Foul Utopian Blues

February 27, 2009


At night, when bricks are wet
and cast iron lamp posts glisten
with rough pebbles of cold rain and
when the laughter from Ernst’s Café
is out of reach, when bored with
flame broiled pancakes and
the walk from the Jax Brewery to
the shelter of Janet’s screwery
is just too damn far away;
or when Julia is gone peculiar and
I have a discompunction to kneel
and pray on uptown Magazine, to
come clean before the Gaberdine Angus,
Truth Verite asks whether the
naberjockey is bligh and driffle,
or a one headed, too dreaded piffle.

About charles frenzel

I've been writing all my life. I've also painted, composed, sculpted, contributed to molecular research, advanced some mathematical concepts, lived on a sailboat, and worked for a Nobel Prize winner. Nothing in my life has pleased me more than to share my life with my wife and friend of over forty years.

View all posts by charles frenzel


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