When is it that you've had enough
when you can't tell methane from Mexico
and the bruises on your knees
resemble the hickies
from the drug dealer boyfriend
you left last summer
I remember him very well
and picture his blurred face
Looking at me longingly
from between my legs
he was sweaty
and I was vulnerable
and he used every inch of my body
to convince me of his desire
but I dont mind
and an certainly not shameful
of that curiosity I developed
for telling skunk from week
and the admiration
and sexual frustration
for the cholo type of boy
sometimes I miss you
but maybe those are nights
that I'm not getting any
Conjunctions creak, the adverbs ache,
nouns bear more than they can take.
Verbs are screaming for Ben-Gay
while pronouns atrophy away.
Adjectives have lost their bite,
possessives just give up the fight.
The subject's upset, naught agrees,
which weakens metaphoric knees.
Contractions all together moan;
the objects better left alone.
Ah, life is at a frightful stage
when poets and their poems age.
So big this tiny hole opens up
And the sound blasts out so abrupt
The stench suffocates the breathing
Water comes to eyes everywhere
as anal methane fills the air
No one wants to be blamed for
the toxic air un-freshener
Everyone assumes its the bum
and moves away from her
I try to keep a straight face until
I get off the train
Then locate a rest room
and check for stains
As traces of methane gasses are exposed in places the earth has chosen to reveal in manners that are hazardous
My scars are revealed in a way that has less passion than two lovers fighting for a last glimpse of each other as time passes
Fragments of ashes fall faster as massive blasts create matter in dances that hold the fragrance of eminent disaster
Where I live, there's a Cinema Sinking
Built on Methane, Garbage Stinking
Faster food and nighttime drinking
Angry Men and shrinking thinking
School was out, the truant was there
Council Houses, with none to spare
Direct your leisure where I'm blinking
The central point on landfill sinking
Roundabouts, the brownfield sprouts,
The lanes and aisles of market miles
And twisted smiles of weeds are growing,
How I hope this mulchy mountain's going!
There’s safety in numbers
I’ve oft heard it said-
Unless there are ninety cows
stuck in a shed.
Those numerous ruminants
Munching on hay
Produce mucho methane
in the course of a day.
Ninety odd bovines
Snacking on grass
Take in the fuel
And produce moos and gas.
Those flatulent heifers
Many cow pies produced
Until a stray spark
blew a hole in the roof.
It was shocking to the farmer
And a blow to the farm,
But at least we take comfort
That not one cow was harmed.
Let's return to carbon
Decompose in the sand
Die together hand in hand.
I've been dying to meet someone like you.
Let's let more methane out into the sky
Our skin has been burnt by the shiny sun
Our bones have been frosted
Like the limbs of winter trees,
And our eyes have seen both be done.
I will love you to bits and pieces until
I am bits and pieces.
Let's quit this dying and
Die for what we did
For it was for each other, in which we never lived
I've been dying all my life
To meet someone like you.
What did ya think,
Did ya think,
You could float on with the rest,
Just sink into the mess.
Want some help up,
Did you think you'd help yourself up,
Or maybe you realized
The methane helps me stay alive.
And when you,
Sat there thinking,
With your hands against your palms,
Did you think you could just get up and then sink into my arms.
I neglected to tell you,
I am just a ghost.
I am just a spirit or a memory at most.
Slushy, grungy, muddy
I began to shout
Lit by ignition
I feel weak.
I knew you could see
I am safe.
Like a hero without a cape
I decided to run for ages
Under leafy dreams
Now it’s my turn
I decided to run for ages
I looked back .
I see burned pages
Leafy branches withdrawn
My whole life wasted.
My whole life is gone.