Spiel on the Other Side of the
Bang
bang them pipes
pitiful wretch
ya got no basement
no second floor suckers ta bang back
yer your own landlord.
bang the mutha fuckin pipes
til yer knuckles shatter
growl at the crushed bucket
the purple fingernail
the dark spot on her red dress
who dya think is gonna hear you
whur yer pipes go
no soul survives
yowl at the soaked diary
beg whatd ya do ta deserve it
its the last thing on earth
that could carry on a dialogue with you
if only you wasnt so gawddam plugged off
cant see cant hear
go ahead
bang them pipes
stick yer head in the toilet
flush yer screams down
whur they belong
cuz what you got ta say
nobody deserves ta hear
yer your own landlord
an yer rents way past due
yer water heaters fit ta blow
yer ovens caked with a decades burnt cheese crud
yer fridges barely crankin out a miserable 60 degrees
whats with the sandfilled laced patent leather shoe
the teethmarks on the shellacked apple
the burnt phonebook with halfinch holes drilled through it
the handwrit twopage list a rare pelargoniums
someday when yer ass is out a the way
somebody may come asking
but fer now you can bang yer bloody pipes
til Jesus manifests as a WalMart browser
cuz right now yer dirt nothin
an nobody cares
about your bitchin
but by all means mutha
keep banging
yer not disturbing a soul
similar to: previously published in Alpha Beat Soup 03
also Blind Man’s Rainbow
© Copyright Spiel 2007