Archive for September, 2015

Skydiving and Bicycling

September 29, 2015

It was her and it was him
the two people needed
for each other
as she told it to me
she’d never had a boyfriend
but that wasn’t the issue
she’d never been penetrated
that was the issue
except once
by the seat of her bike
when she was struck
from behind at a red light
that wasn’t too long ago
and she was still
in a little pain
at nineteen
it was time to get it done
that old woman had hit her hard
physically and psychologically
the specter of death
swung heedlessly
dangling from her virginity by his scythe
to cut the reaper free
she had to fuck
but it had become too big
too much importance put there
as well as fear and anxiety
taller than the average man
they would be intimidated
and fall into the arms of short girls
she was all skin and bones
sharp angles
elbows, knees and bug eyes
and was losing hope
when her prince fell from the sky
the parachute failed to open
luckily, the field was soft and spongy
on the other hand
the rock broke his back
then again, he was alive
not paralyzed
but for nine months
would be confined within a turtle shell
snapped and strapped and clamped
over back and chest and neck
immobile except for arms and legs
he was the perfect one
a man in only the one way that mattered
with total control
she was not intimidated
he just had to get there
like watering a plant
she poured mezcal into him
and when he ate the worm
he was ready
she laid him on the floor
on his back and he was stuck
pinned like a butterfly on corkboard
through his fly she extracted his penis
tugged it into the appropriate condition
straddled, pushed her undies aside
put it in
helpless to resist
she did all the movements
and in seconds he shot it all upward
from whence he’d fallen
and as quick as you pleased
she tucked him back into his pants
adjusted her panties
and came back to the kitchen
where she told me it was done
we high-fived
and I mixed us Alabama Slammers
as he called to her for help from the other room


Chicken Run

September 24, 2015

Wading through reedy waters
you flee the terrorists
and jump on up into the canoe
it rocks
you steady it and paddle madly

They divided everybody into small groups
killed them all
despite it, they weren’t so bad
except for the toilets
the men they made
shit and piss on the cellar floor
the women and children
they let use the commode upstairs
one woman upset about her sick child
they pushed onto hands and knees
onto that reeking concrete foundation
“God please no,” she cried
“I don’t want to die
face down
looking at shit.”
the pistol barked
and those were her last words
a description
of her last sight

But you escaped, fled
you and two others
leaving behind
your son, your wife
to die
maybe or maybe not
face down in shit
now you work to forget
beer work, whisky work
hard work in hard times
a labor of lost love
a proud construct of cowardice
rising monumentally over ruin

Labor of Love

September 18, 2015

In the West Wing cupboard
he had it up her ass
no more quim for him
the incontinent whore
had already shit out one
illegitimate twat upon the Earth
and he’d cotton no more
“You’re my warrior
my brave, brave warrior,” Nan said
“Stick that spear in me
stab me deep, warrior Warren,”
the slut
reminding him
the aspersions on his heritage
fuck the KKK
there wasn’t a negroidal dram
in his bloody veins
but bawdy bitch Britton
gave him an idea
as he mined the depths of her colon
he’d send in the troops
federal warriors
to properly fuck
those whining West Virginian miners
slaughter the striking coal rats
O, God! he could picture it
their faces stained black
bullet holes like gaping cunts
red dead
driven into their heads
oh, oh, yes, yes…
as he thought it
he shot it
into her dark depths
Gamaliel goo gushing
Harding’s Hard-on
delivering his solution
a tactical movement
against greedy unionizing bastards
pleased, he withdrew
his forward force from her rear
wiped clean upon the harlot’s skirt
and stepped proud
out of the closet
a man – free, white
and ready to fight

Cruise of the Condo

September 17, 2015

For the gregarious rich
who wish to forever float
amongst their own
condos on cruise ships
are available now
the decision you had to make
out of your overly taxed poverty
whether to buy a 2nd home
or travel at sea
is null aboard the Utopia and the Marquee
get the comfort of home
sailing high the rolling waves
as cheap and low as three hundred G
although for six more, real luxury
can be yours
yes, sir, get it all
home and abroad as one
and please don’t forget
to carry aboard
all that precious booty you’ve hoarded
whether fine art, bank cards or bitcoins
the pirate armies lying in ambush
awaiting your mega-yacht
expect to get paid
after blasting your stinking ship of fools
clear out of your idiot waters
as it was foretold
as it was planned
in cold blood
for the good of the land

Pee Wee: Red Hot #1

September 12, 2015

On his keychain was a fob
a leather one from a BMW dealership
every time he came in
he’d slap those keys down on the counter
I think he wanted me to see
what he drove

His pornography of choice
was the stuff shot for women
soft lighting, lots of foreplay
fewer close-up shots
and far less relentless thrusting
than the other stuff

I considered him to be
one of the good ones

His mobile chirped one day
while making the transaction
he looked at the incoming number
and pressed the green button
“Hey, Pee Wee!
What’s up Pee Wee?
Any plans for later Pee Wee?
Ha, ha, ha that’s funny Pee Wee!
Okay, Pee Wee!
Talk to you later Pee Wee!
Goodbye Pee Wee!”
he hung up, put the phone in his pocket
he laughed and told me
“Good old Pee Wee.
That was Pee Wee.”
I nodded
he added, “Herman.”
“That’s cool,” I said
“Yeah,” he said “Pee Wee, he’s cool.”

I rang up his rentals
from past experience
I knew
he’d keep the tapes for a week
he never complained about late fees
simply paid up quietly
I decided when he returned
his lady porn
I’d delete his fines
he was after all one of the good ones
and sometimes it’s only right
to do good for a good one

I just hope he shared with Pee Wee
the miracle of video rentals
you can jerk off
right in the privacy of your own home


September 11, 2015

I worked the machine with Don
we had the Disney job
black plastic trays
impressed with the likenesses
of Mickey, Donald, Goofy
it was some shit for kids
they’d pour in candy goop
let it harden
and have a mouse, duck or dog lollipop
I scooped the things up
stacked them in a cardboard box
taped it up
threw the box on a skid
and that was it
from 11pm to 7am
to pass the time
I’d start at the beginning of a movie
and run every line, every scene
recalling it all
but Don, he’d interrupt
in his defense
he didn’t know he was interrupting anything
He’d start in with something like
“How wath your weekend?
You get laid?”
“No, Don. I work third shift.
How am I going to meet a woman?”
“Oh, they’re out there.
You gotta huthle,” he’d say
Don didn’t care about my weekend
Don wanted to boast
about women
the blowjobs, the fucks, the tits they had
the titty fucks
how he’d bang ‘em so hard
they couldn’t walk
how tight their pussies were
they practically cut the circulation to his dick
“Who needth a cockring
with conthtrictor cunt?” he asked
I stood there doing my job
the rat, the fowl, the mutt
empty heads
waiting to be filled with crap
one day
as Don prattled on
“Moniqueth got these fat
puthy lipth.
It’th like getting fucked and blown
I got her tho good,
thlamming that puthy tho hard.
Her labia got bright crimthon
like a baboon’th bottom,” he told me
I was peeved
he just put an unwanted intermission
right in the middle of
Joe Vs. The Volcano
“Don! Everyone knows you’re gay.
It’s fine, everybody’s cool with it.
Just stop pretending.
No straight guys
talk about fat labias.
That’s what lesbians do.
You listen to your dyke friends talk,
From then on Don was silent around me
occasionally I’d see him with the new temps
telling them of his conquests
exploits and affairs
if he hadn’t been so delusional
so abjectly pitiable
he’d have been hit with sexual harassment suits
dozens of times over
but as it was
we all hoped someday
he’d come clean
and start telling us
about all the wondrous cocks
and tremendous assholes
those long nights
could’ve used the honesty

Dash a Thousand Kim

September 9, 2015

Arrogant cackles
born of religious inversion
crosses twisted and turned
Christ’s head swells with blood
as red-faced and bloated
as His howling followers
who profess to hang too
as He does
martyred, persecuted
in the name of freedom and liberty
they invoke the names
of Civil Rights icons
as they justify their flipped
mirror-world battle
to strip and deny minority-rights
in their backwards Kingdom
where bus drivers
who ordered blacks to the back
are the true heroes
to be lauded
in the struggle to gain justice
for them
equality is a right of refusal
to under the shelter of law
condemn and humiliate
those who can love
who can feel
for others
in ways they cannot
they neither lead nor follow
but choose instead
to get in the way
proudly flying their flag of ignorance
quoting scripture
raising arms
pumping fists in pious triumph
as they stand
in adoration of a callous hag
and the politicians eager for the opportunity
to blow sunshine
up her thrice-divorced
and four-times married holy cunt
but this is the way of the right wing
anger is everything
their motivations are loveless
without compassion
grown by nurturing their cowardice and fear
fucked insane by endless rage
fed a diet of steady yammering hate
the center of their humanity
falls away
into decay
and they are left with a core of infected rot
that allows them to malign those who care
as bleeding hearts
uproariously applaud intolerance
toward the infirm, the impoverished, the dispossessed
against their kind
all decent and true people must stand
those who hail the likes of Kim Davis,
Josh Duggar and Phil Robertson
as champions of Christ and Justice
are the enemies of Christ and Justice
shit on them and their sick grifting shtick

Morning Irritation

September 8, 2015

“What they need is to know
there’s no rush
it’s the sequencing
that’s important
me and him
have to go down there
and play it for him
once he hears her voice
he’s going to love it
and give us all the time
we need
to sequence it right…”

This is the bullshit
you overhear
out for a coffee
at 9:00 am in Los Angeles

“No, she’s directing an episode
they shoot in New York
she’s out there now
because that’s where all
the people are
and the energy and vibe
are so great…”

And I hate him sitting there
eating his buckwheat pancakes
not letting his lady friend speak
chewing, swallowing, talking
overlapping and flapjacking
gums that refuse to stop
wearing his Hasidic Jew hat
John Lennon glasses
hung from his shirt neck with care
he is a caricature
who will
someday soon
find his wealthy parents losing patience
with his aimless dilettantations
and that is when
they will tell him what to do
what friend of theirs
to speak to
to give him a job
and shut him the fuck up

The Predator

September 2, 2015

My skin imprints too easily
elastic sock designs
encircle my ankles
a couch crease across my thigh
indentation from the table’s edge
along my forearm
it’s starting to worry me
has it always been that way
and I’m only noticing now
or is it new
an ailment, a condition
another hallmark of age
among so many signs of it
it must have crept up
slow predatory stalking
the color of burnt gold
approaching steady
through a burnt gold mist

This is my body’s largest organ
we’re talking about
and if it is
what of the rest
hidden inside
testicles I can take
roll between thumb and forefinger
be fairly satisfied of their status
then there’s the brain
crosswords, Sudoku, Scrabble
putting down words
in an order
to convey
if not meaning
then a message
a communication to be understood
beyond myself
where it’s nice to be known
but that too
could be compromised
as are ankles, thighs and forearms
imprinted upon by exotic patterns
foreign designs
dented, bent, twisted
and I’m not speaking of
Alzheimer’s, dementia or
the horrors piled high in the DSM 5
just little things
such as laughing at Dane Cook
even briefly
turning the television onto
a major network
when it’s not an NFL game
these are small rebellions
they are also indicators
that the world
imprints too easily

JC Meets TJ in 66 MYA

September 1, 2015

Anybody who knows me knows
I’m a lousy God
for the most part
I just don’t like to get involved
pray to me to heal you all you like
and I will do nothing

When I was incarnate
it was different
basically intolerable to me
to allow all those lepers and blindoes
tripping, falling, oozing, rotting
bumping into others
spreading infirmity
totally gross
so, yeah… then
I did shit:
cast out demons
raised the dead
fed the hungry
but when those too long 33 years finally
and horrifically ended…
I mean, some pig squealing up at me
about a bladder infection
fuck man, their problems,
after crucifixion,
just seemed so trivial
it kind of makes which sports team wins
seem a might trite

At first, After Death – good old A.D.
there just weren’t that many beseeching me
but with that son of a bitch Paul
flapping his loose gums
all about the Mediterranean and Persia
and, well
I was overwhelmed
swamped by requests
my inbox runneth over
and who the Hell am I? The Son.
not a lesser Deity than the Father, theologically,
yet my designation
it makes me feel subordinate
I have an inferiority complex
another way in which I am
as I said at the outset
a lousy God; however,
the other day I got a prayer
that scared the all knowing crap out of me
you see, prayers, they don’t come from there
66 million years B.C.
before me, dig?
and it came from
right on the very day
Dad chucked a giant reset switch
straight at the world

Now here’s a thing about Gods
we do hear prayers and sworn oaths
we also can’t interfere anywhere
where we haven’t been called
at any rate, we ain’t supposed to
but Dad can get awful high & smitey
what with no one really caring or choosing
to call Him on it
thus, technically
the Chicxulub bolide
wasn’t exactly kosher
and holy freaking nutsandwich
there was a dude there
where and when by all means
no dude should be

So, for once, out of curiosity
I got off my ass
to check out the happenstance
and when I popped on down
double surprise! I knew the guy

Who he was, was…
a fellow who once made his own Bible
that is, he edited his very own special edition
deleting out all my miracles
the nerve!
my magic is legit
walking on water’s no great shake of a trick
but you must consider presentation:
sandals, long gown
turbulent sea
all to tell some fishers to toss their nets port
rather than starboard
then deliver the little gefiltes
direct to them
but I can dig
Tom wasn’t there
didn’t believe it
that’s noble and spirited
he wrote the Declaration of Independence
the first one anyway
and dear Tom took no shit from kings
and he wasn’t taking any from no gods either
his philosophy had no room for My divinity

So what
in the name
of my Jewish Mother’s cunt
was TJ doing 66 MYA?

Well, I had a hunch
Mr. Jefferson was looking well elderly
and Dad can be, um…
over protective of me
never mind that Passion bullshit
just ignore it; it was necessary
He had to allow it…
So I get there
and the cosmic apocalypse
is looming large overhead
“Your Lordship,” Thomas says
bowing slightly at the waist,
and maintaining eye contact
like a weirdo martial artists
as if I might strike him dead
and to his credit
for dissin’ my God Skillz
he had reason to think I could go there
but I’m not that way
no warrior me
“So what?” I ask him
He responds, right off,
all polite and mannerly
“Pleased to meet you Jesus.
I am Thomas Jefferson.
You responded to my petition. I am pleased.
Be aware, I require no assistance
and will accept none.
Dying here, in this place,
in what I suspect is an ancient world
will be a grand happiness.
I have witnessed beasts beyond imagination
and acts of alleged Gods
that are even more beastly
and more beyond.”
“Damn it, Tom.
What do you want?” I asked,
pretty infuriated
I mean, I knew he didn’t believe in me
not as a redeemer or savior or anything
but he called me and I came
and still I get labeled “alleged!”
and I do not like coming
but when I do
behold! I come quickly!
as I just did
but no, my miraculous nature is insulted
yet again

“As the condemned,” Tom pointed skyward
the comet was close
eclipsing the sun
night stars were visible
“My desire was for my due request.”

Such insolence
no groveling
I groove on a good grovel
but no
“Granted,” I said
and for your information and edification
yes, I can read minds
but only sinful thoughts
such as when you’re spanking it to the neighbor’s wife
or gazing longingly into the lobster tank
therefore and thusly
I hadn’t the foggiest notion what
this punter wanted
“What do you want? Don’t keep it a secret,” I said
and just then
before he could answer Me
a Tyrannosaur crashed through a nearby copse
I suspected the brute was sent by Pa
to terrorize poor Tom
but I smote the pre-bird prick
before it could break into view

Jeffy, briefly distracted
by the death rattle of megafauna
cleared his throat and went on
He said, “As the son of the God
of all space and time,”
he swept his right hand before him
and pointed it upward
indicating the land all around
and the doom descendant
“I figured you could hit me up:
smooth smoke, clean distillant
and maybe
arrange a not entirely unhappy future
for my nigger-love-babies.”

And I don’t know why but
I made it so
he smoked his Winston
drank his Jack
as delighted and thankful as you please
because I am a benevolent God
I showed him on a flat screen T.V.
United States of America
election returns: 2008
that pretty well did it
whisky shot out his nose
he choked on the smoke
and shit himself
all as the hammer exploded