Sure didn't expect to see you here... .Welcome!          To a down home poetry reading. Can you hack it?         It's poetry for people who don't like poetry         SILLY HILLY BILLY ..b e a t ..POETRY  Grab a chair, we'll warm up the adjectives while we cool the beer.

 

 

SACK-0-CATS

Play dough womb, utilities repast
a bobsled Kenmore, Pillsbury triumph
scope it out, carve it deep
Tony lama in search of sheep
send a token tarnished dime
pelt, pelt, pelt
from silk to swine
sack o cats flesh and fur amalgam
sodden burlap tomb
silent sentinel bull run witnessed
your final flight
another edge, more doom

Undergrowth.

 

 

 

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...<<< Can You Hack It WARNING >>>...

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STINKIN 9

It was a drizzling monoxide Monday night,
it was a quarter till ten and I was dropping a five
when a stranger came into the ivory arcade.
He was a half notch drifty, jaw cocked to the side,
his skin glistening with a fresh coat of slime.
He had a pinball twitch and cauliflower eyes,
a hundred-dollar jacket the blind thrift kind.
Sniffing out some peanuts and a tall boy too,
he fell back on a rotten stool.
When he cocked up a leg and crossed it ooh,
there was a biological nightmare on the soul of his shoe.
A true-life relief of urban grief in grime,
tobacco pitch and back alley wine.
like some gasoline, alcohol, oil and u-reen,
dead beat street taffy laced with denteen.
He was nicotine stained from without and within,
an olfactory record of where he had been.
From all the back alleys shuffled and spittle spattered ways,
bus station bathrooms with ode-de-pee-spray.
Sharkily - silently delving a week night wish,
a two bit gamble for fume, fluid, or flesh.
A bottom feeder in a nocturnal spell.
Working the dregs for a ritual thrill.
With a case of the shakes that would ruin a good brain,
it's all in a day with this "Ick-a-bod Crane".
A nasty remembrance of forgotten sin
a ghost of a man that maybe shouldn't have been.
The dark side of everything that is no good,
a head that is stone, a heart carved in wood.
His eyes wandered like the sauntering seven
that quietly fell in the corner depression.
a sudden crackle of fire and the cellophane falls
a rank vapor was left hanging over the balls.
Neither a nod or a blink or a well-chosen word,
just a slow flip and grind of the peanuts demise.
At the turn of the table in an eyeball deal,
an 18 was the thing with a keel of steel.
There was a frightening clack when the triangle died
and a whoosh of a funky jacket thrown wide.
Tokens went rolling and moist dandruff fell,
the air was now lame with an onion like hell.
A purple ball dove then another of black,
and as I stood dazed I uttered a gag.
A greasy eye shifted to see if I'm fine, I nodded him on…
but I could take no more... of that Stinkin 9.
John Gray Galloway

 

 

WEENER MIND^©

Play that Brain
of hoot owl call and go insane
mind like a pinball
Weener Mind Game^©
in the way, way back reaches of
the Hillbilly Brain
the Hillbilly Brain
where hills thing roam
it’s a wonderful world
under the Ciderdome
Sippin, puffin, poppin, huffin too..
moonshine, weed, pills and glue
eyes rolling wild, tongue flapping in the breeze
unto these hills got everything you neeed
Play that brain in Weener Mind Game^©
pushin the envelope of the Hillbilly Brain
Weener Mind^©

^{Little Sodi 1975}

 

 

 

IT BLEW BY…

LIKE A FAST FREIGHT TRAIN
HUMMING AND ROCKING IN FRONT OF THE HOUSE
TOSSING LOST MEMORIES BACK AND FOURTH
A CATALYST FOR GOOD TIMES
FLAVORING THE CHILI
A SHOT OF RITALIN AND A DIET PEPSI
DOWN IN THE CELLAR
SHARING THE EXPERIENCE
MOVING PICTURES
TRYING TO TELL A STORY
WATCH OUT!
THAT FIRST STEP IS A DOOSIE
EVENINGS PACKED WITH NOW AND THEN
THE WIND IN OUR HAIR
THUMPING ALONG ON THE FREEDOM EXPRESS

NOT A CARE IN THE WORLD

OUTBACK WAS LIVE
BUT WE WERE THE ONES LIVING
AFTERWARD, REMINISCING
IT WAS SO REAL!
THE MEMORY POOL IS OVERFLOWING
TRYING TO FILL THE EMPTY SPOT
BROUGHT ON BY THE NEW DAY
IT ALWAYS ENDS THIS WAY
A TINT OF SADNESS

LOOKING FORWARD…
TO THE NEXT TIME

… still crawl'en around there big feller
Happy Vern 99

 

WE GOT HIM! ."I'LL WHOOP YOUR ..." 31kb wav

 

 

I Miss Freaknik

Used to ride around on the beltway
Used to ride around on the freeway
Used to ride around on the freak show
Who am I kidding I miss Freaknik!

I miss Freaknik MAN-0-LIVE

I like to party alot, I like to party alot
I like to party alot in parking lots.
I like the top down when we’re getting down.
40 ounce and a bounce makit a bump,
here come da west end fin jump out and hit it a lick –
I miss Freaknik!

400 - to the 5, Ponce De Leon Man o live and able,
jams gettin loud out the Con ver tib le!!
louder n louder

Scratch the fit, the fit ya pitching
Say hello to da exquisite bitches
party down in a par tae town
sir blasta funk busta hunk a powder bump it up louder
up down party down party down in a par tae town
Cops look away tonite we gets a pass
If u don’t believe that you can kiss my
I miss Freaknik

I miss Freaknik
back to back Back in Black
bring it back bring it back
I miss Freaknik
 

 

Butch Sessions... Whooped some jerky boy ass in a national taste test. Check this out the premier Redneck Comic of East Tennessee. Free Catalogue with purchase. HITS INCLUDE: Oil Filter Rag, Rim Job, Pair of Goodens, The Graveyard Hag and other rare extras! shipping is always included.

 

 

HILLBILLYTILT

Back through the murk and the lovely sunshine
of mercury comets, white lightening and may wine
naked snake hunters in combat boots
Ill wind parties bare assed on a roof

Dark atomic roads are a star dust cruise
a fire crackered turd, is a pink siding bruise
near a floating roach sea, and nasal misery
in Skinny’s land of eternity.

A Dinosaur belch from a man made cave
Olympic flatus made his name
fleshy moose antlers from crab orchard stone
pull over here and get me an ice cream cone!

there was a plaster foot Poe rarin on the stairs
in a ripplin ritual with no winter cares
the food of the gods this family had
to the mouth and soul from the mind to hand

Porcelain entertainment on a dark circle
wild minds of the south a stark miracle
Chocolateers in the night, a spider a jazzathon
the cellars a birthin’ an atomic heart skeleton

How did this Tennessee come to be?
An absurd and wholesome obscenity?
a stubborn look at reality?
Could be just a happy clash in this man’s century?

Stay alive! smoke the hive
a sardine fart lingers live
impaired rodentia shot against a wall
peanut butter breath demons in a metal rack free frall

a turnpike terror for banana peel
a fearful orangutan under a wheel
fighting a drive shaft for the next breath
clawing a steel belted into shreds

It’s an awareness house crime on the wild side
on a wild and wooly satellite ride
there's pain panged pagans drinking shad crap 69
a righteous troop playing Weener Mind^©
a ridge of awe, a satin of lake
four drunk hippies who made a mistake

from many directions traveled to this point in time
are a hundred worn tires at the end of the line
in a magic gas ceremony into a flash
inky black cloud from the furnace of the past

a criminal red glow of orange and black
and dense onyx cloud smudges the monkey on my back
copper vermilion ghoul, bag a dangling
tinker bell stagger and drool hanging

Joanne aint gona wait on you, you, or you
somebody call Ron in here too
Went out to the lake the best I figure it,
going down Direct, pack of cigarettes

There's a glassy eyed geek wanting a light
you got any? You want any?
More stars in the sky than Foust could lie
unclothed your honor shocked oh my!

Bordering on tragedy living on the edge
Copper paint and LSD a hippies pledge
he fights his men hard and loves his women long
but cant stay at the point too long

City smoke bomb tears and window whizz and jeers
skunk beer for hooter fear
the megalomania of yesteryear... hillbilly tilt

by Little Sodi

 

 Are you diggin this?  Iffin so... get onto UPHOME

...................

ESCAPE FROM   THE RIDGE   Escape from the Ridge... where mercury streams gurgle through Strontium90 meadows Where beta particles beam like melodies Sonic booms, warble distress signal tunes where Cesium137 gas erupts into pure blue beryllium skies, heavy metals lay in disguise Irradiated dusted leaves, man, woman, boy, girl up to their knees silent and violent toxic quicksand. 3 mile isle death march a green quarry bubbles in perpetuity, a 20,000 year annuity a five o'clock siren song - it wont be long... The Ridge is all these things... Run the Bull to the Point, the Atomic Pool Outer Drive, Laboratory Road bears the mother lode K-25’s got a skeleton crew, thousands ready to sue Y-12’s holdin on - a missile a day is what they’re countin on X-10’s hiding sins and the kings of ORNL puffin on that tritium parts of warplane landing in trees and D-Don's got that Uranium downere... far yee No need to tell any more tales Uncle Sugar we know the deal King One quick ride by the Noise boys the Pirate Ship told all them tales Katie's Kitchen's cookin, open all night The Haunted Church pried open for worshiper's rite Now down yee some N-methyl-1-phenylpropan-2-amine getchee ass a-goin and make a hill scene blow the ole pipes and lets begin again drain the reactors and fill em to the brim. Here comes the masses for their punch of plutonium, coming back like a glow worm will, throwing back some of that U235 swill So Gamma some Alpha bits and I Beta get goin. They got that fire in the hole like a little boy mole and a Hiroshima soul. Got that SDI in the sky and a evil twitchin eye whoopin up a jet propulsion cry I gets to wondering why ESCAPE FROM THE RIDGE! Little Sodi

 

SPASTICS ON PLASTICS©... The Underground captured live this sick soiree of regional space folk in a dangerously eclectic concoction of poetry for people who don't like poetry. Enter into this bozo-poetic-karaoke cage match by Sending $9.95 in check or money order to the OLE CUZZZ, Free Catalogue with purchase. Let the BEATNECK revolution live!

 

 

 

ROAD TEST ON IRIDIUM

Oak Ridge in the spring rain, not staring Richard Burton
in a metaphysical bathysphere of Kiwi smoke

Chrome black vapor on the horizon, electric storms in your eye
don’t give in to the garden apartments, check the level every day

Don’t head down D-Dons, to the shipwreck green, to the potassium,
and cobalt blue, Caint, get the uranium out of your cranium,
a lot of good boys done seen the glow.

Swimming pools glow in the night time, Mercury madness atomic
Molotov cocktail in your lap, take a half of pound of BC powder
take a ceramic crap

Yee Haw, Get down diabolic rednecks, get down psychopathic
fools, gona hit you with a psychodelic fishing lure and head
down the stream too

The lights of the living ridge, living life on the edge
its a good life out on west outer, on a fantasy to find a bridge

In a chilling night at the witches castle, demons voices devils toys
take the dark orange highway to forever, lights for eyeballs
you heard the noise.

Oak Ridge in the mountains, long along Cumberland ridge
got a dream fastened to that mountain, and the heavy metals hangin
out in the ridge. - Randy Dale Tucker

 

 

CHECKY CHUCKIE

Checky Chuckie went to the sticks
Checky Chuckie kicked a hick
but on that hick ticks did stick
so Checky Chuckie ran off lickity split
but was too late that he did skate
because on his wick hick ticks did ate
all the day and into the night
Checky Chuckie felt the hick ticks bite
the hick ticks picked his wick to the quick
and with rocky hick dik fever he was sick
Checky Chuckie

with regards to Rudgarrd Kiplick

 

 

 

Leo is Lyin'

The night was fine and alright too
so it's not that the party wasn't cool
and it wasn't you I was trying to dodge
when I saw your face across the sea of codge
so I dug me a king size hole
by talking bullshit about wanting joel
so forget who went flying up the driveway
you cant stop an O'Dell who dont want to stay
I just couldnt hang I dont know why
I only knew I had to roll boiy.

THE COOOL MODELL

 

 

 Mr. Moon

The night is silent as you swing low
cutting sidelong behind my bungalow
my heart lifted as you sank
casting a hypnotic glow on the propane tank

Silhouettes of leaves scatter my dark driveway
hand painted in your natural way
you send your river of light, and cool flow
of silver radiance and inky shadow

You look surprised, then sad some days
it must be lonely to be so far away
no one to talk to nothing to say
do you smile at angels passing your way?

I used to watch you with my love
but now I have only you above
soaring the heavens rolling around
while I’m dark and sullen, Earthen bound

But with you I will never be alone
the way you shine and always shone
dusk is nearing so I’ll see you soon
I’ll be watching for you Mr. Moon

Dave O’Dell June 19

 

 

 

WHEN ROBBERS COME HOME TO ROOST

Sleeping city morning magic
when the birds call up the sun
the bum stirs in his warm depression
when chain link filtered street light plays
across the grass and leaves
sticking from his matted hair
insomniac blue hairs cruise the quiet
streets in shiny Cadillac tombs
sealed in their perfumed serenity
previewing the weird glow of the long sleep
While a Jamaican paperboy pauses in their passing
whispering "soon come mon, soon come."
Red eyed and weary, the cop and the robber
sit side by side waiting for the light to change
Stalker and prey exchange glances, wondering
who is who but their work is over,
dawn a breaking ... home to roost.

Undergrowth, 8 March, 1987

 

 

 

You Can't Kill White Trash

Silly hillbilly on a Saturday night,
gettin liquored up, running through the red lights
ain't never heard be careful or the meaning of doom
look out now, your gona find out soon

Got a little trouble in the highway up ahead
they found the Thunderbird, but they didn't find him
On his lid in a creek, door handle in his liver
pocket full of smoke - shaggin it to New River

You can't kill white trash, no no you can't kill white trash
you can knock em down, elbow em, gas, light, and throw em
but you can't kill white trash.

Got pulled over on the 4-1-1

booze and a bear - illegal shotgun
if he's goin down, he's going to stay...said
"open up the door while I blow one of his deputies away"

You can't kill white trash, no no you can't kill white trash
you can knock em down, elbow em, gas, light, and throw em
but you can't kill white trash.

You're a survivor of a mountain world where integrity will armor thee
It's in your heart to give peace a chance

drum beat resumes...

Hang it up son trash floats, so get your goat smelling hide down the road
go tell the world it aint no use, you're gona lose, You can't kill white trash.

Trippin on tobacco, bar-be-queing a brain,
hitching up the trailer going fishing in the rain,
you can send me up the river you can throw me off the boat.
Don't make no difference son, trash floats...

What in the devil keeps Pappy alive?
He's done drunk up the drano - snake bit ten times
He did some pukin and that twitching jazz
great-gosh-golly you can't kill white trash.

you can't kill white trash, no no you can't kill white trash
you can knock em down, elbow em, gas light and throw em
but you can't kill white trash.

Uncle Bob Hembree

 

 

JOHNNY KNOXVILLE - POETIC Hard-bitten coon hunter shoves off and recedes as a small point of lard on a distant mountain as scrappy dogs howl. Let him move on from an anthropological hick to a modern wire rim peg leg hobbling into the future. LISTEN TA THAT POETIC FUCKER...       They... See    Mr. Knoxville's Website     INTER-NET-GALACTIC SMARTASS REMARKS EARTHLING: "You seem to have come to our planet with some kind of a personal problem." ALIEN: You'll think personal problem when I scorch your damn planet about three times." SCORCHEE: "I don't think that will be necessary at all." ALIEN: Seems to me I'm gona have to!!!   Damn low road son of a bitch, I'll take a damn matter reverser to your damn ass...

 

 

 

Haven't visited the Underground National Archives? Dammit Boy!

 

All selections copyright Silly Dawn Productions 1996-2022
Little Sodi, a pseudonym for Artist Poet David J. O'Dell copyright 1972-2022 BMI

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