Sept. 1989 DAWN'S GIFT THE JESUIT PRIEST MASTER ABYSS WILLIE MALAISE HOPP ALONG THE BESTIAL TAIL A ZIPPER STUCK IN ETERNITY MR. SLIPPER SHOD UPON THESE STEPS ASH will be published, hopefully, on a quarterly basis and is interested in all forms of expression for future issues. ASH will be sent to you upon request, lark, or for a postage stamp. ASH comments, requests, or submissions should be sent to: DAVID R. WYDER/ASH 121 GREGORY AVENUE, #B-7 PASSAIC, NJ_ 07055 Credits: Inside Cover and Page 16 by Bruce Townley (sometime in 1974?) All other by David R. WyderDAWN'S GIFT cold shivers a cigarette for another finger sealed ministers each one with starch in the collar dirty streets heaven is a four walled cave infallible cocks hardened like cement yet soft as butter mad hatters with brains full of logical serenity piss poor endless puddles of token remorse moody moments with quakes detonated in nirvana the female ends her sentence with a period the male ends his paragraph with another the gods end all start naught the souls of the damned on a road.THE JESUIT PRIEST The Jesuit Priest believed in the circus, Santa Claus and pre-nuptial agreements. He spent days in the sand on his knees Building highways and leveling mountains. Yet another teenage farce He was overheard to say. Never settle for less than the best He did not have to but he always did. His followers were Halloween gangsters In love with their disguises. Their women were only candy After awhile the women got sour And they would get holy cavities. Without his knowledge the case Was closed and the family jewels Were adrift in a sea of doubt. All the ragmuffin torture chambers Could not hold his lust for punishment. The parishioner was busy filling charm boxes He bumped into the Jesuit Priest dressed up As a gangster and asked him about ABC's Saturday night lineup and the Progress in nuclear power plant licensing. Summer rental boxes from Hertz Were put on a roller coaster atop the Tenement while the slumlord charged a buck A ride while he drank his profits From a jelly jar and spit at onlookers. Attempts to aid the war effort were Found to be disheartening so we filled Out Blue Cross forms at the local Red Cross Chapter with women pornagraphers Who asked us about the meaning of Columbus The Jesuit Priest was immortalized in a Cement statue at the bottom of the Hudson With a placard that read "Here lies one of God's engineers who ran out of steam."MASTER ABYSS Someone was there to spoil the fun. The parade passed by only to get rained on. Under the influence of a spectator sport. Self-flagellation she said and quickly smiled. We made some tea and talked about mating our rats. Still it rained on our parade The judge mumbled something about Coca-Cola And set us all free. We still managed to torment the meter maid. We repainted the firehouse and spilled shellac All over the druggist's prescription. We reported a missing "lost and found" to the police. The police reported conduct unbecoming a politician. But let it lay in the sidewalk anyway. We played dice games and diagnosed the schizophrenia.WILLIE MALATSE Willie Malaise known as the "Say What" kid because he was legally deaf in one ear was also known for his power hitting and oil slick fielding during his diamond days. Willie Malaise today enjoys his role as the Vice President of a large food cooperative in Northwestern Iowa. Now he is known for his accuracy in predicting hog futures and he puts in a full 10 hour day trying to distribute food to all pockets of the globe. His old baseball contacts don't help much ‘in this line of work but he is able to find time for a yearly stint as the manager of the company softball team. Wille retired at the age of 38 from baseball and had a lifetime average of .312 and smacked 660 homeruns. He was well liked by all, especially the fans who delighted in giving him "moments of silence" instead of the usual loud standing ovation. Willie Malaise says that he misses being on the road and the baseball groupies that would meet him in every town. He also misses the camaraderie with his teammates which he explained is a once in a lifetime thing. Willie never married but is the father of 12 children having been in court numerous times to plead "no contest" to fathering a dozen deaf bambinos. His baseball pension goes to child support and hearing aids and his current salary keeps him in the shoetips of luxury. He lists his favorite songs as "Sounds of Silence" and "Silence is Golden". He says there is nothing like the love a farmer has for his hogs. He lifts weights to keep in shape and hopes the Giants win the pennant. He ended this interview by saying the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame is "€ull of crap."HOPP ALONG THE BEASTIAL TAIL Boastful egotism with sure fire hips He stood tall while others slipped He tried to line our pockets with mold But got struck with hammers: and knocked out cold The trenches were decorated with locals blood Enough to satisfy the General and his Captain Mud. Vindictive, unpleasant, stately and raw Quick in the sack but slow to the draw A tempter in dreams a clown in the streets Sarcastic and ill tempered to everyone he meets A designer of checks a loser of balances Can't think straight and don't know what talent is.,| He massacred giraffes and tortured llamas He raped the empress in the emperor's pajamas His band of renegades never played a tune Only killed more peasants under the full moon They left him armless with tongue cut out Stuck in a mass toilet with democracy in doubt. Hopp along the bestial tail Egos slip and minds fail Hopp along the bestial tail Forget hope get used to jail.10A ZIPPER STUCK IN ETERNITY Sometimes I feel like a zipper stuck in eternity In the middle of doing something for nothing And about to die of frustration But life is not a bed all comfortable and warm Most of the time its a zipper stuck in eternity Frozen in anticipation or ducking buckshot From a wildman out to do you harm Yet in all sincerity I can say love is the answer But I still don't know what the question is Some say life is cells and being healthy Others say its your station in life and being wealthy I look for the balance beam and being happy Believe in myself and eliminating the crappy Each day is an opportunity for honest expression And trust that the end is only the beginning But sometimes I feel like a zipper stuck in eternity Not able to function but aware of the mess Looking for the oil to unloosen me the best. 11MR. SLIPPER SHOD Mr. Slipper Shod never wears shoes has aluminum rugs cuts ice and sells lemon dolls to traders. Mr. Slipper Shod awakes in doldrums and explodes at the mention of price increase in tomato paste. Mr. Sliper Shod climbs down drain pipes and clings to the cuffs of weather people about to forecast gloom. Mr. Slipper Shod grins a careless grin at ladies carrying bags marked "for sinners only" and whose stockings never match. Mr. Slipper Shod sheds tears and performs eulogies for endangered species marks them off one by one and has himself last on the list. Mr. Slipper Shod sings to birds but can't remember the melody long enough to ever finish and the birds fly away. Mr. Slipper Shod goes through life without a care in the world never gets hung up just hangs out.UPON THESE STEPS Here we sit upon steps of gold the computer blinks twice and we are transported to a land where there are no politicians, no police, no pessimism, no pity, no pigheadedness. People float upon steps of gold make their marks with a brush of love soft colors, holy colors, gentle colors songs of peace, joy and passion. We work upon steps of gold one step after the other always going upward never on the decline our payment is serenity. We dine upon steps of gold digest the clouds and drink the rain satisfied with the intake of fresh love, truth and joy. Steadfast upon our steps of gold time non-existent the majesty of creation constantly unfolding and the white grandness of life forming substance bathes us. Upon these steps of gold Love, the feeling we all hold Love, the feeling in our control Upon these steps of gold. 15GUFTEPAT € er phndted se We REA ae THE neeat F yrReth Ricnaro THars| His BacK O ! THe Fut URS *All WRitine BY DAVID &.WypeR BLIND Cow PUBLISHERS Quo Paiwriyg 79 84xII