Saturday, January 16, 2010

Damn You

My first words

pantomimed the violent language
of the ones who raised me up.
They raised me up from an incubator
into the arms of the insecure,
singing softly about forever
while white dishes smashed the floor
in bursts of Francis Scott Key
on a football weekends.
"God Damn You
God Damn You
God Damn You."
I don't even remember the year
but I remember the football season.
The Chiefs beat the Vikings in the Super Bowl.
My Dad and my uncles
started shouting about the over/under.
Little brown bottles were perched on every flat space.
I sat near the television, enjoying the tingling feeling
of static electricity coursing through my blanket.
"God Damn You
God Damn You
God Damn You."
No one heard or knew.
I was conducting an experiment.
I knew little about God
but I knew enough to know that I was stuck in his world
and there wasn't anything I could do about that.
So I used to spend a lot of time
with a blanket draped over my head
chanting "God Damn You
God Damn You
God Damn You."
I did this to see what would happen.
If I could force the issue.
My greatest fear is that the non response
of my unconsciousness is driving the show. As long as he plays my bloody taxes

Thursday, January 14, 2010

Dinah Gettoutahere

Lucien Disguise,
that's a fellow you can set your wash to.
Anna Leakage,
is a lady you don't want to have to follow.
Dave Infamy
carried out his orders
straight to the curb.
He left them in the circular file
with a pizza crust and a spent Trojan
awaiting the long journey to Olympia.
Ian Absentia,
where'd he go?
I always liked that guy.
He said the funniest things
and the thing he did with his balls
in that Moscow Idaho bar almost made me piss myself.
Helena Handbasket
was permanently parked on the first barstool
at Al's on 45th until lately.
What a shame.
Yasser Nasser
sat on the fence regarding most issues of the day.
He did have a thing, I'm told
for Sue S. Canal.
I think they may have gotten it on.
Ray Incandescent
is a bit much,
don't you think?
Me too.
Dinah Gettoutahere
always pulls the fade
when things start getting woozy.
What a class act.
What a class act, people...

Thursday, January 7, 2010

Pete and Ray

Fuck it, people.

Your friend and humble narrator
can only go so far down
and give you the play by play.
Yes, one day
we're gonna play this out
to overtime-
sudden death,
if you will.
Right now though
I'm watching two cats
go ape-shit nuts
as I walk through the door
after a day of getting horse whipped.
The little fuckers are absolutely charming.
They yowl, bolt and squirm.
All my cherished bookshelf bits
are broken by these little bastards,
but do I want to tandoori these two?
They and my DanaGirl (who conned me into this)
are my heroin.
They are sweet relief.
They are my trying to get away
from everything.

Friday, January 1, 2010

Get Lost

A ladybug

struggles to climb out of a glass
of stale champagne.
Little fucker is drunk,
stealing the fluid I need
to warm my soulless guts.
I'm contemplating the ash
of this last cigarette
hanging over a yellowed coffee cup.
Ladybug, you've failed.
Ladybug, you're not commercially viable.
You're gonna die.
You're gonna decease never known
and not even forgotten.
What the hell have I been doing?
Strumming and shouting in a vacuum
until I'm deaf and voiceless.
Isn't there something else I can find
to waste this time?
Jesus Christ,
how long does this have to go on?
I don't need you.
I don't need you here.
It's better if you never listen.
It's better if you never knew.
Never knew my story.
The more you learn
the less you know.
Get lost.