The hand that mock'd them and the heart that fed

Cheezymandias crows to the girls:
I'm all grown now,
and ready to glint
away nightly
like the purple cosmos,
that sparkly span
so vast and clean,
rolling out
across the iron desert

His shirt pocket leaking
amber petals, a red rain
trailing at his feet
of mossy green,
He says, I am replete
With the new information;
I have the magic lamp.
Rub it and see
Me as I am,
For once
and all

Far down below
that vast plateau
in the town
of darkling night
the ambivaloids,
cowl and shawl,
tend to their
minor mead
and cornstock,
kettles,
biding time,
laughing over that one fool,

that drunk damned fool,
did you see him?
he lost his shoes,
must have thrown them away.
drunk damned fool,
stems and mites all in is hair.
Look at him passed out there
beside the wash,
lolling
glassyfaced in the hedge
just past the old school,
scrabbling for his greasy
specs

Well, that aint our Cheezy.
Not no more.
No. Our hero learned about 100 years ago
All about the crashing and the burning
And the lashing and the yearning and the cashing in on
A certain singular but outlandish understanding
of
(drum roll please
but no. Cheezy don't kiss and tell
no more
and won't kiss
and tell
no more,
no nevermore)

Shit. 11 years.
I say
that's a long fuckin time
for to be down
in the blink of an eye.
Yeah yeah yeah
And all of that
And all of that
But those should have been good years
For to have cut from your hide
But no,
Mr. Hide, oh no, Mr. Hide
long time there, Mr. Hide,
long time there, buddy,
Love you long time,
Mr. Hide,
Me love you long time
Mr. Hide,
Mr. Hide,
Mr. Hide
Me love you long time,
Mr. Hide

Cue that guitarissimo

Oh,
11 years, up and walking like a man
11 years, up and walking like a man
Say hello to Satan
Give him your right hand
And the blues fell mama's child
And it tore me all upside down;
And the blues
Is an aching old heart disease
And if you aint ever had it,
I hope you never will

Anyway,
11 years comes crashing down
from out the balcony
But flipping catlike
at the last,
he claims the stage,
11 years
gone and down
and back and up again from eating sand
And being like, Me no understand???
And all like that.
No:
Now he's up and grinning like a fox
on furlough,
a very fox,
and one on furlough.

ah, the grief the love the rage
the needless rage,
the heedless rage
the baseless breedless rage,
and fuck,

page after self-indulgent
page
after page after page
they all drift away now
Like ashes
On autumn smoke,
a bonfire,
October leaves,
Burning.
Take a toke before you...

Cheezy now,
come on now
Cheezy now.

Come storming back
upon your thunderous steed,
no mere mare or stallion but
a bronco of deep maroon and gold,
and you with your guitar slung low,
just like one of the breed,
just like Mr. Chain Blue Lightning
hisself,
the very same

Get the wine and get the mead,
9 million barrelsful,
Quickly now,
it's a gonna be a feast,
a return unlimited engagement
of 11 thousand nights
or 11 million shows,
whichever comes shambling first
from out and down along
that dusty cimarron road,
surging and shimmering
clear away
and gone
from the past