Thursday, October 19, 2017

One Guy And The Other

One guy is cute and the other is ugly
the first misunderstood, the second raped her

One guy is tall and the other a dwarf
ill will toward  the former boils to the top

One guy has a big house, the other small
small owes big a fortune

One guy runs like the wind, the other
pokes along with his problems

One guy plays all day, the other works,
the worker with work to do,
ever always work to do, plays too much
with so much work to do

One guy wears a suit the other wouldn’t
one guy’s a king, the other’s not

One guy rakes his yard, bags leaves
the other keeps an eye on his strangers

One has several kids who love him dearly
the other farms it out, loves them dearly

One has the type of nose everyone adores
the other can’t breathe through his

One has a foot, a marble foot or bronze
the other limps on all fours

One guy flashes his diamond ring
the other tallies up red in the sun

One guy flies non-stop, the other sits
watching the descent of his betters

One guy buys the unbuyable
takes possession of the unbuyable
and the other notices
where and when
how and why,
his own on sale
his ubuyable to be bought
his unbuyable traded priceless wares

One guy speaks like a fountain
the other a broken pipe, tongue-lashed
heart and mind paint the deed,
rust beneath a coat
of calm

Beauty drives to higher ground
while ugly dons a skirt

Beauty burns ugly like fuel
cleans it up
cooks dinner
makes a bed in heaven
in a head

One guy’s beautiful
One isn’t
One guy sees it
One doesn’t
One guy did it, one guy did it
One guy’s done it
all along

and the other looks wrong
looks dangerous
looks out of his mind to think

one guy is beautiful, and the other
explains everything

Tuesday, October 17, 2017

Calling in the Night

A pitiless someone
set the black swan
in search of his mate.
Round and round
he paddles, no chance
of finding her. I listen
as he cries her name.
Despicable someones
snatched her to feed
the hungry kids, feed
the landlord, the bank
in their lives; odious
someones bagged her
and ran off. Round
and round he paddles,
crying out her name.
A cold hearted person
offended by the state
of the world, maybe
a black swan person
calling in the night.

Thursday, October 5, 2017

Being Pretty Normal

It’s pretty normal that someone is being
Bombed to keep this happiness thing going,
And that our righteous army marches on
To wherever our enemies call home

And that being normal never looks normal
If you arrive by boat or by plane or drop
Feet first from a cloud and float to earth
Like a kindhearted being from outer space

Or a soldier braced for life’s hard landing,
It’s pretty normal to think of now as being
What all those thens were aimed at, and
Totally miss the gaping hole in the roof.

Being normal goes back a long, long way.
Since the first said to the second: Let's play!

Saturday, September 30, 2017

Those Old Puritans

Those old Puritans, what a nutty lot,
Looked upon the forest as metaphor
To stage the essential battle, Lucifer
Vs. Mankind. But who makes the cut

When God’s head-coach? Wild-eyed
Men like shadows between the trees?
Or those who see woods only to say:
I really doubt we need any of these

But felled for raising our holy house.
Does God favor gold, steeples to the sky,
Or simple ceremonies on the by and by?
Which of those gods is a greater mouse?

Such readers of nature can all go astray
And see you, dangerously, in that way.

Glory Mongers

If only they would shut up
About themselves, just fix it,
Solve the puzzle before it
Goes up in smoke; our deep Cup

Of Plenty drained to the dregs!
All Presidents tell stories
How hired fools thwarted glories,
While the nation kneels and begs

Riddance of all self-sacred men
Who live by ever looking up
Into the shining stars and planets

Where their souls hustle for seats,
And membership in God’s club.
Our fate's to ride it till the end.

Friday, September 29, 2017

Ballad of the Garden Gnome

Priapus got his chopped off
And books to fondle with his eyes;
At one time he was hard enough
In garden plots to seed goodbyes.

He’s now just a Bohemian elf
Baking cookies in a tree; standing
Amid the flowers, a plant himself,
And limp since Christ began to sing:

O Priapus of the boner, your
Counterpart with the softest breast,
Your flesh-pillow in the love-nest,
Has changed the garden d├ęcor!

Fertility spirits, flesh and desire,
Now scold the chimp looking on
With that sparkling, inner fire—
It’s God created the kooky throng

Who scour earth in search of wings
Hidden here, there, everywhere
Since falling in love with shiny things.
Now demons whisper in their ears:

Dust to dust is thy destiny,
To pass away in soil’s memory
Of what was just a moment ago,
To join again that cosmic flow—

O Priapus! Bearer of man’s seed
Baking cookies no one needs,
Some devil is felling all the trees
To keep us angels on our knees.


Thursday, September 28, 2017

US Territory

Puerto Rico always ever the bullseye
For the US Navy or hysterical
Hurricanes riding sins of weakness,
Always a port, and only ever a port
On the sea of dispatched goods,
Where retirees walk the gangplanks

To cherish the kitsch of island life,
Hispanic spices in the mix, on facades
And the smiles of waiters and maids
And shopkeepers meeting the high
Mainland expectations you saved for.
To fishermen, and those who can never

Get off, that passport is like the branch
Aeneas rips from the earth, his ticket
To the underworld where Puerto Rico
And Detroit poison hatred's blood;
You would have to have a heart of steel
To see no tomorrow in your kid's face.

Puerto Rico always ever the bullseye,
And civilization our only offer
For location location location, smack
In an archipelago the whole world 
With air forces and armies and navies
Wants a piece of, land where you do 

What's necessary, what's demanded,
What made you go in the first place—
The natives, citizens like Souix, Pawnee,
Theirs in prison for acts of terrorism,
The word itself a kind of terrorism, stuck
Behind bars for defending mother’s house.

Now, imperial winds arrive to clear out
The coffers, and toss around the remains
Of bankers’ properties, battering shacks
Along the coast into concrete slabs; rafter 
Boards and faucet fixtures in sunshine
Once it turns north to become The News.

Puerto Rico was never not a bullseye,
Bombarded off the coast like a pile of sand;
Flagged as was the moon, it still feels
Like conquistador colonists yet thrive
And treat the natives just as we do, 
And for all the same glittering reasons.

Sunday, September 24, 2017

Chapbook: Trumperlicks #45


I know a tycoon buffoon named Trump,
A blowhard in a goldplated dump;
     The people called him forth—
     Celebrity trumps worth!—
For whom the world is a hole to hump.


There once was a peacock named Donald
Who traced his roots to bonny Scotland—
     He wanted nothing else
     But to grab beaver pelts,
Before his huge feathered head went bald.


Let’s Sieg Heil the cad with orange hair
Who likes to brag that he grew a pair—  
     He applauded himself
     When he spelled “mini-golf”
Like a brat in a gilded highchair.


Our leader, dimwit confidence man,
Has our decline as part of his plan—
     He conquered the place
     By corrupting the race,
Soon to be king of a garbage can.


President Triumph loves his daughter,
And would love to put his paws on her—
     When he saw her in bloom
     He bustled from her room
To check if her mom wasn’t hotter.


I’m for burning coal, and fracking oil,
And helping ‘mancipate Blacks from toil;
     I love the Hispanics
     In the old cowboy flicks,
And GMO popcorn that don’t spoil.


“The Russians are bad and do sad things.
And Venezuela, hugely stinks!
     And Assad is so sad,
     And Iran is so bad,
But I have one of the best golf swings.”


If you get sick you can suck it up.
If you die, it’s a win-win lollypop.
     I got the greatest deal,
     Most awesome spiel,
But get the shit done by Special Op!


“Fuck all the people who you can’t sell
And buy them a ticket straight to hell,”
     He explained to his boys
     Before taking their toys
Because human and daddy don’t gel.


Dad loved Nazis, but mostly their shoes.
Mom was a potato, she didn’t bruise.
     I married gold-diggers.
     It’s like having chiggers.
Did you guys catch me on the Fake News?


I love uniforms who cry and pray
When they kill children on a bad day
     And then get really sad:
     “Am I really so bad?”
They wouldn’t bother asking anyway.


My daughter’s got a nice you-know-what,
And it’s not what you think, not a twat,
     But a really good brain,
     The biggest female brain.
Married a rich kid, hit the jackpot.


My boys, they love to travel and hunt.
They love animals, but I like Kant
     In some village somewhere.
     We pay our tourist share
Into the woman’s future life-fund.


North Korea’s the one place I’d nuke,
It’s run by a crazy commie gook.
     Not meant in a bad way,
     But it’s much easier to say
Than Kimmy Jung un, history’s fluke.


I pardoned Arpaio ‘cause I could,
Just a good cop in bad neighborhood—
     Those hombres are real tough
     And we’ve had ‘bout enough.
I can build it with Canada’s wood!


I’m in love with crooked banks, not Wall Street.
They would be so smart to kiss my feet.
     Lines of credit can heal
     Any type of dark deal:
If you work the oven, own the heat!


I defeated Marco, Jeb, and Hill,
And people still think I lack the will
     To govern the country—
     (Imagine a cunt tree!)—
I start each day with an ugly pill.


I love gold, even if it’s just paint.
Something about it makes me faint,
     The sparkle looks so rich!
     Lady Luck’s a tough bitch
And won’t put out for no stupid saint.


For hawks, a winnable little war.
To doves, I vow not a bullet more.
     For the unemployed, jobs
     Before they turn into mobs
And come at me like pimps on a whore.


This earth, such a fertile tank of gas,
Should be awarded a Miss Planet sash—
     I’d grab her oozing woods,
    And finger deepest roots;
Come morning, she can kiss my fat ass!


They say I’m connected to the mob
And think that’s how I landed the job,
     But I’m zackly like you:
    I want one, then take two,
In the race to be the richest slob.


My wife’s from a latent fascist state,
Which is good, for the sake of hate.
     I picked her out one night
     At a party.  My light
Like a diamond made her want to mate.


You can’t say I’m bad for business.
TV News used to make a lot less.
     I just open my mouth,
     Profits go north of south
Even when I peddle a Herpes’ kiss!

Love Indians, not their casinos.
And Blacks, you know, worked mostly pro-bono
     For a few hundred years
     Shedding blood and hot tears,
And still got less than a white crack ho.


It’s a worldwide cut-rate puppet show,
And I’m the star!  I go with the flow!
     I apply the make-up,
     Hug me a crewcut cop,
Then pay PR to polish the glow!


The quacks gathered to say I’m insane
‘Cause I love pussy (or a choochoo train).
     My mind is so damn fast
     My best thoughts run right past. . . .
What was that I was saying again?


I send cruise missiles wherever I choose;
You set the clock for permanent snooze!
     You don’t know when or where.
     I doubt you’d even care.
That makes two of us: that’s the real news!


My predecessor broke his word,
Then Hillary, OMG, absurd!
     I’m boss only for four
     If not many years more.
Don’t worry, I’m not really a turd.


My presidency inspires revolt
But I don’t fear the American dolt,
     His keystrokes are all mine
     I’ll break him with a fine
And blackmail the horse inside the colt.


I graduated maggots cum louder,
Got a frat-diploma and a trophy garter
     And chicks like wall to wall.
     I was built not to fall,
So you will just have to work harder.


My bestest friends are those who can pay.
If they have no cash I don’t let them play
     In my sandbox no-how,
     Except maybe a cow
If she’s the kind with big boobs that sway.


I’m a great judge of ladies’ beauty
And even God knows I’m a cutie,
     So I peek as they dress
     And pay them to confess
How they’d love to give me some booty.


Destined for things cosmological,
I followed the stars like I’m nautical:
     I sailed so friggin high
     Some are dying to die,
Convinced I’m crypto-despotical.


The other ones bombed so I will too
Even if the whole world says poopoo,
     We’re Americans, see,
     And we like to be free
To fuck you up in lieu of a coup.


I go through women like a storm through trees,
So many I count them in groups of threes.
     I’ve yet to meet the girl
     Who refused a real pearl
For a short few seconds on her knees.


Republicans are so full of shit,
They wagged their tails and that’s about it.
     The Democrats all suck,
     Ask Schumer, what a schmuck!
I wish somebody would pop that zit!


There once was a bore we all abhor
Who soiled the office many adore,
     He swore and decreed
     In secret as he peed
His revenge on the people who roar.


I like Iranians, the ones that we fixed,
Who live in New York and ape our tricks,
     They don’t love that Allah
     Like the Ayatollah
Who outlawed booze and titty pics.


I trust real people who never read,
They will journey abroad just to bleed
     For the red, white, and blue,
     Baseball, Gaga too,
While in my tower I count the green.


Once was an exile, loved his I-phone,
We gave a CIA Predator drone
     To fight for democrats
     And his dad’s funny hats:
Murder’s heroic in a warzone.


I saw the studies but trust my gut
To steer the country out of this rut,
     The longer that we stay
     There will come a day
The Chinese and Russians want their cut.


Politics is so entertainment
Is what I proved for your containment:
     I am current trends
     On long golfing weekends,
Tapping my foot for late payment.


Dreaming of being the president
Like all kids rich who’re power-bent
     I’d lie at night in bed,
     Carved ceiling overhead,
Adding up the nation’s future rent.


Obama was oh boy something else, huh?
He practically wrecked the nation, duh.
     The black half of himself
     Put the white on a shelf
And that’s why the KKK picked moi.


I love miners and those who work hard
Being white, but I don’t like that bard,
     Whatshisname? He’s a bum,
     No talent, a real scum,
And such a sad man. Punch in Richard.