Tag Archives: Trump

Casablanca 2: Trump-World Boogaloo

2 Oct

 

Casablanca 2: Trump-World Boogaloo

 

Casablanc-me

The moon’s going out tonight

and can’t decide between a bulletproof vest

or a straight jacket and tights

 

(She had the attention span of a corn chip

and my heart is guacamole)

 

Casablanc-you

All I’ve got left is a green Batman t-shirt

and a busted piano that only plays one song

While you’re over there with your new fella

 

Decked out in your sexy bomb shelter

Almost-nakedly debating between oblivion, Phil Collins

singing about mushroom clouds and The Cure

 

Romance is at war with all the things that happen in the real world

Rewound into the 1940’s

Love’s plane keeps getting shot down by brand new Nazis

Kurt Vonnegut said everything: “So it goes”

 

Casablanc-oblivion!

Casablanc-all this confusion that comes from all our lives

lived inside the in-between

(When you drove away I crumbled

against the door

like a slain cookie smashed by the very plate

that had sworn it its love)

 

Casablanc-all that gets lost between the non-existing

And the injustice that thrives in its binding

 

Casablanc-the penultimate dick joke,

that had nothing to do with cookies

but shit, you’ll have to trust me

It’s a dick joke, so it’s funny

 

Casablanc-us all

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My Balls Are Longer Than They Used To Be

21 Aug

 

My Balls Are Longer Than They Used To Be

 

Not that I’ve ever measured my balls

with a ruler

or a step ladder

or a metrically precise piece of tape

 

Who’d think to do that?

 

It’s just, my birthday was last month

and on my birthday

at some point in which my pants weren’t on

I happened to look down

and noticed

my balls are longer than they used to be

 

I can’t back this up with science

or a pertinent song by Rob Thomas

I just know that they are

like I knew Trump would try to nuke North Korea

to divert attention away from all his domestic time bombs

or how I knew she was leaving

a whole lot of months before

she was actually gone

 

I looked down, on my birthday

and they were longer

longer than I remembered them being

There it is

 

Possible reasons for the elongation:

 

–after the 2nd divorce I stopped wearing underpants

for 5 or 6 years maybe until this year

where I started wearing them again

(even though I’m not wearing any right now)

(I was just wearing a pair earlier

yesterday

so there)

 

Could this extended lack of under stuff support

have something to do with it?

 

–Perhaps it’s just that vindictive combination

of gravity and the mortal extension of time

 

That’ll do it

 

— I watched Alien Covenant 3 times in 5 days at the theater

Also I stopped eating cereal a really long time ago and

I live alone with a cat named after an island that doesn’t exist

 

Is this why I wake up every morning now

and my balls are this long?

Not that they’re ridiculously long or something like that

They’re not

They’re just longer

Than I thought they would be

 

I mean, what was I trying to say here?

I don’t know. Maybe the point is:

And that’s why I don’t play softball anymore

 

you think so?

maybe?

don’t be fraught

Get out of the car, Donald: Covfefe

30 Jun

 

Get out of the car, Donald: Covfefe

 

The old man spit almonds at the liquor store clerk for coming

around to the other side of the counter in order to feed

the thin Doberman a health food store treat

(Sprouts was right next door)

 

“He shouldn’t have that!” the old man said, spit “I don’t mean to yell, but last night

he had hideous diarrhea. (Hideous) (I was standing behind him. Great word choice.

I was impressed)

 

I’ve scrubbed so much shit out of my living room carpet

that the pain in my wrists is the only thing I’ve got left,

as far as proof that I’m alive.”

 

The old man thought about death a lot and looked hollow

The dog’s asshole was sensitive and he looked dehydrated and sad

The liquor store clerk said she was sorry, she should’ve first asked

 

Covfefe stepped around me like a John Wick fight scene

his eyes grinning like the wrong kind of condiments

“Hey mister,” Covfefe said, “I’ll give you 47 hundred dollars for the dog.

 

But only if this place sells beef jerky. Do you sell beef jerky?”

The lady who worked there said that they did.

 

“Sold. The dog, and all the beef jerky. I pay you for the dog

and her for the beef jerky. 47 hundred. Do we have a deal?”

 

The old man quivered, fully aware that he was only 3 or 4 more dog shits

away from ending his own life. He didn’t want to die that way.

On top a shit stained carpet. Dog. Shit. Stained.

 

Fuck that, the old man said in his head.

They had a deal.

 

On the ride home I asked Covfefe why he’d bought the dog

“Why do you think?!” Donald said, because he was sitting in the back seat

like he’s always sitting in the back seat. That’s what he does now.

He lives in the back seat. He pays people large bucks to provide him with

an unlimited amount of shit he orders from the Info Wars website and Kentucky Fried Chicken.

He won’t get out of the car.

 

He runs everything from back there

He’s the real thing #prick

so why would he?

 

“He bought the dog because they had beef jerky and the dog has diarrhea and we’re taking it

back to your place. Covfefe! Keep the dog away from my chicken! Can you comprehend what

I’m doing to you right now? I’d fucking think so.

aka Win/Win/Win.”

 

I tried to ignore Donald but it’s impossible.

He’s a big dickish mess.

And I told him that

 

“The only thing I regret,” Donald said “is that I never played golf

with Evel Knievel.”

 

and for the first time, I believed him

and I drove home

embalmed with that and all these memories

we’ll never see again

 

All these times that are now dead for us

Shit

The times that are dead

Covfefe

29 Jun

Covfefe

 

As the ashtrays pop like a steady invasion of phone-cams

and cream cheese

We all scream into the same bucket of water

We can all feel our own tanks slowly chipping away, under fire

Until the only thing left are the treds………….

 

Are you watching Fury again?. Covfefe asked the question like a statement

because I was always watching Fury again these days

I was always praising Brad Pitt’s performance

as a broken souled tank driver or sketching Hitler mustaches

just below the crotches of shitty modern day billionaires

or reading about Winston Churchill out loud

 

Since the election of this new goddamn reality show president

I’d become significantly obsessed with masturbation and not sleeping well

and learning lots of things about World War 2

 

Leave me alone, Covfefe. I said

Which made Covfefe laugh

Which was horrible, because a Covfefe laugh

sounds like the cross between Tom Cruise farting during a meter reading

and Ricardo Montalban waking from death screaming

because he’s spent the past chunk of years

dreaming about how he accidentally killed Tattoo  

 

Leader gets two scoops of ice cream

when everyone else in the room gets only one

Covfefe gloated

One scoop because America is so gullible

and one scoop because it’s arrogant about its ignorance

and  still pretty fucking racist

so: shit

 

That makes 2.

 

One + One……..I mean, I don’t know

where you learned math but where I learned math

we always said the pledge of allegiance before pooping

and didn’t eat our bologna sandwiches like afraid-of-mayonnaise pussies

I can tell you, with complete straight bullshit honesty,

that where I come from one + one: makes two

 

Covfefe! I found myself screaming voluntarily, Knock it off

Your shitty math hole

can’t tell algebra and a shark’s asshole

apart, how the fuck do you expect…….

 

Covfefe’s response was immediate

and misdirected

 

Love is for people.

I think my sister really likes you

Knock it off

Bank Butt

3 Jun

Bank Butt

 

Hey, Bank Butt

 

Is that where you keep your cautiously-horded investments these days?

Because I’m in need of some saving

and I wouldn’t have thought of keeping it there

 

I’d like to apply for a debit card

What exactly would be the process………….Wait!

I mean, if I ain’t thought of something like that already

(ergo: stashing such things in the butt)

What other things have I forgot to think about?

 

(insert alternate curse-type word for ‘shit and/or fuck: there)

 

What if sharks love Rice Crispy Treats more than people?

My penis is not bigger than that cake pan, damn it

How long has it been again exactly, that I’ve been this

alone?

 

Bank Butts,

A new term made to represent a robot’s interpretation of color

but (not butt)

what are robots supposed to know about finance and anaL?

 

Finance: Shit, most likely a bunch, actually

(Historical Note: as soon as the robots learn greed

like the robots have already learned greed: we’re fucked)

Anal: either,

Pretty much everything there is to be known about all of it

(I miss you)

or …………. nothing at all

My 45 Year Old Penis vs. The Penis Of My Youth

25 Mar

My 45 Year Old Penis vs. The Penis Of My Youth

 

Where do we start here?

 

Do we start with girth? Ok, Wait! This poem interrupted

By today’s news that Trumpcare failed to make it off its own runway

Or into the connected sex pool

 

Or through the front gates of its cold hearted corporate owned

Slaughterhouse of money-first-doom

And now Paul Ryan looks worse than sad Ben Affleck

 

After the shitty reviews

Of Superman Martha’s Batman had poured in

Trump’s been forced to double the dose of his daily denial enemas

 

In an attempt to convince himself and everyone else

That he didn’t just lose BIGLY! because losing is for losers

And he’s not one of them guys, he’s a kung fu narcissist

 

Which means he couldn’t have been defeated so BIG LEAUGE! today

Unless he really wanted to be

Which means he must have planned it this way

 

Which means: HA!

 

And if that wasn’t enough

Mayte’s written a memoir of her love

and life with Prince?!

 

I had no idea how much

I wanted to read this thing

Until I just now found out that it exists

 

MARTHAAAAAAAAA! I mean Mayte!

I mean shit, I’m in such a good mood right now

I don’t want to do what I’d just sat down and started doing

 

I just wanna listen to a whole bunch of Prince tunes

and read Vonnegut and write something else after

something else

 

I don’t feel like talking about my dick right now

We can talk about my dick later

Today was a good day

 

Knuckles At Dawn

17 Mar

 

Knuckles At Dawn

 

I just sat down

Am I writing a poem?

No, I’m ordering a pizza

 

Find the coupons

Squint over the choice of toppings

Wipe the tears from everything’s head

 

Until I’m not ordering a pizza anymore

It was never a pizza I was looking for

I never really ordered that pizza

 

I just didn’t feel like feeling

alone

or letting you go and

 

I’d run out of Vonnegut novels and Jurassic Park movies

To read/watch weeks ago or last night or that time I had to be

A thing that was required to answer a question like

 

If you had to be a tree what kind of a tree would you be?

With the instructor eyeballing me harshly

As if to convey that it would be best for the collective mind-hive

 

And everything at war against it

If I’d just sodomize my own soul like a good boy

And say something supportive like ‘sequoia’

 

But fuck em

Because just: fuck em, my soul’s asshole is invincibly sensitive

I’d rather scream ‘Martha!’

 

At the mid-end of a horrible DC superhero movie

Than salute ‘sequoia’ on command like a trained ventriloquist’s crotch prop

So when they asked me what kind of tree I’d like to be

 

If I had to be a tree

I didn’t say sequoia

Or birch

 

Or maple-shits

Or whatever the fuck

We call trees who never frackin’ asked

 

To be called anything in the first place

(They just wanted to be left alone)

(Alone together as opposed to alone/alone)

 

In a room composed for the most part

Of people well practiced in the duty of ironing a shirt

Staring at me waiting for me to declare what kind of tree I am

 

I said Noodle Salad

Quoting Jack Nicholson in a behind the scenes documentary

Of The Shining

 

Nobody in the room got the reference

And the instructor just rolled her eyes like I’d just shit

Her pants and moved on

 

While I sat there counting the minutes

Until I could be back home again watching Buffy with my last cat

Perplexed because, shit, moving on is really hard

 

But she’d just done it like it was as easy

As microwaving a cold casserole of salami

She’d moved on, I mean skip forward to last night again

 

The entire day had been going on in a similar fashion

(salami casserole)

And I was tired of almost everything

So I decided to go to bed

 

But that didn’t solve anything

I just rolled there in circles while Shutter Island

Jumped up and down on my face

 

As I mumbled ‘Knock it off’,

Trump’s choice to head the EPA endorsed Carbon Dioxide

And Shutter Island grumbled

 

“Nickel’s dead.

I sleep on your skull now.

What else am I supposed to do?”

 

The world is a wasteful place and

I’ve got a heart like a dumpster

And a complicated cat who misses her sister

 

If I had to be a tree I’d be an astronaut

If I had to be an astronaut I’d be a maple leaf

If I had to be a maple leaf like I’m a maple leaf

 

I’d be the sort of maple leaf that still gave a shit about

Everything that’s still left worth giving a shit about

Even post-fall and I’d been shed to the ground

 

I’d be the sort of maple leaf screaming

Knuckles at dawn!

At the current wave of American Fascism

 

And everything horrible

the brand new Trump administration

Is trying to hump through

 

I’d be the sort of maple leaf that I am now

Hanging in there on the ground, almost 7 years now

Post-the falling, trying to find my way to move on

 

I miss your tree