Ridicule facade

  

Felony butter thickens as the verdict churns, I cat nap in a cemetery

Away from it  as possible

Cheap flags still adorn lost plots after the bbq tradition digests days later 

Guilty as charged 12 jury say 

Spin that, Republicans

34 felonies not 33, not 6, not One

Would One Felony be less toast for election butter it's so unfair 

Outside the later pub, film continues to coagulate tedium into a product one can snarf at home 

Melodrama with 100 in safety union vests, vans full of lights and cords 

A water truck floods the street

A helper hand sprays with a pumper what that doesn't glisten 

The night always comes, only fake wet 

Barricades and cops let a bus thru 

A camera boom in a lift rusts 

It's easy to mock, mock a million ways over, I know the guy who wrote the book 

Schlock with no twist always comes, yoyo follows string, there's no angle just fake butter flavor to distract us from unpopped GMO

Heavy petting in the netflux neon 

Be a good consumer 

Don't talk in the theater living room we'll create from a filthy street dusted off with overflowing garbage an embellished constant 

Making come go  

day trucks away  

___ 

Deeper inside the come

Motive plays pool, no lifeguard

I'm moss on the wall looking for spray 

Dessicated eyes view a new party of four 

Take the table 

Women half the age of the guys 

Five times as young 

Her midriff compensates for his sausage locker and middle aged mustache 

The other guy I know but we don't make eye contact

It's less withering than I relate 

Blind date or not good luck pal

Time to catch bus I put on my large backpack, my paunch in reverse 

My head newly shaved I chase the youth lingering and ration my change 

Would it sell probably story within story wrapped just so, tattooed peck on cheek 

After a few probably

The table closest a too young woman ties her t shirt in the back to heighten appeal, she wanted no attention, but not to be neglected  

___ 

The kids scream like their skin

Is being flayed, it's a merry go round 

They'll remove it soon 

Upgrades to install a skate park 

That'll allow actual flayed elbows knees and chin chiseling 

5 million in new features 

Well where will the off leash dog shit 

Where the stolen car do donuts at midnight 

These are the things my paunch digests with unfair news  

Hell Recover (2024)

  

It was the war to end all warring of the poor on the rich, 

We sold grandmas china next door to Anzac

And watched Captain Sky in our Victorian mansion of Yesterday, 

The violin lessons closeted with the mop.  

I made collage from newspaper fodder about Iraqi Desert Freedom, 

We marched in respectable sweatshop clothes in the city with thousands, palliative, cathartic. 

In the Dalles, the church wanks honked at Grey Panthers on the corner by the post office, surveilled. 

Our daughters rebels at heart, insulted God at Colonel Wright, teacher said, not reciting the Pledge. 

Hell recover. Gitmo pyramids upper right hand corner cover his shame at the incident. 

Father-in-Law, a mortgage interrogator, won Vietnam but not carte blanche to run raids on our home, we watched another movie. 

The river drowns the petroglyphs, she who watches eats popcorn. 

 ___ 

Nostalgia, invented by Satan in 1911, surplaced Satire as the leading form for dinnerware molds, until Dresden firebombed the allies in 19fortywhatever. Radio raised $75 million dollars for zNistslgia in 1945 when the atom bomb made Satire nap until 1980, when Reagan began Why I Auto banking with Saddam, his Oil Paramour. Finally, Nostalgia for Nazis and Japanese sex dolls won our tiny hearts again around 2010, using purt Bush, Obama, part Clinton and Trump brain segments. It was gloriously continued to re-issue Adam and Eve and the Oligarch Pharaoh Quintet. I hope you enjoy, it's our only station.

bloggod at 10:12 AM

Blot 6 (2018)

  

Dirty plate tectonics

the crash of cosmic bustubs

Overworked cogs shatter cohesion

Rippling suburban brick tombs, out spill

Living zombies fingers edible sporks

The wave of our future

Self consuming neighborhoods,

Fracked of virtue, left as a ruptured coccon

Or spent planet

Said the oilygarch picking his teeth

Wih a baby wishbone,

       attached to San Andreas

Area fundraisers

        for planet killing swine

A cuss of justice (2003)

 woke up in a stupor and my knees weren't even bent

I broke up in a giggle, my jello so content

I'd wore down all my morals till  our soul was soundly spent

   But I couldn't no I wouldn't say please

I hushed up and said grace, gravy on my face

I bashed the party growers, a hardon for a mace

I did my part and meant it when I laid the jail to waste

   But fer the photo I did not say cheese

I yessired all the officers and pleaded my case

I drew upon old charm pool, Gibraltar, and my base

I told you when we handcuffed I was hardly chaste

   But for the show you were good to go

I splintered up my hangnails, made a picture frame

Glued back my eyelashes, sheltered all the blame

I spoke a long lost fabric and feigned a rabid shame

   But I vote not to let my leaves all blow

I felt a lowly vermin and justified the trap

Chewed off my best credit, tourniqueted my SAP

I jettisoned the headache and did a victory lap

   But I couldn't purge the file

I dwelled in abject entropy, sponsor keeping dibs

Counted out my morsels as they took my tidbits in

I brung my story to the cave and hollered Drinker's Lib

   Then took notice of a big hairy trial

I downplayed all the romance, good times gone as god

I ronnyraygunned memories, said listen to da flood

I swore they were my floatie, my duckie, and my blood

   But I didn't mean to mean what they need

They shot me to a forum, put me on a chair

They voted all the dunces inferior at our fair

They falsified my vapidness, called me on the dare

   And i spread out all my plumage like a bird

They voted me a heathen a king and a fake

I abstained all over the tally, a consumate rake

All all agreed on one thing and that's thou auto forsake,

   But the object of our scorn was divided

I plead the cuss O justice, O freedom and the dunce

Cuss if yer not all of them, Just one you will be once

The game so tidy neat, my football needs no punts

    But ya love the drama runback that's provided

  2003  

the Dalles, Portland 

At da Daddy dumps

Found a dad in the trash

Good as new, just some eggshells on their sleeves, covering up a tattoo

Found a father at the dumps 

Still trying to fix the water heater 11 years expired, coil on back order from Taiwan under siege 

Found A daddy lost in some lost alley in a lost state forgetting what nation it rebelled against, or for, forgot lost 

Found a nation build a state 

Dig a pit mine, pony, walk a straight circle

It leads out of here to daddy outlet 

Just change the incandescent for LED 

Get the joke before it yolks on Vous 

Found some violent beans in the garbage non disposal, farting violently 

Guess I should take a sabbatical like landlord to Thailand for some r-n- r

Entrails of future centerpiece

 

I bought you a book of poems

Just now, I'll have to send you a photo or maybe only this.

They're from William Stafford, Kansan and Oregonian 

Maybe you read him in class years ago. 

Page 72 I opened it to, waiting for the bus. I went in the used bookstore in  search, looking for Marge Piercy 

The store had so mucho books I could barely walk, see my goal. 

I only had a minute, I grabbed Will. 

Like new, new to me, no edges dog eared. I'll spoil it nonetheless as you by almost nature disregard or ignore my missives.

As a toddler you'd seldom cry, but at lunch or dinner, entertain the family, eating slow as possible. Some like it cold. 

I'll get there, 3 ,4, 5, 6 as older sister, younger sister move on to dessert. Save some for her, finish. 

The world made for your schedule. 

Not the victim of neglect, or poor cuisine, the centerpiece floral bouquet. 

Fed water, you'll perk up. 

When you were 14,  15, 16, you ran about the city at your own accord. Not some myth I've invented, running away from home leads to problems of our own making. 

Running away, most do it, a rite of passage into the entrails of future.

Just find the string, bread crumbs, follow them back, ok? 

Malarkey kazoo

 Some will abide anything history can crayon on a toilet paper roll as poetry. 

It's not equating, as President says, dusting off his wag finger. 

Malarkey kazoo, and I usually really like kazoo.

If you're the arbiter of taste, I'm the unstoppable tongue meeting the inedible truth. 

Wagging finger makes the nails longer 

BTW don't wear it out 

____ 

My box of dusty folios on my Corvette, 

I just forgot to send them to archive 

At graceland. His boxes, in his bedroom 

Just memorabilia to sell, pay down the dingdong debt.  

33 thousand mutilated corpses of children and women 

Does no one say collateral damage anymore? Everyone misses a target or two in the dust of war.  

Towing yachts away yesterday,

Building breadless docks tomorrow.

That's equitable.   

I know the difference so why doesn't the rest of catholic america 

An arrest warrant these days doesn't limit vacation plans

Our bibi bib overunneth with overfeeding clustermush 

It makes wall street strong in the face of formula shortages

Milk the outrage overflowing

seven day war silliness,  

Binkie  

SE PDX