Your Father Killed a Deer and It’s Name was Ritalin

Goose tree the time it takes to whack a hedgehog triple the faucet water squeezing penis parasymphosis off king fish tadpole hula hoop dodge ball tripe and ready to heave grave robber baron pizza slice the coke can in half and climb trees for Satan’s claustrophobia like seventeen magazine bribed and loaded with fish kind of half ham and ordered the crane down the mountain sub sausage stew how are you Mr. Pickles loo loo loo apples down the tree like saucer kitten fight in school made hackey sack relatable, inflatable and sutured with pins and knives to a stone in a forest a thousand years older than a kitchen counter wiped with baby tears and dreams at five a.m. of soda fairies sliding into your jammies kicking violent head splitting metal music down the dignity horse knowing only his mother’s taco vitality coroner your father and a pickled herring low to the ground enough talk about marshmallows time to quit the tobacky and saucer your way wisdom teeth go when the doing explodes the seer’s meta narrative Winnie the Pooh on Christmas drunken bailey’s charade gathering for wendigo story time cousin Samad and his Islamic wisdom gathering dust picture yourself a tiny bird and let it jell-o mold your crab cake into lemon juice tongue burned on a pastrami sandcastle the fortress you’ve always desired handheld Barbie video miracle 1990 plastic scepter your vibrations fill me with sperm sadist knowledge you cry off the ledge and wait for Sonic and Sally to kiss you goodnight you dream still awake vision split into fifth tourmaline corners scary in tickle wealth scams beating you down the gills of a fish stymied terrible and pro choice leaping lizards and batman’s jock strap has a heart attack while you die of thirst in an armadillo’s nut sack your father killed a deer and its name was Ritalin you silly fucker on your pole dying of cancer go kick a caterpillar and leave Britney to drown in a pee-pee yakisoba puddle down by the river of human foreskin sweat lodge logged into diamond skill seventh level appreciate the epitome before you decide the time simulate having nothing at all when you scream hail the fire wand and click off the NES for time crates you and your dog and your clitoris for a waffle and the stick hates the fact that the dog doesn’t catch it, the stick hates you and so SUTHY syndrome will wear you as a hat in its grave AMEN!

The Western Wall Is Crumbling

The western wall is crumbling.
The bottom of my spine collapses.
A dog barks through the wall.
My speakers implode my tinnitus.
A box rings out to be stabbed repeatedly.
Knife on a table not to be found.
Corrugated flesh ripped open.
Packing peanuts crumbled all over the ground.
Enough Styrofoam to choke a forty ton whale
Stuffed down the throat of my crack head neighbor
Blathering day and night into her phone
Begging her last remaining friends and relatives
For fifty dollars, forty dollars,
Enough to keep the oxycontin flowing
Just one more night, one more day
Then she’ll find a couch on the side of the road
To replace the one she was given
As a token of good will, but sold
To ensure her supply of hydros never dries
And then she’ll bring in the meanest thugs she can find
Fresh out of jail with gold in their teeth
To sell her benzos at five a.m.
If only I could record this woman’s voice through the walls.
I hear her every single night:
“Forty dollars, Patti, I just need forty dollars.”
Pretty soon, she’ll run out of gullible acquaintances
And she’ll get desperate, do something detestable
And get arrested once and for all.
Then I’ll do a little dance as I wait out these long Albany nights
In a subsidized housing unit consisting of ten flights
Teeming with the miserable, poor, old and lame.
The pleasant ones make it even more of a shame
That most view this place as a prison
And many believe that the real life Jesus will soon be risen
And demolish the walls of this bed bug palace.
Only through the grace of God
Will the aching feet of the destitute ever be shod
In the holy slippers of those born with the Light
Which should be the right of all living beings.
Instead we live in a world where pain and suffering brings
All of us into our ideal form.
Unless we choose to eschew the norm
And walk a path of giving all we own
To those whose hands are bones draped with strips of flesh
Atonement will be necessary.

Shoes of Dust

My feet caress the dusty floor

As dreams form beneath the ground.

Seven horses crash the gate

In order to ameliorate my fate

And send my spine into a cup

Where cacti claim to have had enough.

Seven spirals sing a song

For brains whose joy has up and gone,

Whose melodies will not return.

Such a thrill to see the ring is burning still

And the feathers of your golden wings still fall.

I will gather up them all

And glue them to a piece of paper

Kept in a drawer since I was in diapers.

This paper was used by my mother long ago

To make cranes and flamingos.

Now it sits atop my closet

Where only dust and useless items dwell

And mites light candles for their god

Whose feet have recently been shod

Not with sneakers, pumps or boots

But with the soot of wasted time

And far too many days spent in bed

Shaking nightmares out of his head

Praying for a higher being still

To end the pain and chase the cold

And dust away from his window sill.

 

Caterpillars to Pry the Stock Market from Dallas

Space creates its own collapse the fort doom into petrol mime sink of tickle time torture in hampers dialectical to the right wing fortress zoning laws prohibiting frogs from sinking below the water power pistil in hemp seed ovary night cream the goner by the standalone November tree and hate him for what he knows knotting hillcrest butter bean cream sausage stamp the pachyderm with palpable lust and giant frost tower soldier combines sick and marvelous with the comb undulate the saturnalia tin box womb satellite for known regions coming to you from kick stacked up on whine and ringing for they don’t understand the feelings of needles singing for you in a truck stop heating eggs while willy nilly the sunward random creak bag stands allowed signage the crestfallen have none to give the sores scraping time piss and naked package handlebar maleficent the grim band star corn holing the catamount sting pain tackle balking at dogs known only in digestible hamster stooge win cycle yes the tickle tantrum killed the woozle at factory bacon standard now stoned to the magnificent killing feel the crazy glue eye sands timing the king crab pickled and gaining ground for fascism starts when digging for dinosaurs in Utah a blade at a time when penis cone murder correlated indignant and stalling for terrible stench waffle king of the underground gulping down gerund after bicycle feeling for some semblance of a daring queen to blast the snowflake martyr to serenade sister Ocean as sheets of cradles glow blue ball socket jamboree in tingling tapestry fortnight spent at Walker Texas Range Rover roll over the side of the tape is a nail sticking out of a pig scrotum Wednesday night bingo toasts the Maoist rye candle for noon moons gone silly on squiggle pasta Winnebago sorcery facsimiles of forests growing wax Dalmatians ever so delicate in their obsolete computer labyrinth bandwagons Rubik’s cubing the gauntlet by three and never Turing testing the other directionless bitch slapper on country road stuck in jellyfish bowl sewage knowing heaven is just on the other side of a big balloon in old Alabama where singing fish sleep sideways Artemis Pyle’s pedo parade waking up inside a cat like jamboree clinging desperately healing and waiting out the turnstile to face evil on a soaked bulletin we never really got the feeling that the wetness would subside I don’t know about you but I’m hungry for caterpillars to pry the stock market from Dallas.

December is a Drug

December is a drug.

Drugs don’t DARE define me.

We celebrate what we have

Rather than those who have not.

We climb trees to reach the top of the night.

The trees turn out to be blankets tumbling down the stairs.

Santa’s beard is frosted not with powdered sugar

But with cocaine.

 

Fifteen Hundred Bloated Chihuahuas and a Black Toad Named Walthrup Who Just Happens to be Your Dad

Hyperbole in the eastern sea rabbit hanged by a tinsel toenail on singing rates collision with the downstairs music sutured diligent and weaponized claiming crystals on a nicotine Patch Adams swinging a baseball bat heading home with a pocket canister and some twigs to swig Jameson and his forthcoming novel will eclipse even the sunniest side of mainstream news outlets what do you say to that Charles oh I don’t think the glowing horn will be able to eat enough soup to clench the butt cheeks of a sauropod timely and fashionable like sewage pods ramping up the action Darwinist ramblings neutered for spade services Camp David Halleluiah fortress on display case alley New Hampshire slut sunrise bargain basement burger queen tampon tickle torture for fanny packs unraveling their Santa gifts from mom and dad’s closest ally on planet Khartoum forcefully picking his battles and knowing only the caves that pockmark the postman’s posterior junctioning a sound to a sedimentary rock formation in goose neck vacation cramp the telephone and release the granny panty stocking of force fed service ganglia before Campbell decided the soup is too damn hot for his Id and Eggo Waffles defrosted at 400 degrees a complete turnaround from the village idiot in my porridge now please for the love of god stay away from my sausage and cram your mountain into a pipe dream and sock it to Richard Nixon’s fist 100 miles per hour down the drain of communism have you ever licked Josef Stalin’s boot strap on a helmet and load the pistol cause the greenbacks are rolling and so are the heads of the republican party and Bernie Sanders is in the basement huffing paint cans left over from the revolution while Trump’s pecker is impaled on a pike as for the rest of him in stomachs of fifteen hundred bloated chihuahuas down in Mexican sewage disco partying 2999 for ten thousand more stamps in Castro’s bucket listserv down the well fortune told rectal system overdone steak and grease fires put out with a Winnie the Pooh blanket save the day thanks Christopher Robin how do you do it? Well, in fact, I’m Ewan McGregor and Star Wars has no shine thanks to Winnie the Pooh and his cavalcade of crazy critters including your mom and a black toad named Walthrup who just happens to be your dad.