Moins Misérable Poèmétrie <--- mutilated French
Elegy for Corn
Corn Pop was a friend of mine
We shared some fermented turpentine
But before that, he was agonna kill me
my chain, it convinced him to befriend me
Oh Corn Pop
Oh Corn Pop
A thug who knifed many a lad
But he never knifed me
He was the best friend I ever had
The horse's shoes seek the shifting surface of the desert sands. In clouds of dry dust we ride.
Wingless Flicker
The albino snake fetus was shaking. His head, like his words, was jerking. A tenuous void sprouted from his mouth and ignited the fecal fumes discarded by his toilience.
It could not rain. The sun began to flicker. Dolphins rotted.
Hope vomited but vowed to make a return.
Bedtime
Got to go to bed.
Maybe rest the head.
Try to sleep like the dead.
Dream in colors that aren’t red.
Stay There
everybody goes to hell
we're all going to hell
pack your bible and pack your beer
we're hightailin' it to hell
and the devil will be there
Some people got no choice
others always have known
when we hit the flames,
we’re all on our own
Say Goodbye
The year will never end.
Like every year previous,
it will linger upon our existence.
Following each of us.
Stalking us. Ensuring we break.
Harvesting our energies.
Harvesting what remains of our souls.
Eventually, each and every year
Will continue beyond us
Not recognizing we ever inhaled,
Exhaled, digested, or cried
Until we are no more
And the years still will never end
So, happy new year!
Moon Itch
I'm climbing upon the underside of the moon.
All spidery legs and itchy too.
I am a circus without a tent,
a gambler without a working pair of dice.
Whosoever itches themselves itches me too.
Phone Betrayal
I await a phone call.
The sky outside is gray.
I hear autos pass by on the street.
A set of brakes slightly squeals
as though happy to slow down.
I await the phone that never calls.
Tobacco Load
She’s got brown fingertips
And 3rd degree burns on her lips
She’s got ash tray breath
I’d kiss her more often but
I fear catching her death
She smokes like a chimney
putting the atom bomb to shame
But it’s not her fault
It’s nicotine to blame
sky purges itself
Grandma won’t open the door
Raindrops sting like darts
loud Seagulls cry out
Fish fry in oily sizzles
Coca-cola pops
Evening Blessed
It is dark outside
the sky has shut its eye
warming us gently
beneath its lid.
The Sound of Nature
This is the sound of nature
beating your soul to a pulp.
I apologize. I am mistaken.
This is the sound of humanity
beating your soul to a pulp.
Nature blithely lurks watching.
Whether in horror or agreement,
nature does nothing to indicate.
Nature makes no effort to prevent
your soul from becoming pulp.
Once done. When you are gone,
when you are just a stain of pulp,
Nature may have a taste, a gulp,
Or not
in a bar
in a bar,
just want to lift my glass, be left alone,
crawl inside the television set,
pull the screen up around my neck,
tuck myself in, and
be gone
[ Meanwhile, in another location entirely ]
I am your deity
said the pony to the snowman
it's time to get deliberate
and you are out of focus
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A man removes his suit and ceases to exist.
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