Poetry & Songs, by Charles Carreon

For the sake of ornament and illumination.

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Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:39 am

Don't Mess With My Mom, by Charles Carreon

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(Dedicated to Matthew Inman of the Oatmeal)

I'm the pterodactyl killa'
From the City of Tucson
Ya' mess with me baby,
Come and get it on.
There's never been a fight that I backed away from,
So next time remember,
Don't mess with my Mom.

You make fun of my name,
The noble Carreon,
We came here with Cortez,
And our legacy lives on.
The battles that we fight
Are the ones that must be fought.
When the smoke clears, Matt,
Your army will be gone.
Next time remember,
Don't mess with my Mom.

Your allies are the fools
Who cut and paste all day.
They think they're important,
But their anger is impotent.
They say nasty things,
But they don't get paid.
Their ignorance is deep,
So ya' get 'em on the cheap.

Your humor's scatological,
Your mind is pathological.
Did someone drop you on your head,
When you were in your baby-bed?
Did they take away your rattle,
And teach you how to tattle?

Whatever the reason,
You have committed treason
Against decency and sanity,
You're offensive to humanity.

But never fear --
I'm here to liberate you.
There's no chinks in my armor,
So I don't have to hate you.
I raise up the sword
That vanquishes disorder
I place you without passion
In the matter transporter.

You see, winged reptiles
aren't needed here.
What we need is thoughtful people
Who are decent and sincere.

So get behind me, Satan!
You're just a bit of roadkill,
Like the thief of Sex.Com,
Just another fool,
Who thought he was the bomb.
Next time, Mr. Inman,
Don't talk about my Mom.
_______________

http://mixergy.com/matthew-inman-oatmeal-interview/

Andrew: How do you respond to someone who says, “This is the worst comic I ever saw in my life"?

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Matt: When I used to work for people I had this sense of diplomacy. I had to respond like, “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way. I appreciate your criticism,” and blah, blah, blah. Now I work for myself and really no one can control what I say. So usually I tell them that I slept with their mom or I say the most vile, awful thing I can think of. If you read my Twitter account, it is like Hitler’s port-a-potty. It’s the worst thing that you’ve ever seen, just this awful stuff that I say to my critics on there. Just to troll them, mostly. So that’s usually how I respond to it. Like a drunk 15 year old, I think, is the best way to put it....

Andrew: What about in the beginning when you were going into Digg and you knew that if you won this group of people over, they’d send you massive traffic and if you turned them into haters, they’d bury you and you wouldn’t get anything from them. At that point, weren’t you nervous?

Matt: Yeah. At that point, I wouldn’t have gotten on Digg and been like, “Hey, your mom and I made love under the stars. Ha ha ha. I liked it.” That probably wouldn’t go over so well. But now I’m kind of at this comfortable level. And part of my writing style and the persona that I have online is sort of this crass, bloated, obese, drunk monster. So, in the beginning, you’re absolutely right, probably insulting my critics wouldn’t have gone over so well....

Matt: I think the feedback that has changed my comics somewhat wasn’t from comments, it was from traffic. I found that certain themes, that if I attack, will actually drive traffic like crazy and that other things won’t.

In particular, writing about a gripe. It’s the stand-up routine where someone gets up there and says, “What’s the deal with airline food?” You take that and you apply it to a comic. Those ones go crazy. Like, “Things That You Shouldn’t Do In E-Mail,” “How to Suck at Facebook,” “Words You Should Stop Misspelling,” these are all gripes. That was one that changed. But that is, hopefully the one that stands alone. I try to make things that I think are funny and that I enjoy. But the gripe one is one that I sort of embellished a little more because it seemed to resonate with people.

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POETRY

Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:45 am

Dorothy Chandler's Dead, by Charles Carreon

Dorothy Chandler's dead,
You can be sure of that,
Yes that's what I said:
"Dorothy Chandler's Dead"
And there's a parking
lot named after her,
And everyone remembers her,
But Dorothy Chandler's dead.

Armand Hammer is alive,
But hardly a living treasure;
I'll wager it'll give a lot of people
pleasure when he kicks the bucket
And anoints his heirs with big gouts of
sticky black cash.

Frank Sinatra is alive,
although entombed inside himself
in a private room in the same wax museum
where Liz Taylor gets her hair done.

Billy the Kid is
neither dead nor alive,
like an arsenic spring,
that glistens even as it zeroes
every living thing,
and mocks the sun with a
skeleton face.
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POETRY

Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:46 am

Dream Descent, by Charles Carreon

Two seagulls in an updraft
One of them's me
Talking to an eagle telepathically
We say, let's play
He says, you better be fast
We say, let's show him what we got, and then
A bit of turbulence tips me off the shelf
A flutter and my airfoil's lost,
I'm headed down, down, down
The earth getting bigger,
Clearer every second
The streetlines and the landscape
Comin' down with the wind in my ears
Comin' down with the breath stuck in my throat
Comin' down wondering can I brake in time
Comin' down and I realize
I can do this
I can do this
I can do this
Slow my descent steadily
Wind in my ears
Steady my fears
Comin' down
Comin' down
Comin' down
Reassume my weightlessness briefly
Just before my feet alight
On solid earth
At a walking pace
As I reach out my hand to catch the hand
Of a girl I know,
Riding her bicycle
Our fingers gently touch and
She says, “How'd you do that?”
“Oh,” I say without excitement, “I know how.”

(Tucson, Nov. 2008)
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Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:47 am

Elvis Must Die, by Charles Carreon

Elvis ushers in a New Age,
Elvis walks, Elvis talks,
Elvis must die.

Evil manipulators have Elvis' brain
in a jar in a casino basement,
And they're going to use it
to stage a psychic assault
on humanity.

Elvis was seen shopping at a K-Mart;
he bought a polaroid camera, a comb,
and spent a long time looking at
automotive accessories.

Elvis was seen walking
a twelve-year old girl to
the Minute Market on a Sunday afternoon;
they talked about loneliness in the afterlife,
And she said she knew how it must feel.

Elvis was foolish,
leaving psychic traces everywhere;
Now his face is subject
to the voodoo flock.
All those grasping souls--
could you imagine if he had to spend a lifetime
with each one ...?
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Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:49 am

Engine, by Charles Carreon

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Engine --
Look at you, drinking gasoline
in a steady flow,
Purring with the easy shake of the
exhaust,
Turning the fan and circulating water
to cool yourself
Easy as can be ...
 
We use, but rarely admire you,
Your faithfulness, your loyalty,
your rhythm,
Nimble as a dancer's step ...
 
All know the greasy metal,
the stink, the heat, the cracked
and grimy gaskets, the defeated clutch,
the shoeless brakes that have eaten
into their drums, exploded mufflers,
failed tires, dead batteries,
While so few have appreciated with
understanding
the steady beat of all the engineering
ticking fine --
 
It's a miracle, and a homey one at that:
So many things working together to turn
a single shaft.
Valves opening and closing to the
predetermined rhythm
of the ever-turning crank,
Communicated through the simple mechanism
of a chain.
 
Oh spark-plugs, sparking at the command
of the
loquacious rotor
Oh silent coil secretly amplifying
the power of the battery
Oh carburetor, mixing air and gasoline
like an alchemist
Oh oil-pan humbly lying below all things,
filling up with sludge and filings --
Oh engine, we take for granted the burden
you bear --
mutely your cylinders and rings wear away --
your flywheel loses its teeth --
your valves become encrusted --
the intelligence of your steel decays,
is worn away by time -- you fumble,
you falter -- the trim muscles of good
compression waste away -- gravity gets you
down -- you do not make the hills, you
cannot
pull the load anymore.
Oh worn away, oh broken down,
Oh tired and unsteady, you are
passed on to the poor,
To those who gamble on a transmission
And play Russian Roulette
with a recalcitrant starter.
And you will try, you will exert yourself
To uphold their faith,
Drinking watered gasoline, putting up with
Quantities of cheap oil that you
Blow out in a sickly exhaust.
So come away, come away then
There is no heaven for you, to be
earned
By grace or works !
Render them good service --
Three-hundred dollars worth and then,
in the parking lot of the supermarket,
in the carport,
on a long haul over a steep hill,
Give it up --
Burn your bearings,
crack your head,
throw a rod,
Give it up ! Disintegrate the order
that maintains you,
forget the intelligence that makes you
different from scrap,
Annihilate the hot homeostasis that
maintains your monotonous life --
Give it up, like a fevered
illusion,
And submit to the junkman's hook.
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Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:50 am

Everybody Wants To Be Like Paris Hilton, by Charles Carreon



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Who's useless?
And clueless?
An accidental nudist
With a smile perfect for TV?

Who's famous?
Who's gorgeous?
An ego that's enormous
Whose shoes are trimmed with purple mink?

Everybody wants to look like Paris Hilton
So it could be anybody,
Just like you are nobody,
'Cause today is just another day,
and Hey! They're towing your car away
Yeah, they're towing your car away.

On TV, we see them,
Dressed up in crazy clothing
Then we all wanna do the same

We're boring,
we're stupid,
And no one wants to see us--
I hate my stupid name

If only we could all be like Paris Hilton,
Free to charge it and take it away
If only I could be like Paris Hilton
I'd fly to Hollywood and there
I'd permanently stay.
But everybody wants to be like Paris Hilton
Where it's always recess and time to play
Because when your name is Paris Hilton
Every day is a beautiful day.

Who's useless?
And clueless?
An accidental nudist
With a smile perfect for TV?
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Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:50 am

Evolution, by Charles Carreon



Click here to play "Evolution," sung by Charles Carreon

You don’t believe in evolution
You think it messes with your soul
You want a spiritual solution
That gives the President control
And as for stuff like Revolution
Better keep that shit down in the hole

Yeah, old Jehovah drives a Caddy
He keeps the Devil in the trunk
They drive all over hell and Vegas
Playing shows and getting drunk
They do some massive entertaining
No time for scientific junk.

The Holy Spirit’s like Big Pharma
Creating custom DNA
So an immaculate conception
Was nothing more than child’s play
As for the vaunted resurrection
That was a clone we packed away

Now science fiction makes it easy
Mix truth and fantasy and luck
Combining television shaker
With ice and soda shake it up.
Serve to an ignorant population
They’ll drink it down and then shut up.

You don’t believe in evolution
You think it messes with your soul
You want a spiritual solution
That gives the President control
And as for stuff like Revolution
Better keep that shit down in the hole
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Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:51 am

Explode on the Border, by Charles Carreon



I’m the man in the taco stand
With the detonator in my hand
Please don’t come one step closer
Unless you want more cilantro

Explode on the border
In a tarpaper shack
Explode on the border
Cause they’re never gonna take me back

I got a dark nefarious plan
To make this place like Afghanistan
Make everyone speak Spanish
They’ll all be beaners when I’m finished

Explode on the border
It’s a culture war
Explode on the border
I’ll show you what this burrito’s for

You gotta hate the people you exploit
Demonize them, make the crawl
Never show a speck of thanks
Now you wanna roll out the tanks

So we’ll explode on the border
Won’t that be fun
Explode on the border
Golf carts burning in the sun

They ask me for my papers
I got the detonator in my hand
They’ll never take me alive
‘Cause I’m the suicide taco man

Explode on the border
Gimme my desert back
Explode on the border
And enjoy your a heart attack
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Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:54 am

Eye For Eye, by Charles Carreon



Image

The sun comes up on another day
People in a land they call holy
Droppin' bombs and burnin' families
Looks like it's just another stage
In our planetary nightmare

It's the human condition
It's the human condition
Tooth for tooth
Eye for eye
That's why the whole world
Has gone blind
We waste the fruit
And eat the rind
Makin' hell on earth
In search of Paradise
It's the human condition
It's the human condition

Long ago in a desert land
A tribe of herders got a bit too wise
They said, we’ll claim we are a special people
And all the men will get circumcised

We’ll make a deal with God Almighty
Claim he gave us lands of milk and honey,
We’ll write a book of fantasy
And claim impressive ancestry.

And each successive generation
Bought a slice of their deception
Claiming God was on their side.

From Constantine to Martin Luther
Witchhunts to the Inquisition
Good had nowhere left to hide.

It's the human condition
It's the human condition
Tooth for tooth
Eye for eye
That's why the whole world
Has gone blind
We waste the fruit
And eat the rind
Makin' hell on earth
In search of Paradise
'Cause it's the human condition
It's the human condition

Long ago, but they wrote it down
He was born in a little town
Visited by three wise men
I wonder if they knew how it would end.

The chosen people said he wasn’t theirs
The Roman ruler washed his hands of it
They hung him up where people could see
What happens to a revolutionary.

Skip ahead a thousand years
His sacrifice provided cause,
For murder, theft and roguery.

Religious teachers spread confusion
Creating madness and delusion
For they know not of the thing they speak

They promise us eternal life
Deliver us to endless strife
And advocate a strong defence.

The years advance
But we regress
Humanity cannot progress
Until we get up off our knees.

It's the human condition
It's the human condition
Tooth for tooth
Eye for eye
That's why the whole world
Has gone blind
We waste the fruit
And eat the rind
Makin' hell on earth
In search of Paradise
'Cause it's the human condition
It's the human condition

So stop your worshiping of other gods
And bow your heads to each other
Take the gold from the priestly class
Give it to our children and mothers

Stop contributing to our destruction
Let’s save the world for our children
Say no to the priest’s seduction
And put the Pope on welfare

Let’s try to build a human future
Get rid of the mental cancer --
Life could have a fighting chance

A warning at the vital hour
Could save us from the worst disaster
Change the course of history

Let’s change the human condition
Let’s change the human condition
No more tooth for tooth
No more eye for eye
No more killing
In the land of the blind
We’ll eat the fruit and
Compost the rind
Make Heaven on earth
To hell with
Paradise
Let’s change the human condition
Let’s change the human condition
Let’s change the human condition
Now!
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Postby admin » Sat Sep 21, 2013 2:55 am

Factors, by Charles Carreon

> WORK VERY BUSY
> Lama in town
> Weather cold & windy
> Coffee
> Grass
> Cognac
> Christmas food
> War-weariness re work
> Stunted creativity re lawpoets
> Hardcore rock and roll
> Eating pastas and pastries
> Wall outside my office window
> Pizza
> Cops <off-duty>
> Wall Street Journal
> Debt
> Revising one document until it's a psychic shred
> Dreaming of lying at the bottom of a pool
> Grasping at something uncertain
> Beautiful sky and light <can't grasp sky or light or beautifulness ... anxiety>
> Speed ... from one event to another
> Suffering of others ...
my business,
not my business
> Good boy
Bad boy
(repeat)
> Smart-aleck LA Weekly (Weakly?)
> Topic of discussion ... discourse on relative concepts ... clever talkers shut up!
> Muscular efforts to "make it"
> It only works for a while
> All breaks down eventually
(then you build it up again)
> Nihilism
(I made my mind up about nihilism the other day but now I can't remember what I decided)
> Reinvent the wheel
(Why not? Get back to basics.)
> Clever ... doesn't matter if I'm clever, I don't need to hustle girls anymore; nobody listens or cares (or if they do, what does it matter?)
> The boring that folks do stays after they leave; the cleverness is oft forgotten with the slamming of their departure
> Impute, impute, impute
meaning to things ...
oh yes ... this makes a
Difference ... a big, big Difference.
> What makes a difference?
Lying down in a warm bed
Having peaceful vibes in your heart
Treating other people decently
Being able to bear sorrow
Without inflicting it on others.

12/26/88, Los Angeles, California
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