side order
don't leave
my bed on Sundays
don't go to
church to pray
i
leave my back door open
and i'm
open every day
you can
worship at my altar
just get
down on your knees
i m not the
flesh of Mary
but i still
aim to please
plastic
Jesus on my dashboard
my
upholstery wearing thin
they say
God is dead
but She's
just knockin' back a gin
or whiskey
in the parlour
milk and
honey on the mind
while the
Devil's in your pantry
robbing you
blind 'course
your hunger
for my pleasure's
bound to
keep us satisfied
you can
hunt for buried treasure
i'll strike
oil between your thighs
or tattoo
your broken promises
across my
breaking heart
have
anything on my menu
or just
order a la carte
come worship
at my drive-in
come roll a
dream or two
smoke the
whole damn joint down
boy
it's your funeral too
they say
God is dead
but
Lord knows She's just chillin'
when the
world has gone to hell
come see me
if you're willin'
honey
pass the collection plate
you know
love takes its toll
come offer
up a tear or two
it's good for the soul
the low-down weary blues
it's a quarter past two
and my man ain't home
i lie awake in bed
i listen for the phone
but it ain't ringin’
and my heart's begun to moan
i got the lowdown weary blues
he beats me in the mornin’
he stays out late at night
he doesn't pay the rent
spends money on highlife
he’s a liar and a cheat
brings me trouble toil and strife
i got the low down weary blues
bloodstains on my pillow
sour whisky on my breath
as if we're not already dyin’
i worry ‘bout my death
i can't afford a funeral
i ain't got no tears left
i got the lowdown weary blues
the rats are in the parlour
eating bread and honey
the bats are in the belfry
acting kinda funny
the cat s out of tune
he dogs are barkin’
the melody's broken
the days are markin’
my name on a tombstone
the angels be harkin’
and calling me soooon
cause
there s a wound in my heart
that can't ever heal
the hole's soooo big
i can’t even feel
the train passing through
leaving its sorry tracks
i cry the whole night through
but he ain't commin bac
my pleas are on their knees
fallin’ straight to hell
he d be pawning my soul
if i didn’t already sell it
i be causin’ him pain
is the way he'd like to tell it
i feel bad and that ain’t good
but it's so hard to leave
why don't i just stay a spellll
we live in a blind alley
on a street of memory
my dreams are second-hand
and reality ain't free
in this broken down hotel room
we don t even own the key
there’s no where to go
but up you see
blood stains on my pillow
sour whiskey on my breath
as if we ain’t already dying
i worry bout my death
i d finish this song
but i aint t got no words left
I got the lowdown weary bluessssssssss
Antonia Alexandra Klimenko was first introduced on
the BBC and to the literary world by the legendary James Meary Tambimuttu of
Poetry London–-publisher of T.S. Eliot, Dylan Thomas, Henry Miller and Bob
Dylan, to name a few. his death, it was his friend, the late great
Kathleen Raine, who took an interest in her writing and encouraged her to
publish. A nominee for the Pushcart Prize and a former San Francisco Poetry Slam Champion, she
is widely published. Her work has appeared in (among others) XXI Century
World Literature (which she represents France) and Maintenant :
Journal of Contemporary Dada Writing and Art archived at the
Smithsonian Institution in Washington, D.C. and New York’s Museum of Modern
Art. She is the recipient of two grants: one from Poets in Need, of which
Michael (100 Thousand Poets for Change) Rothenberg is a co-founder; the
second—the 2018 Generosity Award bestowed on her by Kathleen Spivack and Joseph
Murray for her outstanding service to international writers through SpokenWord
Paris where she is Writer/ Poet in Residence. Her collected poems On
the Way to Invisible is forthcoming in 2022.
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