Heaven & Hell

Heaven & Hell

in heaven
there will be no
george carlin
or redd foxx
records

in heaven
there will be no
john waters
or lucio fulci
films

in heaven
there will be no
rolling stones
or 
motörhead
songs

in heaven
edwige fenech
and 
christy canyon's 
tits
will be as sterile
and useless
as treadless
tires

in heaven
there will be no 
robert williams
or
lucian freud
paintings

in heaven
there will be no 
bukowski poems
or dirty
pulp novels

in heaven
i'm afraid
there will be no
loch ness monster
no bigfoot sightings
or 
alien abductions

in heaven
there will be no
schopenhauer
or hobbes
or bertrand russell
to provoke us 

in heaven
cocks and balls
tits and asses
cigarettes and booze and dope
and brutally 
violent
5 round championship fights
and gloriously
idiotic and flamboyant
peacocking fashions
will be as useless
as gold teeth
in a corpse

if any of these things
exist
in heaven
how can they be
anything more
than the parental guidance
sanitized
heavenized
christianized
40 proof versions
of the real
thing?

how can heaven
be heaven
without the real
80 proof
carlin or foxx
lawler vs. mcdonald 2
or lemmy or keith and mick?

how can heaven
be heaven
without bukowski
and blaxsploitation 
and lesbians in leather
on the covers of pulp novels?

how can heaven
be heaven
without bloody 
violent spaghetti westerns 
and zombie films and
giallos
with plenty of
gore and guts and
tits and ass?

how can heaven
be anything but hell
without these?

or maybe 
even worse
heaven's catalogue
is the 95 calorie 
scrubbed for network TV 
peephole
versions
of all that stuff
that made life
worth living
while we
nourished
and satiated 
of mind, body and soul
in the lulling comfort
of paradise
are none
the wiser
to the milquetoast
we're being served

i suppose
it won't matter
we won't need that shit
to help us
think and feel
cause in paradise
in nirvana
there's no need
for thinking and feeling
since mere existence
in the perfection
of paradise
heaven
or nirvana
in and of
itself
is pacification
enough

i dunno
maybe it's because i'm scared
of what i don't
already know
that i need to cling
to what i already know
can give me comfort and
a little it of joy
but i smell
bullshit
in this notion of existence
without needs
or desires
without the needs or desires
if nothing else
that tempt
that stimulate
that provoke us
to think
and to feel
and give expression
to our needs and desires
through
art
that's sometimes sublime
sometimes gritty and filthy
which suggests
like everything else
in its dichotomy
in its imperfection
maybe
it's real