ACT II
Gash Bequeathed by Gnashed Teeth
30 March 1957, 11:59 PM
New Year’s Eve revisited, revelry persisted, passions
As trysts’ mutations, swelled to cyst-like damnation
Spontaneous ovations, at end or mid precarious tunes
Nefarious runes, spewed, consumed `twixt swills, spills
While rills of unknowns, flowed along shoes of drones
Upon barstool-thrones, debutants’ flaunts and taunts
As garish storefronts, flesh flashed, slapdash for cash
Indulgence ash’ed in trays, `tween red nails as clichés
Puffed to allay, to seduce and betray, the air so piqued
As well reeked, menthol critiques, perfumes oblique
No-one thing and no-one unique, every-thing employed
Every-one there to exploit, from minutely to reciprocally
Of nil cutely until ill reputedly, still, all cruelly perhaps
Filling time-gaps that lapsed, by the humanitarian games
Instead of actualities inhumane (for lame the mortals
Or blame the devil’s chortle and his court min-jesters
Rather, pestered and festered, by propensities for error
Far less fairer, proclivities for excess) largesse hoped
Per finesse and grope, within whiskey’s kaleidoscope
Rhyme on Rye No. 27
“Whiskey douses whole; love’s affairs, later life’s wares
Staring fraught, dreaming lost, such insistence for despair
Fairest not the ego, darkest the soul ergo, forever 3:00 AM
Suspending in goddamn ends, while pretending to begin”
31 March 1957, 00:59 AM
Three-point surveillance, mixture of perusal and glance
Across barroom’s smoky expanse, perchance to match
Then to catch, per immediate dispatch of the mottled lot
Motley trio as poorly mixed dough, unfit by the lumps
First, a bit frump in raincoat, perpetual thumps to glass
(As one could note none too fast) the lady private eye
Shifted to hide, `hind shadow lines, smokers’ blindside
As well others bromide, second, the disheveled reporter
Normally, recorder of folks, hoarder of notes and quotes
Yet instead of news and acclaim, devoted to ruse and aim
Preventing new bloody frames (rampage on stained stage
Bodies torn, gore arranged on floor, so gauged for more
Although the bane, abhorred by the sane, at times arcane
O the Abels versus Cains, societies be damned, scammed
By artistries’ anagrams, flimflams, madams and whores
Politicians’ scores and blow, tucked in drawers in rows
For apropos medicine shows, to brass poles, rash flings
To gold rings for gonorrhea’s sting, self-toasting to boast
Self-hosting inner-ghosts, to gain most with less finesse
Leaving a crimson mess, with disposition of jest’s venom
Cruelty of juxtaposition; humoring in evil, loving to hate
Rumoring upheaval, shoving while berate, sardonic shit
Ironic remit, moronic lit mortals’ reason, passion-beasts
To feast, fuck and fight, to decease in muck among mite)
Rhyme on Rye No. 28
“Whiskey espouses wise, as twilight rises until love dies
Lust despises of course; causes cavort, effects chastise
As advised per eternal praxeology of temporal sexuality
Such coitus of Passion and Reason, a divine sensuality”
Fixing the triangulation, Boldren sauntered to end of bar
Crowd’s roar versus jazz score, sparred in the smoky air
Most in chairs, others along wall without care perchance
To left of main door and entrance, cluttering the ingress
With mélange of flesh, suited and dressed, pressed aside
As trysts’ mutations, swelled to cyst-like damnation
Spontaneous ovations, at end or mid precarious tunes
Nefarious runes, spewed, consumed `twixt swills, spills
While rills of unknowns, flowed along shoes of drones
Upon barstool-thrones, debutants’ flaunts and taunts
As garish storefronts, flesh flashed, slapdash for cash
Indulgence ash’ed in trays, `tween red nails as clichés
Puffed to allay, to seduce and betray, the air so piqued
As well reeked, menthol critiques, perfumes oblique
No-one thing and no-one unique, every-thing employed
Every-one there to exploit, from minutely to reciprocally
Of nil cutely until ill reputedly, still, all cruelly perhaps
Filling time-gaps that lapsed, by the humanitarian games
Instead of actualities inhumane (for lame the mortals
Or blame the devil’s chortle and his court min-jesters
Rather, pestered and festered, by propensities for error
Far less fairer, proclivities for excess) largesse hoped
Per finesse and grope, within whiskey’s kaleidoscope
Rhyme on Rye No. 27
“Whiskey douses whole; love’s affairs, later life’s wares
Staring fraught, dreaming lost, such insistence for despair
Fairest not the ego, darkest the soul ergo, forever 3:00 AM
Suspending in goddamn ends, while pretending to begin”
31 March 1957, 00:59 AM
Three-point surveillance, mixture of perusal and glance
Across barroom’s smoky expanse, perchance to match
Then to catch, per immediate dispatch of the mottled lot
Motley trio as poorly mixed dough, unfit by the lumps
First, a bit frump in raincoat, perpetual thumps to glass
(As one could note none too fast) the lady private eye
Shifted to hide, `hind shadow lines, smokers’ blindside
As well others bromide, second, the disheveled reporter
Normally, recorder of folks, hoarder of notes and quotes
Yet instead of news and acclaim, devoted to ruse and aim
Preventing new bloody frames (rampage on stained stage
Bodies torn, gore arranged on floor, so gauged for more
Although the bane, abhorred by the sane, at times arcane
O the Abels versus Cains, societies be damned, scammed
By artistries’ anagrams, flimflams, madams and whores
Politicians’ scores and blow, tucked in drawers in rows
For apropos medicine shows, to brass poles, rash flings
To gold rings for gonorrhea’s sting, self-toasting to boast
Self-hosting inner-ghosts, to gain most with less finesse
Leaving a crimson mess, with disposition of jest’s venom
Cruelty of juxtaposition; humoring in evil, loving to hate
Rumoring upheaval, shoving while berate, sardonic shit
Ironic remit, moronic lit mortals’ reason, passion-beasts
To feast, fuck and fight, to decease in muck among mite)
Rhyme on Rye No. 28
“Whiskey espouses wise, as twilight rises until love dies
Lust despises of course; causes cavort, effects chastise
As advised per eternal praxeology of temporal sexuality
Such coitus of Passion and Reason, a divine sensuality”
Fixing the triangulation, Boldren sauntered to end of bar
Crowd’s roar versus jazz score, sparred in the smoky air
Most in chairs, others along wall without care perchance
To left of main door and entrance, cluttering the ingress
With mélange of flesh, suited and dressed, pressed aside
(--- in progress, more to come ---)
THE MEMPHIS NIGHTCLUB MURDERS
&
Other Poetic Mysteries
Copyright © 2016 by D.C. Quillan Stone
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