Beans and hot chilies
Packing a mean spicy punch
Wait for the odor

All my life I've paid,
I've paid taxes, dues and sacrifices
I've paid bills, attention and detention
**** I've even paid a visit to the county jails a few too many times, either as son, brother or inmate
Either way I've paid, but
Why Do I Gotta Pay?
Why do I have to pay every time a cop sees me on the streets,
Why do I gotta pay every time they slam me on the concrete,
Why do I gotta pay every time they serve and protect me,
Why I gotta pay taxes to subsidize the incomes of those who disrespect me,
Answer me,
Is it because I came from a broken home, or because my Mama was on drugs and my Pops left us all alone,
Is it because I was baptized into the street life b4 I could even decide between wrong and right,
No, no, no, I know why, it's because I look too Mexican and not enough white, right? Nah, it's probably because all my friends are high school dropouts, washed up or strung out,
Or is it because the Indigenous, Latinos and Africans are worthless, well ****, I didn't get to choose my race but if I did I'd still choose Mex!
Why Do I Gotta Pay?
Is it because I'm a threat to the status quo and looked upon as the states foe, well that's not fair, I pay a bigger percentage of income tax than Mr. Koch, Wait! I think I know! It's because my family's from the other side, **** that border! Daddy, why couldn't you be white? It's like what I told you on the 16th of September, We don't belong here because we have indigenous blood, remember? This is the European man's land, duh! Y'all are just so ignorant huh?
Why Do I Gotta Pay?
Is it because for a little bit of contraband from the Earth I'm a convicted felon while Ray Rice is free after he crushed his wife's skull like a melon, is it because I can't find a job and still I haven't robbed, is it because my school won't give me financial aid so I was forced to sell dope to get paid, but still I don't get paid, I pay taxes or the carnales will have me put in my grave
Wait! I know why I have to pay!
It's because I'm a slave, not to celebrity gossip, consumerism and materialism, but to imperialism of the state, I'm enslaved cuz I got too much soul to behave, my stilo is Zapatista & I'm **** with my head shaved, They made me a slave cuz they know I'd take their wombmen away, not by force though, cuz who could resist a date from this Latin Lover from around the way, they mad cuz I got Spanglish from the barrio, lingo from the hood & an academic vocabulary from the Pecker Woods, they scared cuz they're wombmen wish they could, every time I step out Miralo, I'm lookin good! These cops could never be us, and when I'm thuggin, Man, I wish they would! Im a slave cuz I don't understand, understood? I'm standing over my land, understand? Cuz I don't ever stand under! I only Overstand! That's why I gotta pay! Cuz I'm a slave that won't work for minimum wage, I'm a slave that can't be put in a cage, Im a slave that don't know his place, I'm a slave that just won't go away, I'm a slave that can't behave, I'm a slave that charms sharper than a blade, I'm a slave that steals hearts and makes way, I'm a slave that plays and never gets played,
And that's Why I Pay
Cuz I'm a slave that chose his own fate ✊

I am yours; save me
You have my friggin soul
Another poem
Another boy
Another broken heart
And what of your promise?
Of someday soon...
You'll love me more than her
But you don't believe in love, do you?
Liar.

I hate you; come back to me
It hurts to see you smile now
I know you don't care
This much has been proven
But do you know what you've done to me?
Are doing to me now?
You hurt mewith that smile
The one that gives me butterflies
And you probably know that you do
You are a sadist
Watching me squirm
And what of me?
The lost little girl that you "forgot"
Well, I find myself enjoying the pain
You turned me into the
*******.

I love you; love me
Those stolen moments under the stars
So close, yet so far away
The freezing cold and the burning hot
The jokes, the stories
The laughs stifled from others' ears
I miss you more than seeing you on a day-to-day basis
I want to speak to you again
But not just a one sided conversation
I want you to smile at me and mean it
To love me like I loved you
But you won't
You could
Because your problem was just that:
You were afraid you would
Because you could
Afraid that you would love me
Because I make it easy for you
Molding myself to your empty shell
You are NOTHING to me
But I could text you
Even just one last word
To show you what you really are
Destroyer.

I miss you; forget me
Like you did before
But I won't for you
I'll look fondly back on those moments, stolen
Of love and lying
And I'll not regret them
I'll think of how it all started
With my death and your death
Both by your hand
I'll remember those cute remarks
Like "ewwie" and "nicce"
I'll smile everytime I think of them
I'll recall how you offered to save me
Deeming you my hero
You can forget me
Forget all this
But I can't
Because you'll always and forever
Be my
Superman.

Last Christmas I told you''Merry Christmas" on this staircase
With my embroidery red dress and you as a Krampus

This year I am still on this staircase
In my green sweater
and it's drizzling outside

Tonight I will have a Tex-Mex party with all my friends
And my lomo instant
Where are you my dear dear friend

Will we ever meet again?
Where or When?
In what year and where?

Gurgle**
I think I just found out that yesterdays
Tex-mex just found it's way into my throat,
That and mixed with a side of burning hot
Jalapeno mixed with a peachy fruity overload.

Circles and circles...
My head is buzzing...
I can't even think straight...
It's that time again, my friend!
Such a spicy sweet morning treat!

aix, beck's, becks, blech's, checks, cheques, czechs, dec's, decks, dex, eckes, eques, ex, fecks, flecks, flex, heck's, hex, jex, kecks, lecce, lex, meckes, mex, necks, nex, next, peck's, pecks, plex, rex, sheck's, shek's, specks, specs, sphex, tech's, techs, teck's, tex, treks, vex, whelks, wrecks, x, x. amex, ampex, annex, apec's, apex, armtek's, avtex, aztecs, berlex, caltex, cemex, centex, cmx, comex, complex, comtrex, convex, crownx, defex, dissects, duplex, effects, ejects, entex, execs, expects, eyetech's, fanech's, fedex, finex, gatx, gtech's, inmex, intex, latex, memtec's, metex, natec's, nobec's, nymex, nynex, objects, onex, opec's, paychecks, paychex, pemex, perplex, pewex, playtex, portec's, projects, qintex, quebec's, railtex, rednecks, reflects, rejects, respects, roughnecks, scitex, simplex, starplex, steinbeck's, subjects, suspects, syntex, telex, telmex, tenrecs, timeplex, tridex, trintex, triplex, truex, vertex, visx, wall-tex, wedtech's, westtech's adaptec's, ametek's, atx, banamex, between decks, biotechs, bottlenecks, cineplex, cybersex, cytotechs, datarex, discotheques, equitex, eurochecks, gendrisek's, genentech's, govpx, hyponex, intellects, intersects, kaisertech's, malcolm x, medarex, mediplex, megaplex, memorex, methanex, metroplex, middlesex, multidex, multiplex, neorx, oraflex, pillowtex, prentnieks, rolodex, stratoflex, superx, symantec's, teleflex, turtlenecks, unisex, ventritex adaptaplex, ameritech's, audiotex, begonia rex, ****** simplex, solar apex, videotex, tyrannosaurus rex, regression of y on x

Avoid Tex-Mex
If you value your insides
your body will thank you later

Blasting off *****
When you’re to weighed die
And you can’t come back down

Lisa and I had a party to hit-up. I can’t stay inside all the time, not on a Friday night anyway and a rooftop is the perfect place to mull over big questions and get the freshest commentary about cultural phenoms - intermixed with music, absotively.

There were several, large, coolers crammed with canned martinis - everything from little Tip-Tops to Tiki-*** Mai-Tais and Triple-Spice Margaritas - this is a partizzle. I wasn’t out to drown my romantic sorrows, but I quickly reached fuzzy and relaxed - which is where I wanted to go.

A massive thumping began, ‘Pitbull’ began spilling from the speakers (‘la la la la’) and the crowd of about 30 reacted in a kind of whooping, group seizure. Lisa clutched my arm wanting me to ‘drop it’ on the dance floor - I could only read her lips - “Come ON,” she pantomimed, and I was ready to make that commitment.

We’re here at Melon’s invitation (a Yale PhD friend), undergraduates don’t usually hang out with graduate students, so it was special to feel welcomed at this off-campus link-up. We’re on the third-floor roof of an office building, under the stars.

The setup reminded me of a Brooklyn warehouse rave Lisa once dragged me to. Multicolored lights, strung every which way overhead, provided a festive air and a round stone fire-pit provided both heat and a light that flickered against every walled surface, evoking something cave-like, deep and primitive - a genetic, stone-age, memory perhaps.

When the beats finally let up, we’d danced-out about 10 songs. Lisa and I sagged into our lawn chairs - fanning ourselves even though it was a cool evening. Between tracks, there was a murmur of in-town traffic and people passing below, forming the undifferentiated buzz of nightlife. “I’m starving,” I told Lisa, who nodded, “Me too - poor planning,” she updogged.

Right then, Melon came over. Melon (real name Milton) is 6’3 and maybe 450lbs. He reminds me of John Candy, with his blonde hair, ever-present smile and colorful Hawaiian shirts.
“You’re giggin,” he said, Mai-Tai in one hand and a lady in the other.
“Thanks for inviting us,” I said, with a nod, “this is nice,” indicating the roof setup.
“Yea,” he agreed, looking around and waving his drink, in greetings, to arriving people.
“I have something for you!” I told Melon, pulling a small bottle of cologne out of my bag.
“Oh, my God,” he said, lighting up like a Christmas tree, “Tobacco Vanille! You shouldn’t have.”
“You said that’s your favorite, ya?” “Yeah, but..” he began.
“You helped us move in,” I said, “It’s a thank you - from all the girls (I lied) and it’s our party gift!”
“Wow, well, thanks Peaches,” he said, adding “you’re cracked,” and gave me a one handed hug.
“Food’s on the way” he said, and then, like he’d forgotten something, “This is Ellen,” he said, turning so she rotated closer.” We only shook hands and nodded, because the music started again.

Not two minutes later, the metal door to the stairs swung open and several guys came up with catering trays of life-saving Tex-Mex from ‘Tacos Los Gordos,’ a couple of blocks away.

“Maybe there IS a God,” I pronounced, unheard in the din, my stomach growling in anticipation.

slang…
hit-up = attend
absotively = absolutely & positively
partizzle = party
giggin = having fun, dancing
updogged = adding a further comment to a comment string.
peaches = Melon calls me peaches ‘cause I’m from Georgia.
cracked = crazy

Being the worlds chief of police
Is so overrated
With all that we do
And they all still hate us

We're only here
To keep up the peace
Spread our name brand
Of Democracy

If you don't love us
Then kindly leave us
If you don't trust us
Won't hurt our feelings believe us

We'll bring it to order
One way or another
Kick out the leaches
Close down the borders

Once that is done
And they're out on their bums
We'll build us a wall
From the North to South run

The only thing Canadian
That we will let in
Is Celine Dion
And their cheap medicine

And that little Chihuahua
From down below
Cause we love Taco Bell's
Mex food to go

As far as the Middle east
They can do as they please
We won't be around
To kick sand in our face

We'll pull out of there
Our American troops
Not just a few of the lucky
But one hundred proof

They can fight it all out
Amongst themselves
If they stick with the program
There'll be nobody left

They can have all our nukes
We won't need them no more
As we won't be playing
In their silly wars

We will be by ourselves
Closed off from it all
Unplug the phone
If they try to call

Live in our bubble
Stay out of trouble
No longer hang out
With that bunch of numskulls

So lock up the door
Turn out the light
Toss out the key
As we say goodbye...

i o nim iskrą w rrdze,
          w gre na tło innych
  narodziń -
               i nim o iskre:
krzemień o krzemień -
    i kość o kość - nauka kaligrafii...
      jak i ten co o męke
               łuku ziemi w dary
oddać pierw chciał nic, a potem proch -
                o potem kichnąć
w sto braci leczy naród prośbą! też jak ja,
obudzić ozór! **** powiadomił...
niechaj ten ozór - horongiew nasza -
            akcentów ilości sie zajada,
         bo tyle umie -
  i tyle wyzna - jak i słowem sie
zachwyci: po rosaj i po germańsku -
na weekend - i tym tam,
na czeł  Mongoła: zapomnień, i
zapomniawszy: zwany Lach, hujem
przez sukiennice i kreski sławnych tabu
ilokroci -
                i ta bida... stokroci.
siała baba mak... ni widziała jak...
           chlop... chlop... chlop...
                       siała baba mak, ni widiała jak...
bo tu kurvasiet chłop!           chłop!
kak duszy Khrushchev? ni pomogje!
         naz gu!
                        niet harasho! niet! haraшo?
Las Vegas etя: Lon-don, Pa-ri-ri Piri Piri
                                    Mex hey ** i co. - etc.
******* ****** Bahamas **** cult яя.

those folks hired white help,
maybe a Mex to tend to the yards
but they let old lady Latty wash
their soiled sheets, bath towels
and undergarments

they sent out their fine clothes
for that new process called dry cleaning,
a magic Latty would never fathom--how
you gonna clean anything without water
steaming, lye and labor of love

but Latty knew those folks
whose ****-stained drawers
she was scrubbing had more secrets
than money, and she knew to keep
lips God gave her closed

for nobody need know about
the joy juice that was on the sheets
when the man of the house was
gone, and the towels covered
with the seed part of that

weren't none of Latty's business
what sins were seeping under the
cracks of those fine wood doors, or
what other rich as Croesus gents were
walking softly on the polished floors

Latty was off Mondays, but
not on the Sabbath, for it was
often the eve of that holy day
when the most soiling was done
and that didn't bother her none

for Sundays the folks was mostly
gone to church, and whatever sinning
was to be had took its rest like the Lord did,
unless sitting in a pew with a man
you never loved counts as such

Tulsa, 1908

Don't you get it MEX
there are real people who will accept you for you
for your own personal struggle
your personal weirdness
so uncooth right
but there out there
just keep being yourself
cuz that's truly all you can be
try being Miley Cyrus and you feel ****** up why....cuz your not her
your awesome, your weired, unfiltered, ****** up
so be as loud as your mind

Dearest true love:

It's mother's day dearest darling: My blessed imaginary friend PJC/JPC= rddbba- well not so imaginary but a real true love.
You your blessed deeds remains like the stars above like the many constellations, distant in sight, but never far from mind and heart.

There are so many treasures gone wrong all which fell into enemies hands treasure map and all. Even my offspring went missing. Janehiltonmay
Our dream that did not breath in the face of reality. My heart is shattered glued back together together, Its a stubborn heart of gold does anyone need such a heart? Alone and destitute kept alive by grace of an old memory chip. After all the sacrifices carrying for everyone beloved-
On my own again.
I love you so much and you my precious grown treasures my children, my true love pat= rdd be well my love thank you for thinking of me loving me across the unsurmountable obstacles.
May God keep you blessed safe never ever feeling alone I am just a thought away..loving you understanding you treasuring all of you all that is a part of you.
It looks like I did read between the lines and I need it now that I am older

Much love true love Mom.
Angelinabba. AKA Janehiltonmay.
~~
All rights reserved 41654-10:30AM Mich Mex.

You’ve denied my presence and thrown mex

Dc

The woman had scarfed down many chalupas

in the Taco Bell drive-thru at the ash end of 3 a.m.

She wolfed down the $3 dollar tacos with “chalupa” shells,



seasoned beef, a three-cheese blend, tomatoes,

lettuce and “reduced fat” sour cream,

with a robotic intensity and general incuriosity about its origins.



So she was shocked when she sat down with her kid

at the immigrant-run El Amigo restaurant

that served fresh salsa with freshly baked tortilla chips.



She had never actually tried an authentic chalupa,

a flat tostada-like deep-fried mold of masa dough

filled with meat, onion, chipotle and salsa.



The manager told her it was in fact

the kind of chalupa you’d find in Oaxaca or Puebla.

He told her he’d replace it, remove it from the table or take it off the bill.



She begged off but ultimately stormed out of the building

without paying the $12 bill, ultimately landing a felony charge

she appealed all the way to the state court of appeals.



The higher courts probably should not be adjudicating

Mexican cuisine, Tex-Mex and pale fast-food imitations,

but it was what is was; however it was served up, it was what is was.

Benedict Canyon lived with Beverly Hills and stepson, Van Nuys. P. Nut was golfing with Beau Peep, and suggested that Van join them. He declined as ***** Nilly had another foursome with Ali Mony and Mary Land.
        General E. Speaking was at the club, holding forth in his stentorian tones being raptly observed by Al Dente, I. Stan Bul, and if you can believe it, Pia Nissimo.
Moving through the room in search of her next sugar daddy, we encounter Miss I. Sippi, clinging closely to Di Namics on the same prowl. They homed in on Junior Mint, sitting with Al Hambra, Scott Free and Terri Yaki. Val Halla and Buzz Saw introduced themselves to the group, when suddenly Grant Deed fell to the floor, inebriated, stopping the conversation. Marv E. Lous, Mel Ifluous, and Murray Hill carried him, snoring to an easy chair and laid him down.
Cut to Hazel Nuts who was aghast, and turned to Leo ****, making the comment that Buck Wild and Claude Hoppers must have gotten him drunk. Slim Chance begged to differ, asserting it was Gus To, trying to get back at Vin Dictive, who had burned him in a property deal with Grant Deed.
        Ben E. Ficial was amused by **** U. Lar, notwithstanding the looks of Luke Warm and Bea Wildered, who were fearful Buck Wild was going to start a fight with Steve Dore.
        Earnest Money ventured over to Tony Neighborhood, but was shocked at Ana Rexa’s appearance, so he notified Conrad Alert, but Minnie Mise tired to quiet his alert, saying that Tab Oo, who seemed to have the run of the place, demanded the same. Observing this, Martin I said “I need a drink” and corralled Tim Buktu into buying him one.
Tess Osterone was surprising laid-back, maybe that was because his pal, Sandy Beaches, put her at ease. Minnie Appolis, just back from Minnesota, got into an intense discussion with Ruth Less and Mort Ality. I don’t think they like each other.
        Kitty Hawk flew into a rage at smelly Pete Moss, locked into deep conversation with Al Falfa. They both needed a shave and a wash.
Miss Anne Thrope was her usual depressing self, but thank God, she found Ty Lenol to lift her spirits somewhat. Millie Meter went the extra mile for Minnie Van, who struggled to figure out what Al Botross was up to with Tom Foolery.
       What to do with Dewey Decimal, boring everyone who all had his number? So Al Buquerque took charge and invited Hugh Tensils, Ben A Drill and Manuel Shifting to bring him out of his shell.
       Hazel Nuts, surprisingly matched well with Terry Aki, and Mac Rame Teased Mac Arena with a little dance. Ray Ban was a shade introspective and diffident, but had to engage when Polly Ester chatted him up. Take a look at Maxwell House, coffee in hand, who congratulated Gene Splice on his recent editing award. Dorit Os munched on the hors d'oeuvres with Cal Ameri.
       Teddy Bear was his cuddly self, and had a good laugh at Tom Foolery’s antics. It has been ages since Ron de Vouz heard the mellifluous sound of Hugh Kelele’s voice and they immediately embraced.
        What a quartet --- Ma Larkey, Rich People, Oz Mosis, and Ray Vaughn, all who stayed late, always the life of the party.
Perry Patetic moved around the room as though his pants were on fire. Everyone felt sorry for Des Titute: who wouldn’t?
There was Rose Bushes, in the midst of a thorny divorce, to which
Geri Atric could relate, as she had been through the same with Gus T. Winds, who had been represented by the mean lawyer, Ty Rade, who also happened to be present with his chief investigator, Al Ibi.
       Van Couver would not stop extolling the virtues of his native country, so Marshall Amps turned it up to 11 and drowned him out. Finally, Will Power stepped in to tone it down, as Eva Dently was going to leave otherwise.
        Billy Clubs and Lance Corporal stood around menacingly, but it was just for show. Meg A. Phone hit on Jackson Hole. I couldn’t tell if she was getting anywhere. The last to leave were Tex Mex and Dawn Trodden, who had nowhere to go. Cliff Hanger sighed and said he’d be back next year.

Brisket-deep wade oxen through crop 3 of Cochin China grass rice,
that like Brazilian corn can not drive down 9 cents today's gas price
or **** gophers, lower recidivism or jail-break ****** who pass lice
or rip from lardy Liz Taylor's dead neck her cubic zirconia glass ice
Keen intellects & homosexuality marry like diesel in a wheat tower
as carnivorous corn dogs mustn't **** away their fleshy-meat power
in alleys whereat trolls a ***** whose girl is a brandy-sweet flower
damp but not soaked by the greasy drizzle of a Bronx street shower
that melted by caustic soda Gettysburg's ferro-concrete Eisenhower
Stay back Missy as I ain't anxious to contract your parasitic Q fever
despite the tales in crack town of your exquisitely-luxurious ******
I say: Wiggle over Prissy! I cannot party down with diarrheal fever!
Despite many crack-town tales of your luxuriously-exquisite ******
I order you to: Get back Missy! I don't want your parasitic Q fever!
I command you: Back Nancy! I've no love for Dutch's Mike Dever!
Our hag queen lives in the tire-black shadow of Dennis Weaver, yet
Liz's been saved by the Grace of the Prophet who'll never leave her
just like the fans who cheered the girly pitches of Tom ***** Seaver
who enjoyed the gift that keeps on giving as a giver & as a receiver
minus the knowledge of a cerebrally-dull trophy wife true-believer
and the precise dog-tracking of a duck-retrieving Labrador retriever
akin to a Nordic-berating/race-pimpling Jesse Jackson-era deceiver
who's taken the il Duce-stance to be an F.D.R. New Deal conceiver
A Cebu Island honey in ****** is beautiful even from underneath &
'cause Kentuckians get the most fluoride they have the fewest teeth
from gumming on T.V. dinners like Family Affair with Brian Keith,
or The Big Valley with The Six Million Dollar Man known as Heath
who lived to desecrate Barbara Stanwyck's stone & funereal wreath
to nearly wreck the incorruptible beauty of the heady Virginia Leith
in the dawning twilight of a Republic sacrificing freedom for peace
& metal for paper till tangible property ownership goes up for lease
as a need for mid-gut-binding whale-bone corsets is on the increase
fragrant domestical mice outrank Edwin goose geese mouse Meese
in that tall mysteries are unsolvable while wonders will never cease
Grizzly attacks do much to ingest barren broads bearing our cancer
while the pink feet broken at joints are placed where now hands are
to confuse Komen's breastless feminazis with a bra-padding answer
as a Vaudeville hoofer could to trip up a Cuban cha-cha ***** dancer
better than a tired-of-waiting, endlessly-prating La Habana prancer
who obeys U.N.-garbage-man etiquette and calls a garbage man: sir
An Olympic runner's Vaseline was swiped, so in 3 races he ran sore
Cue-ball “actor” Burton Reynolds called Dinah Shore: Diane Shore
Pigs shooting folks from the ceiling will create a ******, dyin' floor
that is slippery to vinyl-siding shippers and punishing to litter bugs
who have been sucker-punched into pugnaciously-rabid, bitter lugs

Cancer modalities: hack, hypothermia, x-rays & toxin can't crack it
for a lot lizard whose station is an unstructured, tax-starved bracket
while tennis games die grimly set with a barbed-wire-hanger racket
that ruined ******* for big-rig trucking's good buddy Joan Hackett
Hades & rental men: it's the stalling groans with ****-death packet!
Congress shan't by judicial means & measure legislatively abrogate
divinely-sacred powers claimed by Liz regina's counselled castrate
as Catholic America answers the hooligan question with nun patrol
to assassinate Teddy maggot-dinner Kennedy's fraternal gun control
while folding, into State eugenism, the animalic urges of primitives
to obliterate and to placate the devilishly-primitive urges of animals
The water authority's concern for babies compels them to fluoridate
so that the gooey-green tooth enamel of kiddies will not deteriorate
& to keep a rat's mouth of aligned teeth from becoming incomplete
while not degrading his scrumptious U.S.D.A. grade-A rodent meat
nor his anatomical delicacies: arterioles, splenic capsules and 4 feet
of intestines, a pancreas, thoracic arteries & superfluously-ratty ****
that produces the same amount of milk as an owl struck in concrete
or a popery-loving Sinn Féin milker sunk in an A.S.S.I. bog of peat
equalin' no mas eugenical Frenching for U.N.I.C.E.F.'s trick-or-treat
or stun-gunning razor-backs for a Codex Alimentarius-******* pleat
that is more bordel-exquisite than Haitian tea served on Easy Street
If randomized ****** is the homicide you like, it was reported that
on 5 April '69 Stepin Fetchit's son Donald shot 20 on Pa.'s turnpike
& 3 months later Teddy drove Bobby's girl off a bridge named ****
Christmas at the Hollywood Palace, 1969 featured old Perry Como
whom *******-rag Time described in 1970 as being: no merry ****
Any conspiracy is a cons' piracy when two or more are in collusion,
while folks mesmerized by teleprompter-readers are under delusion
of a cerebral/cortex laceration, extirpation, concussion or contusion
to relate a surrealistic/pseudo-reality that will propagate the illusion
that vampire-bus phlebotomists obey strictures of blood transfusion
& that gregarious hermits must forever renounce absolute seclusion
from search-warrant-affidavit-lacking pigs making illegal intrusion
in violation of our state castle law enacted by legislative institution
& adjudged by courts that, though investiture, wrote the conclusion
that is steering toward a rag-stuffin'-ape-lovin'-eugenical revolution
with a homophiliac tutelage as Christendom's Darwinian resolution
says mutational anomalies do not equate to genetical-drift pollution
nor bio-spherical deviances that breed X/Y chromosomal confusion
within the scope of a die-off rate inflating xenogeneic-pool infusion
to counter-balance vales in retardative factors apt to aerial diffusion
Prisoners do not get Lash LaRue whips to whop a cell-******'s sass
nor heaters for Harlem nights colder than an Adak well-digger's ***
To save Earth we must, like raccoons, root through garbage & trash
to obey tree-hugging Mike Farrell: the ***-wiper actor on MASH
to obey fur-hating Mike Farrell: the ***-wiping ***** on MASH
to obey ******* Mike Farrell: the ***-kissing ***-wipe on MAS*H
.The Waltons who wasted J.F.K.were sibs Jim Bob & Mary Ellen in
a bed with John Boy, Uncle Corn Pone & Scaifes' Dickie Mellon in
a conspiracy with Rockefellers' Mossad, Bush & Hunt in sixty-two
to supplant & cultivate corporatization of the U.S.A. for me & you;
to propagate a global-credit system beginning with this Dallas coup
Big-time movie dude Burt Lancaster was never known to have lied
about his 4 marriages dying with judgments of justifiable homicide
No Christian shall deny an unborn baby's supreme court right to die
'cause the German zeppelin LZ 129 Hindenburg was too light to fly

Sore are wintry Hawaiian gals struck by pink papier-mâchéd maids
whilst tyre tread types are trundled backways from wheelied tirades
Pink are spring Honolulu broads tinted by red papier-mâché shades
Do not nag me till I **** you dead ole crapped-out Larry F. Hagman,
as I am in no humor to wring the necks of persecuted hairy rag men
Gynecology might ***** you in solid with Camorra's Casalesi clan,
as their bearded women are tripping circuits of a master messy plan
while my *****-stamped Taylor Texicana trans-**** as a lezzy tran
On roads of electrical eye sores penicillin backs homosexualization
among a purgatory of jack ***** dealing promo Mex mule salvation
Pad my bra *****: I'm tar paper & my angry ******* ******* will bite
'cause unarmed Haitians will be shot on Hispaniola's border tonight
by Dominican Republic guards who cleanse the island in gun fight
Who better to welcome tea drinkers to Cup Land than Saucer Boy?
Who better to play Shatner's number 1 than Leonard ****** Nimoy?
Joe Green's mean because pea-green Coca-Cola made his *** green
as Coke's pond water is the greenest water Lord Jesus has ever seen
that, as an emetic, will keep you bruised, confused, infected & lean
Trifling things shall not diminish my reverence for Miss Kitty Ting
despite the fact that her '67 suicide made moot mere mortal atoning
from Diana's birthing moon where Earthen-Human souls are placed
in 0-72-hour newborns after old-corpse memories have been erased
concurrent with funereal brutality for cadavers to be casket-encased
There was a porker known in Las Vegas by the handle Elvis Presley
who forked Satan's deadly Negresses saying: “Hell shall bless me!”
U.S. civil rights entail the timely return of my fresh bag of cabbage
putrefyin' in a City of New York medallion-licensed cab of baggage

Smoothing Jagger's ***-face wrinkles like a *** must to ream 'cause
after 35 years Beatle John Lennon is lost like some forgotten dream
Because Mac went queer-bait kissin' sock-cuckin' Elton John's lips,
Yoko wants dwarf Ringo to wing him with tone-deaf Linda's whips
until Paul condemns homosexuality by canceling his Bangkok trips
to prove that Gladys Knight is a 2-buck *** ***** minus Jim's Pips
Krung Thep, D.C.'s '62 sister, is a ****** haven of white-lovin' nips
that offed Đặng Lệ Quân while Thai ****** bled like filleted strips
that snuffed Deng Lijun as Mongol tramps burned like scurvy ships
in seas far removed from sassy Oakland: turf of the Bloods & Crips
who know more urologically than urologists about vasectomy snips
A global ice age is imminent and we must impregnate young nurses
before eating their delicious groceries & stealing their Gucci purses
on Friday when nurse-impregnators aren't reciting Psalms & verses
My gray ****** are pressed & folded despite imprecations & curses

There's a secret videotape of C.F.R.'s monkey Tom Clancy beggin'
in vain to the Control Group that vaccinates a senile Nancy Reagan
for his life to be spared as before God would whine an antsy pagan
Scrawny **** use calf prosthetics to mill a Mexican mission 'cause
bad plastic surgery is sewing your ****** to shin to form a **** shin
that'll ruin the brainiest ***-brainiac's Nigerian brain-*** syndrome
via español audio-libro of a John Viet Cong McCain braggin' tome,
beloved by Mexi-greasers whose favorite wheel is a mag in chrome

Hey *******! Can't I celebrate Rage Against Anger Month in peace?
Jesus! and Take not the Lord's Name in Vain Month with my niece?
Is there no stopping the moronic maxim Will wonders never cease?
Holly rat milk Brett Ratner! Whatever Happened to Mason Reese?
Holy hit & run Rebecca Gayheart! Which is the fastest car to lease?
To queerly wed mustn't a *** breach the equity-in-marriage crease?
When will ewe-loving sheepmen give their shepherd love to geese?
When séance-hosting Nancy Reagan gets knocked up by Ed Meese

If i could tell a tale
About a long, true Texan,
I'd go back to Tex-Mex
But free freddy fender
From all responsibility
For Tex.
Tex was a dog of a guy
Although a nam vet
He's struck me
As totally lost.
He couldn't function
At even the lowest level
Oh he had his cowboy hat
And his boodies
But his lips curved
And he was, yes, naive beyond all belier
I could go on further
About him but I won't.

Flex
Hex
Tex-Mex
Set
and fet
Let me
Met
Musc-le I don't have
so knuckle
up
There's lovable
trouble.

While yours truly sat here
at the desk housing MacBook Pro,
pondering his next idée fixe apropos
for gamut of anonymous readers,
he unexpectedly, noisily and effectually
exploded out rear end;
perhaps ye heard or felt
the ground beneath your feet tremble;
the missus didst not stir in her sleep
yesterday (May 29th, 2023)
when my troubles
seemed so far away.

Jog me memory I did
with a little help figuratively
nabbed, pilfering, ransacking, et cetera
compilation of previously written poems
which involved scrolling thru
screen after screen of feeble attempts
to craft some stellar literary creation.

Worm I going with this line?

Just by a fluke,
I came across a scenario
where humorous embellishment
will (clear as water) diminish credence,
but slight fabrication will help revival
encompassing an outing with then girlfriend,
who eventually became the missus.

Upon the first date (mucho decades ago)
not quite two score
and three and a half years ago
with the gal, whose troth
aye did pledge allegiance to wed
(anniversary inching itsy bitsy
spider like up to
seven and twenty earth orbitz),
we agreed to dine
at an avante garde Tex-Mex eatery

in North Wales, Pennsylvania,
where angels feared to tread
carefully scrutinizing bon appétit
the menu selection,
a touch of Latin lick QED
all American version sans
south of the border cuisine –
Quod Erat Demonstrandum –
translations spit out
in rapid fire Hispanic

by a beady eyed
pierced and inked kid named Ned,
whose couture favored a punkish style
with spiky gelled green hair,
piercings galore and necklace
with a genetically modified
sizable entombed glassy pricey jewelry
encased insect in amber lead,
which beastly fully intact organism
with a miniature grizzly bear like head
momentarily hypnotizing me

pray tell, yours truly nudged himself
out of trance sans this egghead
who made a selection
by randomly landing finger
on an item feigning to be well bred
unbeknownst choice promised
concussive radioactive fallout
squelched with utmost difficulty
nearly impossible mission
to avoid loosing buttuck blast

if belched out the posterior;
**** would have catapulted,
delivered fatalistic deafening roar
wreaking havoc to life and limb
costing countless lives
regarding innocent restaurant patrons,
whose arbitrary choice
to partake of their repast
at aforementioned *****
unnamed restaurant analogous
ending with tragicomic farce.

After this Señor ingested
an ample number of mouthfuls
of beans and rice
that quelled most severe hunger pangs
mine lower gastrointestinal tract,
felt a bubbling and gurgling sensation
played through impropriety struggled
with gaseous mounting perturbations,
what promised to be hot malodorous,
would induce an air raid

from this “wind bag,”
(whose puckered, preserved, pickled, et cetera
and stinky namesake
occupies a place
at the Mutter Museum,
whose saving grace erroneously divine),
when wallet of suede discover herd
visa vis tubby devoid of cash,
thus convenient excuse to beat
the tirade of volcanic eruption
on the cusp of belching forth
found me bolting out the restaurant door
fortunately not waylaid

and madly dashing
(like some fiery comet dancer)
performing a cheeky number
hopping on one foot than the other –
since forceful blast triggered kidneys
to be tapped, thus prancer two step
extemporaneously incorporated
while awaiting available ATM
only to espy debit printout slip
inadequate funds available
zero balance in checking account.

While expulsion of noxious fumes
from thine sphincter courtesy  
brought relief as aye nonchalantly
prior to strolling inside cozy diner,
and slipped into me seat disinclined
to relate eave vents to future spouse,
the ****** aeration and stream of *****
(freed to water secluded copse)
from me magic flute which,
amazingly synchronized
with the Maximus glute
after consuming food
triggered ***** to toot.

Nevertheless, shortfall of legal tender
unfortunately and subsequently found
yours truly shackled,
impressed, forced, et cetera
as dishwashing galley slave
dashed mine coveted
bowed need for highstrung Cupid
annihilating, detonating,
hexing, et cetera
opportunistic spell
to don and trumpet myself
as artful dashing romancer.

The hoofs and horses burn in the twilight,
As you count breaths between the stirring Of bees.
Oncoming traffic like a beads on a string,
The Woodworker's rasp,
The beekeeper's screen,
Diamond headlights,
Oncoming rain,
A transparent light,
The stirrings of leaves,
Gravity ground in a ceiling of sky.
In a dry place, the Oracle's
Lost meaning,
A hole in the center of the Sphinx blind eye.
I ply my hand to broken wheel moonlight,
A servitude of stars,
These muttering clouds,
A musty collection of shanties and shacks.
I caught the last sleep to black and white rails,
Slap boards passing, a flickering screen,
In a a theatre of stars and orbits,
A string hang on a ceiling so sweet.
As dogs and birds welcome Blue Heaven,
JESUS SAVES plasters Route 10, Is it West Mex or East Tex
Or is it the same?
Dark buttes, silhouettes, bare bulbs and bugs.
Ariels deep in dark desert valley,
The scent of box elder set in the sun.
The Oracle of day draws you in deeper,
Like a reptile burrowed in the heat of high noon.
A trial by fire, a light like no other,
What wildflowers lurk in the Devil's dark garden?
Witch grass and juniper smelling like rain.
A limestone Chateaux dreary long hours,
In a place surrounded by four walls and a bed,
Scavenging shoes in the dark of the day.
Black spiders in closets hunt along runnels,
A quivering fly caught in a trance.
A brief disconnection,
Ten thousand night and five Fridays ago,
So said the tombstone to each blade of grass.
Gravity Good Mother, teach us a lesson, tied to this tether,
This searing vibration,
A rust belt corrodes the American Dream,
As gulls wheel industrial blight.
Cherry Blue Jewel, the last drop of water,
Glass curtains cover the winnowing storm.
Twilight and half moons,
Long shiny autos,
All the starlets rise with the night.
Pieces and fragments, in abstract arrangement,
Aged black men fishing rivers of cattails.
Asleep in the dusk, a tinkling currant,
My own echo leaving a hollow in air.
Times emollient, 5 beads on a string,
Pharaohs and Pharisees,
A beekeeper's screen,
Shadows caught in a quivering dream.

The crusts of wheat bread
will turn my hair curly.
I believe this
because of Papa Don.
It’s because of him that I believe
in the power of Tex-Mex and the magic
of the Texas Rangers. He loved
both the same, and all nine children
even more. He never forgot the name –
or the First Communion –
of every one of his twenty-three
grandchildren. He loved me from afar,
but every reunion made me feel his love
like it was always up close.

He won’t be at my graduation.

Degenerative heart failure
stole his life before all the Diet Cokes could.
His heart, his heroic heart.

This past Christmas, he fell dreamlessly onto the floor.

I adopt dainty etiquette
when quenching thirst or dining
to buzzfeed growling beast
inside me tummy.

The missus requests obedience
raising both my little fingers in the air
upon taking beverage or repast to lips.

Additionally, she also requires I
(well healed husband who toes the line)
perform dance shuffle - think clog
feigning to trip over feet
as if yours truly quaffed to much grog
while balancing atop log.

Miss iz manners re: lee the spouse
sets prime example being lady like,
what with her belching and snorting
of course with mouthful of food
no surprise she nurtured impolite brood
raised on learning language crude

even this Geico caveman exhibits
less coarse attitude,
he likens himself to subdued dude
trying his darnedest (golly gee)
to avoid family feud

general behavior hashtagged as rude
linkedin with antics qualified as lewd
encouraged nsync while
slurping or masticating in the ****,
whereby other body sounds made
unsuitable for strait laced and *****

folks who don't take a fancy hearing
so called uncouth soundclouds exude
out body orifices considered foul,
inapropos and extremely lewd
when unless quarantined in solitude.

One upside of COVID-19
postprandial aural emanations
(all time favorite flatulence)
knows no outward bounds
unless colorectal explosions
register highest magnitude

when measured in concert
with handy dandy
blues clues rattle seismometer
and register courtesy
Richter Scale and the Mercalli Scale
direction and intensity of earthquakes.

Upon experiencing aforementioned prime mate
i.e. the bellowing gal offering herself as ahem
(pardon the double entendre) master bait,
I knew from the get go
Tex-Mex Connection

in North Wales, Pennsylvania
where we shared our first date
(outsize bean burritos)
I tooted my own horn,
she unwittingly got me into checkmate,
just for that her fate got sealed,

when our respective gametes
(ova and ***** cells respectively)
new life we did miraculously create
the first of two female offspring
would become housed in utero
and come to resemble

a spheroid somewhat oblate
even now unnamed counterpart,
(and partner in crime) still swell person
hook hood benefit to lose some weight,
cuz... well adipose freight
quite ample around equator.