Bavarian Big Ones

Chunks of seitan and soya
soaked in neon-bright marinades
“How do you like your steak?”
the girl manning the grill asked
then she laughed
it was a German guffaw
massive and threatening
“Any way you got it,” I said
and she slapped a purple slab onto my plate
the fellow next to me said
in a strong French accent
“It is almost tolerable this… meat,”
smoke blew out his nose as he contemplatively chewed
and reached for the salt
across the squat yard
boys from another band splashed
they soaked road bones in a busted Jacuzzi
from a half mile away
a colossal roar rolled over to us
Germany scored a goal in the cup match
in Hitler’s old zeppelin field
a 30 foot screen displayed the game
fans came to the site
on bikes, scooters, foot
waving republic flags of red, yellow and black
a sporting event
can so much resemble a fascist rally
it is frightening
one of the guitar players emerged
wrapped in a towel
from the hot tub
the other strummer snagged it
and the first covered his privates
he ran shrieking, he said,
“Oh no, my penis is all shriveled and little,”
people laughed and got back to their make believe meat
the Frenchman frowned and said,
“Nobody cares about little dicks,”
he then inhaled from his cigarette,
eyed me suspiciously,
and added, “…or big ones.”

Straw Man

My strawman is exquisite
against him none prevail
Standing beside him
all rational arguments fail
I whip my strawman out
soon as logic’s not enough
He’s the ace up my sleeve
dealt whenever things get tough
As I gaze into his eyes
I find myself quite lost
My strawman’s to be kept erect
no matter what the cost
I’ll take him out dancing
then to dinner and a flick
When I get him home at night
I fill my mouth with dick
My strawman’s a knight
always thrusting to my defense
And don’t think it matters
if he makes no fucking sense
For my strawman’s brainless
like in The Wizard of Oz
An idiot fighting
for my every idjit cause

Safety

An older boy
the typical villain of youth
red-headed, pale-skinned, armpit hair
smokes rolled in his sleeve
and the devil’s blue eyes
between thumb and forefinger
he dangled a skinny green snake
caught slithering through the lawn
a slender live wire lost
too far from the safety of tall grass fields
his family cat
stared at the snake
transfixed as if by a hypnotist’s watch
but it wasn’t slowly getting sleepy
the thing was torqued for murder
and I felt that it and the boy
were one
a young warlock and his ginger feline familiar
a clawed-paw swung
batted the inverted viper’s skull
it swung like a pendulum
scaled muscles flexing, curling upward
desperate to dodge the next blow
as the razors extended
swiped again
opening two ribbon slashes of red
shredded green skin
emerald weeping ruby in sunshine
I demanded he desist
as I tossed the vicious tom aside
“Hey!” the wicked witch shouted
as I
like a cat, like a snake
coiled, poised to strike, unleashed my fist
smashing it weakly but effectively into his schnoz
serpent’s blood, man’s blood, hissing cat
I ran as he lunged for me
like a cat, like a snake
across lawn, over-chain link
and into the safety of tall grass fields I fled
as the evil one called after me and laughed
“Be seeing you soon neighbor!”

Mysterious Ways

Creation sprang from loneliness
quavering voice in the wilderness
unfulfilled sapience questing
intelligence slyly molesting
null and void in the abyss
sinful acts of nothingness
sated by conjurative miracle
combination of volatile chemical
flash explosion of light out of dark
divine duty bound destiny sparks
what flint and steel cannot do
mighty magic man surely spews
fast becoming supremacy
watching all spread out from He
forces, vast, rippling, amazing
expansion outward stars blazing
let there be putrid underclass hordes
a dozen for every loyal-caste lord
whole races born to suffer and die
so God won’t live life alone in the sky

Titbits and Niblets

they don’t live now
in this abandoned time
a desert dependent
on the fruits of elsewhen
what does grow
watered in precious piss
is but niblets and titbits
weeping barley and withered carrots
substantially nothing
but for whom remains
this meager agriculture
fulfills the demands of their vestigial humanity
here in the wastes of a dried sea
safe in the shadow
of the fallen satellite
so long ago called moon
they no more live
than the wise who fled
escaping this disaster of now
for them
to stay
is a mission
custodians of current-Earth
keeping watch over what god hath given
waiting for His return
as they feed on the bounty of history
from their patch of dirt
they look to the dim receding stars
hearts hollowed by hope
bodies weakened by malnutrition
minds enfeebled by thinning air
they instruct their lethargic young
of their holy duty
to stand their ground
to await their god
and to pray for the souls
of the decadent others
doomed to live life in the past

William Claude

Contrary to Fields’s words against drinking water
fish don’t fuck in it
never have
how would the Catholic church of pescado
respond to a rope of roe
left on the sea bed
would dogma dictate
every passing fertile male
shoot his seed upon the pile
or would the tilapia pope
demand abstinence
for was it not Onan the haddock
who did discharge his genetic load
upon the treasures of a guppy
and thus condemned
skewered on Beelzechub’s trident
and left accursed to flop and gasp
fresh for all eternity
high on the cold snowy mountains of Hell

The Cursed Crown

Sapience is a grim grind
it casts light upon this futile slog
pushed in anguish through the endless seconds
that despite themselves
end all too soon

To understand life
to comprehend this place
is a sick sorrow
sentience, a sad end
to a delightful evolutionary romp

Cast up on this rock
like a solitary sailor smashed against an atoll
alone, imprisoned by the violent neglect
of vast indifferent distances
so lonely is intelligence
we sing to plants
attempt to interpret whale calls
teach sign language to apes
clearly our cage has driven us mad

We complement ourselves with curses
so smart, so well thought out, so eloquent
when from day one we know the horrors
of education, but we learn to forget
that knowledge dies
like a field of flowers plowed under
for the construction of a library
where we will read, absorb, analyze and critique
where we will strive to become better people
always seeking truth
but we’ve always known the truth
humans are nature corrupted
even our lies reveal this truth
we are fallen, impure, incomplete
our fabrications tell us
we need redemption, purification, enlightenment
and for the attainment of these things
we must subsume our entire lives in the lies
the crowning insult of sapience is not to know this
but to lack the ability to do a thing about it

Absolutely Me!

What world would you have
await the dead?

What of you would you choose
to live past your death?

What thoughts
personality traits
or physical aspects?

What of you
do you think
is a matter worth
preserving for all time?

What unique aspect?
What spark of individuality?

Is it an essence?
An idea?
An indefinable spark
that you think makes you
somehow
quantifiably you,
importantly you,
and separate from others?

Is it your smile?
Your smell?
Your sense of style?

Is it your grace?
Your genitals?
Your gift of gab?

What of you – in part or whole –
would you deem so indispensible
as to impose it necessarily
upon all eternity?

What cost would you pay
to keep it
forever
alive… undying?

How much are you willing to beg?
To plead, to kneel, to pray?

What time out of this life you’re living
will you invest
in thought and deed
upon your dreams
of another?

What price, eternal life?