Archives for the month of: July, 2012

Recovering from the Aubert Workshop at Loyalist. A productive & relaxing 5 days almost away from distractions – no TV – though I did watch an episode of the Almighty Jonsons on line. The morning sessions were thought provoking: to prologue or not; to self-publish or not; pros & cons of ePub & eBooks. For some reason I was asked to give a presentation on ePub – most of my knowledge is based on a Bloody Words workshop & various podcasts.

The afternoon workshops were good – lots of strong material was presented – often problems were with clarity & continuity as opposed to story telling. Pieces ranged from thrill-a-minute car chases, to amusing police encounters, to Hemingway in Toronto, to life with an mentally challenged child. I think the only piece that garnered much negative comment was mine, the excerpt from The Lazarus Kiss (my Nano novel): too much swearing, violence that made some of readers want to look away (I count that as a success, mind you).

Got off campus on Thursday night with some of my classmates for a dinner at the Waring House. Drove through a wild rain storm to get there. Arrived at 6 – didn’t get served till 7 – the food was fine but the service left a lot to be desired. Leaks in the roof over our table and the window beside it were distracting. Good conversation made the wait bearable (but not acceptable). Joining us was Vicki Delany – a well established a mystery writer whom I pumped for her eBook experiences – getting her back list in e format has increased sales considerably.

Speaking of backlists, Amazon has recently bought the Avalon line to reissue as eBooks resulting in unexpected royalty checks for authors in that back catalogue including Rosemary.

getting the L out of Loyalist

The drive back to Toronto Friday was trouble free – enough cloud cover so there was no setting sun to deal with. Unpacked & sorted laundry – the domestic backbone of creativity. I’ll go over the notes on my piece in a couple of weeks, maybe. I have my Plasticine set to prepare, and one for the Damned in October, then NaNo in November – so maybe by the new year I’ll have time. Plus I’m keen to get at my coal mine romance after three years of research.


August 9, Thursday – attending: The Beautiful and The Damned

August 19, Sunday – Battle of the Bulge feature: Plasticine Poetry

August 23-26 – attending: Fan Expo Canada

October 11, Thursday – feature The Beautiful and The Damned


writing sample

writing sample

here’s an oldish piece:

My Drug Of Choice

scotch grass cocaine

sex video games

been there done that

through it all

self-pity was my drug of choice

first time    every time

before I picked up a substance

I indulged in self-pity

wallowed in it

justified everything with it

‘woe is me

why was I born

what am I living for

no one loves me

that guy didn’t want to see me again

I’m get paid what I worth

you didn’t return my call

being told to get to get off the pity pot

get off the cross we need the wood

proved not that you care

but that you didn’t really care

no one understands

and when they understood

they didn’t show enough sympathy

enough compassion

they were stuck on their own pity pots

reaching for substances

to make the pity less stifling

all the substances I tried

never satisfied

the way my drug of choice self-pity did

they numbed me to it for a moment or two

made me not care about myself

woe is me I don’t even love me

what’s the point of it all

why go on living

when even the escape

made me long for the cage

feeling nothing locked me back into

my drug of choice self-pity

I can’t do that

my writing is crappy

no one buys my chap books

no one wants to sleep with me

not even myself

who’d want to have sex

with a self-pity junkie

unless it was to divert themselves

from their own self-pity

for a few pathetic moments

of orgasmic relief

that has to be cleaned up

I hope I don’t get some disease

I hope they call me tomorrow

or next week

or soon

I’ll have no choice but

to pick up my drug of choice.



view of my window

The Loyalist campus remains unchanged from last year – small ripples but nothing major – getting decent lunch food still remains a challenge unless one really loves bread  – Tim Ho’s is fine in the morning but Subway for lunch 5 days in a row could lead to me skipping lunches & losing nano-grams of weight.

This year, for the first time, I’m in residence “D” – the one residence building with no name. It’s very cold – I like a bit of a/c but its too cool here for kicking around, indoors, in shorts & a tee-shirt – sweat pants & hoodie are musts.

view from my window

First day of workshop was meeting others. Of the 12 in the class 8 of us have taken workshops with Rosemary a few times before. 2 men, 10 women . In the mornings we’ll be looking a the “whys” of being a novelist & also at marketing. To warm us up to each other we did a couple of writing exercises in the afternoon – one of which was to write a great opening line. Here’s mine:

My sister, Misty, who hasn’t spoken to me in years, leaned over my father’s coffin to whisper in my good ear, “Which of us kills mother?”

Real workshopping began Tuesday. I signed on to be one of the first in the hot seat with the section of Lazarus Kiss I posted here last week

Day two sort of over – I’m out of out the classroom but still have pieces to read over for workshopping tomorrow. Even by this second day it is very clear that ePub is changing the nature of the industry so that what we are learning about marketing & paper publishing is altering as it gets said -

Mine was the first piece workshopped – a good kick off – because it moves so fast some were a bit confused, some were lost because the excerpt comes from the 3/4 point in the manuscript – but overall they were impressed, challenged & in some cases laughed out loud when they first read it.

I tried to set the example of listening till everyone had commented before responding to a few things – I assured them that the violence of the scene wasn’t typical of the story but that the humor was. I’ll look at the written comments in couple of months when I do the next round of revisions.

more pics around campus:


August 9, Thursday – attending: The Beautiful & The Damned

August 19, Sunday – Battle of the Bulge feature: Plasticine Poetry

August 23-26 – attending: Fan Expo Canada

October 11, Thursday – feature The Beautiful and The Damned


here’s the one of the ‘Killer’ series that I used as my workshop one-sheet biz card:

The Killer Dappled by Sun

the killer flexed his hands

warm playful sunshine

wrapped around his fingers

he squeezed

but couldnʼt grasp the light

couldnʼt hold it   stop it   control it   harm it

the light was safe from him

he found comfort that something

was safe from him

he couldnʼt murder the light

there was a limit to his power

he was human    he had frailty

he looked around

shadows light danced on faces

chattering mindless

anyone of whom he could kill

one of whom he would kill soon

with hands that basked

in the gentle caress of the sun

they would find a throat

they would take the light out of those eyes

of people who were slaves to a system

of comfort for comfortʼs sake

well heʼd put an end to someoneʼs comfort

the killer was a liberator

and he would liberate one by one

until he was free

it would be good to be free

free of the need to liberate

the need to kill

once he had quenched that thirst

he would be free to enjoy this life

this world

this moment in the sun



BuDa’s initial cabaret at the Glad Day Bookshop was a packed house of happy poetry and music fans. The space is a nearly ideal location for spoken word – good acoustics, ample space & comfy chairs. I say “nearly ideal” as it is a two story walk up to the third floor – so not fully accessible.

I manned the beverages station which was perfect for greeting people as they entered. Host DM Moor got things started by 7:15 & moved things along well. I got my open stage spot out of the way in the first set. I gave the house a hint of my August Battle of the Bulge Plasticine feature. Plus I hogged more stage time with the Tura Satana trivia questions.

ants in pants as a result of my set

First feature was Marcy Rogers. She presented several short pieces as adult fairy tales that delved into relationships with emotionally damaged people conveying with tenderness and humor the pain of loving what one can’t ‘fix’. She pulled no punches when  it came to the vagaries of relationships: “My last relationship wouldn’t say c**t even when she a mouthful of it.”

art sunny-side up

Second feature was Thomas Scott. He did many of his pieces with little or no introduction allowing the work to speak for itself. I loved the long piece about directions for his funeral – the placement of photos over his coffin to co-ordinate with body parts underneath. I also enjoyed his piece about the joys of being rid of someone: ‘quivering in refreshing certitude that you are gone … burnt to a crisp in a squalid neighborhood house fire.’

Final feature was Charnie Guettel who treated us to sections for her jazz opera called, I think, The Tears of Ophela. Each section is in a different style & sometimes language. The French song captured the sensual lilt of French jazz, the song ‘I Never Slept With Your Father’ had a decided loose honky-tonk flavor that suited it perfectly. We enjoyed singing along, to the tune of I Left My Heart in SF – ‘I left my husband at some ranch, dressing up as Blanch.’

A few small things to tweak – lighting, stocking the fridge with cold drinks – but even with those small wrinkles Glad day will be a perfect fit for the Damned. The next BuDa is August 9, hosted by Philip Cairns and features poets Vanessa McGowan, Rebecca Singh and musician Nicole Coward


July 22-27, Sunday-Friday – attending: Aubert Workshop

August 19, Sunday – Battle of the Bulge feature: Plasticine Poetry

August 23-26 – attending: Fan Expo Canada

October 11, Thursday – feature The Beautiful and The Damned


and something from the past:

write Rogers & demand more of me :-)


here’s one of the pieces I did at the Damned:


why are men’s underwear

called a pair of briefs

when there is only one of them

not two – like socks

briefs implies more than one

though the ones you are wearing

implies something not so brief

and another thing

no there isn’t another thing

let me tell you

picturing you in those briefs

doesn’t leave room in my mind

for anything more

I’m not going to ask where you got them

or how much they cost

but how they taste

don’t get the wrong idea


I’m not someone who spends his time

imagining men in in snug white or black

plain jockey type Egyptian cotton undies

never prints

prints incline to the comic

and there is nothing comic

in there is there

so don’t get that idea

but its difficult not to go there

as you skate board past me

your jeans slipped down

past the band of your underwear

I can see the brand name

a black hieroglyphic on red

what holds those jeans up

with the weight of my eyes

tugging on them

when you stop to scratch your belly

lifting the t-shirt enough for me to see

the scruffy scurry of hair on your belly

I can’t remember where I was going

your smile has put all destinations

except one – out of my mind

the fantasy moment is

much much too short

before you slip away

into a mere memory

piercings tattoos

frosted flashes in hair

so I’ve always wondered why

they were called briefs

is it because

they won’t take long

to remove

Getting things ready for the Aubert Workshop at Loyalist. Picking the pieces for workshopping isn’t nearly as demanding picking what to wear :-) If only there was a way to teleport clothing – travel would be so much more enjoyable. I can load up 240 hours of music in my iPod but need a trunk for 2 pairs of jean & 4 tee’s shirts. Driving to Belleville does make transporting things somewhat easier – no worry about being charged for an extra suitcase.

I’ll get dropped off on campus Sunday night and picked up on Friday. I’ll be stranded on campus so I also take along suppers for three nights. Class dinner the last night. There’s a Tim Ho’s till 11 am for breakfast & a Subway for lunch till 2:30 p.m. and after that vending machines :-( With no car I’m stuck – which I don’t mind at all – fewer distractions – this year I’ll have my air mac to access wireless in residence for some diversion.

dining hall mural – painted over in recent renovations

Past years I’ve taken movies to watch in the evenings, this year I’m going to resist that temptation and to get more writing done. I have my August Plasticine and October Damned features to get ready for and want to have some new pieces for both. Plus two other novel ideas that have been bubbling in my mind – the coal miner one that I’ve been researching for the past few years.

The other is a Shakespeare mash-up I conceived when I had my theatre company. Romeo and Hamlet – ghosts, star-crossed lovers, costume balls, sword play and oh my.

I’ve put together a one-sheet flyer, similar to the one I had for Bloody Words – my elaborate business card. It’ll be one of my ‘Killer’ poems. I’ll get another small run of Brown Betty done to sell. That and copies of the workshop excerpt should be all the paper I’ll have to take thanks to the Kindle. I have enough to read on that to hold me a month.

Loyalist workshop is no picnic

Loyalist workshop is no picnic

Here’s the excerpt from The Lazarus Kiss (my Nano novel) I’m taking to Loyalist for workshopping – it falls at approx. page 233 – Andy is an anatomically correct, life-like automaton elf which Harris is testing as a part of his job – as a comic book geek he sees it as an action figure not at a sex toy. Rest assured what you don’t understand has been made clear by now – comments welcome -

There was a gentle knock at Harris’s door. The peek screen revealed a chador clad woman. He knew there were a couple of Muslim families on the floor above his. 

“Can I help you?” he opened the door a few inches. Had the curse hit one of them in the foyer when they passed. 

“I apologize for disturbing you.” The woman’s voice became a whisper as she collapsed into his apartment.

“My God. Are you alright?” He’d never seen anyone faint before. He shut the door. “I’ll … get you a glass of water.” He started towards the kitchen. “Or should I call for help. Security will know what to do.” He reached for his phone.

“Don’t bother asshole.”

A sharp blow to his shoulder sent Harris tumbling over his couch. One arm whacked his coffee table as he landed.

“What the fuck?” He looked up at the cloaked figure standing over him.

The figure lifted the hem and placed one booted foot under Harris’s chin, not quite on his throat. The woman quickly pulled off the veiled hood of the chador.

“Listen you fat fuck I’m not here to play games with you.” The face was covered by a tight black ski mask the mouth bulged out awkwardly. Only the eyes showed and they were outlined in a mottled black and green.

The voice was female.

“Becky?” Harris couldn’t imagine anyone wanting to do this.

“Shut the fuck up.” The woman pulled off the rest of the chador. She wore a dark blue jumpsuit. From a pocket she pulled a length of thin rope.

“Sit up.” She took her foot off his chest.

He reached to rub where she had been grinding into his collar bone.

“Don’t bother. You aren’t pretty enough to worry.” she gabbed his hands and began to tie them behind his back. “Your pictures in the paper make you look a lot handsomer than you are.”

“Miss …”

“Oh don’t you Miss me.”

The face leaned into his. “I’m sorry to disappoint you.” As she spoke the voice changed, deepened before it became distorted. “I’m all man. You got that fat ass Harris.” He looped the rope around Harris left wrist and pulled that arm behind Harris’s back.

Harris lurched forward, stood up and knocked the guy off balance. The man was no bigger than Andy. Before he could move he felt a searing shock on his right thigh. He fell back to the couch dazed.

“Hurts doesn’t it.” He reached under his mask and extracted the speaker of the voice distorter. “Amazing what science can do.”

The man waved a cellphone in Harris face. “Looks like a cell but hurts like hell.” He touched Harris lightly on the shoulder. 

The jolt wasn’t as strong as the first one.

“Don’t worry this is non-lethal unless you have a pacemaker but packs enough to punch to keep you pacified. People drop like flies. I sneak up behind them. A little touch and down they go.”

“You’re the Stalker?”

“Clever man.” he grabbed Harris by the chin and give his head a sharp twist. “Now what did the bitch Detective tell you about me?”


“Lets dial this up just a bit.” he tapped a key and shocked Harris again.

This time the shock singed his tee-shirt.

“Nothing.” He rubbed his shoulder where had been shocked. “She played that recording of you. That’s all and told me to be careful.”

“Ooo to be afraid of little me. Let’s get this out of the way.” He yanked Harris’s tee shirt off, pulled the rope from under him and this time tied his hands behind his back.


“Did she tell you anything about the case. About me.”

“No. Just that the guy I … who I stopped at the park … wasn’t you.”

“True. He didn’t have one of these, did he?”

He took a battery pack out of his back pocket. 

“On its own it just jolts.” He plugged the battery pack into the taser. “With a power boost it will do more. Even kill. You have been the nearest connection to me the police have.” 

“Connection?” He pulled at the ropes. “You took the risk to get those pictures of me. Great way to stay out of the way of the police.”

“Pictures of you and your famous movie star friends. You a Nobody, getting noticed.”

“Right, I am a nobody. I didn’t ask to ….”

“I know. No one asks. Like those poor assholes on their way home from work, from school. So innocent and bam I get. They’ll never forget me. Even if they never know I am.”

“Play time.” Harris called to Andy.

“This’ll be fun.” Andy replied.

“What the fuck!” the man was stunned. “Who is that?” He looked around the apartment and noticed Andy for the first time. “Get over here.”

Andy remained silent.

Harris racked his brain for what order to give next. If only Andy could walk but then what? If only Andy could make phone calls he could get a message to Rick.

“I said get over here. You little friend seems scared or something. You want me to hurt you?”

“Yeah I’d like that?” Andy giggled.

The man walked over to Andy and smacked him.

“Is that the best you can do. I can take it a lot harder than that.”

“What the fuck.” he punched Andy in the stomach. 

“You like to play rough do you.”

Those had to be the pre-programmed phrases for s and m play he’d seen listed in the manual.

“Fuck it’s a goddamn doll.” The man gave Andy a dismissive shove.  

The shove unbalanced Andy and the elf topped forward knocking the man over and landing on top of him

  Harris stood while tugging at the rope around his wrists. 

The man struggled under Andy. Turning over but not able to get Andy off him.

“Harder Andy.” Andy’s face was at the man’s chin. His hands began to open and close to pinch the man under him. 

“You like that don’t you.” Andy said.

“Time to bite.” Harris’s wrists were getting looser. “Squeeze me.”

The dolls mouth opened and closed on the man’s chin. The man twisted his head away. His mask was pulled off. ‘Squeeze me’ brought Andy’s arms closer together. The man’s face was covered with camouflage make up. 

“Let’s jack.” This command jerked Andy’s forearms up and down rapidly about an inch.

“Optimus Prime.” Harris said. Those were the words he’d programmed for Andy to get an erection.

“Fuck me.” The man struggled trying to push the doll off him. Andy’s hips began to thrust.

With a grunt the man heaved Andy off him, and rammed the doll against the wall. He held the doll with one hand and tasered it it repeated with the other till Andy’s arms stopped moving. His fingers continued to twitch.

While he was occupied Harris dashed to the door. He had it partially opened before the guy grabbed him. Harris hit at his face with his elbow. Connected with a punch to the face. The man’s head was slippery with the camouflage paint.

The guy swung him back into the room and on to his stomach, shocking him on the back each time he tried to get up. Harris could smell his flesh burning.

He grabbed Harris by the hair. 

“You like to play it rough. Well, I’m no wind up doll.” 

Out of breath Harris sagged to the floor.

“That’s more like it. Get up.”

He pulled Harris to his feet. 

“Let’s get out a breath of fresh air.” He pushed him the balcony. “That’s a fair drop I’d say.”

Harris nodded. If he appeared dazed by the taser he might lull the guy into a careless move.

The guy kicked the lounge to the balcony wall. 

“Up you go.”

Harris stood on the chaise. He glanced over the edge. 

His apartment door flew open. It was Detective Alverez and Agent Devros followed by apartment security.

“Hold it right there.” The man barked. “Or he’ll go over.”

“That’s what you think.” Harris leaned against the retaining wall and the chaise slid, knocking the man over. Harris clambered over him and into the living room.

“You’ll never get me.” The man shouted.

Harris turned around and the man on the balcony railing. Harris lurched forward and caught him by the calf as the man launched himself into the air. 

They fell back. Harris hit his head. He lay still while his heart slowed and he caught his breath. An officer helped him to lie on the couch. 

“Where is he?” He shook his head to clear it.

“Sir, it’s all under control. Please keep still.” A medic shone a light into his eyes. “You’ll be fine. Let me help you sit up. You’ve got several nasty electrical burns on your back.” 1477


July 19, Thursday – attending: Tura lura luau

July 22-27, Sunday-Friday – attending: Aubert Workshop

August 19, Sunday – Battle of the Bulge feature: Plasticine Poetry

August 23-26 – attending: Fan Expo Canada

October 11, Thursday – feature The Beautiful and The Damned


and something from the past:

write Rogers & demand more of me :-)




burn that cksucker down

burn that cksucker down

I have to confess that though I love Pride and the community progress it stands for, I also hate Pride and the massive opportunity to be ignored by more men at one time than my ego can take. Trying to stop and take in booths is nearly impossible with so many people wanting to do the same, or with booth operators more focused on their particular, & usually much younger, demographic.

BuDa at Pride2012 gave a great show under standard, but taxing circumstances – we were on at 3 p.m. during the hight of the Parade – the audience was sizable and responsive. Taxing included the sweltering heat, the unshaded stage, and for Amoeba Starfish – electronic equipment that ‘wilted’ under that intense heat.

crowd eager for us to perform (lol)

They opened the show with a cooling ambient piece that Lizzie Violet slipped into easily. I always enjoy being reminded that chlamydia is not a flower. I followed her with Dancing and Necking, Oogie Inferno (fitting in the blazing sun) – Starfish gave me a fine driving beat to work with. I enjoy using my Kindle on stage. It doesn’t pull focus the way paper does and almost looks like I’m off book.

Next up was Philip Cairns – I’m glad I had sunglasses on to deal with his blinding bling. He did great pieces about Paris and several short wry reflections about being a hot queer. After him was David Bateman with strong, funny & emotional work that should guarantee him a place in the Farmers Almanac. Last up was DM Moore with one of her chilling & moving Lost Girls pieces. It was about now that the electronics gave up the ghost – you can’t cool down a hard drive with an ice pack.

We each had put together short sets so as not to run over our allotted 50 minutes. As it turned out we had all underestimated and got the opportunity to do a couple of more pieces each in round robin till we had earned our keep. No poet leaves the house with only a few pieces and my Kindle had lots to choose from. I did selections from the Brown Betty collection: I Kissed A Girl, Unmasked & Dad’s Pockets. Starfish came back to life just long enough for some sweet Hendrix work for Unmasked (my Hendrix piece.) I was glad to do it to give balance to Oogie – some homos like Jimi Hendrix more than they like Nona Hendryx.

waiting for the parade

It was a great but exhausting show. Philip did excellent work organizing things with the Pride people, DM Moore made sure we got to be there (right where we belong) & The Damned were Beautifully sweating.

for more pics see life with more cowbell


July 6, Friday – attending: The Judy Monologues

July 19, Thursday – attending: Tura lura luau

July 22-27, Sunday-Friday – attending: Aubert Workshop

August 19, Sunday – Battle of the Bulge feature: Plasticine Poetry

August 23-26 – attending: Fan Expo Canada

October 11, Thursday – feature The Beautiful and The Damned




Hendrix: burning the midnight lamp

soon … I wish I was a merman


messy coffee table

open bottles wine beer Scotch

weed rolled in papers too thin to write on

yet strong enough to hold a shared dream


three of us

Del me Kathy

share this joint enterprise

laugh at a phrase I was going through

hands touch to pass

the precious opener of minds

or rather the opener of pants

as Del loudly called it

his eyes on Kathy

she gave him a look

that said ‘see you later’

then left with her cigarettes

and the remains of the wine

‘uptight bitch’ Del laughed

as the door shut

he stayed

the supply on hand

held more appeal than

the supply leaving the room

that Jimi guitar

hooked its way around our brain

led our vision across patterns

my voodoo child eyes would wander

all along the corduroy

that hugged and held Del

he invitingly pushed the coffee table away

to make room on the floor

we had become so smoke soft

only the backless floor could

hold our floating rolling bodies

till we found ourselves


I could feel the crosstown traffic of my heart

the sensation of his tongue on mine

the coarse grind of pubic hair on stomach

a move for a breath of air

to refresh the disguise of liquor

thighs hands lips

trimming a midnight lamp

that still burns today

but no longer needs

a smoke-screen

the bottled mask of permission



While I was performing my ode to disco “Oogie Inferno” I realized that disco is truly the music of revolution – it was pop music that fearlessly opted to ignore the macho stance of rock’n’roll, c&w and even r&b. When the ‘disco sucks’ movement was burning Bee Gees albums before baseball games it seems like a futile gesture – today I realized that what the statement really was is ‘disco sucks cock.’

As I read I saw the ode as a protest piece and that charged it with a different energy. Protest songs are usually strident and angry, this piece isn’t. Like much of disco music it extolled the sheer joy of dance, of being alive – which in a culture that sees pessimism as realistic and that pleasure is shallow plus its its intrenched sexophobia, disco joy is a subtle defiance. While protest music (& most r’n’r)  is heterosexist in your face, disco is in your pants.

What other music form has allowed for transgressive performers like Sylvester, Divine, Grace Jones while giving new life to the careers of Aretha, Patti & even life support to Madonna. ‘Disco sucks’ because it gave women with big voices even bigger songs to sing.

burn that cksucker down

BuDa at Pride gave each of us the opportunity to share our voices in the midst of this corporate celebration of a queer demographic that isn’t geared to spoken-word. But we where there. Taking the stage in the heat and bringing our own heartbeat to the throb. It worked.


The disco revolution may not be in your face, or even in your pants but it is certainly in your feet.


Oogie Inferno

if you’re thinkin’ I’m too cool to boogie

boy oh boy have I got news for you

I love the sweaty potential of the dance floor

the solid mass of men mobile   shifting

eagerly crammed    crowded by the bass line

the righteous revival fever of a contralto

everybody here tonight must boogie

let me tell ya’ I was no exception to the rule

the heat was on (burnin’), rising to the top, huh!

eyes closed   hands open

shirtless strutters in sweat soaked satin shorts

muscles    bloated bellies   no one cares

as flesh wound around  pulled by the driving

boogie oogie oogie

an endless moment of contact high

thigh to thigh contact

the heat was on, rising to the top

where the keyboard was underfoot

put your feet to the beat

peak after peak of solid state sweat

turn this beat around

no voice heard that wasn’t amplified

no time to waste, let’s get this show on the road

listen to the music and let our bodies flow

yowsa yowsa yowsa

dance dance dance

shame shame shame

we were shimmering glittering

ready to take on the future

beep beep toot toot

I love the moment of stepping into the mass

the sooner I begin the longer I’ve got to groove

listen to the music and let bodies move

make a space for myself

get approving once overs

then not care who’s lookin’

but when my spark got hot

I heard somebody say

Burn baby burnin’ the house down

gonna boogie oogie oogie

till you just can’t boogie no more

I love the blur as I am transported

out the body   out of the mind

satisfaction (uhu hu hu) in the chain reaction

released from all sense of self

except for the one caught     immersed

push push in the bush bush

lost for hours

boogie oogie oogie

taking a breather wet glistening

asked what are you on

having my answer of nothing disbelieved

as if the music and testosterone

aren’t enough for me to

burn that cocksucker down

because have I got news for you

this could be the last dance

everybody here tonight must

boogie oogie oogie




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