Sunday, March 19, 2017

Doug And The Succubus

Doug and Frank and I would
tramp together to the high school,
a long walk, and, with his
early facial hair, voted most likely
to be a wizard, Doug entertained
us daily for months with his
stories of how a succubus nightly
rode him devilishly evil.  Not quite
as good as the pornographic magazines
we hid in the woods but
stirring enough for the long trudge
to school, the saga went on
until one day when Doug said
his parents called an exorcist and
that was the end of his
getting laid.  Frank and I never
knew if Doug was full of
bull or mentally ill, but, being
teenage virgins, we longed, at times,
for a little demonic delight ourselves.
That would come later as the
women in our lives would suck
the child out of us and,
at times, make us wish that
we could go back to a
time when Doug was the only
one of us making whoopee.  Stuff
falling off the walls and houses
shaking with Doug cursing in ancient
languages while his mother and father
prayed around his bed doesn't sound
too bad when your wife is
out getting gangbanged while you are
cutting the grass at the formerly
happy home, or your girlfriend isn't
letting you see your child anymore
because she's decided that she doesn't
love you anymore so you have
to get a lawyer and sue
her only to find out the
child wasn't yours anyway. Most people
create their own hells.  At least
Doug's put out. Six Sex Six.

17 December 2015

Sunday, March 12, 2017

Rock And Roll Will Never Die, But The Rock And Rollers Will

Buddy Holly died in the plane crash
that got the Bopper and Valens too.
Eddie Cochran preferred to die by auto,
while Brian Jones drowned before he could sue.
Joplin and Morrison both overdosed,
following Hendrix, who choked to death on spew.

Rock and roll will never die.

The first drummer of the Dolls drank too much coffee,
while Elvis ate too much to stay on the throne.
Lynyrd Skynyrd revived the plane crash.
Sid Vicious oded, but he didn't go alone.
Nobody much noticed Darby Crash's suicide
once John Lennon got shot by a fan in a zone.
Bob Marley found out that cancer was not much fun.
AIDS decided that a B-52 would no longer answer the phone.

Rock and roll will never die.

Kurt Cobain broke out his shotgun.
Tupac and Biggie let others pull the trigger.
Amy Winehouse should have stayed in rehab.
The original Ramones have now all had a gravedigger
Ben E. King stood until he couldn't stand any longer.
But, though the corpse pile will keep growing bigger,

Rock and roll will never die.

1 May 2015

Sunday, March 5, 2017

Not Helpful


Sunday, February 26, 2017

Upon A Street, Two Strangers Meet

Walking late at
night, I notice
that most people
cross the street as
they approach me.
We each get a
sidewalk for our
journey with a
street as a moat
between the two
of us instead
of a twinge of
trust as we cross
paths, and though I
do not do this,
they do, so it
amounts to the
same as if I
did, and maybe
they just had to
cross the street at
some point, so they
did it then, but
I don't think so.
The pattern holds
up far too well.
I don't know if
I should feel sad
or happy that
I am scary.
What do they think?
“I'd rather be
sexist than raped.”
“I'd rather be
racist than robbed.”
I suppose there's
nothing wrong with
being cautious,
but I wish we
lived in a world
where a midnight
stroll were soaked more
in moonlight than
it were in fear.

22 December 2014

Sunday, February 19, 2017

Slampit Etiquette

The hardcore band doesn't notice,
too busy thrashing,
nor do the slamdancers,
too busy bashing,
but, being bored,
I do.

Oi Boy has retired
from the evening's stagediving
and retreated to the
edge of the slampit,
where he has latched
onto a black-haired beauty,
much to her regret,
I'd say,
based on the way
she leans away.

He is yelling,
but thinks he is whispering,
the secret to life,
the secret that is hazy
when one is sober
but gets clearer and clearer
the more alcohol one drinks.

She listens politely,
but I can tell that
she doesn't want to
feel his hot breath,
smell his long unwashed body
and longer unwashed clothing,
hear his bullshit philosophy,
look at his snot-crusted noserings,
and as for taste,
I'm guessing,
based on her expensive
pretorn clothing,
that Milwaukee's Best
has never been good
enough for her.

28 July 2014

Sunday, February 12, 2017

Three Good Years And One Bad Day

I'm waiting for your phone call
The one that will likely never come
I'm waiting for your phone call
The one where you tell me
How you made a horrible mistake
And you just realized it
I'm waiting for your phone call
The one where you tell me
That you want me to take you back
So we can try again

I'm waiting for your phone call
The one that will likely never come
I'm waiting for your phone call
The one where you apologize
For the last phone call
When you dumped me
I'm waiting for your phone call
Because since you left
I don't have much to do
Except let the heartache bleed away

To speed it along
I have been throwing your things away
Which is somewhat therapeutic
I noticed that your toothpaste expired
The same month as we did
How did the company know?
I'd call them up and ask
But I want to leave the line free
I'm waiting for your phone call
The one that will likely never come

But if it ever does I hope that I have the courage to tell you to go fuck yourself and then hang up

24 June 2014

Sunday, February 5, 2017

Shutting Up

For all audiences

Shit, my well-meaning friend got fired up one day and told me we needed to speak up for those who
Haven't got a voice, that we needed to be a voice for the voiceless. I kept quiet and didn't disagree
Underneath the lengthy diatribe, but I thought that, in fact, I'm pretty sure that my friend was mixing
Things up, the metaphorical with the literal, because most of those poor, discriminated against,
Terrorized motherfuckers aren't mute. They can speak for themselves. But the people who like to
Instead speak for them do so just so the voicemore don't have to listen to what the voiceless have to
Not say or say or whatever. Because I'm pretty sure that my friend and the other do-gooders doing
Good as voices for the not actually so voiceless wouldn't like what the voiceless have to say when they

Use their voices to say what they think about the people who like to speak for them because those nice
People just won't shut the fuck up and listen.

For the uptight about language

Shhh, my well-meaning friend got fired up one day and told me we needed to speak up for those who
Haven't got a voice, that we needed to be a voice for the voiceless. I kept quiet and didn't disagree
Underneath the lengthy diatribe, but I thought that, in fact, I'm pretty sure that my friend was mixing
Things up, the metaphorical with the literal, because most of those discriminated against,
Terrorized poor and powerless aren't mute. They can speak for themselves. But the people who like to
Instead speak for them do so just so the voicemore don't have to listen to what the voiceless have to
Not say or say or whatever. Because I'm pretty sure that my friend and the other do-gooders doing 
Good as voices for the not actually so voiceless wouldn't like what the voiceless have to say when they

Use their voices to say what they think about the people who like to speak for them because those nice
People just won't shut up and listen.

11 February 2014