Modern Poetry Edition #24, (Breakfast Edition for the Holidays)


Hope everyone had a nice holiday season and all your breakfasts were good.
I am happy to report that the tradition of the lowest common denominator
held fast this edition, and so Frank Zappa wins with the classic Flakes.

In February, we'll do a People's Choice, but not a People's Choice of
poems -- people's choice for the theme:  submit your ideas now.

Modern Poetry #24 {Breakfast Edition for the Holidays}
[12/15/04]
**Flakes - FRANK ZAPPA
Sugar In My Bowl- NINA SIMONE
Peaches - The Presidents Of The USA
Black Coffee - ELLA FITZGERALD
Eggs And Sausage - TOM WAITS

**Winner of MPulitzer

Happy Kwanzaa, Merry Christmas, Happy Hannukah, and Joyous Festivus!

It's time for Modern Poetry for the holidays!  My favorite part of any
holiday is the sleeping late and the eating of fine breakfasts.  Then
perhaps a little nap.

I like some Flakes with some Sugar In My Bowl.  Peaches are always good,
along with Black Coffee and Eggs And Sausage.  Now if that doesn't say,
'what a wonderful Kwanzaa morning this is' I don't know what.

This Atkins-friendly edition is likely the last of the year, and as this
first year of Modern Poetry comes to a close, we are excited at the
prospects for 2005 MP-wise.  Rumor has it Jane's Addiction is gettin' back
together without Perry Farrell and will be releasing a new collection of MP
in the '05.

We'll aim to make the first '05 MP edition extry special.

Till then, enjoy your holidays and experience as much modern poetry as you
can.

Oh, and vote.

I think the FLAKES is just awesome.  Listen to this:

  I'm a moron, and this is my wife
  She's frosting a cake with a paper knife
  All what we got here's American made
  It's a little bit cheesy, but it's nicely displayed

Not only that but the poet, Frank Zappa actually poeticizes using Bob
Dylan's voice!  And that bit is pretty good too -- don't miss it.

Flakes - Frank Zappa
==============================
Flakes!!
Flakes!!

They don't do no good; They never be workin'
When they oughta should.
They waste your time; They're wastin' mine
California's got the most of them
Boy, they got a host of them

Swear t'God they got the most; At every business on the coast
Swear t'God they got the most; At every business on the coast
They got the

Flakes!!

They can't fix yer brakes
You ask 'em, *"Where's my motor?"*
*"Well, it was eaten by snakes..."*
You can stab 'n' shoot 'n' spit
But they won't be fixin' it
They're lyin' an' lazy
They can be drivin' you crazy

Swear t'God they got the most
At every business on the coast
Swear t'God they got the most
At every business on the coast
[Take it away, Bob...]

{In the voice of Bob Dylan}
 I asked as nice as I could
 If my job would, Somehow be finished by Friday
 Well, the whole damn weekend
 came 'n' went, Frankie
 [Wanna buy some mandies, Bob?]
 'N' they didn't do nothin'
 But they charged me double for Sunday

 You know, no matter what you do,
 They gonna cheat 'n' rob you
 Then they'll send you a bill
 That'll get your senses reelin'
 And if you do not pay
 They got computer collectors
 That'll get you so crazy
 'Til your head'll go through th' ceilin'
 Yes it will!

I'm a moron, 'n' this is my wife
She's frosting a cake; With a paper knife
All what we got here's; American made
It's a little bit cheesy, But it's nicely displayed
Well we don't get excited when it Crumbles 'n' breaks
We just get on the phone And call up some [Flakes]
They rush on over 'N' wreck it some more
'N' we are so dumb; They're linin' up at our door

Well, the toilet went crazy Yesterday afternoon
The plumber he says *Never flush a tampoon!*
This great information Cost me half a week's pay
And the toilet blew up Later on the next day-ay-eee-ay
Blew up the next day WOO-OOO

We are millions 'n' millions, We're coming to get you
We're protected by unions, So don't let it upset you
Can't escape the conclusion, It's probably God's Will
That civilization Will grind to a standstill

And we are the people Who will make it all happen
While your childrens are sleepin', And your puppy is crappin'
You might call us [Flakes], Or something else you might coin us
But we know you're so greedy, That you'll probably join us

We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you
We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you
We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you
We're coming to get you, we're coming to get you...

I WANT A LITTLE SUGAR IN MY BOWL - NINA SIMONE
==============================
I want a little sugar in my bowl
I want a little sweetness down in my soul
I could stand some lovin'
Oh so bad
Feel so lonely and I feel so sad

I want a little steam on my clothes
Maybe I could fix things up so they'll go
Whatsa matter Daddy
Come on, save my soul
Drop a little sugar in my bowl
I ain't foolin'
Drop a little sugar in my bowl

Well I want a little sugar in my bowl
Well I want a little sweetness down in my soul
You been acting strangely I've been told
Move me Daddy, I want some sugar in my bowl

I want a little steam on my clothes
Maybe I can fix things up so they'll go
Whatsa matter Daddy, Come on save my soul
Drop a little sugar in my bowl
I ain't foolin'
Drop some sugar- yeah- in my bowl.

Peaches - The Presidents Of The United States Of America
==============================
Movin' to the country,
gonna eat a lot of peaches
Movin' to the country,
Gonna eat me a lot of peaches
Movin' to the country,
gonna eat a lot of peaches
Movin' to the country,
gonna eat a lot of peaches

Peaches come from a can,
they were put there by a man
In a factory downtown
If I had my little way,
I'd eat peaches every day
Sun-soakin' bulges in the shade

Take a little naps where the roots all twist
Squished a rotten peach in my fist
And dreamed about you, woman,
I poked my finger down inside
Make a little room for it to hide
Nature's candy in my hand or can or a pie

Millions of peaches, peaches for me
Millions of peaches, peaches for free

Look out!

BLACK COFFEE - ELLA FITZGERALD
==============================
Iím feeling mighty lonesome
Havenít slept a wink
I walk the floor and watch the door
And in between I drink
Black coffee
Loveís a hand me down brew
Iíll never know a sunday
In this weekday room

Iím talking to the shadows
1 oíclock to 4
And lord, how slow the moments go
When all I do is pour
Black coffee
Since the blues caught my eye
Iím hanging out on monday
My sunday dreamís too dry

Now a man is born to go a loviní
A womanís born to weep and fret
To stay at home and tend her oven
And drown her past regrets
In coffee and cigarettes

Iím moody all the morning
Mourning all the night
And in between itís nicotine
And not much hard to fight
Black coffee
Feeliní low as the ground
Itís driving me crazy just waiting for my baby
To maybe come around

My nerves have gone to pieces
My hair is turning gray
All I do is drink black coffee
Since my manís gone away

Eggs And Sausage (In A Cadillac With Susan Michelson) - TOM WAITS
==============================
nighthawks at the diner, of Emma's 49er, there's a rendezvous
of strangers around the coffee urn tonight
all the gypsy hacks, the insomniacs
now the paper's been read, now the waitress said

eggs and sausage and a side of toast
coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
chili in a bowl with burgers and fries
what kind of pie?

In a graveyard charade, a late shift masquerade, Two for a quarter,
Dime for a dance,
with Woolworth rhinestone diamond earrings, and a sideways glance
and now the register rings, and now the waitress sings

eggs and sausage and a side of toast
coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
chili in a bowl with burgers and fries
what kind of pie?

the classified section offered no direction
it's a cold caffeine in a nicotine cloud
now the touch of your fingers, lingers burning in my memory
I've been 86'ed from your scheme, I'm in a melodramatic nocturnal scene
I'm a refugee from a disconcerted affair
as the lead pipe morning falls, and the waitress calls

eggs and sausage and a side of toast
coffee and a roll, hash browns over easy
chili in a bowl with burgers and fries
what kind of pie?