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Wrong Quotes

by Dana Plato

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1.
Thrill 05:06
Screwdriver For a deceptive thread And to creep in the silence Of our common mishap Flexible lines of handmade drawings During hopeless phone calls You can’t get them straight With a glass at the mall And there you stood Neither female nor male It was eight in the morning Drinking an ice cold pale ale Watching at the movie On your laptop screen How can I tell if your gasp Is fun or is thrill Sipping your bourbon The world around sways It is two in the afternoon As your plans fade away The people who suffer Either swallow or spill How can I tell if your glance Is anger or thrill This drop of wisdom This gurgling pride That drowns resentment That moistens what’s withered and dry There must be some kind of way out of beer A way to arrest this liquid pant To be nicknamed an alcoholic queer I simply won’t, I simply can’t And there you sat Neither noisy nor quiet It was eight in the evening With a sparkling white wine You look for anyone Devoid of any will How can I tell if your smile Is love or is thrill
2.
Little Einstein was severely retarded He used to headbang if left unguarded When he saw a number, he got a panic attack Black black, carbon black Little J.D. Salinger, a full-time disaster With his skinned knees and white frayed plasters Every single time he heard a story Crashed his skull into the boiler Why do you insist on our frontal lobes? Here we are, full of vital fluids An astonishing sense of humor A superb way of creating rumor Little Picasso was one of a kind And it’s widely accepted he was color blind In the mirror our hocus-pocus We will never really focus Why do you harass us with your interviews? All we need is just a garden with a view The quarks, the rays Aimless movements across our face Our mind spots a catcher in the rye Spastic movements between our thighs String theory and honeyed cellos Shaky movements under our elbows We’ll be the worst villain Movements movements movements Movements even in our brain It’s really tough A target to identify Lost in this sweet heaven of redundant stimuli It’s really hard To freeze, to stand, to paralyze Could I with a blinder Or maybe with a ball-and-chain? It’s a fearful task Finding the right measure It probably would be enough To resist the akathisia Little Edison never did his homework Anytime he tried to open his books All of a sudden he had to stand up and play, play, desperately play Little Chesnutt Our juicy fruit We know he was constantly Out of tune If you admire David Robert Jones You should possibly get to know That when he wrote his compelling lyrics He couldn’t help carelessly nose-picking Cubist seizures as in Guernica Aimless movements from our fingers Electricity, neon lights Frantic movements across our eyes An unstoppable wheel-chair Awful movements all through our hair We’ll eat spiders for the next five years Movements movements movements Movements even in my tears Listening to our nonsense jokes You might argue we are phase-delayed But if you experienced our St. Vitus’ dance We’d persuade you we are phase-advanced A little genius needs to save his rights Just, for instance, to twist and shout A stroke of genius deserves attention But not the one you use to think about Having fun with my infant’s pokes I will never ever really focus Why do you harass me with your questionnaires? I want my thoughts to freely hover in the air In the mirror our hocus-pocus We will never really focus Why do you harass us with your questionnaires? We want our thoughts to freely hover in the air.
3.
You falter I storm You reach out to the intimacy door I jiggle your fouls By means of perfect blends Of consonants and vowels My harsh tone Will blame you hither and tither Later with a pause I will tickle your ego A parable, an instance for your good Below the surface of the nouns Your secrets Behind the texture of a phrase My limits I’d like to kiss your neck but there’s an ethical concern I’m hugging through these words And trying to cuddle via a verb Whisper and whine I’ll let you hear a promise of perversion in a rhyme Reproach at its peak Sorry, my dear comrades, There is nothing left but speak To face The way you crave for explanations I need The proper clarifying conjunctions I wish you could undress But there’s an issue with this place So may my complex metaphors at least dig a neater trace I want you to know There’s much more than a concept In this wild syllables’ flow Coherence is a leak When here, at safety distance There is nothing left but speak
4.
On a gloomy Monday morning Skeletal legs in denim On the pink tiles of the backyard Her drawling steps charm the crowd Disfigured by the acid It doesn’t really matter I’d love to brush her blond fringe Hiding the scar on her brows Oh, don’t you care When they will invite her to clean her blood and To join the club of the hideous and improbably deformed Don’t you know She’s the Prettiest Girl of All Time That red mark looks disgusting For her when she sniffs cocaine If she’ll faints in front of the mirror I’ll be right there, by her side She kneels down by the bathtub The DJ boosts the volume And covers all the chit-chat While her limbs are flying miles away Oh, don’t you worry, don’t you mind When she will play the main role of a film That makes the audience starve to death The final Entertainment Entertainment She is the Prettiest Girl of All Time
5.
Here we go round Thomas Stearn’s prickly pear The prickly pear growing high, just next the railroad Where the sign tells “death danger, don’t touch the wire” But why should I touch if the pool is alright? Heart in the big car, brain in the small car Outside of the window a whole world to see You’re tryin’ to interpret my tears flowing down Well, sometimes I’m shattered ‘cause the world’s gluten-free In my mouth ajar, ready to fly A reckless myriad of potato sticks Flutter in swarms, deviate and collide Hidden by crimson and tender lips Like the army of my family nation Shred by the action of my milk teeth nips Dive down the esophagus in full relaxation Instantly turned into butterfly chips Here we go round Lewis Carroll’s red yolk No particular reason to be shameful or shy As long as my mommy continues to talk The half-naked watermelon kid is alright Alfred sells ice-creams, the shower’s off-limit I don’t want you to worry, I don’t want you to die If we ran out of money, we could easily buy it A smart twist of mind reveals the ATM’s lie In a daytime dream I close my eyes A plethora of tortilla chips Climb up the esophagus, no sphincter thereby Take off to the moon on my butterfly chips
6.
We’re here, the corpses and I We share the absence of Time Fathom the sound of the Empty There used to be a time When we would see us in a mirror As if we were real As if we were alive No kind of substance belongs to you anymore Once we exchanged Our warm pumping heart The corpses and I For love and pride It’s just a matter of time For pride to decay And just exactly as anything else Love will die
7.
Majesty 04:29
8.
In a cellar Hot and brave Tireless training To simulate Mystic orgasms To calm down her pelvic nerves so raw To negotiate and define criteria that set eugenic codes The vibrator play The vibrator game In the next room A joy landslide Woman’s envy Was finally left behind Rough devices Penetrate the secrets of her soul Hubs of pleasure Make her burst in unclean words The vibrator play The vibrator game Flushed on the cheeks and excited Her super-rigid bones become lighter Life-loving sprites at a party She locks herself In her room A freedom flight A systematic treatment That fuels the fleshly ride Perturbation The body riot is untamed Deranging flutter She’ll never be the same The vibrator play The vibrator play Thanks to a compassionate white shirt A paroxysm quiet and surprising Everything now is enlightened Authenticity If the voltage is high Satisfied and alone Revolution’s a wire Electricity Here a question arises Does it put her to death Or bring her back to real life?
9.
Parachutes 03:22
I miss the butter For my toasted bread I’ll get along with my apple jam Singing cicadas and bedbugs’ stink No prob, I’ll turn into an insects’ shrink My heart was dried out My brain was wet So I transformed them to fishing nets Striped pajamas, they discourage sex Tonight I’ll try with my purple Crocs Parachutes, parachutes Parachutes in the sky You run from the left I run there from the right Parachutes, parachutes Parachutes all the time There can always be a smart way out You’re neatly passing don’t say hello I take my phonebook Make a few more calls I start to sense That life is a disgrace Ok, I’ll hang out With sweet Mary Grace Parachutes, parachutes, Parachutes, you’ll be mine But if that is not the case I can smile Parachutes, everywhere parachutes In my mind Since nothing means loosing I’ll prob’ly survive
10.
Desert 03:59
Your smile is like a shortcut For the moon to softly rise The present is an intimate Highly emotional surprise Through the greatness of your art Notwithstanding your weird grace The future is a desert Uninhabitable place
11.
I like to reset things I like to start from zero This is the strategy That makes me feel a hero I love your dirty tongue The way it licks my flesh But to clean out bacteria Sometimes I drink mouthwash And once I rang the alarm To call the bloody fireguards They came to extinguish fire In the burning neighbors’ backyard Shout to the wolf A sort of idiot hobby I can’t help shouting to the wolf Pretending that I’m sobbing I feel coerced and stiff My head is trapped in a cage It is a down-toned riff Played by a devilish mage It’s my forefather Bill Who checked the door locks thrice It was my cousin Gilles Who cursed at the top of his voice Shout to the wolf You can’t forbid hysteria I used to shout to the wolf Would you forgive my fear? Shout to the wolf A sort of idiot hobby I can’t help shouting to the wolf Pretending that I’m sobbing Ain’t nothing more than a stubborn guy Who likes to shout to the wolf Nobody hears what I say I’d rather start jerkin’ off
12.
Strained 03:17
In this lonely carriage I won’t confess you anything more Than what I see Out of this tarnished window What remains of my memory A photo-album covered in dust What’s left of my experience Iron arteries corrupted by rust Please, don’t expect me To get old with grace I’m going to be extremely sincere I don’t give a shit It’s time now to engage in silence To restore the energy imbalance Clusters of sound in a mixer Millions of grey TV pixels Shattered by useless endeavors Exhausted by mad misdemeanors I’m strained by all of you I’m strained by myself
13.
Wrong Quotes 06:45
Obnoxious feeling that I spent the whole night looking for a meaning to apparently absurd and inappropriate says I use to handle phrases well But when I tried to make her fall it came out that I was lacking the “physique du role” “Would you marry me?” as a pickup line To make my rage clear “I apologize” Give me the coolness of the movie star when he just summarizes the sense of life in a smart glance and less than fifty characters Polite and womanly behaviors brought me here where all these people are so heartful but they’d never pay a single ounce of respect Clap your hands to this closing verse Read it twice, straight and reverse Forget my brilliant scores and laugh at my wrong quotes All my gestures fail in demanding love I must trust lyrics that I’m not sure of Here they’re open wide, the perdition’s doors And Lord Macbeth goes: “Get some sleep, my whores!”

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released June 17, 2021

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