They call me Bony Marony.

I’m a slip joint groove cat
grease gun monkey man
be-bop bouncing
in my black buckle boots.

In a cherried-out chariot
I shot across the radar screen
to Ohhh and Awww
and Yeahh!

But old rattle roll bones
can’t go no more…

Too many Lucky Strikes
too many brown bag pints
but I knew the deal,
I always knew the deal.

To a world of conning Clydes
it’s sin to choose a time to die.
Spit in the eye, I testify
a Little Richard howl,
“You keep-a knockin’ but you can’t come in…”
Don’t need no Man, no Book, no Dad,
no smock Doc shuckster,
neutering me.

Time to split this James Dean
nightmare scene…

Like that hell’s bells Greek cat
tonight I’m eating hemlock,
sucking on the gas pipe
I’ll agitate some gravel, man.
Time to Bony Marony
blast right out of here!

12/26/2004

Posted on 12/26/2004
Copyright © 2024 David Hill