Wednesday, June 27, 2012

A Poem on My Escape from Planet Hokomish-17

So there were the arachnosyphiloids
piling up all around me like an angry city of
legs and hair and filth.
They had me cornered
those bastards!
Me with my recently amputated hand
(Why I ever had my hand amputated to put a deli meat slicer on I'll never know. I was young and impressionable, I suppose.)
and that hand hurt like hell.
A deli slicer puts a great deal of strain on the forearm
bones and muscles that you might not think about when
you're imagining slicing thin slices of ham
and shoving them straight into your piehole.
So I was in pain, and had a bit of an infection in that arm
which made my body hot and sort of smell bad
which is what made it so goddamn easy for
those arachnosyphiloids to chase me through
the sewers of Hokomish-17
an escape I've used many times to elude
my predators.

But back in the moment, the arachnosyphiloids
were
inching
ever
closer,
their fangs absolutely brimming with acid,
the floor sang with the sweet hiss of fluorescent, dripping acid,
and the knife-length barbs on their forelegs shined in the dark
like a feature film,
and I thought, "Fuck, this is finally it! I've finally double-
crossed the wrong goddamn pack of wild alien mutants!"
And still they inched and they inched until that acid was
close enough I could smell it and the reek of that horrible
drip was burning my nose and liquefying my lungs.

My fate was sealed.

But then the Dargon Patrol showed up and it seemed
the Dargons had it on authority to take me alive for junking their
Ambassadorial Deep Space cruiser on that whores and
drinking
binge I took to Shelf Cluster out beyond the plasmoid nebula
and so in a flash of light, the battle was on
Dargons versus Arachnosyphiloids
like something straight out of a goddamn
Buck Rogers
(only I wouldn't encounter the works of Buck Rogers for some 14 million years so forgive me the anachronism, please)
Despite my bacon being on the line, I really enjoyed watching this battle
these two foes were evenly matched as fuck!

It was barb slash and acid flick against flash-saw and plasma drillers
it was arachnosyphiloid mass feeding frenzy attack versus Dargon Annihilators piling up one
after the other to separate the arachnosyphiloids at their joints like they were
preassembled in a factory and toss the pieces into a pile like it was firewood.

Despite my urge to grab a bag of popcorn and
watch this war of the ages go down,
reality sunk in . . . no matter who won it was going to be my ass!
So, with nothing but self-preservation on my mind,
I took my
deli slicer hand
and just sort of dissolved into the darkness,
remembering
that I had a plasma warp field ignitor stuffed up my ass.
With a quick drop of the knickers, a turn, a twist of the ass, and bit of a grunt,
I had the plasma warp field ignitor out and thrumming
(fetidly)
in my hand, gearing up for a jump.
When it reached its green-blue finale, I burst it against the floor under me where
gravity suddenly disappeared and I was sucked into a wormhole and thrown
13,000 years into the past and nigh halfway across the universe
and into a sandpit filled with Roving Clapctractons with their
grisely faces and their heavy claws snapping the night air all around me.

The Truth

I've seen the way you slurp that ice cream cone, baby.
Now why don't you go somewhere else?
You're making me sick.

Thoughts on the Inequities of Life and a Vague Semblance of Happiness Eked Out Over Millenia on this Goddamn Planet

Life
is
a
goddamn
sinkhole.