JOE CHIP SINGS!!!

Masses, this is what you have been waiting for!

Here it is, the latest music video by Bucket Man.  Move over Psy, here is the dancing communist super man …

Joe Chip sings:  “I can dream about fish…”

What more could you ask for?  (art?  good taste?  high production values? phht)

I can dream about FISH

all I like,

I can dream about FISH

all I like,

The bastard’s can’t stop me now

I’m dreamin’ ’bout fish right now,

I can dream about FISH

all I like.

Thank you Bucket man.

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Albino Girl

I thought she was albino

’til I saw that her eyes were blue

I was gonna keep on going

just walk on through

you might think that was kind of rude

but she looked like she had bad attitude

***

Cute girl with the see through skin

I thought that she was

Albinan-ian

Cute girl with the veins that show through

What has nature done to you?

***

She replied:

Nature didn’t do this

It began with the

wrong boy’s kiss

Disease over which

love holds sway

Bad boy sucked all my colour away

***

Cute girl with the see through skin

I thought that she was

Albinan-ian

Cute girl with the veins that show through

What has that bad boy done to you?

***

I thought she was albino

’til I saw that her eyes were blue

She kept on going

just walked on through

you might think that was kind of rude

She repaid me for my bad attitude

***

Cute girl with the see through skin

I thought that she was

Albinan-ian

Cute girl with organs that show through

How can I ever forget you?

***

***

Gentle readers, you should hear me when I sing this.  Perhaps it is better that you don’t.  And yes, I am fully aware that while an albino person may come from Albania, that that is mere coincidence.  Remember, I have been issued with a poetic licence.  Perhaps a commentary on a certain type of singer, perhaps just stupidity.  Perhaps a cautionary tale for Twilight readers?  Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps.  (And as I type this on a fine winter’s afternoon, I am rewarded for writing about colour with the eerie wail of a yellow tailed black cockatoo.)

Dream about fish

I can dream about FISH

all I like,

I can dream about FISH

all I like,

The bastard’s can’t stop me now

I’m dreamin’ ’bout fish right now,

I can dream about FISH

all I like.

Here is a poem about fish for Good Friday.  Its not a very good poem, because really it is a song.  If I did podcasting, you would be able to hear the true beauty of it.  Lines 5 & 6 really have to be belted out.  I can imagine Shirley Bassey doing a great job of it.  She should have recorded it straight after ‘Gold Finger’.  Except of course it wasn’t written then.  Technicalities keep getting in the way of the development of my artistic career.  Babs would probably do a good job, but she’s a bit nasally for it.  “Dream” is stretched out, to represent the endless nightmare that being a fish is, having to continually move, never able to rest or sleep, until the relief of being eaten.

All the spider webs are glistening in the light of the full moon.  If I go outside, they’ll run all over me.  And they’re huge.

Radio Reactions

I.

Billy

Be a hero

The rest of us will creep out the back

Our wives were happy

Our kids were happy

They didn’t care about Billy

After all, their Dads came back.

 

II.

The night Chicago died

There was nothing good on TV

I went to bed early

and missed it all.

Dammit!

 

III.

If you leave me now,

You take away the deepest part of me.

You know I can’t allow that.

You’re not going anywhere.

Nowhere good.

 

IV.

Everybody was kung-fu fighting

But I was kung-fu loving

Drunken Master

Mantis Style

Long Fist

Eight Extremes

White Lotus

Ah!

 

VI.

Love me

Love my dog

Love my brother

Like whatever

 

Love me

Love yourself

Love the weather

Like who cares

 

VII.

I think I love you

But what am I so afraid of?

Cancer.

Drunk drivers.

Faces at the window.

Child abductors.

Prison.

Public speaking.

Rectal bleeding.

All the usual stuff.

 

The Wall Street Doggerel

Evicted from Easy Street,

Barricade on Main Street,

An accident on Kelly Street,

Gonna occupy Wall Street

I am the 99 per cent

I figure I’m owed, I paid my rent

Got my lawn chair and my cub tent

Gonna live where my money went

Police say don’t you go there

you’re not a skin head, not a long hair

Your injuries won’t be covered by medicare

You won’t fit in you old square

Can’t fit a revolution in a tweet

Won’t march to a drum I don’t beat

Charlene, the zombies are coming down Ramsey Street

We’re all gonna occupy Wall Street