Dear Abby

December 20, 2014

If your actions shame you
to a point where
you can’t admit to having done
that which you did
then don’t act
responsibility is a simple row
honesty is how you hoe it
so pick it up and get chipping
sew your seeds
plant your beans and place your pole
keep it all neat
keep it all clean
wash the dirt out from the jean’s knees
suds and scrub and put it on the line
your laundry’s so clean
for all the neighbors to see
flapping undies in the breeze
the sun, the light
the bed sheets white
shit stains, blood stains
bleached away in golden rays
we all cleanse
we all know it
but if it’s just not you to do it
do you see
see how
you can be a vile asshole
a whopping great open cunt of horror
and not care
and just show it
all at the same time
there’s no inherent contradiction
in being a monster
and openly putting your monstrousness on display
you’ll feel better about it too
which you don’t deserve
but I’m here for you
giving freely my advice
just call me dear Abby, fucker

Crib Death

December 17, 2014

You are going to die now
and I very much wish
you could have had a life
full
of love and loss
beauty and grief
travels and misfortune
all that
it would have delighted me to know
it was yours
in your time
but it wasn’t
compounding in me
all that I wished
once for you

Message in a Bottle

December 15, 2014

Universalize your actions
imagine all
behaving, acting
doing as you do
I think this was Kant
how he perceived
a moral world ought to be measured
you are the yardstick
that’s right
you
you miserly asshole
you self-obsessed cunt
you hateful fuck
you can’t justify
you just keep on keeping on
watching Fox News
listening to Rush radio
shopping at Wal-Mart
eating fast food
wearing sweat shop shoes
donning white hoods
voting Republican
ignoring facts
shitting and pissing and belching and bitching
what a world you’re making
thanks, thanks a lot
I thank you
my son thanks you
future generations thank you
for to them
your selfish heartlessness today
is a message in a bottle
a clear moral choice
and a lesson in reasonable justice
to crush and kill your kind on sight

American Receipt

December 12, 2014

Cowards hide behind arms
whether their own
or borne by others
the result is much the same
yellow-bellied fucks for brain
clutching guns
in camouflage
in uniform
informed both are by fear
our government is bad
it’s coming to take our freedom away
foreign governments are bad
they’re coming to take our freedom away
buy a rifle
join the army
either way
you live part of the lie they spin
a vast web to stick you in
to do your part
bumbling fly
grist for the master spider plan
be afraid
be very afraid
it’s how you do their will
on Earth as it is in Craven
holy soldier full of grace
holy pig blasting off your face
to protect and serve
is a cookbook
semper fi
is a dog
the second amendment
is a right
everybody practicing it
a cog
in the machine that wrings
in the gears that grind
never again will they sing
never have
their own mind

Twice in Flight

December 11, 2014

Old no. 7 at 36,000
to numb the mind against the sky
I fly; I fly

Rabble Yell

December 4, 2014

Patterns and contradictions
soft baby cowards cannot see
pants-shitting scaredy-cats
homicidally fearful of government
squeal about their 2nd amendment
the holiest of holies
god’s greatest given right
but what pray tell should happen
if the fed they despise
collapses into violent disorder
what then of their precious guns
and their bearance of the same
when the constitution
upheld by that which they hate
perishes in lawlessness
their arms help create?

The jagged teeth yawn wide
a confederate flag
protrudes like a flapping tongue
they reach for the bait
stumble into it
foot coming down
Dixie pierces the sole
serrated metal daggers bite
snapping bone
like hammer
sparking flint
igniting powder
explosion of lead at Sumter
from my cold dead hands
they rebel yell
never seeing
the only rights of arms
by a slave state granted
is dying at the end of one

Antioch

December 2, 2014

Before it was useful,
the internet that is,
I worked 3rd shift
in a plastic fuckery,
factory really,
and in there I’d get off
at seven sunrise
head home
pick up some beers,
a case,
get stuck in by half past
drunk by ten
when the library opened
and I always had questions
drinking got me thinking
always did
does
so, on the phone I go
inquiring minds want to be assholes
I learned the librarian’s lackey
had to research anything I asked
and now
these are all things you’ll find after a minute
with Google and Wiki
like “What was the average height of the Great Auk?”
“Who was the top American WWI flying ace?”
“When was the battle of Antioch?”
and he asked, “Which one?”
the prick
and I said, “All,”
he answered, “145 BC, 218, 613, 1098, 1268”
so I asked, “And where were those again?”

Bad Guy With a Knife

November 30, 2014

His taste in books
was strictly airport
Grisham, Crichton
that stuff
exiting the library
this time he had a Koontz
Innocence
the jacket promised
it would be a heart-stopping
supernatural thrill ride
Jerry liked the sound of that
walking along the pavement
at the last second
he tore his eyes away from his reading
narrowly avoiding a collision
“Excuse me,” Jerry said
politely
and this stranger,
a street-encrusted middle aged man,
barked back
“Fuck excuse me,”
words that startled Jerry
he turned back to protest
but this time
at the last second
he avoided the blade
as it flashed forward
Jerry shielded himself
it thrust into Innocence
penetrating through the hard cover
and half way into chapter one
Jerry jerked the Koontz aside
wresting the weapon
out from his assailants clutches
surprised by all this
Jerry prised the knife from the text
his attacker dropped fetal to concrete
and cried
a piercing wail of anguish and despair
Jerry was shaking
wide eyed, pulse pounding
when suddenly
a voice from behind issued a command
“Drop the knife,” it ordered
startled to his wit’s end
Jerry turned to look
as he did so
the first of seven bullets discharged
from the police officers Glock 22
struck him true
six shots
fired in rapid succession
to shoulders, chest and belly
and then a pause
the cop taking better aim
sending the ultimate slug
direct into Gerald’s brain
for now he was dead
and although his friends called him Jerry
on the certificate of death
it would say Gerald

X Fingers

November 28, 2014

You say nothing
I was told
he’s sensitive
gets upset easily
about it still
so don’t mention
his missing fingers
or ask
how he lost them
I said to her I would
she was his ex
she was my current
we went to the party
I shook his hand
and I said
you’re missing fingers
how’d ya lose ‘em?
he told me
we got along great
and before you knew it
she was my ex too

Preservation Society

November 26, 2014

two sides clash
again the common enemy
is ignored
poor against poor
as it always shall be
knives bore over bread crumbs
loaves like clouds above laugh
turn to stone
rain as bombs on the battlefield
broken and bloody bones
sucked clean at feasts
in hillside homes
the standard preserved


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