Terry: Born Again Pt. I

February 25, 2015

Out in his front garden
Terry was weeding
he liked the simple work
in the soil
rooting out
the unwanted things that grew
extinguishing with a squish of pinched fingers
the malignant things that crawled
agricultural care
nurturing nature
it was maternal and warlike
naturally, Terry thought of Shakespeare
Hamlet
his unweeded kingdom and his mother
a garden in her own right
getting ploughed by the enemy
Terry chuckled and felt suddenly horny
the care of Mother Earth
planting seeds
he thought of all the women he had cared for
who had eaten of his fruits
visions of sexual history marched
there was no turning the tide
he got up off his knees
slipped off his gloves
and would have been inside
jacking off in minutes
but for the woman outside the fence
she smiled and he knew her
an ex – his head swam
dizzied by the odds
hadn’t she just occurred to him
thigh high go-go booted legs in the air
knees adjacent to ears
hands bound to the headboard
mouth agape
eyes tunneling into quantum realities unknown
it was her
twenty some years older
“Becca,” he said
“Yup, it’s him,” she replied
that’s when he saw the Hog
and the fellow on it
as he dismounted
strode casually through the open gate
scooped the spade off the ground
and jammed it point first
into Terry’s throat
with the large man’s left hand
cradling the back of his head
it was almost comforting
the pain quickly receded
he still wanted to say,
“Good to see you,” and
“How long’s it been?” but
no words came
only blood
down in the dirt he dropped
the biker left him there
Terry watched his black boots stomp away
“Let’s roll,” he said
the cycle roared
a sow bug climbed Terry’s nose
scrambling to escape the deluge

Scales on an Unswabbed Deck

February 23, 2015

Pink-conniption faced
chubby cheeks flushed
swell like sails
caught in boorish bloviation
wildly he brandishes cutlass
stamps boots to boards
curses damnably idle deadbeats
paces, gesticulates and shakes his ruddy mane
as he roars his discontent
how could it have come to this
this, as if it is him
him alone
adrift on a cruelly indifferent sea
self-pitiable whines
stir injurious declarations
in inebriated defense
he fires pre-emptive warning shots
over the bow of all
who would defame him false
stern boasts arise
modesty is given no quarter
as he steams ahead
into waters vainglorious
tales of triumph over bested foes
of bitter besiegement
by the hands of envious allies
who quail and lament
in the shadow of their own failure
to bolster their shared cause
as boldly and selflessly
as their dear captain
whom the grog-sucking barnacles betray
not by mutiny outright, no
for too cowardly a scurvy lot are they for that
but
by their loutish refusal
to sing the epic song of praise
his heroic deeds deserve
for he is no man so great
no man so good
no man so eager to plunder the credit
rightfully due others
and there-in lies
the truly bigger fish
to fry

Why You Little Devil

February 20, 2015

When five years old
if given a choice to be the devil or me
old scratch wins it every time
I don’t think I wanted to be evil
or that I thought Satan all that cool
but to have substantial evidence
a real appreciable and irrefutable fact
to hold and cling to, to truly know
I was bad
a weak and soft abomination
lacking coordination
fallen and falling
who may be a retard
in need of pharmaceutical intoxication
to be drug-caged
enslaved in a molten pit at the earth’s core
an object of fear and sometimes pity
a wicked beast put in its place
away from decent folk and their polite society
that at least
would have been a relief
then there’d have been a reason
a good one
for why things were as they were

When I Feel Evil

February 18, 2015

I want to be an oil company executive
in a high office overlooking the 405
surrounded by cronies
and lickspittle shoeshine boys
topless maids uncorking champagne
a laughtrack booming over the PA
endlessly, riotously, har har ha guffaw
as we all drink and suck and screw and best
watch the traffic roll toiling on below, jammed
like the damned
serving me
their master that I am

Beachhead Pt. III

February 16, 2015

Figments of eternity scatter scared
ever growing onslaught rolls
gathers, great collector
soul cyclone
avalanche of all
accumulating beats
picking melodies
foraging for harmony
hunting more than elsewise
deadly stalking
animalian weakness
leftovers of meat in the ether
it went
from scientific
methodological study
to
a hell love beyond the abstract
songs play discordantly
souls strum impossibility
as the snowball grows
each flake added to its likeness
increases its real desire
sprouts new assertions
shoots of potential life
unfurling unto actual lands
back beyond the ones after
tiny filamental tendrils licking
roots sucking minerals
leaves catching rays
inundated through
the good scholar enhances her control
she can strike a match on air
and a new star is born
Godhead is easy when you got it
but getting through to real
that’s the true trick
to keep poking eyes out of the fiber
like threads through the needle’s
there is nothing to want
when your guts spill into your lap
it is time to read tealeaves
trace the palm’s lines
measure the skull’s lumps
marks and indentifiers reaching across
grasping, thrusting
seeking nourishment
rich soils in which to defile
no end in sight
no patience left
fold the hand
bow the head
let them come to you
the god who can’t bother come
only needs wait
one at a time
suck, suck, suck
into it, into eternity
this is how science will be God
it will figure it out
and when it does
it’s just the beginning
kick back and relax
the spiritual warfare
yadda, yadda, yadda…

The Afterlands

February 14, 2015

Unfortunately, in the afterlife
animal impulses toward duty
were shed surely as the body
many so-called virtues
faith, temperance, humility,
being totally useless, did not survive death
charity wasn’t needed
there was no want
thus no one to give to
since there was no meanness
kindness was an unknown opposite
indifference ruled the land
diligence and patience were a given
with all the time left in the universe
scientifically estimated at roughly a googol years
give or take a billion millennia
and that discounting the possibility
of the potential of souls for quantum burrowing
their way into younger universes
well, let’s surmise it to say
time is on your side
attention deficit, however
a very big pickle for a soul
existing in infinite days
procrastination is easy
this was the good doctor’s ordeal
immediately after putting the bullet in her brain
instantaneous transference to the new state
she could feel her focus diffusing
she was losing track of herself
of her mission
but just then
before her she sees… no, she does not see, but she sees
five souls of her murdered
huddled, cowering in a tesseractal fold
like cockroaches in a darkened wall crack
are they attempting escape, she ponders
for pondering is all
in the afterlands
there is no sight, no sound, no scent
nothing of sensual life is where no life is
but yet the map of all the beyond
was within her
as if GPS was hardwired into a blind man
following her internal guide
she pushed inward
upon the frothing origami labyrinth
pressing into the souls of her dead
as a sea star extruding its digestive organ
to break down the tissues of its meal
she broke the souls
tasting all the loves, losses, yearnings and learnings
soon they were absorbed
like strands of junk DNA in a greater code
what they were was not extinguished
much like human lives
they lived on in her memory
it was delightful
having them with her
her respected colleagues and friends
it made her feel good
it made her feel something lustful, something libidinous
something hungry for the taste of strangers
and so she went, single-minded
a purpose
this would be great
an adventure shared by comrades in arms
the spiritual warfare had just begun

Beyond Science

February 12, 2015

The discoverers were put to death
there was no trial
technically not a conviction
but what they found
testable and repeatable
was too big
the absolute evidence of which
would change the world
but then again
an overly large percent of the population
didn’t accept the evolution of life forms
because they feel to believe it
would be to disprove God
even if the one has nothing to do
with the other
likewise then perhaps too
a goodly amount would deny the new finding
atheists maybe
even if the existence of human souls
in no way proves there is a God
however, for far too many
the scientific certainty
much better than faith’s blind certainty
of life after death
would be too freeing
look at the nuts who already murder
for the well-being of their soul
nope, nope
it had to be kept under wraps
her foresight amazed her
as the director of the project
she knew how volatile
her team’s research could be
after several repetitions of the test
on multiple subjects
she went to the locker
removed the pistol
and executed them all to the last one
then she erased the hard drives
incinerated all papers and notes
until there wasn’t a trace
satisfied with her work
she ate a day old sandwich from the fridge
chewed and ruminated
the oil and vinegar had wilted the lettuce
and she didn’t care for capicola
as a last meal it really didn’t satisfy
all loose ends had to be tied up
but it wasn’t herself she thought of as one
it was the others already dispatched into the beyond
the first souls in the afterlife
to have an unmuddied empirical understanding
of what they were and how they functioned
it was possible
they could join together
begin new studies
try to cook up a way to come back
and thereby prove to the world
or worse – a peer reviewed journal –
that the soul was a definable, quantifiable entity
nope, nope, nope
she had to go in and stop them
extirpate the essence that outlived bullets
sighing and nodding to herself
she put down the sub
and took up the gun
into the mouth, inverted
cocked upward just so…
and her lack of hesitation
increased her resolve
too much knowledge is a dangerous thing
the spiritual warfare had just begun

Lie Back and Think of Justice

February 10, 2015

the police, the church and the sports
men’s clubs protecting their own
they stand above legally
closer to God spiritually
near perfection physically
better than any
in the plebeian mass
they protect
they save
they entertain
murder is their right
rape is their right
abuse is their right
and when accusations come
up pops damage control
public relations teams and lawyers
make a movie
about officer nice
how it’s only the thin blue line
keeping you alive
free from high red-eyed villains
bent on destroying you and your loves
appoint a happy pope
a perky pontiff to say kind things
about fags and Muslims
and other members of the damned
whom if they’d only change
they could be saved
from the horny pitch-fork wielding
red one
hire a crew
of giggling chuckle-heads
to gloss over the horror
discuss only the game
the pressures of it
and how it isn’t easy
to keep separate
the steroidal field aggression
and life at home
with the beaten wife
and tortured child
who are you to judge these
pigs, priests and players
you don’t know what it’s like
you wouldn’t believe the toll
caused by exercising such control
to carry a gun and not shoot you
to possess a penis and not fuck you
to be so strong and not beat you
all of these boys
must be allowed to be boys
as they will
as they must
so, please
why don’t you just
give them your trust
raise no fuss
it’s going to happen anyway

Islam

February 6, 2015

by peers, by parents
by mosque, by school
by rules and laws
you will be fucked up
before you’re old enough to think
the luckiest
will be mostly left alone
but there is no vacuum
the interactions of the molecules
the percolations of the chemicals
will still pound, kneed
tenderize, enfold, mold
rise and bake
you are not who you are before you are
or even can be
a shaped and conditioned mass
differentiated from the rest
only by the boundary of your skin
but even that
clear distinction is in danger
of falling troublingly obscure in the mist
you will be crowded in
encroached upon, borders are crossed
ultimately porous, undefined
and they are you and you are them
and others are the devil
and you and yours are holy christs
swords raised
horses mounted
to charge against the infidel

Glory Halleflujah

February 3, 2015

My God
demands
I must sacrifice the children of non-believers
the scent of their roasted flesh
He finds most pleasing
mass graves of toddlers
their tiny bodies covered in lye
this is simply the inevitable result
of my good faith
religious convictions
lookie-here
I cannot help what I believe
who is anyone to tell me I’m wrong
your God enjoys lovely songs
as His due praise
mine, the blood of diseased infants
to grant my God His will on Earth
I am like Abraham
ready to stick it into Isaac
the only difference
my God doesn’t fuck around
my children’s lives are equally forfeit
as those of the heathen trash
a return to the dark ages of plague
will not be halted
as fires and bombs and rampage killings
sweep the halls of the enemies
Pfizer, Merck, Sanofi
all producers of vaccines
shall be put to the blade
my God, my dear God
Thy Kingdom comes
in sickness reign


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