The Second Coming

go fuck yourself
The Second Coming
by diy danna
I thought I loved the coolest guy in Austin once.
Craig Liszt.
He’s on the internet and plays keys,
but isn’t related to that Craig’s List or Franz.
Yet his simple strokes are genius flourishes.
How it happened:
One sweltering summer night Craig made love to the jukebox at The Parlor and told me that Tom Waits dreams in sepia like Kansas in the Wizard of Oz. From that moment – maybe even before that – I worshiped Craig.
How I joined His Cult:
I flipped off a jerk in traffic in His holy name. Baptism by profanity.
I wanted to know Craig’s real birthday (fuck December 25th),
to send Him a singing telegram-
a clown with instructions to my Id and Super Ego.
How Craig answered my prayers:
He read my breasts in my dreams like scripture, and I called out His name in vain as I woke up.
He journeyed to the desert,
a Simon in the Buñuel film.
He’s fasting and praying to rock music,
fasting and praying to rock music.
Is His middle name David?

0 thoughts on “The Second Coming

  1. I was researching Craig Liszt 2 months ago (one day) and the only listing I could find was on this thing called ‘Facebook’. So I signed in and ended up finding friends I hadn’t heard from in 10 to 20 years…wierd. ..and I never got back around to commenting on it.
    Artist as prophet; music as ‘the word’…with spiritual fervor, i bow before the altar of this poem’s vitality. They may be older themes: comparing music to religion, sex to religion, mixing sacred and profane…but they seem very originally done here in a different mold by openly acknowledging awareness of such and proceeding through deliberate stereotyping aka parodying…sharply penetrating.
    From title to question ending, i was swaddled in this poem’s rockin’ manger. Thx for sharing!

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