Sweet Twang

Saturday,
September 17, 2011

7:17 PM

Ran off with my
ears, sounds cheeky, so I smile whitely while I shaft you  nightly.

Eww for gross, good
taste, poor choice, your sick lamberts, not bright enough to floss your potty
mouth,

Drawn like butter,
born to drizzle, melt my shine,

smack your lips,
syrup-syrup,  hissy s.o.s.’s is best for
a rescue ,

Gristle slipped and
criss-crossed the concourse,

I’m petty, in
staccato octaves to boot,

I other one the
Ottawa and must of meant Toronto.

If all the sniffle
snouts waft us

from the mist hot
spitting off the pasta

still mucky steaming
up from the cast net colander,

then I’ll holler
fe’r to calling you to dinner.

I prittle prit pat
the pattern activate. I peek past the histories and we last from persistence
press perks up and prints coupons for the trash they’re selling, audience
establishes continental expectations, gotta draw the line so long and round
that the fence will come out even bigger ever the border we cross is the fringe
we name with ecstatic discovery re-founding the native civilization and
stretching our legs like we own the place we put a man on the months third
Thursday and we celebrate the second grade and never learn any fuhrer further
even though the light touch chicken hawks feathered a few prez who certainly
came home to roost with the foxes like he figured out how to finance his
entitlement, and we voted for a videogame where the angry birds steeping in a
kettle party on and explode the foundations of their missing eggs and abortions
legal bitches, register their litters with the legislature, neuter the senate,
spay the congress, elect the meaning of the mis-information and interpret your
government however you like, ride on Harley anarchists, so easily bought off by
cocaine and bar-rooms,  maybe you’ll
sober up and king George like the rest of them poor dogs porch tied and picking
all the pictures where the premature babies looked the alivest, are you a funny
troll now scowling all the hounds of heart taint and stuck with needles
bleeding necessary in order to let life leech and complete, engorged on the
poison pumped in your veins, the vampires are dizzy and sloppy as hell, might
just make it obvious and enslave us in the day-light, like a prom queen
finally, for once in my life, fire bombing the embassy just when the explosion
smoke blows bits of her perfume and she asks me if I want to just give in to
chaos, ride outta this casket trashing the powers above and around us, just
because we oughta, winning one for the individual who cares not about the
repercussions of society, it’s the enemy, and I don’t even consider saying no
to a pretty girl, wants to give me an excuse to lead a revolution, and let the
bones roll, fight hard for as long as I can find a reason, cutting down bridges
just to make the rats swim, plastic floats, spraying all the law offices in
kerosene, showing justice to a lost cause and giving the poor peoples
collective memory lasting scars I want to watch the battle roar from the hole
in the wall of my living room, when we’re fighting in the street for no reason,
just because we got a message, it’s over, rabble on, fierceness takes it in the
last impact of the gavel strike is irrelevant, that the law is actually all the
violent possibilities of force in the hands of lesser men, ordered by the
primal need for dominance that obvious, animal ideologue barking but they line
up for a talking dog, so thanks for the designer camouflage, now lets get your
slaughter on.

The old man buttons
his cardigan, sips his tea and says, “Savoring the feelings of a young
man, wish I had a reason in my time.”