OHIO GHASTLY SOIL - Ryan Jewell -C. Spencer Yeh -Wasteland Jazz Unit (2008)

thank you  

Ryan Jewell, C. Spencer Yeh & Wasteland Jazz Unit 

for...

from the today pieces

early this morning i stood at a crossroads
one went north one went south one went east
and one went into the alley of death
the itch and tarzan were on the corner
in cheerful talk about boys on the lam
though they were ill the itch was wet
his broken eyebrow had been patched up
while tarzan fell off the tree his pants
are baggier still and his eyes are darkening

then a pirate cab went by like a flash
the eyes of a woman set memories tripping
as she turned to look back in recognition
and smiled fading rapidly in the rear glass
i crossed the street and went into the alley

allentown...shouting from a summer blow

dark cut loose wild over allentown
shouting from a summer blow
in the evening come with bugs and buggers
a brawl rushed onto the crowded sidewalk
quick to make room and ready
for the kill of one crimson clown
it all started at the billiard table in mulligan’s
when pr lester figured out brilliantly
how to go through someone’s purse unnoticed
then he had to roll for his life kicked
in the gutter banged _cue ball on a break_
something like a petard sounding from a side
street set everyone on a freeze and running
runaway shadows scattering as balls breaking
one body lay still

a dirge rose to the occasion warm and rogue
while some kid was led away by the police
everyone stood intent on the dream darkening
(
they racked up in the chevy
hit the expressway on cue with the sunset
as the radio blasted trash
and with shades of disgust splat on their faces
but it was fear confusion and despair also
nothing to make way in the shadows
but the headlights from a caprice speeding
loaded with a cast to kill

nauseated

may we assume wrongfully 
and interpret poorly the absurd 
in our actions...oh civilization

we are full of facts of life meaningless
_we made them up in darkness and fear_
the phrases spell all and nothing

they are substantial and insignificant

it’s extreme pettiness or grandeur to mask

the trifling ridiculously silly beliefs in full

the bit set in long tall buildings with arches

banners and flags crowning their tops

statues and gargoyles in strategic places

support for much shadow and occasional clouds

the pope in yellow flips and puts on a veil

and it’s reality versus reality interacting

announcing modifying postponing fuckitall

robin williams on the score perfect casting

for pere ubu but we’ll never know

go find imaginary solutions in trees hanged

in harmony with satisfying coloring and economy

of detail diverse material for de sade’s portrait

back to being to be sickened by it

its bare detail moving the beholder on contact

the range from choice to chance

daniel deranged matthew delighted

to die on a rooftop was not his decision

nor was it to die _it comes naturally_

but once with reason handy 
it became a sure option

he could become his own child

dictate sentence on his own being

define his existence then and there

or at any bloody given moment
thus he chose to go along 
but circumstances placed him on that roof

and climax he would reach in a hail of bullets

do the cha-cha (in memoriam)

(uno)

el negro vargas died sunday before dawn

i stood by his bed staring down on him as if asleep

(something about dead bodies gives them away

his right leg wasn’t quite in a restful guise)

proud of his countryside origins and life

of hard labor he spent his last years

on the corner at the entrance of his alley

and at a little park near the social security

building where many retirees hang out

amid saucy conversation and recollections

always in search of political and social savvy

he christened hugo chavez with a new moniker

–chachachá- and would not miss an opportunity

to say the man was my godfather _now

news of the comandante’s death

surprised some of us on tuesday

as we readied for vargas’s long walk

so these ramblings are in his memory

(mostly reminiscences of news in the press

and our insolent commentaries)

(dos)

in the end dieterich was right on the money

he figured the president was as good as stiff

it was a matter of course _he said

the man wouldn’t leave the hospital alive

while the government declared

they’ve been saying for days the colonel died

and next they vociferously asserted

it was his de facto enemies who had him cancer

poisoned some sort of foul play was at work

it’d be fifty years yet when a declassified doc

would reveal the killer hand

and we all laughed in amusement _we

the unenlightened ones and with a sense of humor

(tres)

but boffola was the stuff the colonel himself

was made of and we’ve grown accustomed to it

after the initial outrage that is

for the lump of blatant affronts and smears

spewing absurd upon absurd with a twist

because even for a guy with a twisted loaf

his lines and doings were defiant of lunacy

(shuffle)

_It’s very difficult to explain, even with the law

of probabilities, what has been happening to some

of us in Latin America (what…you mean getting sick)

_would it be so strange that they’ve invented

technology to spread cancer (wait shush quitdat)

but he went on and told us about life on mars

halloween as terrorism

about the martyr liberator of libya

and bush being the devil and the jewish

cabal which runs the world

and go straight to hell mr blair

go to hell gringos go home missy

(uno)

and still it all came down very neatly

to a chronicle of a death foretold

_in the old barracks in caracas once

the stage of his failed coup his embalmed

remains will rest for the people to behold

for kingdom come just like the thousand

year reichstag mao’s china or bolivar’s dream

but still none could equal his talent for farce

and knack for skanky politics

(dos)

fresh out of prison he launched a tour-de-farce

to find like-minded mofos to finance his apetite

first he met with the narco-guerrillas honchos

in colombia next he was welcomed in cuba

like a head of state by the main barbudo

who sent him off with his blessing

and a thinking apparatus in support _he did

his foreign policy in montevideo sao paulo

and assorted airports to everyone’s dismay

and delight _soon he was in league

with iran north-korea lybia sudan

russia became his main arms supplier

china his leading creditor _so he gave

free money to ecuador free oil to nicaragua

free bolivia to evo morales _it was freebies

all around in a shopping spree of latin loyalty

(tres)

by the time he gained power he had gone

through a feast of rehearsals

ready for main stage at the high rise red platform

a cloth backdrop with his version of revolutionaries

pancho villa and bolivar thrown in the mix

before a crowd who’d spend their saturdays

in huge political rallies of nazi proportions

but who came from slums in a caravan

of government provided buses

each rider given a lunch bag with pamphlets

to digest they descend at the altamira plaza

and begin the march to the presidential palace

amid a pandemonium of trumpet blasts blaring speakers

peoples screaming with mouthfuls of food and beer

and hawkers with chacha dolls reciting

revolution slogans with the pull of a cord

and just before dusk he walks the stage to its edge

microphone in hand his face gleaming (like jesus

at the handouts) his head topped with a sombrero

and a mariachi entourage surrounding him

he goes into a spirited medley of rancheras

and it’s a explosion of paroxysm in absurdism

(shuffle)

undoubtedly he was a phenomenal entertainer

a showman extraordinaire who barraged fire

to anyone considered enemy or pick of choice

(uno)

lapdogs of the empire you will get stung 
and you dear secretary suffering from sexual plight

can’t help you condoleezza can’t make that sacrifice

and bush he called simply an asshole

announcing military confrontation up on a mountain 
with a rifle to fulfill his delusion on bolivar

for whom he saved an empty chair at the table

and declared him his hero instead of superman

so from here on next move would seem most logical

yes he had the old lunger exhumed to try and prove

that he was poisoned _but no he was not of course

next he bathed himself with the blood of the lion

(mysteriously disappeared) from the caracas zoo

and in what may be considered a sort of consecration

or some kind of voodoo shite he had four babalaos

sprinkle dust cursory prepared with all the malevolence 
of tapheth from sacks over caracas from an army

helicopter _a feat worthy of smith’s 18000 blessings

in a single shot…

(dos)

but i digress let’s get back to our accolade

_voices voices as if a chorus_

of ministers and family...maduro leading_

all blowing hot air into the waves messages

misinformation plugs communiques

he was getting better

decrees were being signed

conversations with advisers by the hour

instructions given

but no photos of the ubiquitous man

it was a score for doubt and suspicion

until spanish abc reported the dialogs nonexistent

twitter messages false so the chorus voiced louder

_we all are chachas chacha has not died chacha lives

bis

(tres)

the inside version among the military in the know

says that he died in havana last tuesday morning

at seven it came from cuba to fort tiuna

a defense complex where the hospitalito’s located

and where the task of dressing him up concluded

(shuffle)

it’s not known at what moment of wednesday

he was taken to the basement

while an empty similar coffin was taken

to the military hospital from where

it was paraded in procession during seven hours

with a sandbag dummy in full military garb

red beret boots insignias and all

as it was exalted as spiritual father and martyr

by his followers who were allowed to touch rub

fondle and whack the deceitful casket

without having to risk the physical integrity

of the true one _they couldn’t take any chances

(one)

it was past noon when they took el negro out

to st james apostle church for one last mess

for i’ve never knew him to attend any services

except for those given at the whorehouses

and saloons then the crowd carried the casket

to the last street of the neighborhood where

it was put in a pickup truck and taken away

to the cemetery _three loaded buses followed

it was a feast sons and daughters grieved

friends with sad faces sighed and smiled

some cried some just looked dumbfounded

and when everyone left there was a feeling

of having met the circumstances bravely

(dos)

chacha’s gone too _he left with great pomp

but a feeling of vainglory also persists

amid contrary views about his achievements

all the phrases and slogans empty

can’t change the fact that food subsidies

resulted in shortages and the i have done

everything out of love and ten million votes

down their throats won’t change the angst

of a middle class heading into a dead end

_purportedly he did have some final words

general ornella at his bedside conveyed them

to the world _i don’t want to fuckin’ die

please don’t let me die

(tres)

at the small park by the ss building old fellows

still contend on who was best at the cabaret

lola with the wide hips on a guaracha number

or slender rosa doing a bebo valdes mambo

and wasn’t she a number herself

and how ‘bout that cha-cha queen what’s her name

while a small crowd some with red bandanas

parades chanting _fatherland socialism or death

the show must go on_

there go the chavistas -says an old man

one more cha-cha maestro -says another one

ain’t nothing to it -adds yet another

seen them come and seen them go –

he was quite a dude though –

ah nothing more than three steps and a shuffle

live

night cool come late to meet its bride

warmth until the end of days worms

away with the sailing winds and may

timely takes on flight to see dog days

late as it may the breeze carried laos

across the world dumb and famous

now on the flashing billboards wow

a love story a last stand a spiral storm

lighting frames of breakfast in bed

mid-day suns in the shade of a night

at last to embrace the sun’s final crave

rush the senses to the score of summer

singing the flesh tasting the mouth

the eyes closed deft in the whirl

loose kite at the beach moving out over the waters

kite my kite

flying high

it took the dreams

it took the gold

it took the blood

it went to china

sud den ly

i wanna cry

why why

(it got loose off my hand oh so gently

later on i thought it had slipped purposedly

from my clasp and i ran the slope down

the sand bogging my every leap  

i went directly splashing into the water

and started swimming after the loose string

seemingly hovering but drifting away

toward the high seas

and for a moment i knew i’d catch it

even as i heard familiar voices calling

to let it go

and then i saw the string no more

just my kite growing small and shinning

in the last rays of one hot afternoon sun

with waves breaking ever close to my head

"...sits on the shell of a great reptile"

when everyone wandering in the big mud ball

set to roll on the silver tray minds a just way

to be in the presence of all sapiens blown clean

within the mist of stars dust to partake matter

and energy in cosmic selfgenerating brother-

hood then it will cease to shine dark mighty

from the pulse of the born and unborn hanging

on steel thongs as the rest is held still on

the rack of babbletalk meanwhile the elephants

stand ill at ease and can not quite see discord

there is only the feeble fire from the great

bang burning time until the last call by request

of most shows the pious rewarded heavenly

as promised...the rest of us can eat the turtle

tuesday morning blitz

to begin with he was commissioned

so dutiful he set on the journey

promptly taken by the winds

his sail weaved with the will of the chosen

under his guidance -the trusting faithful

with the daily detail _to kneel bow and pray

and they all got to take an apple

under the blissful morning sun

and to rest at its setting

all went well

but ahead the allure of troubled waters

was their undoing

no art from this ruined crew

bountiful of desires could deliver them

at the converging of the waters

with the strait dire and dangerous

he stood at the helm

with a lamp held high and his heartbeat wild

intent on stranging the night bottomless

and escape amid storms of tranquillity

so wrecked and dashing through flesh

he found the survivors at a tenebrae service

he heard at last the plain song throb

funneling its ache into the last ventricle

across the pit laid consolation

all milk and honey and a score of redress

everything useless

                   _he breathed profoundly

the familiar tune blowing the call to reason

turning first to ease the burst of light

then to search over his shoulder

the long shadow in his castaway strand