The Polka Band That Ravaged Des Moines Poem by David Welch

I was drifting north, looking out for work,
found myself in Iowa, in Des Moines,
a polka band was holding a concert,
they needed roadies, so I thought I'd join.

The work was easy, just moving heavy things,
and helping local seniors to the show,
plentiful beer, a big floor to dance,
guess that's how these things usually go.

But some brought college-age grandkids along,
they had a good time and messaged their friends,
more folk arrived, and then some hipsters
thought polka would be an ‘ironic' trend.

They showed on up, the crowd overflowed,
it was then things would get really weird,
'cause unknown to us, some damn hipster fool
poured liquid ecstasy into the beer!

And all of them were drinking heavily,
seven thousand or more soon were high,
old and young, it didn't matter much,
soon their clothing all began to fly!

The band stopped dead at the sight of it,
they're never looked upon such a scene,
countless old bodies writhing about…
that's not something you can ever unsee.

The band-leader begged for them to stop,
I swear that he pleaded just like the best,
but no power we had could stop the mass
of wrinkled hides and sagging…umh—skin.

The hipsters and young folk got mixed on in,
too altered to know who they lay with,
pale, pierced, and skinny, doing sorts of things
even loving gods would find hard to forgive.

Somebody must've called the police,
because when they threw open the hall door,
and in a stunned voiced asked people to stop,
the walls of bodies sent up a mad roar.

Seven thousand people reeking of sex
spilled out into the streets in a herd,
the cops wouldn't shoot senior citizens,
though I heard a few winged them a hipster.

The mayor declared all should stay in their homes
as the mob flittered and frolicked about,
it was more a parade then a riot,
and strangely some even joined the crowd.

After two hours they had made their way
through the suburbs out to a cornfield,
the effects of the drug now wearing off,
the funny memories now seemed real.

Now Des Moines is a fine heartland town,
not a Sodom on the Pacific,
as minds returned, realization came
and the people found it quite horrific.

They didn't know who had drugged the beer,
bo one had seen that woman of man,
but something like this needed a fall guy,
so they blamed the whole mess on the band!

And just as the city was venturing out
the angry, naked mob charged back on in!
People scattered, all looking for cover,
we looked on the whole scene with chagrin.

When they approached the ravaged dance hall
we knew that we didn't have much time,
ran out to the vans so very quickly
that we left all the instruments behind!

The angry nudists burned down the dance hall,
but luckily we were miles away,
and from what I have heard this whole event
is steadfastly denied to this day.

Even videos on the internet
are just passed off a nothing but fakes,
mass denial seems their best option
for dealing with this colossal mistake.

I left that band, set off to find more work,
since I can't go back to Des Moines again,
which is how I came upon a midget
who played matador to fighting chickens…