New York from Someone Who’s Never Been
New York
From someone who’s never been
New York has a king
He’s tough too
At least he was
Looks like Christopher Walken
But it’s not him
Last time I saw Walken he was doing community service with Stephen Merchant in Reading
Not the gaol
which would be Wilde
They have gangs too
The Gangs of New York
Infamous these
They like to wear colours but I am not sure which ones
Never really specified
I presume red and blue
But not a clue
and
In West Side story it seems to be a lot
Of finger clicking and to be honest they
Do not look that tough
A bit too dancy, prancy
Singing as well
More like a weekend in Blackpool than
Welcome to hell
But they have Other gangs that are based on countries of origin
Italians like to eat pasta first
Then kill in the dark with music playing
Operatic slaying
That’s what mobsters like to do
Stabbed in the throat by a bloke
In a shirt stained with Ragu
The Russians like a tattoo
Or two
The King that made the biggest NY groove was not a gangster
The only guns he had he ate,
A presence so big he remains famous
A story that always remains great
Even today, when we doubt right and wrong
We can agree the best King
Is Kong
Those simian swings from gigantic ape arms
He took a bite from the big apple
But it only did him harm
This was before the greatest showman
When these circuses became cool
This was the age of the freak show when these maniacs were just cruel
That massive monkey was life encapsulated in a brief escapade
with a showman’s lifestyle
He didn’t get the good bit
The champagne, the tuxedos, the Broadway smiles
They chained him in an undersized cage and Kong got oversized piles
No wonder he was fuming when the big night came
Snapped those metal tie downs and hit the sky high tiles
Where does an angry mammoth monkey go when his anger is spiked
Hopper had not painted a bar big enough for this
Hairy nighthawk on a manic night
I mean why would you do this
Treat this giant so bad
Not a friendly face or a walk in the park
Sometimes you forget that this city can be so dark
No wonder Kurt Russel wanted to get out so bad
Kong was ahead of the bonfire of any vanities, he was going to pull this whole place down
As soon as he could find a tree
These human monsters needed some King Kong Karma
Ideally filmed by Brian de Palma
Then….
But then is it wrong?
Kong?
Seems it
But what camera lucida I have to
Draw my place
My world?
Coronation Street
Gail Platt
Her mum
Long face
And dead bodies in council flats
And clouds
and hard working put upon detectives
divorced
With errant children
And sinks
And hard angry friends
And insight unheralded
Worlds of grey cold and harsh surfaces
And humour of the basest kind
so Carry On looks like Beckett in comparison
And Neil Fucking Morrisey
As a fool with a heart but as thick as the custard
In a Manchester tart
Enough then
Of dead chimneys and
Empty solidarity
And cheerless bonhomie
Tuneless karaoke
Black puffer jackets
short back & sides
Union flags
Looks always snide
And anger
And petty
and shadows not light
And no fucking poetry
And so many fights
Yes
It was wrong
What happened to Kong
But as he fell to his death
Past every
Empire
State
Plate
glass
window
Glorious or bland
I bet he thought
it’s better than fucking
Skull island
Those small minded servile bastards treated me like a freak
At least here I got to swipe out at geeks
In biplanes
And a love interest
Inter species
Beauty tiny, giant ape
A Size impossible to overcome
Differences they’d never allow
But now that it’s done and the floor is coming at me like a bullet from a gun
And even in that final descent
Kong I am sure
Not a single doubt
Thought
fuck skull island
I’m still glad I got out
