ooka kooka from Sweeping Beauties by John King Cave

late last night i poured myself a joe,
as the sunset air wicks wafted through the yard,
working hard as a gentle elf, on my daytime desktop job,
and dreaming of somebody that i used to love.

dreaming of somebody completely new,
i know somehow i'll have to move along,
i got a crazy feeling the aliens will be landing soon,
to save my parents from the war in vietnam.

i looked up at the moon while you were fast asleep,
shining bright as ever while a band of coyotes howled.
three stars in an isosceles triangle pointed straight at me,
ET phone me home, i'm ready now.

mmmm, i know there are people to be saved,
mmmm, and there are problems to be solved.
but back in the real world i’m a baby again,
scribblin’ ooka kooka poems with my posca pen.

somehow i knew i was destined to sing the blues,
always had a feelin’ life was just a bust.
you see my mama was a dry orange peel,
and my daddy was an untied shoe.
oh dear god, don’t let it happen to us.

this might be over soon, in the twinkle of a dead dog’s eye,
my punk as fuck american analog set life.
these words pile up in the back of my throat, and i just get stuck.
as far as i can tell, love is learning how to give it up.

last night i dreamt jane fonda was my best friend.
we was causing mayhem every which way we went.
but back in the real world i’m a baby again,
scribblin’ ooka kooka poems with my posca pen.

yeah back in the real world i’m a baby again…
scribblin’ ooka kooka poems with my posca pen.

• Folk
• Albuquerque