Back to the 70’s… again… and a poem about the evils of disco…

I mentioned, when I did my 70’s song list post, that I once wrote a poem decrying the evils of disco. I tracked it down. If I don’t repost this during our time travelling to the 70’s, then when the heck would I?

 

SPACE CRITTER…

He’s a deep space drifter, a real phase shifter,

And he ain’t scared to tell you who you are…

He lives in hyper-drive, space dust keeps him alive,

He’s a rough-neck space critter from the Dog Star…

So don’t you turn him loose, when he’s been drinkin’ space juice,

Or when he’s snortin’ up a line of his space dust…

‘Cause he’s been so far out, that he’s beginning to doubt,

That he can live up to his promise of Earth or bust…

He’s just cruisin’ the cosmos, tryin’ to get real close,

To the planet that we call Earth…

He’s comin’ to annoy us, he’s comin’ to destroy us,

Even though this ain’t the planet of his birth…

Because of cosmic chances, some John Travolta disco dances,

Showed up on his radar scope for detection…

So he’s takin’ a trip, in his souped-up star ship,

To personally stop the threat of a disco infection…

He’s comin’ here to see, that it don’t spread through the galaxy,

So you better watch out what you’re listening to…

If you’re a Bee Gees fan, you better leave while you can,

‘Cause he’s got a disco death-ray just for you…

Disco destruction.. the dancing death…

AM annihilation… by ray-gun breath…

Punk Rock poison… Reggae retaliation…

Jive genocide… it’s our only salvation…

If you think you’re bad, and you want to protect your fad,

In your fancy gold chain and disco threads….

If you’re a true believer, in Saturday Night Fever,

Then you can dance yourself right into being dead…

If you think it’s a bummer, to give up Donna Summer,

Peter Frampton and the Village People are your heroes…

If you spend every night, getting disco moves down right,

You’re gonna end up as a disintegrated zero…

This man from the stars, is coming to all the single’s bars,

And he’s coming there to set you all free…

He’s going to wipe you out, and in my mind there’s no doubt,

He’s doing you a favor, putting you out of your misery…

Disco destruction… the dancing death…

A New Wave night-stalker… with ray-gun breath…

Micky Mouse-music massacre… Reggae retaliation…

AM annihilation… it’s the only salvation…

There won’t be nothin’ but the best, he’s gonna kill all the rest,

So you better think about the music that you play…

Hard Rock and Roll, will save your mortal soul,

And is that really such a high price to pay?…

Not that I care what you do, it’s all up to you,

But if you like disco, I wouldn’t want to be in your place…

When the final retribution, for Disco pollution,

Is made by that ‘bad mutha’ from outer space…

—————————————————————————————

I can’t say that I am all that proud of the poetry… But I am proud that I took a stand. I wrote this way back when the Saturday Night Fever movie turned disco from a kind of music listened to by a few people into a lifestyle. Maybe the Bay Area was more immune to this kind of nonsense than other places, because I don’t remember it taking hold there in any big way. But we knew it was out there, and we despised it.

Long live Rock and Roll… Maybe I should make this into a song, with a good rock and roll beat.

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About pouringmyartout

You will laugh at my antics... That is my solemn promise to you... Or your money back... Stop on by...
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6 Responses to Back to the 70’s… again… and a poem about the evils of disco…

  1. “The disco is burning–burn that mutha’ down!”

  2. Jim S. says:

    “I can’t say that I am all that proud of the poetry.” Are you kidding? T.S. Eliot’s got nothin’ on you, boy.

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