that's nothing when she was a kid
She danced with the dead at the pyramids

I'm gonna hollar, and I'm gonna scream
I'm gonna get me some mescaline
Then I'm gonna rhyme that with gasoline
It's a drunken poet's dream

I'll never pay back my student loan
Smelling like Coors and cheap cologne
She tells me not to worry about Judgment Day
She says dying to get to heaven's just not our way

I'm gonna hollar, and I'm gonna scream
I'm gonna get me some mescaline
Then I'm gonna rhyme that with gasoline
It's a drunken poet's dream

I got a woman who's wild as Rome
She likes bein naked and gazed upon

=======================

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=30m54CkyIKo

6 comments:

Ben Ditty said...: You and Annie are such a dynamic duo together :-); September 2, 2012 at 9:00 PM
Wine and Words said...: :-)
I'm gonna let you have him Marion. Two Rays in the hand is worth three in the bush. Heh Heh. You gotta Ray thing to be sure!

Love you My Marion. So need to sit with you a spell!; September 2, 2012 at 9:03 PM
Anonymous said...: You and Annie??? Together???? Be still my beating heart. As for the poem, did we share that doob back in 83?; September 4, 2012 at 7:28 AM
Marion said...: Ben, we're super heroes!! Up, up and awaaaayyyy. xo

Annie, gracias. Now I have 2 worthless Rays. Sheesh! LMAO! Love you!! xo

Trav, yes, Annie & I are a dynamic duo. Indeed, we may have shared a toke, but who can remember? LOL! xo; September 4, 2012 at 10:27 AM
Anonymous said...: I thought I recognized you!!! Vaguely. xo; September 4, 2012 at 10:30 AM
glnroz said...: Mr. Hubbard may be one of the most "undiscovered" artists in the south. A Drunken Poet,,indeed.. lol; September 6, 2012 at 10:29 AM

I Love Lorrie Moore!!

“You’re not a poetess, I hope,” said the English geologist next to her. “We had a poetess here last month, and things got a bit dodgy here for the rest of us.”

“Really.” After the soup, there was risotto with squid ink.

“Yes. She kept referring to insects as ‘God’s typos’ and then she kept us all after dinner one evening so she could read from her poems, which seemed to consist primarily of the repeating line ‘the hairy kiwi of his balls.’”

From: “Birds of America” by Lorrie Moore, page 266, ‘Terrific Mother’

Miranda July's Best Book:

"Do you have doubts about life? Are you unsure if it is worth the trouble? Look at the sky: that is for you. Look at each person's face as you pass on the street: those faces are for you. And the street itself, and the ground under the street, and the ball of fire underneath the ground: all these things are for you. They are as much for you as they are for other people. Remember this when you wake up in the morning and think you have nothing. Stand up and face the east. Now praise the sky and praise the light within each person under the sky. It's okay to be unsure. But praise, praise, praise." From: "No One Belongs Here More Than You Stories by Miranda July", Page 11

A Dreamy, Drug of a Book

"The minute you land in New Orleans, something wet and dark leaps on you and starts humping you like a swamp dog in heat, and the only way to get that aspect of New Orleans off you is to eat it off. That means beignets and crayfish bisque and jambalaya, it means shrimp remoulade, pecan pie and red beans with rice, it means elegant pompano au papillote, funky file z'herbes, and raw oysters by the dozen, it means grillades for breakfast, a po' boy with chowchow at bedtime, and tubs of gumbo in between. It is not unusual for a visitor to the city to gain fifteen pounds in a week---yet the alternative is a whole lot worse. If you don't eat night and day, if you don't constantly funnel the indigenous flavors into your bloodstream, then the mystery beast will go right on humping you, and you will feel its sordid presence rubbing against you long after you have left town." ~Tom Robbins, "Jitterbug Perfume", page 240