Two Poems | by Helmüt Garrett

Mother Hen Mick

Jagger is most certainly
a mother figure and he’s
a mother hen
to the whole thing.

He’s not a cock-a-doodle-doo; he’s much more
like a brothel keeper—
or a madame.

He’s incredibly sexy
              and very virile.
I also find him incredibly motherly and
maternal—
clutched into his
    bosom of ethnic blues.

He’s a white boy from Dagenham

trying his damnedest to be ethnic. You see,
trying to tart the rock business up a bit
is getting nearer to what the kids
themselves are like.

 

 

 

The Wrong Color

I met this man
who was the living dead.

Yellow in complexion,
a wig on that was the wrong color,
little glasses.

I extended my hand and the guy retired, so I thought,

               The guy doesn’t like flesh—

                           obviously he’s reptilian.

He produced a camera
and took a picture of me. And I tried
to make small talk with him,
  and it wasn’t getting anywhere.

 

But then he saw my shoes—

I was wearing a pair of gold-and-yellow shoes, and he says,
“I adore those shoes, tell me where you got those shoes.”
He then started a whole rap about shoe design and
              that broke the ice.

 

My yellow shoes broke the ice with Andy Warhol.

He’s the wrong color—
             this man is the wrong color
to be a human being.

Especially under the stark neon lighting
that is in The Factory.

Apparently
it is a real experience
to behold him
in the daylight.

 

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Helmüt Garrett was born in Landstuhl, Germany.  He earned his B.A. in English at Miami University in Oxford, Ohio and his M.F.A. in Creative Writing at Goddard College in Plainfield, Vermont.  Some of his work has appeared in OCCULUM, The Andromedae Reviewprojectagentorange, and Lions-On-Line Literary Magazine, and some of his lyrics were winners in their category for the 2006 Unisong International Songwriting competition.  He currently lives in Bogota, Colombia where he teaches high school English. 

 

On Twitter:  @joerock513, @WrestlingPoetry