All Fucked Up
Florence and Normandy
Ten years this very day....
I was nine. A whispy thin kid w/blondish hair and bright
eyes. Naive? By no means. I had seen Full Metal Jacket
nearly everyday, often stole my grandfather's tobacco to
chew behind the stadium and cursed w/as as much care as a
dragqueen in Max Factor. Hell, I listened to the fuckin'
Doors as gospel:
There's blood in the streets, it's up to my ankles
There's blood on the streets, it's up to my knee
Blood on the rise, it's following me
Blood in the streets runs a river of sadness
Blood in the streets it's up to my thigh
Yeah, the river runs red down the legs of the city
Blood stains the roofs and the palm trees of Venice
Blood in my love in the terrible summer
Bloody red sun of Phantastic L.A.
James abruptly parked in front of our grandparent's place,
racing out of his car and grabbing me by the carpenter hook
on my torn jeans. "INSIDE!" he said authoratively as he
pushed me toward the door, his eyes glowing seriously as
hell. "James, what did I do this time? The ice cream thing,
isn't it? I didn't mean to rob the ice cream man,
seriously..." "Dude," he said, flicking on the tube, "Watch
this. 'Tis time to grow up, kiddo." The streets of L.A.
were being blazed. Wow...Oliver Stone film set? Naw...it
was the real fuckin' thing. My first riot. My first view
into the demise of such a Godlike city....west of Eden....
I'm getting bored by this piece in progress...will finish
^Thanks to Ray Manzarek for the permission to use the above
lyrics from "Peace Frog"