from RAVE ON!

(510) 676-1111

There is a rock n’ roll concert between us

And I couldn’t believe I got you baby, because

Big ups and all of that small press dist.

Aging B-Birls look like lesbians

In gaudy flat billed caps

In NYC matching your RICO ACT

I’m singing sonatas because

B-Boys look like toddlers

At the moan the time will be…

The 90’s as a movie

Based on the book by

Michael Chrichton

Bee-boying down Minna St.

I’m Superman in a Christmas Carol

Cheeks pulled over my ears

My skin is a cape hovering over SF

I’ve never known anyone who doesn’t

Hate a baby baby on an airplane

A black whale with blue paint on its back

“DP” means Dolores Park not

Double Penetration

And we’re all fine until someone screams

“Stag Night” wearing war metals 

MTV

I am not from Brooklyn

I am not from Brooklyn

I am not from Brooklyn

California


it would cost more to drive to LA anyway

there's a futon in your kitchen
you bought me a 32oz and it's in your kitchen

they're called "Congress Created Dust Bowl" right
and they're kind of like The Delta right

and they're playing the Greek Theater tonight
right, the deceased live in Oakland cause

when your lead singer lives in SoCal you'll
drive so much you become an aqueduct

sometimes i see trucks with NorCal decals
but everyone from here knows that no one

ever said "NorCal," that's a SoCal thing
like only Tupac or New Yorkers say "Cali"

and I remember reading Thrasher
that TED rant about Toyota-bros slapping

skate stickers on their bumpers, Slime Balls
Psycho Eyes and Per Welinder skulls

but maybe these weren't stickers just
baggy hoodies or cherry beaches

the top of the food chain is shotgunning water
south of Fresno just to spite the So.

and gnarly actually just means seriously

Battle Records

DIE HARD! w/ The Commons

DIE HARD! w/ The Curate

DIE HARD! w/ The Community

DIE HARD! w/ The Burlesque

DIE HARD! w/ The Hegemony

DIE HARD! w/ The Queer

DIE HARD! w/ The Conceptual

DIE HARD! w/ The Heteronormativity

DIE HARD! w/ The Hybrid

DIE HARD! w/ The Labor

DIE HARD! w/ The Vengeance

etc

Fairuza Balk American Girl


Everything is a douchbag now
Echo Park is my Shelly Duvall
I’m surrounded by apple-bottoms
Pissing all over these bushes
It’s a new sunny day
But everyone is always
Moving to Oakland
A whole economy has grown
Out of this House movement
Gone are the days of one
“San Francisco sound,” when
All my friends are sapping Alize
Nickel n’ dimed in their dirty East Bay cottages
The proverbial “last drink”
Is just a white label nux vomica
If you take that informal survey
We’ll all have to sit through that
“Body Movin’” acoustic track again, and this
Is a point the commercial ignores
The narrator has no credibility
He is a website pop-locking Egyptians
Your liver and stomach
Will be speaking to you as an internal affair
And when it comes down to it
No one knows how to define anything anymore
We’re walking that tightrope of taste
I’m a trendoid poseur and
All my friends are pushing mongo

Super Bowl XLIII

Did my first meth and close read The End for 8 hours
All the squares in the living room want to be hung
By thick twine around the borders as a fireball
From the hand or a whale of a bus in blue drips
Cut off at the corner of the wall those hips saying
“Having a nice time wish you were here” to look
a bit more 3-dimensional as you climb through the
Front door carrying the best fried chicken from
Divisadero complete with a dance routine to battle
The Super Bowl half time show and everybody
Else knows it’s Stag Night at the corners but
I can’t seem to find the right place to hang
These portraits, all the space in the living room
Is white space and I’m playing “I spy with my little
Eye” a blue key and teapot and an American hero
On horseback with sappier drawn shouting “Pro
Patriot” but nevermind that Castlevania III cartridge
Hanging above the transom, that’s just decoration
From my childhood and this is an important day
And all my friends are rooting for the same team

The Cenobites


I am a goddamn Butterball Cenobite
My repulsive glamour is a
Piano riff with anti-club posters
Wheat pasted all over the TL

I am a super-butcher, as in
A franchise with no overt reference
My attributes are a Roland 303
And leather garments gushing blood

We all have horrific mutilations
Manifested in the tools we carry
As devoted followers more than
20,000 attended during the weekend

This is the Western concept for former humans
Just a rotating lozenge with patterns
Of Lemachand’s box on its panels
Until the crowd responds favorably

For many decades this diamond
Was a card suit until Club Burn It Up
Became a lithograph able to summon
Chains from nearby shadows

I was made with a pneumatic eye
That can impale targets, and so forth
That smiley yellow face, that vapid
Anonymous smile exhibits an amoral
Personality levitating above its butchery

While we were listening to this music
We thought of exposing areas of flesh
Where some kind of torture has,
Or is occurring, all the unlicensed clubs
Turned on the scene, this was an extremely
Painful point of sensory overload

The Lone Gunman

Hubba hubba in the West

But it’s his magical powers

That keeps that magazine in circulation

From Simon Magus to Moses to Logos

A judge with his own store

But it’s where we hideout

And just as Scully was named after

A baseball announcer, The Gunmen

Are named after an Airforce base

A punk rock band and JFK

The History Of Hell in a series spinoff

And that little cry-baby CC

Was anything but a duelist

Dropping the hammer on message boards

Swearing to kill off anybody not

Tuned into this Friday night ménage

Until Mulder was tasked to chat

With these ghosts asking stupidly

“Where does lightening come from, and

By what will does it strike the tower?”

In this theogony TLG might be

The Bride but your ideas are even

Weirder than the myriad scientific

Inaccuracies of the sci-fi series Earth 2

El Lobo appears to live a normal life

And his motto “as above, so below”

Might trick a satellite dish into bouncing

Back his image, but don’t be fooled

By these childish scraps, he is the

Magician incarnate asking for assistance

Kevin Opstedal with a micro-review of my RAVE ON! and Derek Fenner's Wild Schemes over at Ukulele Feedback, both just out from Lew Gallery!