Sonnets About ******* #1 'Tiny, King of the Jews'

by Indiana… on Saturday, 19 March 2011

The next post is due later this week so why not join the RSS feed and be notified when it goes live.

As you might expect, moderate to fair profanity after the jump… alongside odd re-imaginings of 80's noise rock— you were warned.

After Rathe's latest blog post in his "Confused Young White Man Critiques Mid-to-Late 80s' Rap Music Narratives" series, I felt the venerable institution of TCFTD was getting just a little too uncultured, too plebeian; too pandering.

This is the problem with today's youth, if you ask me. Spending all their time devising clever boxy word puzzles instead of doing something constructive, like pushups, or jumping on a live grenade, or sitting in a foxhole cradling a man in your arms and watching the blood run out of him and the life drain from his eyes, or sit-ups. [1]

So now for some serious literature; "Sonnets About Fucking". For we all know the band Big Black were true post beat pioneers; worthy of serious study and reimagination, and thus I give you…

Tiny, King Of The Jews

I started out drinking; I wonder why…
Everything I do is do or die.
And then I’ve killed yet another day
I’ve hacked through yet another endless night
On the wall, there is another there.
By the look of my hand; I’m adrift.
I started out hating myself; I’m through.
I started out drinking, I stays that way.
I started out hating myself; I’m through.
I have got to have something I can hate,
A man has got to have something… something.
I started out drinking; I wonder why…
A man has got to have something to hate,
I’m looking for something… guess you’ll do.


Unfortunately however my tongue is now stuck so far in my cheek it has formed a complex fractal, but either way dear readers expect semi regular updates on this theme over the coming weeks.

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