Fleas, ticks and chiggers
the bane of a rural life
animals suffer

(song lyrics)
Verse 1:
Now I can’t go fishin’, ‘cuz ya’ sold my rod and reel
Can’t go snow-racin’, ‘cuz ya’ sold my snowmobile
And I got flaws - that’s for sure - and sometimes run amuck
But the final straw that I can’t take: Ya’ sold my pickup truck

Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far

Verse 2:
I didn’t care when ya’ bought that stuff on TV’s QVC
Or ‘cause ya’ always thought of me as your private Money Tree
Or catalog-orderin’ ever’thing from within ol’ Sears Roebuck
But I’ll be danged if I’ll sit still since ya’ sold my pickup truck!

Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far

Verse 3:
So I went and saw a gypsy gal, and a curse on you imposed
To put sand in your chewin' gum and runners in your ***** hose
And all your clothes and accessories to never, ever match
And chiggers in your bed sheets - so you’ll always have to scratch!

Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far

Verse 4:
I seen ya’ last Saturday night at Bubba’s Bar and Grill
The image of you in stripes and checks remains within me still
And them red chigger welts upon your nose and face
Tells me that the gypsy curse is workin’ ever’ place!

Chorus:
You can burn the house, shoot my dog and stomp my ol’ guitar
But when you sold my pickup truck, well, Honey, ya’ went too far

Happy Halloween

Trick or treats at the front door,
give them candy, but they want more.
I put poison in their candy bar,
razors in their apple will leave a scar.
Tired of hearing, the ringing of my bell,
all these **** kids can go to hell.
Putting tacks in their Milky Way,
don't they know candy causes tooth decay.
Even with the lights off, they still knock,
I hate every kid on this **** block.
I give them lint from my dryer,
their stupid costumes, I light on fire.
I put pennies in their pillow case,
some kids so ugly, don't need masks on face.
I smile at their moms, standing on the sidewalk,
all the hot ones, I can't help but gawk.
When they say trick or treat,
I make them lick my smelly feet.
Putting pins in their Baby Ruth,
no longer will they have a sweet tooth.
Putting nails in their peanut butter Twix,
I have a big bag filled with rotten tricks.
I put Anthrax in their Snickers,
on the Kit Kat i cover with chiggers.
Three Musketeers are filled with staples,
Butterfingers have splinters from wooden tables.
Naughty kids get a bag of my ****,
from the toilet, that I often sit.
Maybe next year they will learn,
or I'll give them ashes from their parents urn.
Sometimes I scare them and make them beg,
their so scared, you can see *** running down their leg.
I've even given left overs from the fridge,
all the maggots make their bodies twitch.
Next Halloween, if I'm not in jail,
I will urinate in every candy pail.

Haven't set up an alter
In I dont' how many moons
The few times I tried
I truly knew the futility of it
And understood
That security, for me, is fleeting


Just another thing
That seems so easy for the others
Oh no dont applaud
My  baby brain  for its
Whining,ll just make it worse
So the other day after
I snatched the sage you left
For me outside your window sill
(Thank you btw)


I instinctively started
Making YET ANOTHER ALTER
Then broke down for the 5th time that day
"How could someone like you ever deserve a home"
Then I had remembered  
That Im not allowed to
Have a safe space

I'm a drifter
Pushing the limits
My health is at risk
Every minute
No one to care
Whether I die or live  

Sitting on my hands
In a thicket
Praying wishing waiting thanking
God that I woke still broken
Throwing up stuff
Everytime I tried to move

Hunger
Hurt
Thirst
Hate
Anger
Thankful
Stay low
on your toes
Heatstroke
Dryheave
Please No
Please make it stop
Oh god here it comes again
My Sweat drips endlessly
Chiggers bit my skin
So it wont quit itchin'

Bites that bother until next week
Typical....
All I want is a place to hang my hat
Or hopefully lay my head without trip wires surrounding
Me
All I want is to oggle my alter and call on my angels and my God
Without being on constant alert
Watching my own six

Bc your own brother will turn on you
Don't get comfortable
Dont relax
Dont unpack
Dont believe
A ******* thing they tell you
Prove me wrong then

Haven't had a mfr not turn
Haven't seen anyone actually keep their word

And why cant i set up an alter without it being destroyed?

Self care is showering 
for the first time in a week
It's remembering to eat
And pushing through my anxiety 
when the phone rings

Self care is gritty
It's ***** and rough and almost living

Learning to love myself is a dark, twisted path
full of thickets and chiggers 
and shadows trying to lure me astray

It's trying to understand
that I am worth more than my broken parts
That I can be more than a peach pit heart
with arsenic pumping through my veins

Self care is knowing no one can save me from me
I will rescue myself
I can be my own hero

Self care is broken knuckles and ****** knees
from fighting my own castle walls
It is meeting myself in a battle of will
and being aware I might not succeed

Self care is pushing on,
when all the signs scream run away,
because I've been running for too long

So, at least for now,
I'll face the danger of self care

Period homesteads line Peppercorn Road , meticulous working farms of corn , cotton and sorghum cultivars , rugged gravel drives cut into dried , red clay ditches , Charleston architecture cooling her Summer residents . Double story barns with white washed brick silos , picket fences and blue ribbon cattle .. Sturdy Pole barns shelters surrounded in shamrock clover , the clanging of cowbells as Dairy cows return from her glistening fields ... Catfish feeding frenzies over field corn and evening mayflies , gas porch lights illuminate the family garden with activity in Summer well into night , Crowder peas and Fordhook butter beans , Okra and Butter peas harvested free of Red wasp and Bumblebees as opposed to hungry mosquitos , red chiggers and Crane flies ... Silver washtubs on hot , humid nights , the instant relief of cool well water relieving the pang of harvest .. The creaky screen door and porch ceiling fans , white rockers and good books ...Mason jars filled with sweet tea , hearts filled with adventure and young eyes with sleep .. Coonhounds sing to the ever rising gold Moon .. All was well .. All was most certainly well ...

Let me practice jawing Esperanto with these savaged red ******* of Apachería & Comancheria, as it'll be like picking off dead chiggers
I see Apachería & Comancheria's dead ******* cussing red chiggers
Apachería and Comancheria's blood-fed chiggers tread bled *******
that no Ethiopian chuckles for, snickers, giggles, moans or sniggers
niggly niggled niggardly nigh *** diggers on jungle-jiggled jiggers

I’m rollin’ west toward the downtown;
My eye adjusting to a robe of twilight courtesy of a
Sunset fetching.

Having come from the grocery store,
I drive and think of why I like the summertime twilights:
Of the cicadas singing in muggy treelines--
Of screened in porches with single bulbs--
Of newly caught fish being cleaned in said porches--
Of kids deftly riding skateboards on uneven sidewalks--
Of shadetree mechanics cussing at another raked knuckle as their respective hot rods come together.
Of the lightning bugs as they beacon for their mate to be...

There’s the drag racing out at Osborn on Friday nights.
The fishing on the Missouri and random farm ponds any given evening into night.
The mosquitoes,
The chiggers,
The ticks,
And the bullfrogs…

The summer twilights--
The beauty of a season.

Unfazed are heterophobes to acknowledge the goofiness of *******,
whilst spouting negroidal declarations to activate detonator triggers
of filthy, **** ponces infested with ticks, fleas, scabies and chiggers
that histrionically warped gandy dancers, boatswains & sail riggers,
greasers, stevedores, wharf rats, **** reamers & steady well diggers
who couldn't weather frontier-life deprivation or ****-eating rigors
when hiking trousers, peeking up skirts before yanking off knickers
Hemorrhoid 2015 shall make Earth bleed like a ******-*** asteroid
as its impact will usher in the solar system's ultimate, master 'rhoid
that's as infuriating as Springdale, Arkansas' Baptistic Pastor Floyd
as it was greyish cortical brain matter that he was resolutely devoid
With a ham sandwich I have Mama Cass back-scratching gladness,
while in Sea World's aquarium I promulgate bass-catching badness
that'll civilize the wilds of London with a grass-thatching blandness
to whelp the whipped into an Indio/Haitian grass-patching madness
to mortally wound a Port au Prince mulatto-class-matching sadness
West of the jazzily-gay mind of Bohemian mafioso Clint Eastwood
I root out like a sow pig a hint that's least bad over a hint least good

Boarded windows bleached by shame and sunlight
clip the view of the smoldering memories of gazing from behind
an ancestral eye, Clutching your Choo-Choo train
as the snow alters the world with a white parade of carpet
stitched in Winters’ bitter Doily. A fabulous crush of delicate ephemera.
The street lamp praying for another life
backlit by the flames of your visitation… stoking your Southern Star.
The House recants the miracles and the broken step that ascends
while mocking your flight.
The crabapples chuck their boredom to the barren nostalgia
where the soil hid a lush lawn for lawn darts
and chiggers.

Returning has to taste like a penny
To Change You.