Country Music Song: Medusa

   I like James Joyce and Fyodor Dostoevsky; specifically, not a songwriter, but I live in Nashville; thus, dug this diddy up from when I was 16--here goes:


                               "MEDUSA"

   Well I fell in love with Medusa

                               When she seduced me late one night--

   She stoned me then she owned me,

                               And it didn't take too much time . . .

   I see her behind the window

                               Though she has her back turned to me--

   I want to turn her around,

                                But you don't date Medusa for free.

   She's got a demon's tail and a smoky smile,

                                Burning like a kidney stone pee!

   I glimpse her within the shadows,

                                She's wickedly boxing with me,

   For I fell in love with Medusa
                
                                 When she seduced me late one night--

   She stoned me then she owned me,

                                  And it didn't take too much time . . .

Copyright 2013 Mark David King


   Living in Nashville, there are a myriad of songwriters, like brain-craving zombies, strolling throughout the neon-lit streets of the mystical Music City, dreaming of lyrical fame and the pussy galore that comes with it.  I never respected writers who could make a million dollars by penning limp linguistics on a piece of toilet paper with a red-inked Bic, rollable pen while spawning a fiber-floating bowel movement.  Still, short verse is impressive.  Look at the year 1922.  James Joyce's Ulysses was published, a monstrous, approximate 300 page piece of pornographic literature, being the best book forged in the English language; nonetheless, T.S. Eliot's Wasteland was also published in 1922, being an approximate 15 pages, equal to the monster Joyce created; as a result, a little diddy is a big deal.  Size doesn't matter.  Unless of course you're Cher or my ex-wife.  And where would we be without:
                                                    "The London Bridge is falling down!"

   All in all words, or even a single word, showcases brilliance, crafting many a bodacious bard.  Look at the mystical arts of Black Magic.  The singular name of the Abrahamic God can hex a multitude of men, offering genitalic mutilation and all the rest of Pandemonium that might injure a man to the point of suicidal culmination; alas, respect the songwriter, but do I, really?  Jack Kerouac once boasted, after numerous beers, probably close to 20, that he had architected over a million words.  Now how the hell does Garth Brooks get more fame for one paragraph about banging a bucolic Betty?  It seems a bit unfair if you ask me.

   All in all, I'm just a jealous prick at the end of the day.  Regardless, check me out--my books available on Amazon.Com, Barnes and Noble.Com; plus, Apple itunes, the Nook, and all Internet bookstores:  Mark David King's Books!

   So, God Bless, and for the love of Jesus, stop masturbating to lewd images of Sarah Palin--it's like you're pissing on the Constitution, and Abe Lincoln is sure to come back from the ranks of Empyrean and kick your Republican ass.  Democrats too.

Sincerely, Mark David King