amphibi.us » »Mike Nightingale

Ring Finger

Shannon Peil — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 17:47:19 +0000

Well my ring finger’s in stitches
the internet has a million pretty pretty bitches
saying
“come and play”
“come and play”
no time for family
find time another way

my middle finger has a lever
that boy thinks he’s pretty clever
saying “c’mon boy and leave her
“i got a chrome meat cleaver”
steer away
steer away
tomorrow brings another day

we all got
a beautiful broad
to keep mind
but does she mind
that we all got
a beautiful broad
we keep in mind
it’s out of line
it’s the wrong time
to step out of line
maybe you feel fine
to go line dancing

do you come to a stop
when you see a yield sign?
Do you mock
all that is divine?
And what to say
when you stray
to the vows you made
your wedding day

well I don’t mean to be a misfit
but can you define all of this shit
it isn’t quite shinola
not healthy like granola
it’ll take you down like a bola
or a sick infant in a stroller
can you define
just what is mine?

Can you do what you need to
stand up and be true
and recognize
you’re not the one who feeds you

can you do what you want to
talk to women that taunt you
and recognize
the circumstance you got through

i’ve been day dreaming and living on top
but now I know it was safe as a rock
it was positioned just to fall
and as it stood tall
there was nothing left to grasp
except a flimsy vacant clasp
and a full pewter flask

silver and gold
soft metals make the mold
pen and ink
get the story told
illustrious and pink
make men think
and the bullshit we’ve been talking
make our breath stink

we close out our banks
they send out the tanks
but baby I feel fine
and long as you’re mine

we close out our banks
they send out the tanks
but baby I feel fine
sitting on a land mine

we are Americans
born to reprimand
you owe me a sue
and I say “screw you”

we are Americans
born to reprimand
you owe me a screw
and I say “sue you”

we are americans
born to caravan
you owe me a screw
your wife says “fuck you”

© Mike Nightingale, 2009

[others]

Tuesday’s Dirty Bloodclot (let’s do the hokey pokey)

Shannon Peil — Fri, 02 Oct 2009 17:14:34 +0000

My guts are curled in misshapen form
I cannot wait for them to expel
I’m back to a dirty Tuesday morning
My dreams were interrupted by the spill of beer,
Spill of fear
Near you always, in my dreams
Dreams of wonderful red rooms
Where you lie in matching undergarments
And my socks and pants
Are bled through to match as well
My blood no longer coagulates
I’m no longer addicted to the medicine
Only the dreams that accompany it
And here I am
Dirty Tuesday morning
No longer affording the dream
No longer affording the life
I wasn’t born for the bedroom
I wasn’t born for the office
I was born to party on a Tuesday night
In a pinstripe suit
To sing and dance And drink until dawn
Day + Night = Restless
I am no longer the indestructible adolescent
I am no longer the demigod
Life needs rest On a Sunday afternoon in a bar
At the Bar-b-q
Where the band plays
And I can sweet talk to the love that does not exist
And we will waltz and tango until the crowd goes agape
Me in my pinstripe suit
You in black lace
With a quiet smirk on my face
For I know the color of your undergarments
Head bopping
Hip shaking
Crowd wearing

In my dream I had a tango partner
In my life I am a vagabond
All alone
And free to roam

My wingspan grows smaller as I balance my checkbook
I want the winds of you to carry me
As I know your flight pattern changes direction as bills are due
Fuck the payroll tonight
Fuck the rent
And fuck the bills
Tonight we wine and dine
Tonight we take the world for granted
Tonight we go to places where dreams do not exist
Forget the office
Forget the bedroom
Remember the two-step
Remember the tango
My absent lover
We were not born for the bedroom
We were not born for the office
We were born to party on a Tuesday night
You in sparkling silver cocktail dress
And me in a sparkling silver suit
To sing and dance And drink until dawn
And no matter what
The party must go on
(and now we dance!)