Moins Misérable Poèmétrie

Moins Misérable Poèmétrie     <---  mutilated French

Elegy for Corn

Corn Pop was a friend of mine

We shared some fermented turpentine 

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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NEXT ON SUITS:

A man removes his suit and ceases to exist.

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Sunday Surprise

Sunday Surprise

I turned on the TV

early one morning

A man came on

Moaning and groaning -

“I need your help

send me your money.

I want to build a world

made of milk and honey.”

How to tell if he

meant what he said?

I blinked my eyes

and shook my head.

Wouldn’t you know

he was on again

and before you could pray,

he’d taken me in.

He said, “Peace & love

are a rotten lie.

Follow me or else

your soul will die.

And anyway,

I need a new kitchen.

So send your money

my palms are itchin’.”

I was thinkin’ twice

about his line

then he said something

to change my mind.

He explained about art

‘cause it’s all evil

showed me what it’s done

to all the people.

He said, “look at the world.

It’s all wrong.

I’ve got a plan

to make it strong.”

He told me to avoid

Muslims, atheists, & Jews.

He said God don’t grant

the right to choose.

He wrote a book,

40 dollars a print,

it tells you what

the bible really meant.

It tells about earth

it tells about heaven

it tells you to vote for him

in the next election.

He told me to fear,

told me not to talk,

told me that God almighty

was watching my clock.

I put down my beer

I was getting scared

I just about jumped

right out of my chair.

Well, I went out

bought his book

showed him my soul

so that he could look.

He asked me to give

until I was broke

then he ran off to live

with the Holy Ghost

Bad day, face down in the cabbage, Honey!

 Bad day, face down in the cabbage, Honey!

"Thay ain't no way outta here!", - shouts

The estranged waiter as he blocks the exits and goes

to crouch back in his corner in the kitchen 

which he refuses to leave until 

he sees hisself getting a tip

despite toppling a bowl of sludge

upon the surly skulls of messident Goober

and his chronics.

A cranky elevator operator

                           Slash

                 house detective 

throws a half empty puket of shrink

over the oval head that anchors the waiter's 

mewling face to his shirt/vest.

Some substance similar to seafood sauce 

drips & drips & drips

eternally, eternally dripping,

uncomfortably close to the waiter’s nosetrails. 

Funny powerful short monkey-like breaths of terror 

Begin shoooosting out from the waiter’s face

like enraged, yet invalid, worms.

The elevator operator

                  Slash

        house detective 

looks to the table at which

messident goober and his chronics crouch with their hunger.

Their majestically comical brows are lowered. 

The Goob has no wash to wash. 

He is Goober who lives in the house of Dwight. 

Low paid locals perform Goober’s chump work and 

clean up the remnants of the waiter's dripping sludge.

Goober's FBI certified Doctor A-Okays the sludge 

as being clean of germs and/or other contaminants.

The doctor states, - “no living being or mutation 

can survive the barren landscape 

of goober's unholy unconscionable soul.

Just ask the FDA.”

The waiter doesn't receive his tips. He be a-taken to a cell 

where he be told that he be no longer a part of the waiter society and class. 

And, as such, having been stripped of his rankness,

he is terrifying, if not to others, then certainly, to himself. 

The waiter is told to go serve his self - if he can find it.

"Some crazy-like things just drip, while others explode."

Outside the Frame

**** This one comes with accompaniment

Outside the Frame  

tigress and the u-fraidees

Outside the Frame

The portrait spews characters that all look alike to me
with their delicate electronics and last year's monkey hat
Some break away to form their own herd, however,
the power of the portrait directs them back to their corners

The air inside the portrait is polluted.
Nowhere near good enough to huff or to heave
intangible hands chisel the dead lips of each character
faces nailed to phones talking to someone outside the frame

nobody exists outside the frame. The lines are dead.

A creature lurks

A creature lurks

A creature lurks deep down below

deep down below

deep down below

a burning lake of fire

A creature burns deep down inside

deep down inside

deep down inside

a liquid lake of fire

I built a craft to sail across

to sail across

to sail across

a crackling lake of fire

I climbed upon my sturdy boat

my sturdy boat

my sturdy boat

upon a lake of fire

My handmade oars burned up

my oars burned up

oars burned up

to feed the lake of fire

I stood until my boat burned up

my boat burned up

boat burned up

sailing the lake of fire

I walked a path of hot gray ash

of hot gray ash

hot gray ash

across a lake of fire

A creature lurked but did not stir

but did not stir

did not stir

beneath the lake of fire

No creature yearned deep down below

deep down below

deep down below

to pull me in the fire