click art for larger view Fuck me till death do us part like the red sea spot run paint run like the wind of November Eagle beaks like brainwashed and worn and torn and pouring thunder through the cues and narrows of contoured thought Masses running. Madness. fire Trinity wields thorny clubs Smashing skulls of individuality Leaving morbid trails of trashed freedom rings. American history joy ride adolescence. rubber scumbags puddled. Thrown like Ringing bells wringing necks Traditional pick up truck mentality and brother merle screaming football as if denoting pain manhood. A lariat snake like penis rope flopping across grid lines or cobblestone historically lay like old popes' purple vestments Crowned visual as megalithic feet crush golden crucifix Like some hidey hidey ho Break dancing on grandpas' Cab Calloway vinyls. A big band sound In a short wavy gravy of a Saturday night stomp. Chiding those high cheekbones into higher forms of sin. As if sin was coincidental to the advent of carnal pleasure God bless her fo sho . God bless her fo everything else My little shining star in black stilts and fishnets With the seams up the back who causes hard hackles to rise at the mere spreading of those gracious thighs leaving men pining for Ben Franklin like he was a close personal friend Morphine in my vein Liquor on my brain Reefer in my thoughts Everything insane This is where I want to be this is where I am It doesn't matter unless it hurts. And it doesn't hurt yet. It's the same old shit day after day. It changes it doesn't change. Its good its bad who can tell the difference? A brain needs to be fed mines been starving for years wont eat pulp only the best almost Epicurean to a fault I got this blue-collar job Been driving me nuts Can't appreciate its meaning anymore Surrounded by good people No stress Minimum angst With exception to having to be somewhere at a specific time against my will it's a wonderful thing if I were without responsibility fucking life who gave it permission to fuck me anyway a light to moderate rainfall in my skull as the sun fights for freedom behind prevalent clouds thought cant penetrate the strata keeps flying back into my face like boomerang shit got bruises in my memory to prove it like an old man stretching for his plastic gums in a broken glass in the dark of night in the neon stretch of halide grins as pile drivers rhythmic breath divine creatures mirth like writhing flowers In the fog of bleak existence fear of demons blood. demons usually you quandary in motion A wonderful catch twenty-two of mid-sperm crisis shit you Planting weeds with foreign seeds like the wizards in control actually give a flying fuck as intoxication rides shotgun with wooden prick in a photo shoot another pride another page another witness to fallen hype another proverb pissing on dry concrete steaming as if falling on carbon dioxide verse us versus them. The holy Mary swipe at mist in mother temple sacrifice for turtled assets swing from vines when catholic trips undigested between mothers and Christ's and baskets of twitching carp. It laughs like tar on an influx twist when zerks eat jerks and the beer goes warm from lack of lubrication. I am a fool. A blue collar clown with a piss poor attitude and a questionable flare for words. My education though extensively well read is nothing more than a high priced fable stuck behind glass and thrown under the bed. It is meaningless. Like so many other things in life. I'm stuck in a box with no windows and no doors being judged by a female swinging pussy like an iron gavel. Like a giant pendulum cast in rusty nails swinging from the black clouds of her shrouded mind slicing and dicing the remnants of my heart into the worthless byproduct parts is parts cornucopia likened to the discarded refuse of the human race as I fall to comparison to pathetic republican who accepts life as well as fat paycheck as proper while I struggle to make ends meet. No one said it would be easy. And its not getting any easier. And as the negatives roll into my narrow porthole of vision like the maddened bulls of Pamplona I place my penis gratefully in their charging path. Accepting my castration like a real man. Knowing full well that in the end its all nonsense. A bit player in a two bit universe pissing up a rope for laughs Its getting harder and harder to pretend. don't know how people maintain this blind happiness from day to day. It increasingly difficult to lie as I digress into old age. One would think after so many years of doing this there would be some measure of proficiency but its simply not true. We can adapt but we cannot change. The human animal is incapable of change. It demonstrates this to us on a daily basis. When things are not going right we bitch we whine we complain. Sometimes, when we are lucky, we overcome. Its no wonder we war, we rape, we prey on the weak. We are incapable of overcoming ourselves. We stand in our imaginary mirrors falsely admiring the image we've been conditioned to perceive all the while overlooking the fact we are still an animal. Loaded to gills with weakness, contradiction and self-servitude. It's a moral comedy to think we are the superior specie when in fact in the long run we are at the bottom of the food chain. The earth shall swallow us whole in one final grin as if to say thanks for the memories but see you later, pissants. We might be gods children. It is then our moral obligation to emulate not worship. To becoming, as opposed to floundering around the planet genuflecting. Administering false praise to the white man behind the clouds is ridiculous when all the while we wink smugly at our own reflections. It is pure Narcissus. The idea of attaining this level of superior specie lies in action not word. Since there is no appreciation for the necessity of this change don't expect the dance to start anytime soon. Females soft slippery dance of fragrant timeless licking tick tock slides like snail over broken glass sing song dithyramb on verdant fields and bliss pond insects buzzing butterfly flutter sipping nectar from sweet cores of beauty grown from moist tundra in sunshine Music melody like flutes of Pan wrinkle air with bright colors Arms and legs writhe in lusty meadow whisping winding liquid madness fingers stroking pink flesh wet for penetration eminence Sparkle light cuckoo bird chirping in my brain. we chew on it as if it were fine steak.. Is was the wild thing smooth with echoes of soft curving lines And a pink parasol strut with an ass that didn't smell As bony assed boys act the fool like drooling cowboys Crude from the neck up Cruel from the neck down Their heads foiling balls of red meat On fluffy crowns of red rolling lust And she digs them just the same Where words don't flow anger rises Since redundancy flows better than words anger rises and rises Its all been said and said again anger rises and rises and rises Everyone is insane accept the insane Anger rising and rising and rising and rising the economy is doing great and yet I am broke I will continue to be broke despite how great the economy is The anger is rising and rising I work for a living As I make no living I am educated or so I am told And yet I feel stupid I have two children who look up to me And I am lost in the shuffle of plasticity Between loss of self and the development of others I am loved And yet I am lost I am loved and yet I am lost. Between rhyme and reason I am out of focus. Disillusioned. Disappointed. Depressed. The pen has lost its fire. The brush has lost its verve. The penis has lost its way. Eunuchs in the sun. There is no evolution in terms of humanity. Our castration has failed and will continue to fail. We are animals billowing with excessive instinct. Suppressed through two thousand years of Christianity and overwrought with emotion bubbling over like a beer poured into a dirty glass. We live our lies on a daily basis so as not to suffer in a next life which may not exist. Crying to the skies for help when in fact the answer comes from within. Look inside. Know thyself. Do all those things you fear. Overcome the humanity. Overcome thyself. Shatter the old rules. Let me supply you with the hammer. Aside from all kinds of shit my life is in the perfect harmony of a chorus of bagpipes. When I wake up in the morning I expect to piss up a rope all day long. When I go to sleep I'll have pissed on heaven for nine hours. Its consistent yet hardly desirable. My prostate can't possibly hold up under the pressure. My anger becomes increasingly harder to describe without falling prey to the law and though I'm not even at the high powered rifle and water tower level I'm not beyond trifling with the bare essence of psychological torture. What the hell. It occurs with me on a daily basis. Why not share the wealth It was between two steel plants and a toxic waste dump. This is where it started. A simple blue collar town where generations expected to pick up where their fathers left off. A secure job at the plant. A mortgage in a cramped up company street where houses stood armpit to asshole all in a row and you could hear the drunken neighbors beat their wives and children for lack of anything better to do. And the Buffalo Bills were God. It's a tricky story to relate. Not complex but tricky. I was surrounded by assholes. I didn't realize it until I was about six when the lady a couple of doors down comes up to me and in a packaged brogue says "Look at ya, why aren't you the little polak from down the street?" And me looking at her all fuddled not knowing what she meant. This kind of bigotry was new to me until later that day when I would go to my father who as one of the local gendarmes was despised by the heavily drunk and disorderly Irish population and would respond to my curiosity by saying "Don't worry son, the woman is an asshole". Satisfied now that I knew what she was I moved on with my life. Over the years I found I was really outnumbered, polaks = one. assholes = many. It's a wonderful life. |
