Tag Archives: war

My Foot Fell Asleep And It’s Having Those Dreams

11 Jan

 

My Foot Fell Asleep And It’s Having Those Dreams

 

my foot fell asleep

and it’s having those dreams again, where

 

we alphabetized all our typos

and did sex stuff in front of them

 

until the correct spellings came out

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The 31st Strange Land Measurement of Grunt

19 Nov

grunts

The 31st Strange Land Measurement of Grunt

 

my head is a patched-in-chunks land mass and the thoughts

of this girl are an endangered species which has taken up residence

there and these thoughts, (oh! aka who the hell came up with

the idea of thoughts?!), they’re dangerous because they demand attention

 

and run a small carnival along the thick edges of town

dedicated to the novelization that my heart may be broken

but broken maybe doesn’t have to share definitions with forever

or non-repairable

 

or something like that

I’d grown used to the idea that the two things

were, if not the same thing, that at the greatest least

they were not exactly different

broken and forever

 

shellacked in room temperature turpentine

and then lashed together and left flopping around

but it turns out forever is a long sketch of spaceships

vs dinosaurs maybe and if I know anything now, I know

 

thoughts like these thoughts of her are rare like first edition

copies of Lovecraft or butterflies that speak Latin

and thus to the bone graves demand our trust that we’ll

protect them and even if I wanted to deny this protection

 

(because I’ve totally tried to deny, I tried to deny it protection)

I can’t just evict them because these thoughts are their own species

and this species, it’s endangered and should be protected

by me, probably

and if I fail, then by bigger things like cosmic law/moral codes,

 

the everyday strivings of civil decency, and outer spaced armadas

 

helmed by a cadre of relocated prairie dogs

screaming for justice or sometimes: grunting

 

but what is that?               what the hell is a grunt?

 

  1. a grunt is something people exhale during sex

or when they’re thinking about sex; as in their not-having-had-of-it

in a particularly long time

 

  1. grunt = one of them poor bastards who’s job is collecting bullets

inside bits of their upper torsos or various limbs during all those wars

 

  1. A grunt is also maybe: a fish.

 

Really?

 

I can’t believe that’s a real thing

Does Russell Crowe own Wikipedia?

because that last bit about fish,

I totally Wikipedia-looked-up

 

the point is

the world seams mad a billion times over

and it’s been going on for so long

and I have no idea how anything ends really

 

especially:

 

  1. this poem
  2. the numbering of strange land measurements
  3. grunts

One Second Chance

8 Dec

shooting-star

One Second Chance

My shooting star
put down that gun
& come talk to me

Like people
not discharging firearms
do

(from the Recipes For The Apocalypse anthology, Baobob Tree Press)

 

Preparations For War

4 Sep

      thCA314X43

Preparations for War
Nick Lachey birthday poem

Tight t-shirt
check
pouty man lips
check
whipped puppy dog glare
check
ok, Nick’s ready
what about the rest of you?
what’s in your backpack?
let’s stick to the essentials
thick notebook
check
a front line of sturdy pens
check
extra bandanas
yep
flask of whisky
naturally
flashlights
one cannot always rely on
                      things like the sun
one unabridged copy of
                  The Count of Monte Cristo
got it
two packs peanut butter crackers
why not
one copy Love Is Hell and pair of dry socks
yes
one pair Bela Lugosi boxers
                     they were on sale!
the reasons she’s leaving
negative
I can’t find any sign to them anywhere
I have no idea why she’s leaving
that’s what this war’s all about

 

(another one from Dusk Hearts Dawn, Baobob Tree Press)

 

There Are Always Times of War

13 Aug

                 thCAI16JCE

There Are Always Times of War

the trick to eating vegetable soup
is in the not-looking-down
because it’s gross 
              like fucking a donkey

not that I
             not that I
I mean
              you know
I’ve never
              had vegetable soup
No.   Shit.

I mean fucked a donkey

            I’ve never fucked a donkey

Not in peace time anyway.

But there are always
times of war…

(from my book The Aftermath, etc. Monkey Puzzle Press)

Love Is

2 Jul

                                 ACAV_and_M48_Convoy_Vietnam_War

Love is

Love is the flag that I was waving
until your country showed up
and burned my country to the ground

 

Periwinkle (aka The Winger Bomb)

26 Jun

                   Winger1  

(from unpublished manuscript: The Crayon Box Manifesto)

Periwinkle

Time: Post-Apocalyptic
Place: Earth!

in the 1950’s

grade school film strips preached

         the duck and cover method for survival

         a ‘just the tip’ solution

         for surviving

         a nuclear bomb
but civilization as they’d known it

didn’t end in mushroom clouds

or radioactive maternity recovery

         there was no atomic detonation
the end of civilization as they’d known it

began in the 1980’s with the introduction

of hair spray to pop metal bands
and was consummated forty-some years later

while some wise-ass scientists where fooling

around with a bunch of green pipe cleaners
talking about the ‘old times’

               before their youth had died

                     stories about parking lot keg parties

                     with their dicks dangling beneath jean jackets

                     dazing at the vomit on the hood of of their best friend’s

                     Delta 88

                             pretending like hell

                             that it was Tawny Kitaen

with these recent thoughts of hair metal

lodged between all those deadly equations

           in their heads

the scientists returned to work
Humanity once again demanded a weapon

so powerful that its very power would act as a deterrent

           for its own use

Humanity demanded a weapon that would

once and for all save itself from itself
and it is because of this duel hard-on

           for its own survival and/or extinction

that this dedicated group of geniuses

           who grew up in the 1980’s

figured out a way to weaponize

           the music of Winger!
when detonated, the Winger Bomb

was capable of producing a high kick explosion

of destructive energy capable of leveling entire cities

       causing things to explode that nobody

       had ever realized where there to explode

                         before

             in the air
you would think that Civilization would have learned

a few things and upon discovering the Winger Bomb

wiped all knowledge of its existence from the face

                          of its own heavily eye-lined planet
but no, like a poorly advised reunion tour

its implementation was damn near inevitable
and at some point in the future

the day did come

when the Winger Bomb was unleashed

               upon an unsuspecting

               Adele worshipping

               world
those who where not finger-tapped into

cassette tape shaped piles of dust and oblivion

by the initial explosion

spent the following months bleeding from their eardrums
while mumbling the lyrics to Headed For A Heartbreak

                         fighting off packs of mutated farm animals

                         and trading colorful scarfs and bandannas

                                 for rare bits of sugarless gum
two of these survives set up a camp

on top of the grave of the great American

Science Fiction writer: Philip K Dick
it felt safe there

             the roaming bands of cannibals

             tended to avoid the old cemeteries

   
  and the trees hadn’t died here

                  and once in a while

                     in the middle of the night

                   you could almost hear the sounds

                         of a train
and it was on a night such as this

           with the Darjeeling calling

beneath a sky perpetually turned

                     the color of periwinkle
surrounded by wild squirrels which had evolved

into colorfully tailed rodents made out of

                     guitar strings

                     and spandex
they fell asleep, his arms wrapped around her

             protected by the legend of Ubik

             and miracles of grape juice


She’s Only Seventeen
couldn’t hurt them here

though lord knows

it fucking tried