Die, Vampire, Die! from Title of Show

I can not claim credit for this gem, but since it was part of my inspiration for INTERVIEW VAMPIRES I thought it deserved a spot on the blog. The song is a part of the relatively new musical TITLE OF SHOW, about two guys writing a musical about two guys writing a musical. In a way, it's annoying, but in a way it's very genius as well. As those of you readers may or may not know, I am THE BIGGEST musical fanatic, and I'm always looking for new and innovative ones. So without further ado, I give you DIE VAMPIRE DIE! from TITLE OF SHOW.

DIE VAMPIRE DIE!


There are some people in the world who say that writing stories,
Or composing music or dancing sparkly dances is easy for them.
Nothing interferes with their ability to create.
While I celebrate their creative freedom,
A little part of me just wants to punch those motherfuckers in the teeth.
This song, I sing this song for you guys and for all the rest of us. Help me out Y’all

We’ll sing backup

You have a story to tell, a novel you keep in a drawer.

Old sock drawer!

You have a painting to paint, but you lazy like an old French whore

Je suis whore

You have a movie to make, Shrinky Dinks you can bake
But you best grab a stake, cause,
In sweep the vampires, in creep the vampires, knee deep in vampires,
Filling you with doubt. Insecurity, ‘bout what you art should be
In sweep the vampires

Die vampire

You sketched that turtle you saw in an ad on late-night cable TV

Tippy Turtle!

But your fourth grade teacher said

You can’t draw

Aww, those vampires just won’t let you be

Fuck you Ms. Johnson, Word!

And when they come run like hell, see those bats in your belfry, then call on Van Helsing.

In swoosh

Ooh, the vampires

In a whoosh

Ooh, the vampires,

Babaganoosh

Ooh, all the vampires

Filling you with thoughts of

Self consciousness

Feelings of

Worthlessness

They’ll make you

Second guess
Die vam-

-pire!

There are so many vampires, inside, outside, and nationwide,
It helps to recognize them with this vampire hunting guide!
Listen closely,
A vampire is any person or thought or feeling
That stands between you and your creative self expression,
But they can assume many seductive forms.
Here’s a few of them!

Tell us Susan!

First up are you pigmy vampires.
They’ll swarm around you head like gnats and say things like:

Your teeth need whitening

You went to state school?

You sound weird

Shakespeare, Sondheim, Sedaris

Did it before you and better than you, or they might say that you cannot
Sing good enough to be in a musical, or they might say:

Ooh, your song’s derivative,
Ooh, your song’s derivative,
Ooh, your song’s derivative,

To keep that song from you! Just tell them:

Die vampire, die!

Brothers and sisters, next up is the air freshener vampire,
She might look like you mama, or your old fat-ass, fat aunt Fanny.
She smells something unpleasant in what you’re creating.
She’ll urge you to:

Clean it up.

(Spraying sound)

It with some pine fresh smell ’em ups.
The air freshener vampire doesn’t want you to write about

Bad language, blood, or blow jobs

She wants you to clean it up and clean it out.
Which will leave your work toothless, gutless, and crotchless
But, you’ll be left with two tight paragraphs,
All kittens that your grandma would be so proud of.
You look at that air freshener vampire in her fat ass, fat old fuckin’ face and you Say

(Chanting)

The last vampire is the mother of all vampires and that is the vampire of despair.
It’ll wake you up at 4am to say things like:

Who do you think you’re kidding?
You look like a fool.
No matter how hard you try, you’ll never be good enough

Why is it that if some dude walked up to me on the subway platform
And said these things, I’d think he was a mentally ill asshole,
But if the vampire inside my head says it,
It’s the voice of reason.

You have a story to tell, pull your novel out of that sock drawer!
You have a painting to paint, you best paint it and then paint some more!


Oh baby, you must escape and grab it by the nape of its neck, by the trachea
Fuckin’ break it, go on drive a stake in,
Yeah there’s no mistaking, now you’re shake and bakin’

Die, vampire
I said, “Die, vampire”
I said, “Now die vam-pi-re, die!”

In fly the vampires, oh my the vampires, then die the vampires,
Filling you with life, creativity, all that you heart should be, out go the vampires
Die vampire, die vampire, die vampire, die!


Music and writing credits go to Hunter Bell and Jeff Bowen.

Official show site is here, in case any of you faithful readers are here.

Need to hear it to make the most of it?
This is the closest video I could find with DIE VAMPIRE DIE in it.

What about it readers? What kind of vampire is yours? I personally identify with the vampire of despair, but it's different for everyone.

Back to regularly scheduled poetry now. Thank you for the interruption break.

The Irrelevance of Numbers (Or, Happy Birthday!)

On your birthday

Cannot recall if you are

21

Or

42

But numbers only get in the way

Of the amazing things you have accomplished

Giving birth to 3 terrific daughters

Creating a home that is always welcoming

To vagrants and vagabonds

Like myself

The way you handled your Oh Hell loss last night

Was

Far more graceful

Than Jim

And your patience when flipping over the trump card

May we all learn that lesson of serenity in the eye of the

Competitive card storm

Deep respect

I have for what you do

It must not be easy to find the humanity in everyone

To be warm and welcoming to those who may feel cold or alone

To allow yourself to be that vulnerable

To continue to make a concerted effort

Even when those relationships may let you down

May today be a day of celebration for you!

Of joy!

Or at least quiet contentment

On this

The anniversary

Of the day of your birth

Ode to a Desert Rainstorm

The desert heaves

a quiet, tingling breath 

Much like the anticipation 

of a lover's touch

The cumulonimbus fingers

poised above the rigid mountainous spine

twist and tease but yield little

to the frustrated, parched earth

Reprieve!  What I wouldn't give

for a deep lungful of air that didn't taste 

like baked clay

perspiration

suffocation

The sun sets in a brilliant bloody fashion

Spilling over the darkening bulbous

cloud banks

Release!  The water finally oozes free

leaving quarter-sized traces on the steaming pavement

Tension snaps

in the form of ragged streaks

that perform their terrifying dance from sky

to ground

Sharp invasive jabs

into the sand

I hear you can find glass scars in the desert

after a lightning strike

And then...

brief, so brief

the clouds move on

trapped in the funnel of the mountains

offering a grimy shell of respite

as again the thermometer slowly climbs. 

Ode to Unemployment

Unemployment oh how you doth protest
I have a love and hate relationship with you
On one hand
I have so much time
On the other
I have no money
I have no purpose
Should I...
Canoe?
Write?
Draw?
Make music?
Or should I just...
Watch another This American Life re-run?
Or Mad Men episode?
Have you discovered Hulu?
I hope not
Because it could be dangerous during your months of unemployment
I really should...
Send out yet another
Resume
Cover letter
Mission statement
Letter of purpose
Life statement
Contemplate my self worth
Let's not
I'd rather not
I'd rather join a gym
Take a YOGA class
Go for a run
Or maybe just a walk
Let's see how long before anyone notices
I'm not paying them back
I'm not paying my rent
Or bills
Or dropping off the face of the earth
Unemployment is fun
It's a quest for new opportunity
Or some other bullshit line
They are feeding you kids now
I'll shut up now
This is my ode to unemployment

ben laughs in his sleep*

and his lips stretch
over gums and nascent teeth
what does he see?

by day his black eyes probe
and scrutinize
his brow furrows
he is will and force
and a personality that cannot be contained

but when he sleeps he laughs
and gurgles into his mother's shoulder

what movies play inside his eyelids
what pictures provoke him to glee?

or does he laugh because he knows it all
and he's not going to tell us?

---

*Poet's note: He also laughs when he farts. He is, after all, related to me.

FRIDAY

Enduring minutes

Saturday’s promise beckons

Patient as a cloud


(Mom felt a little left out, so she composed a haiku of her own, claiming it had been 40 years since she's written any poetry at all. Pretty good for someone who claims to be that rusty, no?)

Ode to a Muffin, in Haiku form

Fluffy rich goodness

a perfect complement of

Whole grains and berries







Sadly, I can't claim credit for this gem. It was contributed by a co-worker of my mother's named Margaret after consuming one or more of her Friday treats at the office. Thanks Margaret! (I bet you didn't think you'd make out to the Internets, did you?)