THE BIG BABOON BY THE LIGHT OF THE MOON

Was Combing His Auburn Hair!

Back At The Laundromat (again!)

Guess I was blind
didnt think you were that kind
guess I shoulda been walkin with a white-tipped cane
But now I see
made a silly fool outta me
and Im washin my clothes at the laundromat again
Back at the laundromat again
Back to the place where I hang my face
a rolla quarters is my best friend
Guess I shoulda seen it comin
it was always around the bend
that Id be
back at the laundromat again
(Its always easy to spot whats wrong with somebody else. Easier, at least, than
pinpointing ones own problems. And when the culprit is a basic trait, a character flaw, a
twisted root gnarled tight about ones innermost self well, forget about it. No fucking
way youre going to see it clearly, alone or quickly.
My problem is women. Like an alky with booze Ive been pulled to women since I was a
baby and have always come up a sloppy, stumbling drunk, unable to metabolize my
multi-dimensional lust or slake my thirst or drink my fill or steel my will to avoid them.
That theyve been poison for me Im long aware. But that knowledge has been
compounded, salt-rubbed, exacerbated by my view of woman as Deity. Still, how to be
true to my festered, confused core when all the wealth that I could pull from the dross of
self summed less than what it cost to buy a round of normalcy come Happy Hour at the
Caf Cosmic Mons Veneris?
Conjecture be damned. And theory, his bastard scion, lie pimp-fucked in a rose gutter of
near-congealed doubt. Lets on to fact!
In infant years, if I stared long enough at a darkened window, the witch would come. My
eyes sucked at her pulsing face as it floated, her hungry lips mauling me with failure,
taboo and frustration. I lay paralyzed, my body rigid yet vibrating with violent electric
streams of fear. An agony so powerful it was nearly pleasure. And narcotic. I summoned
her what else to term my willful, albeit terrified, vigil frequently, only to writhe on the
bed while she wrapped me tighter in a subconscious cocoon of self-loathing from beyond
the plane of the night-black window. I dont know how long she held me in thrall for
those sadistic sessions, but I recall gasping and trembling long after each departure as I
re-collected my self.

It never occurred to my childs mind that these might be dreams, but now I know they
were. What else? She came only at night, when the windows were black. I could sense
her appearance, but was powerless to prevent her arrival. Still, she taught me well. Hard
lessons drowning in dream on sweat slick sheets drilled by the mistress of night terror
lodged at my core. This witch schooled my deep mind until I knew what woman was, that
to court her was to dance with pain, that desire raised only to crumble to fear.)

Chief Spread Eagle's Sleaze Hole!

Bite my Bark!
Onisegun Guachi Noog-Noog!

Christ, thou gaunt, despotic fraud,

so-called son of tribal God
Didst thou ever true exist,
art thou farting in the mist
waiting, jealous, to be kissed
on the arse by pious priest?
Christ, insipid hierophant,
bloody despot, raving, gaunt,
Three cheers for the genital Christ!
Hes really the best Christ around
Three cheers for the genital Christ!
Hes becoming the toast of the town
Exaggerated Outcasts
Exaggerated outcasts rolling down the street
know enough to disregard each idiot they meet
Human hunks of pathos sitting down inside a bar
know enough to understand how meaningless they are
And its all just a touch of the beauty of this life
all just a miracle that youd ever thought to fight
all just a quiet hour groping for the light
Reconstituted vagrants picking up some cash
know enough to hide it and not do something rash

Tubercular combatants floating off the field

know enough to tell themselves that none of it was real
And its all just a bookend bending in the breeze
all just a minister suspended on his knees
all just a silent thought wanting but to please
At Solstice
As sure as grey slush coats the ground,
As sure as traffic snarls around,
As sure as retro carols resound,
Last seasons failed gifts oft rebound.
Thus, with compassion true I act
The froth my own grey plots intact
And give that gift with most impact,
Tho proffered with a chronic lack of tact.
Oh, friend (or relative), most dear,
Now ripely festive I press near
And flaunt beneath your beak good cheer!
Fear not! Grin broadly! Peer whats here!
Aye! Wrest from out this envelope
That thing most prized from sea to slope;
That it were greater we both hope
Alas! Yet here with love the most, this season, I can cope.
Ticket to the Moon
I just sold my ticket to the moon
Bailed on the rocket goin zoom zoom zoom
I just sold my ticket to the moon
Gonna hug the earth no higher than balloon
I Must Redeem My Mother's Spirit
Have we not eclipsed our fathers?
Are we not our fathers' suns?
I must redeem my mother's spirit,
that sweet moon blood bathed everyone.

I must redeem my mother's spirit

vouchsafed me as the pit of her first fruit
laced into my flesh like fleece
suckled sleeping by her addled milk
Parts of me lie still-born still
blood bound in memory clotted walls
groping like a singed mole blind and
falling from the grasp of men
She lullabied my stuttered muscles
knurled my wooden marrow
foaming splintered dreaming rabid
knotted my snarled sternum with my heart
Dream now of Kali
lips dangling time like afterbirth
while Eros frozen from the south
falls
plummets from man's heaven harvest
I must redeem my mother's spirit
complete a last ditch concretizing ploy
baste somehow her bier with my rash ashes
salt her frozen pavements
with the dust
of my self-plundered tomb
I Remember Now
I remember now
it was another time
a life, a mind like this one
I remember now
it was a sunrise lighting up a rainy day
I remember how
I started laughing,
then I ended up with teeth clenched
I remember now
It was the 1st time that you went away

I'm Waitin To Explode

Im waitin to explode
Im learnin to die
Im waitin to explode
Im waitin to fry
All alone in the dark at night I dont have much to do
I sit and smoke and hear the sounds
and watch what people do
Everybody seems so tight even on the creep
They walk around like theyre awake
but their eyes still look asleep
Im waitin (etc)
Now how many others sit alone at night
waitin to become ground zero
How many others dreamin skeletal dreams
screamin phosphorous and blazin like a sun
Paranoia! We lap it like salt
feelin frenzy inside of the maze
You could go out for a nice walk in the park
but youd only trip and fall in the haze
Im waitin (etc)
(Most of the considerable trouble I have had in life has come as the direct result of my involvement with
women. Not that I blame women. The responsibility for my misadventures is solely my own. That
notwithstanding, I believe that had I never known female companionship, my life, while remaining a
paradigm of classic underachievement and self-destruction, would have been less burdensome or painful
by nearly 76%. Avoiding entanglements with women and the inevitably dire consequences thereof,
however, was never in my stars. From birth onward I have been, and I hazard this at the self-conscious
risk of appearing even more melodramatic than justified, cursed. Indeed, I suspect the malefic condition
attached itself to me (or did I rush towards it?) at conception. I imagine my father cramped during
coitus. Or worse.
My earliest memories are clouded by the irreconcilable antagonisms of lust and fear. Between three and
four years of age I recall being coyly invited to the play house of several neighborhood girls who must
have been slightly older. Once inside, I was forced to participate in a hideous tea ceremony which
culminated in my imprisonment. Writhing and moaning, I vainly sought freedom as my girlish captors
mocked my impotence. By the time my tiny toes again kissed the sidewalk, after minutes or hours of
bib-bound anguish, my subconscious had been deeply furrowed with fear of female.)
My Lust

My lust
a simple thing like dust
I thrust
My cause is just
Nuns and Monks
Nuns and monks
stench worse than skunks
Id rather punks
or seeping drunks
Open to the Ground
Open to the ground you are free to leave
roam casual and clowning toward corners
one fine dot reduced by half
reduced by half reduced
infinite expanding
are you thinking now
about to turn into traffic
set to merge with warning shout
mainstream ears on newscast eyes on billboard foot on gas
floating on the flowing wordless knowing
Steady! You are free to
leave
Rest But Brief
Rest but brief or you'll ne'er gain
surcease from sorrow or from pain Both come dancing close upon
the darkness which, before the dawn,
gains birth anew midst whisky heart
impassioned with the urge to start
another lust, another road
trod oft & spur'd by Lethe's goad,
yet pauses, blinking, at the light
and, gazing wistful back to night,
seeks vainly for a wisp of star
to mark the distance come thus far
& hears the blackbird cackle "Lost!"

yet strides, undaunted by the cost

Sheila
How long have you hidden beside me,
crouched while I plied meager passions,
hovering close as my mouth, too busy for breath,
paid penance in ransom for terror tight loins?
Was it my ear you whispered with poisoned patchouli
or hers?
How long since we motored as lovers,
since I played the pedals and you spun the wheel,
since we scandalized farmers; two bi-racial magnets
generating a field forced to plow clodded clichs,
to mock tomb-tight jaw lines, to spit sweet life's sweat
in the sockets of every death's head?
But you died.
I held you - so long now - that cool night
and sensed you as corpse. Forgive me. I ran
but your dead fingers followed,
sought me in chance beds and crowbarred,
pliered me dizzy from women till in dust there's just me.
Yet you all the years
Hidden, a satin typhoon, sad pockmarked brown leaf,
sizzling last rain of May.
I ran. Snubbing your funeral, dumb of your grave,
closed as the blood in my heart.
Dead you were open and motion. Shielding me from every her,
nailing, prying, nailing.
Forgive me and go.
Ride this candle's heat to heaven,
leave seething earth,
free my beds to warm with life.
Syrup of Squill

Long past the other loads Ive dropped

I carry you
big-eyed & grinning like a baby
In that time all days will feel like dream
the mind receding; a severed worm
wriggling through a rusted culvert to the first light sensed
Stars dissolve like sugar in pale coffee
Farmboy in the city, treeless, tong-marked,
sucking bean curd, washed
clean by the April wind
O let the wind wash over me
(o let the wind blow, o let the wind blow)
O let the wind wash over me
(o let the wind blow, o let the wind blow)
And wash my aura clean
Yeah, lead me all the way
Dont wake me from this dream
Let it play
Let me stay
O let the wind wash over me ....
What do we
(yeah, something like that)
mean
when we mean?
What do we
(no no not at all)
do
when we say
what we think
we have thought
and it isnt
(no not at all)
working at all?
Should we
reach for machines?
Document, quantify?
Will that
me-ify you
or
you-ilate I?

How can I be other than in the now?

Where can I be other than here?
Sudden rain
spontaneous joy
like a laughing nun glimpsed in traffic
scribe the parameters, my dear, the dinner guests are almost here
we need the steps by which to trod, we need the condescending nod
to show us, each, which is our chair. It helps to know that you are there
Bony-footed, throbbing at the ground,
push-coursing on gripping toes hasty holding,
seeking for the ground,
thighs like cables, Hanuman thighs,
chasing fate with lidless eyes
the gurgling aria sung by tidal gut
the melody rolls and subsides, the libretto reads: but ...
Up the cranes cables, like graffiti, smolder votive fires
At dawn the workers rise or rest
The longing for truth sprays its dew in the throat
in that abyss the ego dry-bleats like a goat
Aria of my loins sing out! Snare
the one your call awakens, trip
her running, draw
her near
Somewhere She Is
Somewhere, she is walking
entering a bookstore
the floor falls away but she is borne up by the stars
Sometime, she is laughing
languishing on horseback
cackling and cantering thru traffic-snarled cars
The Ballad of Hannah #24
Only halfway thru the door
already fallen for Hannah #24
A dirty-blonde beauty movin' up from the bar
eyes shinin brighter than a wisemans star

Shoulda turned tail and run away

but my lust had me hog-tied & made me stay
She handed me a menu, led me to a table,
I was stompin like a stud locked deep inside her stable
My heart was screamin, my tongue was on the floor,
I was starvin' but only for Hannah #24
I called out reedy voiced for the check
already in mournin', a despondent wreck
I knew Id never have the guts
to fully dine upon my lust
Doomed to drool, to twitch and stare
at Hannah #24s cascading hair
to fidget, whine and pine, then gape
at moon gold fuzz radiant on her nape
to roll til closing, get kicked out,
then on the sidewalk skulk about
a horn-mad husk destined for goal
with only blue nuts for my bail
The Black Light Shining On Me
The black light shining on me says
This night will never end
The black light smiling on me says
This night will be my friend
dust on ponded water
clouds o'er stubbled corn
orgasmic self slaughter
black sun is reborn
I am reborn
The black light draining on me says
Midnight upon me bends
The black light bleeding at me says
My heart joys endless rends
Up On The Cross
boo hoo hoo hoo hoo
I'm up on the cross

boo hoo hoo hoo hoo

My pleasure is loss
Hurl daggers of envy at each back of neck
Should eyes ever meet I dissemble, a wreck
Why Does The World
Why does the world want to break my stones today
why is the fuckin world sittin heavy on my bones today
Ive been tryin to walk the straight & narrow
but things keep gettin in my way
So why does the world want to break my stones today
Your Love's So
Your loves so goldarned dangerous a man could break his heart
so doggone dangerous a man could break his heart
Theres no shelter in your arms
no safety from the start
Your loves so goldarned dangerous a man could break his heart
Next to you, Im just a fool
Youre subtle, cruel and smart
and your loves so doggone dangerous a man could break his heart
art
part
(all copyright 2015, David A. Scheffler, except excerpt from "Animal Fair" which is a traditional folk song)