Fuck Politics

An angry woman complained to me
about the guns that I like jerking off to
As well as the porn that I love to shoot
with my friends

Or maybe it was the other way around
I truly can’t recall

We had a civil political debate
or at least so I thought
as her yelling was really
quite sexy

I just nodded and occasionally
tried to explain a different perspective

Her lack of knowledge about porn and small explosives
deeply saddened me

And she must have misinterpreted my words
as some kind of display of sexual prowess as well
for she told me “fuck you and your redneck friends”

She seamed like an honest person
so I unzipped my pants
and I was ready for her

Yet she never did fuck me
or any of my friends
nor did she ensure that we got fucked

And frankly I was disappointed
by her complete lack of sincerity

And now I’m considered a registered sex offender
just for trying to make her happy

Politics are truly a strange beast

Lucky Us

i knew love once.
it was back before
my first execution,
before the hounds were released
and the hunt was easy for fresh blood.
back when i lay on my floor and
pictured a wild west
and if my mom asked me what i was doing
i’d say “listening to music.”
and she smiled at the simple world
that once spun so slow
an old record could
take up whole nights.

but not now.

not since i opened and closed
and forgot to buy postcards in
Havana and Minneapolis.
and if i promised to let people know
i was still alive
i didn’t remember or worry
because somewhere along the way I realized
no one really cares.
and the girls didn’t need
a prince on a horse
by the time they were ready to kiss
their fathers goodbye.
they just wanted what was there
and if it hadn’t gotten drunk and beaten them yet
it was worth saving.
inventing a history is easier than thinking about
what might have been.
no one needs love anyway
a new show premiers every night at 8.

Parlour Thoughts

She bends over to reveal her pussy:
pink, fleshy, almost luxuriant.
She says ‘You like?’
but I’m indifferent.
I look at it and wonder
what it means.
To a man this is the world opened up,
like a flower, hot and mad,
but my mind’s still on
a poem I have
not yet written.
Yes, what if I were to fuck her
with a poem?
What if I were to stick
a big hard poem up there?
Would she prefer a poem
to a cock?
Would it change her?

I stand mesmerised
by her thing,
smiling, having
my delicious thoughts,
and she stands up
and says:
‘You’re a poet aren’t ya?’
I nod.
‘I knew it. You were
thinking about
sticking a poem up there
weren’t ya?’
I nod.
‘Shit, you fucking lot
are all the same!’

Daddy’s Little Girl

Leila was my blonde bombshell
tight, tan & horny all the time
she would wrap her legs around my waist
& tell me how she wanted to fuck her father
as I pinned her against the wall
& slammed it home
it was so wrong, but when I was
balls deep it sounded so right
she called me daddy, I called her my baby girl
I took pictures of her riding my dick
choking on it, wearing my cum
Leila posted them on a website
I read her the comments while she
rubbed her pussy with my rod
“dam gurl ur hot”
“I have some serious dick envy”
“u wanna try chocolat, slut”
“more pics please”
etc.
sometimes dreams do come true
her father passed out drunk
on the kitchen floor one night
Leila undid his pants & stroked his rager
he woke up, didn’t stop her

last I heard they moved to Arkansas

Awkward/Preteen Lust at a Trailer Park Near Nazarath, PA

Lying together
on a haystack in the sun ––
when she slid her tongue
into my mouth,
I immediately started
feeling like a lost needle.
I had never made out
with someone before.
I tried writing my name
with my tongue. I tried
making triangles,
diamonds,
awkward circles.
Behind her
neighbor’s trailer,
wide-eyed and kissing,
I watched a skinny crow
land on a nearby barn.
I heard wind chimes.
I heard cornstalks caressing
each other
in the end-of-summer wind.
I couldn’t sense any romance.
She started giving
my partial boner
an over-the-pants rub, and I
thought her redneck dad
was going to run outside
and murder me with a pitchfork.
When my parents pulled up
to get me, she brushed
the hay from the sleeves
of my hoodie and whispered,
“I’m going to give you
a blowjob next time.”
I got in the car and never came back.

Help This Boy

Help this boy
He has just the one good arm
The other arm is an evil arm
Made out of rats and bats and weasels and sin
And AIDS and car crashes and wasps and broccoli
And burnt waffles and tar and hate and bad fathers
And sand spurs and dog whistles and little pieces of
Popcorn kernels that get stuck in your teeth
Help this boy
for this boy is you
Help this girl
She has just the one evil arm
The other arm is made of wintermint and pumpkin spice
And kosher hotdogs and baby aspirin and the smell of rain
Her dress is made out of hope and praying
And Applewood-smoked bacon
And her hair—well, her hair is
apricot orgasms mixed with a lazer beam background
and a great dance beat
Dance with this girl until she cries.