You're the Wacky Wolf-man,
Tearing through our pages with a single huff.
Breathing life into us little piggies,
Blasting your way through the daily fluff.

You're the Word Wizard.
Leaving us in awe and in dribbles.
Waving your wand,
Conjuring magical and spellbinding scribbles.

You're the Living Legend,
Almost like a deity of some sort.
Garnering shiploads of admiration,
Through words of encouragement, banter and retort.

You're the Bad Boy Bard...
Never mincing your words.
Unconventional, you howl amidst the flocks...
You never did chirp like the birds...

You're the Minstrel Mobster,
Shooting your Tommy, never missing.
Flicking forward your fedora,
Strung lute ever smoking.

You're one Cool Cat.
Fending off haters with a bat.
Everyone just wants to be that.
Like a superhero whose symbol is a bat...

You're a Gem Generator.
Cogs and gears churning the jewels laid
Machine malfunction! My system's jammed!
Well I guess that's just it... Enough said!

Sister and I loved to play, to run and twirl and roll in grass all day. Momma gets mad when we go too far but our yard is massive we live on a farm! Running on rolling fields of prairie, singing and laughing and acting merry, shot right through the tree line that marks our abode, slid across the rocks on Old Joser Road, saw an old lady who walked with crumpled toes and spoke too and listened too a pack of crows, plucking weeds and picking a thorny flower she called out to us that fateful hour;

  “Oh my and how lovely, two twins so cute! I had thought no one lived so far out here, away from the town and its charming cheer? Why don’t you come over and meet my pet crows and I’ll show you two a trick that nobody knows!”

  I leaned down to consult with sister you see, she being younger she’s littler than me, I told her to stay close while we watched the show, then we’d be off and away we’d go;

  “Okay old lady my name is Tim and this here’s Tam and this place you’re in, is our family farm and that guy in the field, well that’s our Dad, and if you mess with us he gets real mad, so no funny business in this game and we’ll be nice to you just the same.”

  “Agreed indeed you little man and I can’t wait to see you in my pan!”

  Now I had to think on this real hard. Did that mean something about being able to see or was she talking about eating me? No matter, no problems and boy those crows, did they sure put on some funny shows and acted like they had lots of smarts and seemed just like pets and warmed our hearts;

  “Thanks old lady we gotta go we’re almost late for dinner you know?”

  She moved too fast and came right up and pulled out an odd-looking wooden cup;

“Wait there dearies, not so quick, about that dinner and my sweet shtick, you see you owe me a trick too, two coins I’m asking there of you, you bring them up to my cabin on that hill and I’ll teach you some magic and give you a thrill!”

  “Okay lady!”

  I agreed as we ran, if we don’t get home soon it’s gonna be my can! ‘Cause I know my pops he’ll beat my **** and I’ll be sent upstairs with nothing to eat, so I told little sister to move those feet!

caesura

  Whisk you down the road of boiled toad, and singeing hair, of whispered things and fires' flare, of evil looks from open books, pigeon’s toes and a chicken gizzard, while around your legs it crawls and creeps, my hungry lizard that never sleeps! You gawk! You stare! My wrinkly-face, the dank rank air in my dingy place, the dusty shelves a-lined in books and creepy crawlies in every nook, cobwebs and spiders at every corner, piggies run squealing while the chickens banterer, ravens caw at strange green light from lantern but back to all those shadow corners where little bad things spy and salivate, thinking on what they had last ate, and there you are shaking, nervous, trembling; a porky little piece of meat and something we all want to eat!

  “Oh don’t be scared my little one, I’m kidding, teasing, just having fun. Hand me the coins I asked for earlier, when we crossed paths along Old Joser, draw near to me, come here, come a bit closer!”

  Be careful will I not to bare my teeth, or lick my lips or stare too deep, for one is easy, two a dangerous feat and I so want to have my little porky piece of meat! I stood on a ladder with little Tam on my shoulder, so she could see the *** as it smoked and it smoldered, I directed little Tim over there to a seat and he saw me lick my lips as I thought about their meat.

  “Aha ha ha ha ha!”

  I laughed out loud as I cast in the dust and the billows changed color and kiddies made a fuss, but then the sparkly things popped and shimmered in their eyes, while both of them let out marvelous sighs, bewildered, bemused and tricked by my lie, I threw Tammy in to my cauldron to die!

  “Nooooooo!”

  Little Tim, little Tim did he let me in and punished will he be for that little sin, I whispered a spell and took up my broom and zapped a hole in the floor out in the room, where Tim was running and dropped him in a hole, down a tunnel he went that saved his soul, for out he shot back on Old Joser Road, no wiser no worse for the trick I showed!

Now listen up children or this is your lot,

For I’m out there always lurking with my ***,

I’m always hungry and so are my crows,

We’ll eat you up all the way to your toes,

“Jimson and sassafras, morning glory, woodrose seed,”

“A ***** of my finger, lock of my hair, a thimble and tweed,”

“Two coins, a cauldron, my cunning and your breed,”

“Whenever I’m hungry that’s all that I need!”

There are only two ways to truly know someone: sleep with them or take them bowling.
Phoenix Aime was the woman of my dreams. So, I took her bowling.

Paid for a game. Rented shoes. Got the little, sticky bracelet thingy that said Slippery Joe Lanes.
That way if we got in some sort of accident on the way home,
the guy at the morgue could identify us as bowlers. Anyway, here's the bulleted list of what I knew about Phoenix up to that point:

• She looked like Diane Keaton circa 1972
• She talked with great pretension concerning craft beer
• She only patronized two restaurants: Denny's and IHOP
• She was eight years older than me
• She kissed my sister once on a dare
• Her shoe size was 7
• She was perfect or a near synonym

The bowling alley was empty save a World War II vet in a wheelchair and his wife at lane six,
and they were barely there. Country music played over the loud speaker. And I felt cozy. Predictable. Like a payment plan on the QVC.

That was until Phoenix said, "I forgot something. I'm going to go talk to Mack real quick."
Mack worked the front desk, according to his name tag. Talk to Mack. She just talked to Mack. Mack was sleeping with her. I untied my shoelaces. Oh, Mack, love your red polo with blue tiger stripes.
I pulled my sneakers off. Oh, Mack, I love it when you dip your finger in nacho cheese and feed it to me. Slid my right foot into bowling shoe. Halfway in with the left, and my socked foot struck something plastic. A stick of tiny deodorant. Like unsavory truck-stop-to-truck-stop deodorant. Oh, Mack, I love it when you deodorize -- so hard. Pull the strings tight on the left shoe. Oh, Mack, rub the deodorant until your underarms are SO CHALKY AND WHITE.

"You okay?" Phoenix asked.

"Yeah, what do I look like something's wrong?"

She carried a seafoam green bowling ball with a ****** Mary insignia. "It looks like you triple-knotted your shoes there."

And I said something dumb like, better safe than sorry.

"Sorry about leaving you all alone. Mack holds onto my ***** for me," she said.  I bet he does. "I hate talking to that guy." What? "He's a vegan."

Now, at that time in my life, I was a vegan. And had planned some stirring remarks about the processing of sweet little piggies into cancerous hot dog machines on the way to pick her up. Thought she would think me full of passion, "on fire" for a cause, you know? The wise thing would have been to say, oh well, I'm a vegan. But instead I asked, "What do you mean?"

"You know serial killer's get a last meal before they're executed, right?"

"Right." Where the hell is this going?

"Well, have you ever heard of someone on death row requesting a last meal that didn't involve some sort of animal product? Gacy had buckets of chicken, Bundy had a medium rare steak, even uh, ****, what was his name, McVeigh, Timothy McVeigh he had two pints of mint chocolate ice cream. Dairy."

"I'm not sure how this refutes veganism."

"Nobody is a vegan for their last meal. Nobody. I'm not going to subscribe to a diet that I can't follow until the very end. Live every day like your last, that's my motto."

"That's your motto." I said. To be a great listener, just repeat the last three or four things anyone says to you and raise your eyebrows a little bit. (Examples: "My dog died." -- "You're dog died.", "I never ate breakfast burritos again." -- "Never ate it again.", "I love you." -- "You love me.")

Over Phoenix's shoulder, over by lane six, the wife wheeled the World War II vet up to the lane. And he tossed the ball. Good team, I thought. Want to know someone take them to the bowling alley.

Phoenix removed a glove from her pocket. She had her own ball. Brought her own badass, jet black bowling gloves. And if her carnivorous tendencies hadn't already put a ***** in the Golden Days of Josh and Phoenix, that glove did.

She typed her name first on the scoring computer. Didn't ask if I wanted to go first. That's fine. Approached the lane, three fingers inside the ****** Mary. She brought her bony arm back with the grace of a ballerina tucked away stage right in the shadows. Mary cut from grace slid down the lane with a spin.

Strike. I couldn't really see the pins from my angle. But I recieved a transmission via the "yes" and arm pump. That was two marks against her, and I was going to three. I'd call it strikes, but well, the whole bowling skew.

Here's a bulleted list of what a "yes" and arm pump immediately taught me:

• She takes bowling serious.
• If you take bowling serious, when do you relax?
• She'd never relax.
• My life would be tucked shirts, matching belts and shoes.

For six frames, I picked up fours and sevens. Phoenix, though, nothing but strikes. I threw a gutter on frame seven. Like a normal human being, I shrugged. Made a face out the sides of my mouth. Kept it light.

"I thought you were a grown *** man," Phoenix said.

"Me too."

What happened next, I willed. I'm not god or anything like that. At the time, just cosmicly ******.
Her step stuttered. 7-10 split. "Mack!" she screamed. "Floors are slicker than a used car salesman's hair."

From across the alley,
"Sorry, Phoenix, baby. I'll bring you some nachos. That make up for it?"

"Ain't gonna knock down two pins is it?"

"So, uh, no nachos then?"

"Actually, go ahead and bring those."

She lined up. Back straight. Legs together. She rolled her neck. "You're about to see how it's done."

And I didn't. She broke it down the middle. Field goal. In that moment, that holy moment, I was knowledge plateau. Vindicated.

For about 10 seconds.

Mack swaggered over, nachos in hand. "Phoenix, sweetie, you okay?"

"Do I look okay?"

"No, that's why I asked."

"Just give me the nachos."

"Ah crap." Mack had gotten his pointer finger in the nacho cheese.

"Let me see it."

And right there, right in front the ****** Mary seafoam green bowling ball, she slurped the cheese off his finger."

Frame seven, a good as time as any to call it a match. The wife of the World War II vet kissed her husband's forehead. Handed him a ball. As I walked by, hand on shoulder. "Struck gold, dude."

With eager eyes and tempting smile, I beckoned 'cross the wharf
And they returned, a sad reply, stating he must morph
into a man -in pieces then- who puts things back together
Whilst I sit here, and wait and wait, and keep on till forever.

Kingdom comes, piggies fly, time churns soft and slow
Every hour, like the other, shuffling to and fro
Mind is racing, heart is beating, must be with him soon...
He is the sun, he is the stars, he is the solstice moon.

But he is full of hatred, and angry, scary things
That I cannot behold because my covered ears will ring.
I will not hear the wretchedness that billows from his mouth
I will not be the victim of intentions headed south.

Now he’s an angel, under God, and all the better creatures
that prize the gentlest, passionate, souls who mirror all their features. They never asked, only assumed, that I would be alright
But Oh! the torture over one who turned away from light.

So here I wait, on endless shores, until they come for me
Or maybe not, really, who knows, what lies beyond the sea
The water holds the untold words of thousands who've passed on
And here I am, scribbling the script, of stories before dawn.

Piggies dancing, floating along narrow passages towards what they hope is their ends. Their means have been stolen and packaged and sold by big suited, corporate, handy-handy machines. They eat piggies every day and love it, love it, love it down their gullet.
They are not worth a mention yet they get it, they want nothing but your attention, they don’t need it yet they get it. Their appetites are insatiable and contagious, they use it against us by showing us how we are nothing but what they are     and we are fools enough to take it as Truth.
                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                      Shame.
We have shame because they debase us and hence debase themselves.
We have shame because we see their debasement and yet powerlessness is in our bones.
We have shame because all we want is not all we get and nowhere near all we deserve,
-it measures much lower.
   It is irrelevant, it is biased, it is useless, IT is un-real-(UnRealistic, UnRelated, UnTrue)
                                                                ­                                                                 ­                          Lie.

If my breath stinks or my hair is greasy or my cloths *****, my teeth yellowed, my feet smelly, my nails long, my social life quiet and solicitous-   will you discern a negativity in my human-ness? We are no villains. We hate only those who would have us believe that we must hate ourselves and each other. They are no beasts like us. The animal within, encased by a carapace of Humanity glued and mortared by self-centered ideologies gets too thick and you must break it by looking at yourself. ******* and ******* and spitting and grunting and moaning in ecstasy and pain.
Repeat after me and say it loud with beastly yell “ I am a ******* beautiful Animal!”

As a child the frustration and aggravation we caused our parents counting down the days until Christmas or our Birthday.

And those afternoons in elementary school trying not to doze off while counting the minutes until the dismissal bell would ring.

The older I got the more I've counted my life away.
Count the years until 16 to be able to drive and be free.
Count the years until 21 to be able to drink and feel like a grownup.

Counting the months then years of the length of each relationship
Waiting to be wed.

Then counting the negative pregnancy tests over and over becoming hopeless that I would ever be able to count little toes and fingers.

Counting the tears that I shed for my husband, as the fairy tale family I dreamed of turned into a nightmare.

Counting the nights left alone, scared and waiting for him to return home.

Counting the minutes between each contraction.
Counting the moments before my miracle would arrive.
Then counting the staples in my belly where she had to be taken from my body so that we would survive.
Finally counting ten piggies and ten little fingers

Counting the hours and days daddy left us alone and scared in the hospital for him to party and drink.

Counting the paragraphs on the separation papers
Counting the steps to the court house
Counting the people watching as my romance and love was flushed away

Counting the almost endless nights praying for me and my baby
Counting her smiles, counting her wishes
Counting her Birthday's

Counting the moments I am blessed to be her mom
Counting the hours of work to be able to return home to her.
I will spend my lifetime counting.

Washing, ironing, cooking, cleaning
The work is never done!
Lunching, shopping, relaxing, reading
I’ve heard is much more fun.

Sweeping, mopping, dusting, shining
Who thinks up all these gigs?
But what I really want to know right now
Is who left open the barn door to let in the pigs?

Mowing, weeding, trimming, seeding
Are mans work, but I’m all on my own
I gave birth to a virtual army
But housework is their No Go Zone!

Yelling, screaming, crying, keening
Achieves naught but my puffy face
I’ve given up such futile exercises
That puts no one in their place.

I hear “Can you help me please”
They hear “Blah Blah Blah”
Maybe I need to learn sign language
One gesture can go so far!

To this end I have ultimately decided
And I really do think this is for the best
To sit right down with drink in hand and
Let the little piggies wallow in their own mess!

24/07/2010

What's up, Chicken Little? Whatchu think you know?
The sky is fallin', Skittles droppin’ out the rainbow.
Don’t hate me cuz I’m fast. Don’t hate me cuz I’m keen.
Hate me cuz I got more tiger’s blood than Charlie Sheen.

My rappin’ is a skill, wait, matter fact a habit.
This rhyme is so rare I threw a Masterball at it.
Ima get you to the point when you done think you had it
then keep on chuggin’ through like the Energizer Rabbit.

Runnin’ this game since I was born in 1990.
Ball so hard like Waldo everybody wants to find me.
Watch me as I fly free, practicing my Tai Chi,
soarin’ through the sky like Ben Franklin with his kite key.

I slay wicked verses like they fire breathin’ dragons.
Always down for an adventure so they call me Bilbo Baggins.
You got your feet draggin’ from all your pithy laggin’.
Chokin’ on my farts, left you in my dust gaggin’.

My girls be elegant while yours be nothing but ******.
No diamonds in my ears cuz I don’t like to be flashy.
You just can’t get past me, kilo in the backseat.
NOS tank in the front so them piggies can’t get at me.

Lyrics like the plague so they call my **** Bubonic.
Sittin’ at the bar gettin’ drunk on gin and tonic.
Blowin’ on that chronic, so fast they call me Sonic.
Watch me transform as I go Megatronic.

Is my **** too fast? You need to stop and smell the flowers?
I am just a human, I ain't got no special powers.
I could go for hours. The rap game I devour.
Like Frodo with the ring takin’ down the Two Towers.

My rhymes are heavy duty while yours be made of plastic.
Better call the Doctor cuz this **** is getting’ drastic.
Snap back like elastic, I made an instant classic.
Light the roof on fire with a flick of my matchstick.

I’m tellin’ all them haters that I’m wicked sick nasty.
Dissin’ all they want to but they too scared to come at me.
I go where the cash be, rappin’ makes me happy.
Don’t wash my hair for days cuz I like that **** *****.

All I really wanna do is have a rap battle
cuz my rhymes are so disgusting they’ll make your head rattle.
You’re in a boat with no paddle, on a horse with no saddle.
It’s lookin like you’re gonna hafta ******* straddle.

I know I have the sickest flow that you have ever felt.
There’s nothin’ you can do it’s just the hand that I was dealt.
Killa Kraig will make you melt, yes it matters how it’s spelt.
Get it right the first time or I’ll leave you with a ******' welt.

My game will give you chills from your head down to your feet.
Sittin’ on the couch cuz I love to chill with Pete.
I’m the man to beat cuz I bring all the heat.
Grew up in the burbs, didn’t grow up on the street.

They gave me a gold medal when I scored a perfect 10
cuz I got the versatility of an erasable pen.
Singin’ like a ren, no need to pretend.
Murkin’ rhymes like zombies like my Asian friend Glenn.

Honesty’s a virtue so you know I never front it.
Always swingin’ for a homer, ain’t no need to ever bunt it.
Now you really done it, watch me as I run it.
I made it to the center of the Tootsie Pop in one lick.

Crusin’ round town in my green 6-4 Impala.
Drop so many bombs that you think I worship Allah.
Dolla’ after dolla’, cute as a koala,
but ruthless as a renegade Viking in Valhalla.

My lyrics kick you in the nuts now you talkin’ like a munchkin.
Drop you to the floor like some Mohammed Ali punchin’.
Where is Conjunction Junction? Do the number crunchin’.
Get you home by midnight so you don’t turn into a pumpkin.

Stickin’ to the game like some universal duct tape.
Give you three tries while I nail it in one take.
I'm the sugar on the cornflake, the reason for an earthquake.
I'll toss you like a salad or a chicken in some Shake n’ Bake.

Now grab a pen a paper cuz here’s the final lesson.
I know who’s on first so now tell me what’s on second.
I did the number checkin’, I’m the best I reckon.
While you standin’ at the wrong end of my ******’ Smith & Wesson.

Spoof song: sung to the tune of Five For Fighting's "Superman"

Kermit
I can't stand when high,
I'm not that naive,
I'm just out to find the better part of green,
I'm more than a bird, I'm more than a bear,
I'm more than some frog in piggies underwear
And it's not easy to  be  green...

Wish that I was high,
****** and half asleep,
Find a way to lie about my jones on Sesame Street
It may sound absurd-but don't be naive,
Even Muppets can smoke too much green,
I may be disturbed but wont you concede,
Even Muppets croak upon skunk ****,
And it's not easy to  be  green...

Once again I'm small-I'm small and green, well it's
All right, we can all get stoked tonight, and I'm not
Blazing...or anything...

I can't stand when high,
I'm not that naive,
Drugs just get you fried,
On hash and buzzed on ****
I'm only a frog on Jim Henson's knee
Wearing pink lingerie on this one way street,
Only a frog on Jim Henson's knee
Looking for older guys who flirt with me,
Yea flirt with me...who flirt with me, yea who flirt with me...
WHO FLIRT WITH ME...
I'm only a frog that's diggin' the green,
I'm only a frog on Kronik 7 Leaves
I'm only a frog who's puffin' on green
AND IT'S NOT EASY...  wooohooohoooo...
It's not easy...to be-he...greeeeeen...

Piggies at markets
Piggies at home
Piggies eating cows
Starving piggies crying

Brody's mother
was quite the dame
she had this way
of inviting you in

after school
and offering things
to eat and drink
and hey boys

she said
why not try out
the outside pool?
Brody said

OK
and so you followed him
but what do I wear?
you asked

O nothing
he said
no need
it's only us

and well
the neighbours
can't see ****
and so you went

with him to his room
and undressed
and he gave you
a big white towel

and you went
downstairs with him
to the outside pool
his mother was there

and said
how about a drink of pop?
sure
Brody said

and you nodded
holding tight
to the towel
and off she went

in her red
two piece swimsuit
her **** quite neat
in the sack

of the suit
come on in John
Brody said
don't be shy

and so you dropped
the towel
and climbed in
the pool

and the water
was warm
and came up
to your chest

he swam around
but you just stood there
with arms folded
over your chest

after few moments
his mother came out
with a tray of pop drinks
in glasses with straws

gosh John
she said
looking at you
you sure are white

do you hide your body
from the sun?
Brody laughed
guess so

you said
she smiled then put
the tray on a small
white table

by the pool
and climbed in
the pool
her top piece floating

like pink piggies
you looked
then looked away
she talked

of Brody's father
how he liked to
just lounge
on the water

like a lily
Brody guffawed
some lily
he said

his mother smiled
as she looked at you
her eyes blue liquidy
as if they were

of water
she swam towards you
you afraid of the water John?
can't swim

you said
can't you
she said sexily
Brody you never said

John couldn't swim
didn't know
he said
swimming off

to the other end
of the pool
I’ll have to
show you how

she whispered
would you like me
to show you how?
she came nearer

her piggies seemed
pleased to see you
it's all a matter
of confidence

she said
trust in yourself
and the water
you looked at her

liquidy eyes
she put her arms
under the water
and held you

lift your feet
off the bottom
of the pool
she said

you tried but your feet
wouldn't move
here
she said

and she uprooted you
and you fell
into the water
and splashed

and flapped your arms
like a drowning bird
she held you tight
and said

relax your body
in my arms
you stiffened
then slowly relaxed

in her arms
holding you
to her
the piggies brushing

against you
her breath applely  
and perfumery
right

she said
slowly flap
your legs
in the water

and move the water
with your hands
and arms
and so you did

slow but with a kind
of nervous pleasure
feeling her there
her hands and arms

holding you
and Brody up
the other end
flat on his back

looking at the sky
like some thin lily
as you lounged
with his mother

and her piggies near
getting to trust
the water
and the new acquired

skill she'd shown
and you wished Brody
was gone
and you had her

to yourself
all alone.

The pigs want a part of this action
No way are they going to oink this alone
They don't know  how but they're going to make it happen
The only draw back is the lack of thumbs

How in the world did those cows hold the hammers?
Where did the sheep get all their ideas?!
After all it's the goats with the brains!
Them and all of their kids

They don't need that big of a rocket
Room enough for a bucket of slop and a couple pigs with a grin
Asked how many were in the mood for adventure
Not by the hair of their chinny chin chins

Some of the little piggies were off at the market
Some little piggies would rather stay home
To eat all the newly purchased roast beef
Which left the other piggies with none
But most of the piggies would rather just wee wee at home

I guess when it comes to the pigs
And adventurous spirits they seem to have none
They find enjoyment on earth in the back yard
Laying around wallering in mud

I wiggle my toes and tell them I love them.
Five little soldiers, all in a line
That is, on Monday.
On Tuesday they're all little piggies going to the market;
and we all ate roast beef for dinner.
(but one little piggy had none).

On Wednesday, they are all toes again.

whittled down and disavowed
by an overreaching society
the pomp
and zeal
with such appeal
and airs of impropriety

unbelievable populace
chickens
chickens
chickens
free of heads
still peck, peck, peckin' ya

copulate, then like you less
pickens'
pickens'
pickens'
slim as anorexia

Act Now!
Don't Wait!
the finish line?
keep runnin' straight
you can go to class
...don't be late
or just go tip the magistrate

pointless?
I doubt it very much
more fish in the sea
spontaneous lush
oink less
piggy hush!

buy, buy birdie!
consumerism's sturdy
making up makeup
makin' me look perdy
hopin' I don't wake up

Live as hard as you can
just to die before you're thirty
if practice makes you perfect
then perfection makes you *****

In a universe of toys and dolls there was
One planet
That is to say, there wasn't one planet alone,
But one specific planet
This was the planet of stuffed creatures
The second home of teddy bears
And velveteen rabbits
The place for old friends full of fluff and honey,
Old grey donkeys and shy pink piggies
The place to go after they've been loved to pieces
The over loved and worn are
Ever so tenderly pieced together
The battered and abused are mended
Comforted with thoughts of laughter and sun
Given extra shiny buttons and softer filling
The loved and misused have all have come here
The adored and discarded have all come home
Long after their time on Earth is through
Once burned or trashed or lost
Little angels fly them to the new world
For a second life of happiness
Home to the land of stuffed creatures

Crazy Circus (just a wrap)

We're runnin' like chickens with our heads cut off,                      
Squealing like piggies round the old food trough,
Stuck on a treadmill and we can't get off,
It's a crazy circus

Lost and confused, walkin in a trance,
Common sense needs a second chance,
But time is runnin out gotta change our stance,            
Such a crazy circus

Just lookin' for respect we think we know
But the real truth is you reap what you sow

Under the bigtop we're up on the stage
Spillin' and killin' lost in a rage
Why can't we just turn the page
Of this crazy circus

Strutin' our stuff actin' real cool
Posin' in the mirror ready for a duel
Now who do you think is the real fool
What a crazy circus

The old ringmaster we're the main attraction
Always lookin' for some kind of action
Spinnin' our wheels losin' our traction
In this crazy circus

Just lookin' for respect we act like we know
But the real truth is you reap what you sow

Gomer LePoet...

Well, what now, hey?
     I threw the dog overboard yesterday.
     The day before, the day?
Where will you go, hey?

I heard the orchestra-man play
The same way,
     Sanctum, requiem, asylum
All Latin in his French dog-eared play.

     Hear the monkey, playing accordion play
To the whirling whirly-whirly-ghig
     Tre dramatique, no? Today
I understand you're just as "tramatig."

I want to hear your Frenchmen play
Play ***** pipes play play
      In his dog-eared French *****-man
Play

But I cannot, cannot say
     Tears of joy, in hydrant spray
The Hyades triumphant rainbow stay
     Cough your little fears away;

Hear the Star Spangled Francis Key play
Frenchmen play, play,
Little piggies counted play
Black white keys with little piggle-plumps play

Atone-al, A-tonal---atonal tonal sounds as if to say
"Getting married here to stay"
       All alone and all today
      Settle down if for a day
And who will hear the trumpet play
When *****-man Frenchman say
"Where? Home of the free" and stay

Keep your hands away
Never want to        let you say
               "Hear me, hear ye, all you weary, weary dreamers
         But never left your confidence like Russell-rustle leaf-blown willow-white

You fill them up with seventy two pay
      Make a kite, to(k)night, allRight
      Thank god for the fleas in the right
Hairless creatures for to sway

I threw the dog overboard yesterday
The day before, the day
And if you'd wanted it to stay
You should've say, you should've say

But never let my hand betray
The vein, the line, the artery
Of arterial shells bombastically
Loquacious to a fault, this day

They say "You want another day"
They say "You never wanted say"
They say "You wasted every day"
They say "They say, they say, they say"

                   But e'er forget, ne'er forget
                   I'll despise you abandon heaven for earth to get
       And leave your money, your millions behind
       For mansions with my Lord to find

But in the ceiling never was a god to pray

Crazy Circus (just a wrap)

We’re runnin’ like chickens with our heads cut off,
Squealing like piggies round the old food trough,
Stuck on a treadmill and we can’t get off,
It’s a crazy circus

Lost and confused, walkin in a trance,
Common sense needs a second chance,
But time is runnin out gotta change our stance,
Such a crazy circus

Just lookin’ for respect we think we know
But the real truth is you reap what you sow

Under the bigtop we’re up on the stage
Spillin’ and killin’ lost in a rage
Why can’t we just turn the page
Of this crazy circus

Strutin’ our stuff actin’ real cool
Posin’ in the mirror ready for a duel
Now who do you think is the real fool
What a crazy circus

The old ringmaster we’re the main attraction
Always lookin’ for some kind of action
Spinnin’ our wheels losin’ our traction
In this crazy circus

Just lookin’ for respect we act like we know
But the real truth is you reap what you sow

Gomer LePoet...

I wanna be the hero, I want to be the good little boy, but all this life has me down
and I can’t live in this little town, where everybody frowns, and people walk around with crowns
Looking down because you act a little different and weep yourself to sleep.
It may not be just this town the destroys little boys dreams,
But I’m not going to stick around to watch my home split apart at the seams

My first memory I told my momma that I was the ugly duckling from her story,
she whispered “goodnight son”, and rolled her head back chuckling
She must have known for a long time that it was truth
But she insisted on tucking me in so I showed her my pearly white tooth
Because I thought she made the world all better
But when she kissed my head she told me a lie, and It was all to stop the bed wetter.
And it worked for that moment of time
I was too young to understand that other people wouldn’t be so kind

And when my daddy read me stories the next night it was no different
I told him that I was the black sheep that cried wolf, but he was indifferent
He just told me his stories even louder to stop my interruptions
From breaking the perfect bubble they wrapped me up in complexions.
My father told me about the three little piggies and how I was the strongest of them all
Because the big bad wolf could never blow down my bedroom wall
But what he didn’t tell me that all along he was the wolf in disguise
He was eaten himself, and I was next to be gobbled up; a pig who won first prize

However, I never got the chance to go weeeee weeee weee all the way home
Like every six-year-old kid dreamed of on their first day gone.
Within ten minutes of being in reality, I was told that Santa wasn’t real,
That stories were just fiction, and broken hearts won’t actually heal
I ran home that day fertilizing the grass below
It felt dead inside the kick to my reality was low
The grass I ran home on had been bone dry for six years
But I never really knew what to name crying since Elmo never really showed any tears

I wanna be the hero, I want to be the good little boy, but all this life has me down
and I can’t live in this little town, where everybody frowns, and people walk around with crowns
Looking down because you act a little different and weep yourself to sleep.
It may not be just this town the destroys little boys dreams,
But I’m not going to stick around to watch my home split apart at the seams

From the crib to the high chair, from the training wheels to the big boy seat, I was off
Off to meet talking trains, dancing zoo animals, and bright smiling people lit like Rudolf
I wanted laser guns shooting at me, ninja stars whizzing past my face
And everyday boys like me saving the day from bad guys that I'd have to chase
But nowadays criminals are for the news crews, and fights were for action scenes,
Adventures and joys were six planets away in Pluto’s playful puppy dreams
But I distinguished reality as fake because your fake was my reality
That I so desperately tried to hold onto since it was more lively than gravity

I was told the easter bunny had died and my cat didn’t go to the vet to rest;
the Superheroes were just drawings on a piece of paper destroying the forest
Not fighting the joker nor galactic alien ships; not even raising a finger to save a cat,
But I watched thousands of people die on my kindergarten screen in a concrete grave.
Superman never showed up to stop either of the hijacked planes,
And Mrs. Burger, the only teacher to ever give me a red light, cried for at least an hour in pain.
Before this, I had no idea what death was, but it had become blatantly clear to see
That whatever it was, where ever it took people, I swore up and down It would never take me

Because I wanna be the hero, I want to be the good little boy, but all this life has me down
and I can’t live in this little town, where everybody frowns, and people walk around with crowns
Looking down because you act a little different and weep yourself to sleep.
It may not be just this town the destroys little boys dreams,
But I’m not going to stick around to watch my home split apart at the seams

Pink pigs played peppy and peaceful in Paradise.
Prideful and prestigious was their pen,
Prettily pounded with providence plenty provided.
Privileged pigs paraded pretentiously, protecting prized possessions and pleasantries.
Prudent pigs pootled purposefully pondering the passage of their permanence.
Promiscuous pigs plugged and pegged ***** pigs in picturesque pleasantness.
Piglets promising plumpness pranced piggish in the pasture, precociously,
Perky and pearly in prepubescent peachiness.

Pericles - Peerless paragon of Porky perfection-
was their principle proponent.
Pensive philosopher Pig!
Prominence and prestige palpable.

Pericles was percipient and practically prehistoric to his peers.
Preceedingly, Pericles had a premonition -
A premonition of pulverisation!
Predestined pogrom. Preordained.
Perhaps, Preventable?
Percicles pooled the pigs and pacing placidly,
Presented a panegyric.
Pronouncing with perspicacity, the plight of pigs -
Perfectly polished.

“Proud and prideful pigs of the pen!
Parents of piglets! Possessing no parallel!
Perhaps perplexed are pigs preempting Paradise to persist and prevail perennially.
Promptly - a plethora of pigs will be parted!
Peep not! Precious piggies.
The Progeny of us pigs will proclaim perpetually -
how those perfect pigs - parried and perished - politely parting their precious pork to the President of the Paddock.”

Paranoia pervaded…
Pericles, persisted in his preaching.

“Practical and pragmatic Pigs!
Privileged priceless pigs!
Preserved! Par-excellence!
Presently and permanently!”

Pericles was professional.
Preaching and pontificating with pertinent persuasion to the pigs presiding.
Paladin of pigs! Pre-eminence palatable.

Par-contre, Pericles had previously pledged a pact.
A Partnership!
To the President of the Paddock!
Particularly poignant and penetrative was the pact.
Pericles’ proposed to persuade the pigs to perdition,
Provided his own persistence and preservation - Promised.

Pericles’ panegyric proclaimed preposterous prevarications.

“Pigs, punished and persecuted, placed peerless and pardoned. Pure and pious!”
Pericles polluted their purity.

“Profound public punishment is no petty pitfall.
Professional pigs prevail!”
Pericles prated piffle to pliant pigs - Porky pies!

Parvenu! Plotter!
Peacemaker perverse!
Passionate performer of parody!

“Please pardon us Pigs!” - pining piggies prattled,
Pleading for preservation.
Peckish and parched was the pathetic profusion.
Pericles preached positivity - placated the pigs - pacified them with poison pellets and popsicles provided to piglets,
Pridelessly Pericles paraded a phalanx of piggies to the pernicious parlour of pain…

Pericles - Persuader of pigs!
Pestilent partaker!

Pericles’ ploy, premeditated - perpetrated!
Perniciousness proliferated

Piggies panted in perturbation.
Paranoid pigs posted prayers pitifully.
Precipitously, permanence was punctuated!
Pugnacious pigs parried pathetically as
Pincers pried and pulled at petrified pigs.
Porky palpitations pounded pervasively.
Pink pigs parted painfully -
Pulverised and pounded into paste - Puréed
Pricked and prodded - Purity pooled-out
Pressed and peeled. Pain prolific in proportion
Poor piggies. Pensive and polite.
Plundered.

“Phew!”, Pericles panted, post pogrom.
Pert Pervader! Peeking and peering,
Preserved and persistent!

Promise provided.

Prodigious profusion of piggies, piled, perished and perilous, peppered the parlour, in porky patterns of a putrid ******* painting.

Pericles - paranoid parasite - persevered!
Plegmatic and pallid in persistence.

Pericles peeped in posthumous pathos as the perishable perkiness of his peers was powerlessly pounded, passively processed, procured and preserved.

Pitiless! The proud prankster perked up.
Pericles went prancing and pealing about the parlour in peak performance - Perfumed Pig!

Products produced for pecuniary profit profligate.
Pericles’ portion partitioned!
Plenty of pork provided. Production prolific.
Pink pigs packaged.
Peaceful in Pork.

paws pause on pavements -
a union fresh out of blackmail -
waste collectors
start sizzling
new trash - contemporary psychotic disorders are
goon makers -
purple heads on
blue bodies cause a skirmish -
you're happy
you're shameless
little piggies in a bay of meat -
fast track to coffee cup sleeves -
I believe in Mississauga
soap operas -

dear prudence.
do you want to know a
secret?

yesterday. she loves you.
no
reply.
let it be. act
naturally.
it’s only
love. for no one.
across the universe.
misery.

it won’t
be
long.
happiness
is a warm
gun. i’ll cry
instead.

ob-la-di ob-la-da
things
we said today.
words of love. helter
skelter.

within you without you.

come
together. all you
need
is love.
john. paul. george. ringo.

piggies.

Five little piggies
Flying in a plane
Two in the cockpit
None of them inane


(c) elizabeth hynes 2013 excerpt

Hang in there,
My little bacon back baby
sweating from head to toe.
Those little piggies
are squirming in their straps
spilling their veins across the tarp.
Become the smoke
let you being take it in.
Swinging back and forth, intently
in a room lit so dim
willing yourself awake
briefly, paralyzed by the grin.
"We're having steak tonight boys
along with hawks and ribs.
The main course
tonight
is a helping of long pig."

I can be so brutal
or so you say you can tell
but stop and look again
this could be a match made in heaven
for two angels straight from hell.

We could sit here
and stare the clock down
stare it right off the wall
or dust off our top hat and spats
and strike out on a crawl.

Now I know what it is to be drunk
and I know what it is to be sober
I know what it is to be young
and quickly growing older.

The safest bet by a long shot
is to keep time hung up on the wall
make believe we can predict
just which way it's going to go.

Shake those dice
and give them a blow
dealt a straight in spades
you'll know just how it's going to go
we could do it up just like a drug
except we're all out of any float
it's back to throwing out a life line
to draw some heat out of this late winter's cold.

Heads I win tails you lose
you can flip a coin
a thousand and one times
before you just get tired and stop
knowing full well
that it isn't always the cream that rises to the top
no some times it's the slop
that makes the piggies come.

Dive in off the high board
zooming toward a teardrop,
waiting for the belly-flop
aiming at the blues
what side of the line are you on
when you disobey the rules.
A fist full of dollars
and a bucket full of small talk
about something, somewhere
being a once in a long time long shot.
I've got nothing left to lose,
I'm just aiming at the blues.


© 2012  All Rights Reserved

when i am king
you will be strange
and my better angels will laugh
at me, but i will behead
the little piggies.
too gorgeous
to be besmirched
i will unearth your drama
and disown you.

i'll throw flying carpets
at mundane rugs
and shrug an Atlus
at Promethean
worlds
where
i have disfigured
the swan and the mallard
but not the lake.
taking care
to give you nothing
but the very best nothing
my Karma
can mock
and a dime for
your trouble

and be
gone.

for a price.