Tuesday, August 22, 2006

Poem Told from the Perspective of a College Boy

Hot summer night.
Friends and drinking
and feeling alright.

Waiting for friends
to take the piss,
we saw a fat woman
and a skinny ass man
hopping on a horse,
tied up in front of that redneck
local bar.

It was a one-night stand,
started on horseback.
He wasn't her boyfriend,
just a pony express sort of ride home.

She asked me to help her up on the horse
while my friend suddenly grew starry-eyed about horses,
which he'd never seen up close before.
I helped her up on the horse,
took all the strength I had and two little paw prints
on her huge behind and she tried
to pay me back with a kiss.
But she was gross and slobbery and she got the side of my face
wet and hot with her tongue.

Then she sat back on the horse, drunk, and pulled her boob out
and said, "LOOK! Them are real!"
Only it came out like "ril," and I was standing there nose to huge
puffy nipple and all the booze in the world wasn't
enough for me to feel that it was all alright.

She asked me to get her purse for her,
my RAGE took over!
I picked her purse up off the ground and threw it as hard as I could
across the square.

Matlock

This poem is Ben Matlock.
He likes to solve cases
with his daughter and that
black guy who always
does the dangerous stuff.
Like in that one episode
where he was in a junkyard
and those guys were trying
to drop those cars on him.

Dairy Queen Car Show

I am the most insane person you will ever meet
at a Dairy Queen Car Show.

Thursday, August 17, 2006

A Poem Written from the Perspective of Tom's Mother

Oh I can't
believe how disappointing
you have been to me.
You've never even been
half the child I'd
hoped for. You're
really pretty worthless.
I should have abandoned
you when I had the chance.

Tuesday, August 08, 2006

Any Schmuck Can Be a Poet

Just
look
at me.

Poem Written from the Perspective of the Boy Who Works at the Cell Phone Stand in the Mall

I have
a fascination
with girl hair.
Pretty girls.
When they walk by
I try to breathe in
real deep and catch their
scent.
Then I try to memorize them.

I used to take them home and write
them down, but Mom caught me one
time.
You can write thoughts, right?
And sights and sounds?
Then why not smells? Mom
didn't like it. Not one bit.

Mom always used to spank my ass
when I looked at girls.
I looked in Dad's stroker mags once,
at least that's what he always called them,
and she caught me and beat me back into the
5th grade.

I wish I could smell like
them,
or be close to them and smell
them all the time.
But I couldn't let Mom know
or it's hard telling
what she might do.

I guess some secrets
are better left hidden away
in your thoughts.

Thursday, August 03, 2006

On Melody's Drawing the Line with Brian, Who She's Been Seeing for About the Last 3 Months

Listen,
it is completely
unforgivable
to me, Brian,
that you have been
wiping boogers
under my coffee table
while you wait
for me
to get
home from
work every day.

No, you listen.

Where else have you been
sticking your boogers,
or worse?

Get the fuck out of here!
God!

A Tragic End to a Once Upon a Time 100% Bliss

Schoolhouse Ruins

Why do you
still have schools
if you're not going
to require your children
to think?

Memorization is not
learning.