(I found this pushed under my bedroom door when I woke up.
The handwriting was almost unreadable, but here it is.)



The Love Song Of Frank Jest. (a comedy of terrors)



She asked me for a quarter for a public telephone
Downtown in the afternoon, that's a rather pubic moan
Well, I'm always kind to strangers and I'll give a dog a bone
So I gave her twenty dollars but considered it alone
Well, I always cry at funerals, especially my own

A man knocked on the door today, looking for some change
I told him that she wasn't home and could he call again
We argued Hugo Chavez then he quickly cleaned my drain

As George Clinton said to me, I can feel your pain
But when his head turned president, he did it all again

My dad's read a hundred books on the 2nd-floor whore
He borrowed my binoculars, and then he wrote some more

She's staring at her favorite film, it's on a popcorn ceiling
Her best friend puts on her coat, it's time that she was leaving

For a midnight date at Texaco with a guy who thinks he's Elvis
He won't let anyone pump it out, banana to his pelvis

Fred's in the kitchen, cooking up a worm
It's on bed of oatmeal and I hope it doesn't burn

There's a lady at the bus-stop, a clone of Paris Hilton
I lent her 20 cell-phones and an epic poem by Milton

Art-critics amongst you may fault this dreary rhyme
But some twat's rapping at the bathroom door and we can't afford the Times

I'm happy for that bubbly sound from the bedroom of Aurora
She is the apple of his eye and surely he does core her

I did like her wanking, but when they come together
it's like a convict in a crate of drunken peacock feathers

I'm Frank, son of Ulysses, just googling the weather!

*

can't demand such contraband to land me many fans

...................but for it came as quick as a morning shit, and now I have to wash my hands

.....................................................i.

y

*

m

(Well, that's frank. But when we interviewed him for the spare room, he seemed really normal.)