10 October 2006

Featured Poet: Andrew Lundwall


Andrew Lundwall is the managing editor of the electronic literary journal melancholia's tremulous dreadlocks. He currently lives in his home state of Wisconsin after residing for three years in the Washington D.C. metropolitan region. Recent work can be found in Ocho, Otoliths and PFS Post .

erasure of phil ochs’ song chords of fame


I found him by the stage last night
He was breathing his last breath
A bottle of wine and a cigarette
Was all that he had left
 
"I can see you make the music
'Cause you carry a guitar
God help the troubadour
Who tries to be a star"
 
        So play the chords of love, my friend
        Play the chords of pain
        If you want to keep your song,
        Don't, don't, don't, don't play the chords of fame
 
I seen my share of hustlers
As they try to take the world
When they find their melody
They're surrounded by the girls
But it all fade s so quickly
Like a sunny summer day
Reporters ask you questions
They write down what you say
 
        So play the chords of love, my friend
        Play the chords of pain
        If you want to keep your song,
        Don't, don't, don't, don't play the chords of fame
 
They'll rob you of your innocence
They will put you up for sale
The more that you will find success
The more that you will fail



the dyslexic ballet




the soul rumbles

under its nonsensical sheets

to go or not to to stay as scarred

and skinny fright legs burst its sockets

tangled in alchemical masturbation

to make the other thing spiritual flow

to make another massachusetts left of the dial

necking in an abandoned cadillac

like spider-veined comets

as sacred mushrooms of wanting

spray static tonight sucking

signal curtains for the dyslexic ballet
 
 

screwed-in kiss



what machine
with screwed-in kiss 
that vulgarity’s torch
should raise a hand 
of all the static 
to you i could bring 
my caravan





erasure of merle haggard’s song the bottle let me down
 
Tonight the bottle let me down,

And left your memory come around;

The one true friend I thought I'd found,

Tonight the bottle let me down.

Each night I leave the bar room when it's over,

Not feeling any pain at closing time;

But tonight your memory found me much too sober,

I couldn't drink enough to keep you off my mind.

Tonight the bottle let me down,

And left your memory come around;

The one true friend I thought I'd found,

Tonight the bottle let me down.

--- Instrumental ---

I've always had a bottle I could turn to,

And lately I've been turnin' every day;

But the wine don't take effect the way it used to,

And I'm hurtin' in an old familiar ways.

Tonight the bottle let me down,

And left your memory come around;

The one true friend I thought I'd found,

Tonight the bottle let me down.

Tonight the bottle let me down...
I been around, I've had my share
And I really can't complain
But I wonder who I left behind
The other side of fame
 


(Raspberry beret)
Tell me
Where have all the raspberry women gone? (And if it was warm she)
(Wouldn't wear much more)
(Raspberry beret)


I thin


Copyright 2006 Andrew Lundwall


2 comments:

Kevin said...

You have a way with words Andrew.
The juxtaposition of images you raise sends a reader into places anew.
Kevin Reid (eyeosphere)

P.F.S. Post said...

Beautiful. Brilliant.