Establish a beachhead 
at the point of turning back.  
Then the groundhog 
can keep it 
going for 
one day to the power of 
110.  
Around and around we spin.
Touch tips 
with the fingers 
of a dead man, 
and wonder 
which was who? 

This is the last time 
you'll sip my absinthe,  
You can get your own.
...if I'm the one paying
why are you the only learning?  
 
What was I thinking?  
No questions! 
 
She promised to have us both, 
but not back to back.  
Spit rotisserie
chicken fried friends.  
Those are my jeans.  
Got 'em off whose floor?  
This is like just 
back when 
we said never again.  
 
What was I thinking?  
Forgot the weather scan.
My slicker is the lube.  
And tune the radio 
all the way around, 
stop where it's best 
to be found. 
Rocking on the coast 
from coast to coast 
the highway -- 
two lane blacktop 
screaming from the roof of a Ford.   

What were you thinking?  
Are you me? 
I can't stop to inquire 
what I know. 
Hit the lights 
for the flash strobe 
we're all dancing in.  
Slide to the fade 
and blackout 
time travel 
to that place
we could get shot for shots.  
Drink me happy. 
Drink me horny.  
Drink my blood! 
This is the party 
I've been planning 
without thinking. 
 
And she seemed like a queen, 
so we're worshipping.  
But who is she? 
The one we started out the evening.  
I doubt it. 
But who cares? 
Too many investigating:  
what's up now and what's next.  
 
Stop having a mind, 
pour out for the flow, 
and follow.

I'll be as quiet as a stone 
if you just leave me alone,
and I promise we can bone
just as soon as 
we get home...
if on the ride...             
                 you keep your hands to yourself.  
Then you can tear up my insides; 
turn me into tanned hide; 
live in every dream 
you've always wanted              
but
never seen.

Be the surprise 
in your eyes 
when you don't cum.  
I've been wading three days 
through a slick of chum 
for a shark to bite 
chew me out of sight, 
but I guess another night 
won't mean a thing.  
I can keep on waiting.  

It's never enough -- trim the tuft --  
Plain geometry. 
 
Kisses in the shadows 
tell of fellows 
who want 
but fear past the shallows 
as if the gallows swing,  
Hooking all those 
with strange longings.  
 
Do as your told 
to prove you understand 
I want a volcano on hand 
to explode 
just as soon as         
                     we get home.  
 
Fuck boring:
Ruining.
Improving:
Fuck boring. 

Drool on the rug 
and lie.  
It's for art, 
see see 
how it stains. 
Darker there than here, 
a trail suggesting... 
don't believe 
if you don't like. 
I know what I know.  
You don't.  
 
Promise Angela 
I'll find a cash machine, 
one printing green 
and fueled by time.
I'll spend a few hours -- 
no more than eight -- 
to crank the mechanism;
and when I 
get home 
I'll hit the basement.  
Best to vent 
where 
there are no windows.  
In the cool and stagnant,
I can play 
the person I planned -- 
forget the ways 
I'm wise 
from experiences
I promised not to have.  
I always knew better 
before I was... adult.  
 
Quit for reasons 
I won't admit. 
The boss is a crook, 
and I'm a liar. 
The cashier can't count -- 
I always had this much.  
What's the crime in wanting 
five for lunch? 
Stopped at the tavern 
and drank at the rise 
of a tequila sun...only one,
I can't swear.  

She'll be pissed 
but oh well. 
Let down before. 
Scarred enough to numb, 
I'm sure she can take another.
Why not (?) 
push the envelope 
at its thinnest -- 
slips between cracks better.  
 
The seed of a promise 
planted when 
no one was looking; 
and the hope goes round:  
none will ask 
for fulfillment. 
But if any does,
a root's spreading claws.  
Hint there might be a tree 
and the questions leave.  
 
Of course I love her.  
I'll paint the world brighter 
just as soon as 
I can afford 
a box of colors.

The Sins We Forgive aka Sins for Forgivin‘.
 
In the year that we knew as 1800 and two
The communists had shot FDR;
And though they shattered his spine
He said he felt fine
So we let 
the matter 
Slide.

Too Ra Loo, Too Ra Lay,
You can shoot, but I won’t run away.
No matter who you are
So long as whiskey’s in the jar
You’re welcome to have yourself a stay.

At the fall of the Moon I saved a wooden spoon
To carve the spot of my car.
But the keys to my Ford
Were stole by Mongol hordes
Or the Chinese
Delivery
Boy…

Too Ra Loo, Too Ra Lay,
You can shoot, but I won’t run away.
No matter who you are
So long as whiskey’s in the jar
You’re welcome to have yourself a stay.

There are sins which we avenge and those for which we mend
But the choice is never what you choose.
I wanted fries with my shake
Though I’ll take what you make --
Onion rings have always been okay.

Too Ra Loo, Too Ra Lay,
You can shoot, but I won’t run away.
No matter who you are
So long as whiskey’s in the jar
You’re welcome to have yourself a stay.


The Face of Rose.

The face of the rose lays in quiet repose 
as she sleeps off the evening before.  
I spent my last coin 
to help my girl join 
in a toast to the dying queen:  
Elizabeth is dead, 
may god shit on her head, 
the English are a fucking disease.  
 
Chorus:  
Say your please, 
a little kindness or else she’ll just tease.
The face of the rose
In quiet repose
mo chuisle(1)

More than a blue moon 
the rose is known to bloom 
and smile 
in suggestive ways.  
I’ll unfasten my britches 
and screw her to stitches -- 
Doc’ll sew her a virgin again.  
 
CHORUS.  
 
On nights at her mother’s 
I’ve fought with her brothers --
she doesn’t clean off her chin.  
But the family is ready 
to call me friend gladly 
cuz I’m taking their fatty to bed.  
 
CHORUS.  
 
She seemed she’d die spinster, 
and I’ve nothing against her, 
so long as she eats out my ass.

…never once even asked.  
 
CHORUS.  
 


Riastrad(2)

 
"The world's a stage and most of us are desperately unrehearsed."
        - Sean O'Casey
 
"Those who drink to forget, pay in advance."
        - sign above the bar.


The IDs from my brother 
got us past the bouncer 
and bad cess(3) me forever 
that's all I remembered 
till Bloom came and screamed,
 
"Nuair a bhionn an fion istigh,
bionn an ciall amuigh(4).
You boys are quite lucky,
The cops arrive shortly,
And the mob'll let you leave.
The lynch crowd's been brewing
Since you first tasted ruin --
I wouldn't believe if I didn't see:

"Two on the road to block and fall 
 suddenly felt eight feet tall 
and soon spread an awful pall -- 
you've redefined the sins.

"You hybridized the seven worst 
to find delights to make you burst
and what truly makes it all perverse 
is you did it all so well.

"As if you're schooled in devil craft 
you drained the last of every draft 
then embraced the deepest daft, 
burning poor bartender Krafft, 
for cutting off your beer.

"His wife complained 
so you ate her brain 
and in the midst of that coup de main (5)
you're balls began to drain.

"Like demons in human costume, 
sea gulling(6) around the room, 
you inspired every doom 
and invented sixteen more.
 
"Tommy McGee with two or three 
tried to end it speedily, 
but disbelief in their eyes,
they ended up crucified.

"And I haven't even said how you pissed the floor, 
the eight year old you turned to whore,
and tried to have Glenn immured(7) , 
and twenty fucking midgets dead --
what was going through your head? -- 
bled the lot for gold.  
 
"...but take heart lads,
your first 
wasn't as bad as your dads'."

 
 
Footnotes:

1.  Pronunciation:  muh khish-la.  Translation:  my pulse.

2.  Loose translation:  warp spasm.

3.  Translation: luck.

4.  Pronunciation.  Nuh-ar a vee-on fee-on iss-chih, vee-on an keel am-wih.  Translation: When the wine is in, sense is out.

5.  French, meaning a sudden, fierce, and successful surprise attack.

6.  The act of throwing handfuls of semen at others.

7.  To seal someone inside of a wall while still alive. 

I let my knife sing
When I can't
Talk.
And yet...
there's little to
attest.
Witness
Once in a blink
The gold tooth grin
She keeps 
Spread and hides
In -- depends
on what's 
Said.

One girl 
ground to sand 
to make a pearl 
from the irritation
Of what
remains.

Let's call it 
Last week's
Last straw.
Cunt razors
Or did she
Have fangs?
That would explain
All the crying,
Teething.
But
This week
Makes last's
Weak.

Calloused
To treat the rough as smooth.
Scarred for texture,
a bit of depth,
peaks and valleys
Tickle the knives.

One boy
bled to color
A ghost who'll
always 
Haunt.

Two leeches
With no sense of
Mirrors
Feed
Recycling.
Whose blood is whose?
Drink and drain,
Stab and suck,
Walk it off
Waking mid-step.
Who is with whom?
Or is too
Similar
Like being
By yourself?
Hence the drain
Circling --
just enough
To float.

Feet off the ground...
Stop gears!
Welcome rust.
Don't process
The second before next.
Just take this
and breathe... singing.

The old dog doesn't need
A new trick. 
The same ol'll do. 


Whoever
Saw
a two legged
Hound
up and
In a tuxedo? 
Metal tip
Shoes
to tap, tap,
tappity, tap... such a show. 


But tell none
how
It begun. 
A puppy
with
Four legs
Got gimped. 
The intent
is still
Debated
(i.e. too much
sour mash,
spite the wife,
a morbid
curiosity,
etc.) 

But the pup
Wouldn't die. 
It learned to
Slither-crawl,
and
Soon stood. 
That alone
Left most
Satisfied. 

However,
one night
at Bill Malort's,
the jukebox
kicked up
a tune
at random. 
And the dog started to howl,
hopping. 
People clapped. 
Pooch pranced from hand to hand --
pets complimenting. 

The dog's been around...
hell if it matters. 
Sits on his haunches,
panting in the corner,
till a tune
fires his feet.