Even Clint Eastwood Got Old Bones

The children I knew as children
have children of their own.
The teenagers I knew as a teenager,
have teenagers of their own,
and I am thinking,
even Clint Eastwood got old bones.

The children who wanted to be doctors,
are now practising in underpaid jobs.
The children who wanted to be rich footballers
gave up when girls came along.

The children who loved football,
play on five a side teams, 
between work and going home,
even Clint Eastwood got old bones.

The children who wanted to be famous,
got bitter when opportunity knocked,
and they weren’t at home,
even Clint Eastwood got old bones.

Mellow

Copasetic Christian
Methanolic based
Secondhand squatter
Speaking of Satan
Dining at the table of
The bloodied crimson
Brown-eyed wife.
Letters from the postman.
Eagles blatantly swooping
Into the tail of your kite.
Sweet hoodoo Shakespear
Licking at the bard’s nutz.
So, dude, take another hit
With no ifs, ands, or butts.
Watch in a hazy lazy daze
In the second floor padded
Cell as the naked lady struts.

Candy Necklace

Little corpses stuck
to my glossed-up lips

Pretty dead boy;
hands on my lively hips

Unspoken words
unravel mummy loon

Gravedigger fell in;
Can’t fool a full moon

Wanna push me ‘cause
can’t see what I see

They love me hard-high
on their own darkness

String them together;
Boy-candy necklace

Wanna choke me; shut
up a fantasy?

Laugh at the rope burn
and call it tough love

Dream on boys,
I’m what nightmares are made of…

I wear them well 
and eat them one by one…

Sour and breakable
…then there were none.

A Soldier Off-Duty Overseas

So quiet
That loneliness taps on the shoulder,
Or is it the memory of her warm breath?
Turn, you find her presence in the light
Leaving,
Disappearing into the west,
Drawing each evening thing out of itself,
Coloring the receding vapors with longing.

Each second kneads another diminishing fullness of shape,
Elastic as the invisible hands that stretch
like the rose, purple, dark silver of cloud.
Vapors, the only solids, condense, melt,
Bang the tin of that thing poets call the heart.

The gleam on the glass of a farmer’s irrigation canal
fades.

What is she doing now?

Absence is so much shadow….

No one discerns the intensity of another’s subjective emotion
Except in a poem,
But words are at a loss to console. 

the wrong apple

things are looking bad
for the planet
for the people
for the future
but maybe all we need is each other
and a rat trap old jeep
to ferry us into the desert
where the air hangs hot and still
with the weight of isolation and decay
and the endless sands burn
with the fires of dead civilizations

we’ll strip naked
and we’ll crawl back to what’s left of the garden
and ask the snake
where in the hell did we get it wrong?
did we screw up the translation?
did we eat the wrong apple?
or did we just let god bully us 
out of the garden
because we couldn’t see through
his phony bluster?

and if we can’t find the snake
or the snake refuses to talk
we’ll fuck our brains out
in the shade of an iron wood tree

churches and liquor stores

maybe it is just in ohio, 
but i have always been
able to tell the towns
that are dying by the
number of churches
and liquor stores

now, add in the number
of urgent care places

the part of the county
i live in might as well
be extinct

of course, here comes
another smoke shop
that isn’t allowed to
sell weed

one decent restaurant
and about a thousand
reasons to leave

now i just need to hit
a lottery or a twenty
team parlay

as usual, the odds are
against me

Jupiter’s Scepter

That girl from Las Palmas de Gran Canaria
Who I chose to have sex with
Put a mechanical device in her cunt
Made with tin lips.
Ouch, ouch, ouch!
I, Silvano, like a brave and brazen satyr
Like an erect and horny donkey
Or a god riding his donkey
Came to the battle of Love.
Before entering it
I was already cumming with pleasure
And the erection was taking me where it wanted.
What a good feed she was going to give me!
I already tore off the tin lips
Of that beautiful and conceited woman
With two gigantic tits.
I already unhinged her Mount of Venus.
The combat was going to be very bloody.
I felt it from that ejaculation
That I introduced red
My hands placed on the poles of her ass
My glans reaching the roof of her vagina
Broken, going through all that junk.
She just shuddered.
Her two tits trembled.
Ouch, ouch, ouch!
You’re breaking it, man!
My ovaries are bursting!
Enraged, I already ejaculated in her like a donkey.
She had a hesitant orgasm.
When I pulled out, I was stunned
Slipping and falling
From her mons pubis.
Her tin pussy hurt my member
Swelling excessively
Having to go to the hospital
So that a urologist could see me
Like a puppet with a huge penis
And with a headache.
Damn the hour when I put
That whore Etna’s cunt on as a hat
For I was thrown into her carnal hell
By joyfully wounding her by penetrating her
A trace or relic of her remained:
A shaving of her tin lips
In the middle of my balls.
The doctor who attended me
Was amazed by such swelling
Asking me the address of this whore
Exclaiming:
This penis looks like Jupiter’s scepter!
Ouch! Ouch! Ouch!

Circumstance

Slashed wrists fiery heroine billowing lover’s trance
broken pieces shallow furor eyes close circumstance
naked bodies poison ivy archaic realms stifling heat
fear project hungry beasts abstracted humanoids recant
scraps of metal alleyways artists scramble for the gate
poets fly through broken windows cat’s shit on hot tin roofs
bywords fall across the page books burn at the stake
platitudes ballast ignorance turmoil delivers sordid joy

Fred Says

So, Fred says, “I don’t feel so good.”
I say, “That’s no surprise.  You’re dead.”
Fred says, “Dead?  Whatchu mean?”
I say, “Remember?  You were hit by a train.”
Fred say, “I’m dead.  Then how come I’m talkin’?”
I say, “‘Cause you’re not only dead, you’re crazy.”
Fred says, “If I’m dead, how come you’re talkin’ to me?”
I say, “‘Cause I’m crazy, too.”

dark humor

i do love myself 
some dark humor

sitting in a rehab 
place for the elderly
and they turn up 
staying alive by
the bee gee’s on 
the radio

now, that is some 
dark humor

of course, i’m the 
only one in the
waiting room 
chuckling

i think everyone 
else is recalling
some pussy chasing 
from their thirties

next song that 
came on was 
dust in the wind 
by kansas

quite the different 
reaction