Rock the vote, kids

It seems that people take great pleasure
In bitching at me
Bitching at me because Iím not very politically versed
Or because Iím not patriotic
They say Iím dissident and apathetic
Sometimes they even say
Things about my clothes

Vote vote vote
I voted
And Iím pretty sure that my vote
Was sent thru a laser to the center of the earth
To be used as scrap paper for tic tac toe
For people from the x-files, soldiers, and maybe even
A few innocents.

Get involved
Iím as involved as I ever want to be
And Iíll take any of you fuckers right here
Right now
On the floor
I donít need a weapon
My teeth are sharp
And I can cast a net around you with my words
Leaving you speechless and making you piss
In the pants your mother bought you at sears

My culture is made up of primarily
Other misanthropes who sadly canít afford
The simple household ingredients needed
To make bombs

These people who tell us to vote
Live for morning coffee and paper clips
And they spend an awful lot of time
Complaining about how much they hate their jobs
They have affairs
They play golf
They are puppets and they spend their whole lives
Praying to and waiting to meet
The great puppet master in the sky
(insert theme music)

Iím fairly sure that I know more than I care to
And I would like to put it all in a wheelbarrow
And shovel it into the right side of my brain
But I lost my map
And I canít remember which side
Had the flashing light that said

The Fucking Desert

So, I was driving my van thru the desert
No fucking AC, right?
No fucking sense
And those were some beaten down
bass low times

I was a traveler
Never a tourist

But the tourists rest stops
Were statistically more dangerous
Because of travelers like me,
The traveler I was in that van
With no fucking AC

I walked right into Melís Diner and cried to Flo that
ďthe wind was blowing my van all over the road and I thought my tires were bad and the
heat the heat oh god the heatĒ
she finally just put away her notebook
and brought me a beer

I had tons and tons of questions for Flo
Scientific questions, weather related questions, geographical questions, mechanical
questions, questions about the best way to bury a bodyÖ
But I just wanted her to validate my meter
For one more day
Just to shake me and tell me
ďyouíre not gonna die right this moment,
you little pussy.Ē

Cause I had the ďbitchin party vanĒ
With a kickass
Top o the line
Sound system
Which was later stolen out of my hearse
In the snow.

I stripped down to my bikini top
Gulping very warm water
As it wouldnít even stay cold
From one rest stop to the next

And I listened to Johnny Cash
So fucking loud
That I quite possibly directly contributed
To the dehydration of those around me
Those tourists

The bikini top and shorts
Werenít cutting it
I took off my stained wife beater
Filled it with ice
And tied it around my head.

Rolling thru the desert
Tattooed hung over
Eyes and lips
Make quite a spectacle out of myself really

And it was hot
I saw fucking visions
I saw those one of those cartoon mirageís of a island paradise
I could see the ice evaporating
I drove all night
I drove all day
Either way it was fucking unbearable
But I did it

And the whole goddamn time
I was wearing this wife beater around my head
Tattoos blended into a skull and crossbones bikini
And I was singing ď Going back to JacksonĒ
Like a maniac

And to this day
I canít listen to Cash
Without getting thirsty for some
Moon      shine

Christmas Day Drunk

Itís Christmas day and my studio apartment
Cut out of a garage is full of generic cigarette smoke
And Iím blaring metal
Bad metal, like the kind you listened to in 8th grade
With your friends      your friends      you had friends
And Iím looking for a granola bar
I stole from the corner store
To stop my stomach from hurting
Too much hurting
Sometimes I get my heart and my stomach
And I always fall apart if no one is looking
If you are desperate enough youíll smoke stems
And its just one of those kinda days
When its time to empty the ashtray
And let the light fall thru the window
And land on your hand and it
Cuts Quiet
If I had a relative, I guess Iíd take me a superstar
We could play Battleship today And I would share my batteries with you
And I would share my batteries with you

Youíd sink my battleship
And for just a few seconds
I forget
That I am so fucking lonely

Subject matter of a love song I would write

Slinking across the floor
Leaving my scales to mark my territory
And scratch my most sensitive parts
Making me stretch (the truth)

If I were to write you a love song
The subject matter
Would be about falling down
Holding hands.

I mean like
A morbid kinda intimacy
Only capable by poets and animals.

Debbie Kirk is a 31 year old writer\artist in Austin Texas.
Check out her website at

© 2005 Underground Voices