Tuesday, January 05, 2010

On the dank, steaming shores of Wongo
Its black sand beaches so bongo
Patterned with leech-ridden creatures
Bodies branded with cicatrix features
That once screeched through the heart of the Congo
Stacked and berserk they tower and flail all about
Wailing sounds in tongues
Only ancient insects would understand or figure out
Wild, willing, wenches
Strutting and struggling
As they yank hanks of hair
Rooting and rutting in heat
As the earth heaves beneath their feet

The Tubes
"Wild Women of Wongo"
Outside Inside


Been a long time since I've heard anything about the Tubes. You are either eclectic or eccentric.
It's not that I think it's profound or anything, it's just a really good use of the language.
That it is!
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The Bert Convey
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