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    Fia Naturie
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    Come Back, Jean-Louis

    © 1989Got the beat, got the rhythm, got the beat,Got the rhythm to the road, got the beat,Then a tsch, t... t... tschhhhhh --With a pow, k-pow, k-pow!An' a flat tire, an old tire,A bal-d-bal-d-bald, tire with a holeWith a nailWith a tsch, t... t... tschhhhhh,And the air hits the airLike a...

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    • I really like this beat-nik vibe. Thank you for sharing. I had a friend
      who wrote beat style- from San Francisco. Miss that guy.
      I like those avant garde stylings. Keep that up

    • Thanks. Not many left who appreciate what the greats of that era contributed. There’s a guy named Vince Balestri who starred in a movie about Kerouac, titled “Beat Angel,” which I have not yet seen. I have to order the disk version. It got great reviews, and it should. Before that,,Vince did a one man show, “Kerouac, The Essence of Jack,” for very many years, touring the US. I was lucky to do the PR for the show here in Austin at Chicago House, now defunct. That show was held over, twice. It was inccredible. We became good friends while he was here. A marvelous talent. I don’t know what happened to him, We just lost touch. I miss him, too.

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    Eyes

    © 1990EyesBy FlatDaddy A duologue, of sorts, between two people and the audience.They alternately tell their versions of an "incident" which began in an Austin, Texas park. The man speaks first, then the woman (as marked by pinkish italics). ...

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    • I wanted to say something before I end the read. My initial take on the story is that it is sweet. I appreciate the two colors to keep people engaged with who is speaking. I will finish it and write the rest of this comment.

      Oh my.. So they knew each other? She wanted him but was scared; he wanted her but was scared. Seems to go well with what is happening with young people who only talk online. Now, creeping into her place is taking it to another level.
      Hopefully it ends well for both of them

      • No, they did not know each other. And what happens next is … well, what? That’s up to the reader to determine.

        This was originally written as a short stage play, and a friend and I performed it at Chicago House in Austin, Texas, my home. We sat on stools in the dark, dressed in black, and each stood and played our parts directly to the audience in a tight spotlight that came down as we rose, in turn, from our stools, then returned to them, again in blackness, at the end of each speech. At the end, when we “turned the knob” of her door, we faced each other for a moment, then BLACKOUT. Each time we performed this, the audience was struck dumb, but eventually broke out in applause, seeming to get permission to applaud from the first few brave souls who started it. It was sweet.

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    Personal Poll

    © 1990Personal PollBy FlatDaddyThere are opinion polls for  this and that;There's the Harris Poll and the Gallup Poll,  the Neilson Ratings (which is a poll in drag),There are supermarket polls where they wanna  know which container of syrup and...

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    Ode to Blue-Haired Ladies

    © 1990Ode to Blue-Haired LadiesBy FlatDaddy    They drive battleships down Mopacat eighty miles per hour,Peeping through the window of the wheel,Hands at ten and two above their heads. Next to them,I see blue birds' nests and noses,spectacles perched atop their beatific...

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    • I saw two Blue haired ladies today. There is something about them that exudes strength…
      I like your stanza about the cars they drive. “The first church of Buick”—
      this is innovative in its metaphor and analogies.
      j.

    • Thank you so much, Jacob. I truly do appreciate your opinions.

    • hello dearest Daddy I’ve known these ladies they say is Jesus is their copilot and I believe them they somehow always get home safe great write ❤️

      • Thank you so much, Crimsin. Yes, they always manage, don’t they? One day, they might all meet on the same road and we’ll have a pileup of angelic proportions, hubcaps and plastic virgins flying everywhere!

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