Art is Vulgar/Vulgar is Art

09:35 AM sitting on
a bench in the plaza –
I watch as the beast
is dragged away
on its chain leaving
behind a brown trail –
before an unsuspecting
woman in office attire
skewers part of the turd
like a dog shit croquette
through the heel
of her shoe –
as an equally oblivious
man shouting down his
phone paints part
of his white Air Force 1’s
a fresh shade
of brown –
as the homeless man
now sat next to me gulps
his morning Sangria,
laughing at the scene
and society
and
it’s a disgusting scene
at that –
but it is, what it is
and as they say
you can’t polish a turd –
but under
the right light,
at the right time
you might just
get a poem
out of it

Dinosaurs Too

you used to download porn on LimeWire
using a dial up internet connection,
watch wrestling when the WWE was still the WWF,
use a Zenith VCR to record movies
off of your gigantic television set,
own a Walkman and after that a Discman;
there are kids out there who have forgotten more
about technology than you have ever known,
you get tired for no reason,
your hangovers are much worse now,
it takes you longer to piss,
and you have grey’s in your pubic hair;
you can’t get up without having a cup of coffee
or two or three,
sometimes your back hurts
and
according to WebMD
you’re completely fucked;
plus,
you’re old enough to be
a father —
to a teenager,
and one time a woman
at a bar replied
‘wow that’s old’
after you told her your age
but that’s ok;
cause one day
she’ll be a fucking
dinosaur
too.

Thoughts and Prayers

My stepfather got a postcard
from the 700 Club
a month after his suicide.

The televangelist urged everyone
to call a toll-free number
for prayer healing and
a free “Jesus First” pin.

He claimed to have a powerful
and intricate communication system:
gunmetal cables, shooting prayers
towards the almighty at speeds
faster than sound or light.

My stepfather lived in rural Illinois,
a place where prayer was
common as pie. He drove twenty miles
to buy beer in the next county, free
from the Church’s vigilant eye:

drank his liver to flames,
body slumped against the couch.
His strap always near, ready
for punishment. The beating
worse if you flinched.

My stepfather didn’t believe
in guns. He chose fire instead,
a dress rehearsal for the Afterlife.

One morning at sunrise, he
doused himself with lighter fluid,
lit the match. His hair burst
into flames. The twilight sky
radiated with furious burning.

My stepfather got a postcard
from the 700 Club
a month after his suicide
and his widow turned it over
and over in her hands, wondered

where the hell the pin was.

the broken stripper

the dim lights couldn’t conceal
the fact the next stripper
mounting the buffet-sized stage
wore bicycle shorts
rather than a g-string
and a torso-obscuring blouse
instead of pasties

she possessed the
anatomical features of a watermelon
with spat seed eyes
and a smile like
a chewed green rind

she wobbled on the stage
occasionally
brushing against the pole
the duration of the song
swaying without rhythm
without removing any clothing
ignoring the eviscerating laughter

“hey manager!” my buddy hollered
“come quick!
our stripper’s broken!”

her dark glistening eyes
registered zero awareness
her flaccid expression
scarcely changed
when I approached the stage
on a wave of
escalating laughter

I handed her two dollars
and turned away
getting halfway back to
the howling red Os of
my friends’ guffawing faces
the stripper yelled
for my attention

thinking she’d decided
to give me a peek
at her busted titties
beneath her
puritanical blouse
I rushed back to the stage
where the non-stripping stripper
handed back a dollar
whispering

“you accidentally gave me two dollars”

Fetish

She wants to kill god when she cums.
Broken bottles on her breasts,
Fucking Guevara in her dreams.

She’d open her own crotch for the atom bomb.
Give me the statistics of the latest massacre
So I can cut myself to it.

I read to her excerpts of the morgue report
Regarding the deaths of Goebbels’ children
So she can fantasise about their laments whilst orgasm.

Pictures of holocaust stapled to her vulva,
Bile stained, bible pages in the toilet –
The derogatory is obtained.

Personally I’d like to fuck Eve and make her purge
An apology for the fall of man but congratulate her too,
For the ruins of god’s insipid plan.

She Opened Up My Stitches

As I fell backwards
down the stairs,
fourteen of the fucking things.
I looked at her
upside down
and said
“I love you!”
She threw the empty vodka bottle
down upon me,
I’d have rathered it was the full one
but it wasn’t.

Terrifying Girls Highschool

I like glam-emo music from Vancouver
and bizarre horror from the island Japan
about sexy girls who hang from ledges
and stab each other quick over and over
ruining their bloody school girl uniforms
and dissonant reverb ripping guitar riffs
the stereo is on and the film is live
in the living room of my dark twisted dreams
and the cute little blonde twink in my arms
asks why I like such harsh terrifying wonders
I kiss him, roll him over, pull down his pants
“I’ll show you the pleasure of being stabbed, hon.”

Three Rs

Among beers and conversation with an old friend
We spoke of our hometown
Everyone is getting divorced
All the divorcees
Getting with other divorcees
Keeping it a tight group
Bodily fluids still run deep
Twenty years later
The one that got away is on your line again

In a whole world of new genitals
There’s a place in California
Where the beat-up ones are still better
One’s junk has been pleasure for us all
Fur burgers and meat sticks are recycled
Like bottles and old car parts
And comfortably familiar is preferred

GMC Safari

It was our second date, and after having some drinks
I dropped her back off at her parent’s house,
where she was living at the time.

‘I wish you could come inside and fuck me, I really want to fuck you’
she said in between us kissing.

‘yeah, I guess your father wouldn’t like that’ I replied with my cock throbbing in my jeans,
resigned to the fact that I would probably have to rub one out alone later.

‘wait, I have an idea, you want to fuck in the van?’ she asked excitedly.

earlier that night she told me how she used to fuck her high school boyfriend
in the back of her dads work van,
as he would always leave the keys out on a hook in the foyer.

“is there room back there?’ I asked, momentarily forgetting she’d done this before.

yeah, we’ll make it work, wait here.”

when she came back, she unlocked the sliding door
on the passenger side, and we got in, and we made it work.

it smelled like dirty carpet and paint thinner in there
but that didn’t distract me from the task at hand,
and she told me I could finish inside of her, which I did.

a few months later her dad offered me a painting job,
and occasionally asked me to drive the van, and every time I did
I thought of that night; the first time I used it to paint his daughter’s interiors.

I used to go to church, but…

(Ask) Jesus to come into your Heart
(And) He’ll send you the Holy Spirit to
(Receive) you in your shameful state
(And) when times get desperate just
(Smile) because He’ll whisper in your ear
(And) tell you exactly what to say
(Then) when the authorities
(Publicly) question you about the commotion, just
(Kill) them with kindness
(Because) you can be certain that
(You) are carrying out Gods will and
(Are) defeating the Devil in his plan to burn
(The) world, for in everything he does, he attempts
(Destroying) all that is good, all that is
(God)