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Donald Maher Dec 2018
Snit and Snat
      Part 1

    Different from me!
      
From a very young age, I was told what to think
What to do how to do it how to dress how to drink
When old enough to know all about this and about that
I was told by my father to watch out for the SNATs!

He told me such stories he stoked all my fears.
I just could not sleep right not for nearly a year
After all, he had told me that we were all SNITs,
We live a good life here down in the pits

Our people don’t mix with the SNATS up above
We stay down in our pit that fits us like a glove
The SNATS live above and control all the land
Some live by themselves in holes in the sand.

Some live in villages infested by rats
They eat crazy food and they even have cats
Don’t venture they said don’t stray way up there
They will soon gulp you down without even a care.

The noises they make shake our homes way down here
It makes our young children cower in fear.
Being curious I said, “I just have to know.  
How do they live and where do they go?

I must find this out I must venture up there
And find the true story, what why and where.”                                   I climbed out of the pit and on to the sand
Strange sounds I soon heard from way cross the land

It was the sound of a SNAT making way through the gloom
“SNAT! SNAT! SNAT!” he growled as he ran toward my doom.
I climbed to a place, up atop a great tree
The SNAT followed suit and sat next to me.

His skin was all furry his eyes were bright blue
He looked down at my feet and he took off my shoe
He let out a SNAT laugh and ran down the tree
I soon followed quickly and what do I see.

The SNAT was now dancing and singing with glee,
As loud as he could, SNAT! SNAT! SNAT!   1, 2, 3,
I climbed up that tree and watched for a while
The SNAT just kept dancing and showed a great smile

   He was wearing my shoe as he danced through that night
He didn’t even stop when it started to get light
He sang that SNAT song over and over
It stuck in my head even when I got older.

But what happened that day I remember like new
The SNAT stopped his dance and gave me my shoe.
He pulled me aside opened his mouth up so wide
I fast pulled away and tried hard to hide.

Was he trying to eat me, would I soon meet my doom?
I tried very hard to get out of the room
He grabbed hold of my hand pulled me out on the floor
Before I could blink, he was dancing once more

Snat showed me some steps he took it quite slow
In a very short time, I was ready to go
I grabbed the snat's hand and showed him my moves
Before very long we were hitting our grooves

He sang his Snat song, just as loud as can be
But then he just stopped and started looking at me
He grabbed my 2 hands, forced me right out the door
A tear fell from his eye and he dropped to the floor

What mystery is this? What is that Snat doing?
It was easy to tell something new was now brewing
Snat thought and thought, this I cannot admit
Had I just become friends with a Snit?

What is this now? How can this be?
Snits cannot be my friends they are different you see.
As a small child, things were made very clear
Stay away from the snits run away fast in fear

They‘re skin is not hairy their eyes are not blue
They do not know how to dance, not even soft shoe.
Snits live in a pit, Snats live on the land
Snats play in the woods, Snits play in the sand

Snits are quite different I see that is true
But just underneath they are much like Snats too.
I don’t care what they do I don’t care what they say
My new friend is a Snit I declare that today!

The Snat then approached me and made it quite clear
Saying, “I am your friend!” This was good news to hear
We sat and we talked about this and about that
He showed pictures of family and even his cat

We planned great adventures where we should soon go
Go out to the beaches and even see snow
I will tell you these stories when they do unfold
Exploring our world’s see, what treasures they hold

Now my adventure, must end I admit
I must go to my family way down in the pit
Just as I was climbing down in the sand
Snat was singing a new song as he traveled the land
Snat! Snit! Snat! 1 2 3  Snat! Snit! Snat! You and me!
Snat! Snit! Snat! 1 2 3  Snat! Snit! Snat! You and me!
Part of multi part epic
Dead Rose One Mar 2015
In The Prison Of Winter, No Rise, No Set**

orbit nearly closed,
the radio announcer gleefully
chirruping, the twittering fool,
"only ** graves to X off till
                                               spring"

the weight of the prior
the wait of the more
no matter how little
yet to come
                    too much insufferable

having suffered
multiple life sentences
you snit ****, u don't know better,
ha, they don't even run
                                         concurrently


there are no sunsets
in the girding grays
of harsher enough and words that fail me,
are the winners in the
winter of the ****,
tests and hunts,
I have successfully
                                 failed

of course I'm wrong you
petulant hobgoblin wringing
nyet from me you'll get no concession,
**** science,
there are no sunsets in the winter
and the sunrises,
short unsweetened,
light-less, less of less,
frigid glaring revealers
of dead trees
and deader
                    men

maybe in the Rockies,
perhaps the Alps,
wonderlands photoshopped,
pretty lies on the Internet BS posted

where I live,
wear the wear the weary
neath the sweat stink of layers of
unbundled choking hands,
winter's damage
assessed and assessment is
never overdue, payable in
                                             immediacy

heating bills I can't pay,
a job that said no more of you,
unpretty please,
a woman who sorcerer-scarced herself
right freaking black magic quick,
trust me I have certified verified,
me and Nixon,
X's on the kitchen calendar,
there is daylight, there is mighty night,
almighty in long and colorless
and nothing in between,
but the smog stained slush of
                                                    smothered life

but definitely
no sunrises and no sunsets
watched all day from the
imprisoning kitchen window
which doubles
as a *******
                       mirror

there are no, not any,
you know what,
cannot even say them,
the pipe dreams of better yet,
pipes that have beaten down
me and my
disassociated senses,
signed sealed and now delivered,
from the formerly known as
The Summer Man
I read
a digital sign today,
it went something like this..
            "Some mistakes are too ****** cool to make only once"

To which my head replied... 'or twice for that matter'.

I don't understand myself when everything goes my way
but I carry a big ten inch snit...

This morning I found
a silver ring and an empty bottle of
                               FIREBALL Cinnamon Whisky.

    I have never drank the stuff but it sounds as bad as White Shark,
a hanged over in a glass vessel.

What a way to start the day, day two on the way to breaking the cigarette habit..
                                 I have to on the count of they're killing me.. But I love my smoke.
    Thank you God for the e-cigarette.. I love love, love you, oh thank you Lord!

         And the puff-puff-pass doesn't help,
I have to buy stock in Halls Cough Drops,
  I use them so much I've had to take a second mortgage out on the house that I will never own.

Anyway, the lady's gone to bed and I have music floatin' in my head.. was ****** most of the day
              but you can't keep a good man down.


end © 2014
Allen Smuckler Jan 2011
If I could figure out the snit that I’m in now,
and understand the state, and how I got there
then perhaps I’ll get a sense of where I’m heading,
or at least from where I started this long journey.

My mind is shackled like a prisoner on the lam
and crashing out for freedom’s choice or bust.
I must admit I’m crazy from the fever,
and searching for the answers never found.

There was Martin, and John and Gandhi too
teaching love ins, peace and happiness.
We wrote and sang and made love in bushes
While celebrating Woodstock Nation.

But, we  had Tricky **** and Kissinger
insisting on a war that no one wanted.
The killing fields stretched cross the ocean
to my backyard and yours, remember?

So choose my brethren, choose between
a war of blood, dismay and  torture
or of peace and love and happiness,
and a place called Woodstock Nation.
December 23, 2010
MoMo Mar 2012
They came in a large silver beast,
Cutting through the water and out icy front lawns,
Foggy air blasting from the great monster’s spout,
It made a loud hollow noise never heard before.
Then it was quiet.
The ice crunching under the beast’s belly stopped,
The air stopped pouring out of its spout,
And its horrid voice had ceased its calling.
This “animal” was still.
Onto the ice nearby it set down a fin,
Or something of the like and soon enough…
Smaller creatures came.
These new creatures stood on their two back legs
Like the polar bears when they’re in a snit.
Yet they never went down on their front legs like most of the rest of us.
They didn’t have much fur on them and no feathers to speak of.
They had no tails, no beaks, or snouts…
They were strange things that we watched from our burrows,
But they bothered no one.
At first…
Then some of us started disappearing.
Some never to come back, but those who did…
They weren’t the same any more and more often than not
There was some clear thing around their necks or legs.
Suddenly those creatures from the silver beast
Posed a threat.
John F McCullagh Dec 2011
As militant Mullahs mutter and pray

And plan their Mosque near ground Zero

Protesters march and people say:

“This isn't right! They'll have to go.”



But let's demur and make no noise

No tears, no threats, no signs approve.

It would profane our civic faith

To tell the Mullah he must move.



The Towers’ fall brought harm and fear

Men reckon what that did and meant;

But building a “cultural Center” near

Though demonized, is innocent.



Dull couch potatoes of the Right

Those ditto heads who can't admit

Tolerance, cause it doth reprove

Those thoughts that have them in a snit.



But we, my love, are so refined

that we ourselves don't care one whit.

Let them build it, come what may

But build a brothel next to it.



Two buildings place there, cheek to cheek:

the Mosque and “Annie’s House of Pain”.

One dealing with things spiritual,

The other deals with things profane.



In both, salvation is for sale

It seems to me a perfect fit.

For do not both invoke God's name?

-and both, I fear, use whips a bit.



students at the Madrasah may

hear the cries of Joy next door

on her mattress, hard at play

While they use prayer mats on the floor.

.

Will they too prove as tolerant?

Live and let live, for now- they say

When they enforce Sharia law,

The folks next door will learn to pray.
My parodic take on " A Valediction: Forbidding Morning"
Ernie Rodrigues Apr 2015
A pity Yvonne alas has passed on in a most regrettable way.
She wasn't quite a snit cuz she jus couldn't ****
and hadn't been many a day.
So she sent Ernie out for enimas no doubt
and while he was still on the road,
Yvonne took a chance by dropping her pants while running toward the commode.
In a tangle of jeans, frustrated screams and a splintering bathroom door,
Her *** met the glass as intestinal gas burst forth with a thunderous roar.
The bowl couldn't take the force of the quake,
It rained down like porcelain Hail.
Some people say five miles away it hit six on the Richter scale.
I miss dear Yvonne, now that she's gone, taken from us much too soon.
Sometimes I cry as I gaze up in the sky and wave and she orbits the moon.
Geno Cattouse May 2013
Dear music. I just worked up the nerve to tell you
A few things. Just feelings that I have been having
For a long time.

This is not easy for me. You are such a lovely thing.
Your changing moods leave me confused as soon as I. Think
You are one way. Bang there you go. Leaving me at scratch.

Music my love
All my life you have been a part.
You own my heart.
I cannot speak your language
Not for lack of trying.

Many times I have awakened,crying  in the throes of some  sweet.refrain
Torturing my heart from some distant place.
Time.

Every inch of your body I strivem to touch
As you aged you grew more grand/elegant
Another side of you I Had never seen walks up to my door.

Some new conjure and twist reminds me of so
much of you that I have missed,

My guitar rests in my hand
every now and then. laughing
at my infidelity. lack of attention.

My Saxophone sits in a fetal pose.
In a corner in a case in a snit.

Music honey.This is a one way love
Thing.
Sweet.
My bass/baritone vocal
needs you too.
Please music
I'm begging you
Ernie Rodrigues Apr 2015
A pity Yvonne alas has passed on in a most regrettable way.
She wasn't quite a snit cuz she jus couldn't ****
and hadn't been many a day.
So she sent Ernie out for enimas no doubt
and while he was still on the road,
Yvonne took a chance by dropping her pants while running toward the commode.
In a tangle of jeans, frustrated screams and a splintering bathroom door,
Her *** met the glass as intestinal gas burst forth with a thunderous roar.
The bowl couldn't take the force of the quake,
It rained down like porcelain Hail.
Some people say five miles away it hit six on the Richter scale.
I miss dear Yvonne, now that she's gone, taken from us much too soon.
Sometimes I cry as I gaze up in the sky and wave and she orbits the moon.
Ja Sep 2016
A MAN CALLED SHAUN                                
Each morning at six thirty
Arrived a man in white
Pushed his cart, through the door
And then, turned on the light

We could hear him coming
Right from the very start
Because, we heard the jingling
From the tubes, stacked in his cart

Each morning that whole week
He’d rouse us from our sleep
So I planned revenge
On that little creep

I said to roommate Warner
Don’t say a single word
Today’s the day that payback
At last will be incurred

“Good morning Ja” he whispers
“Are you by chance awake”
I pretend I’m fast asleep
Not a single move, I make

“Can I take some blood”
He sounds a bit disturbed
So I just lay there quietly
I’m not the one perturbed

He says “O.K.”
“I’ll do Mr. Warner first”
I’m thinking to myself “That’s great”
“Go ahead and do your worst”

I lay in wait
Till he returned
I hadn’t moved
I hadn’t turned

As he came close
I snored a bit
I knew that he
Was in a snit

“It’s me Shaun again”
“Are you awake”
I thought “Of course I’m not”
“Give me a break”

“Give me your arm”
“This won’t take long”
I thought, “O.K.”
I’ll play along

I extend my arm
He grabs my hand
And on my bicep
Ties a band

“Just a little pinch”
“And then, we’re done”
That’s exactly when
I planned my fun

As the needle pierces me
I scream like *******
He’s taken by surprise
He starts to scream as well

He drops the tubes
And his tray
I’m laughing hard
What can I say

“I’m sorry Ja”
“What did I do”
“To cause this pain”
“Did I hurt you”

I laugh so hard
My stomach hurts
Into our room
The head nurse bursts

“What’s going on”
“Is someone hurt”
“Shaun stuck my arm”
I laugh and blurt

“Now look, old man”
“It’s not allowed”
“To on this ward”
“Be so loud”

“Another outburst”
“Of this sort”
“And I will put you”
“On report”

I’m laughing still
And Warner too
Warner can’t stop
He’s turning blue

The nurse gets mad
“This day you’ll rue”
“It’s the ****** ward”
“For the both of you”

Poor Shaun is lost
Still holds my hand
Proceeds to take
That rubber band

Puts all his things
In his tray
Takes his cart
And walks away

Said not a word
And to his bane
We never did
See Shaun again
BOEMS BY JA 287        
True story. Sadly, my roommate Warren didn’t make it. Written in hospital 2014.
Ernie Rodrigues Jan 2019
A pity Yvonne alas has passed on
In a most regrettable way.
She was in quite a snit
'Cause she just couldn't ****
And hadn't in many a day.
So she sent Ernie out
For enemas no doubt
And while he was still on the road
Yvonne took a chance
By dropping her pants
While running toward the commode.
In a tangle of jeans
Frustrated screams
And a splintering bathroom door
Her *** met the glass
As intestinal gas
Burst forth with a thunderous roar.
Th bowl couldn't take
The force of the quake
It rained down like porcelain hail.
Some people say
Five miles away
It hit six on the richter scale.
I miss dear Yvonne
Now that she's gone
Taken from us much too soon.
Sometimes I cry
As I gaze up in the sky
And wave as she orbits the moon...
No need to ramble
               no need to fret
                   no need
                     going home in a snit

All day
   every day
I wake up
       and know I'm blessed

I'm my
only front man
   and this
you have to understand

Not going anywhere
               I haven't planned

Each road can be rocky
       sometimes it's a smooth sail

Nobody has the answer
    nobody knows what's Noah and the whale


I found out I found this out
              move with a groove
                      that gives one safe passage
                         Don't be buggered by
                                      some tarts eye lashes

Knock yourself out
     let ink bleed from your veins
If you didn't call all in
        I would think that was strange.
EG Jul 2016
****, Im so stressed
Why is it I obsess about every little thing
about how I cant sleep and how then that leads my mind to creep,
searching here searching there searching every ******* where to find some peace
but my mind is in a snit and it weeps so this stress just sits and steeps
an insidious build up in where my mind gets filled up
with all this ******* garbage leaving me feeling *******
and no one really knows my inner struggle and dealing with the constent self rebuttal
Its so tedious this obsessive mental stressing but at least I have my poetry and release my feelings openly
never worrying of appearing weak and vulnerable or making others feel uncomfortable
So regarless how many times I cry and at times feel like I wanna die, I just know theres more to life....
-E.G
I'm the girl who tells you
What you don't want to hear
Hate me, if you want
Your problem is very clear
If my words get you all caught up in a snit
****** *******! Stop doing stupid ****!
Johnny Noiπ Aug 2018
Natalia ate until her belly bloated &  she couldn't move
she had never seen women like TT & Hel; the unnamed
actress throwing a tantrum & left the restaurant in a snit
You can’t lash out in burning anger
           Unless you’re young or beautiful.
           Trying that at sixty-five
            Just makes you an old hag.
At twenty-five a shapely leg
            Can kick a hapless door
            And pitch away an object scorned,
            But let a gramma throw a snit
            And they say she’s demented.
Why is anger set aside
            As only for the young.
           And those beyond those magic years
           Must settle for a quiet rage.
       ljm
I've made that journey over the years.
A clock's ticking *****, like a sticking stitch stuck in a witch-*** snit
on the bald nog of a drained chimp **** from the massacre at Tikrit
It's Kung Fu in reverse, the adoration & the adulation that paces me
across sad, fairy-land meadows where I chase fairies of race fantasy
Pry wide your gob, goofy goober, wolfin' waffles in the men's room
ain't never got 1 ****** locked up for gay pimping, we can presume
A clock's ticking *****, like a sticking stitch stuck in a witch-*** snit
on the bald nog of a drained chimp **** from the massacre at Tikrit
Green rhymes with spleen & a spleen that has gone green is seen as
being badly corrupted by a putrefyingly-deadly, infarcting gangrene
He took papal liberties with me that I didn't like so much in the beginning. But now I accept his catholickal/catholicistical ways as fatherly.

It's Kung Fu in reverse, the adoration & the adulation that paces me
across sad, fairy-land meadows where I chase fairies of race fantasy
Pry wide your gob, goofy goober, wolfin' waffles in the men's room
ain't never got 1 ****** locked up for gay pimping, we can presume
A clock's ticking *****, like a sticking stitch stuck in a witch-*** snit
on the bald nog of a drained chimp **** from the massacre at Tikrit
Green rhymes with spleen & a spleen that has gone green is seen as
being badly corrupted by a putrefyingly-deadly, infarcting gangrene
Suicidal tribes, I think who link upon the brink must not, of course,
drink pink ink from a sink as it could push bowel twist knot & kink
This book ain't worth a posy-scented candle, 𝘚𝘢𝘵𝘢𝘯'𝘴 84-𝘠𝘦𝘢𝘳 𝘘𝘶𝘦𝘴𝘵
𝘵𝘰 𝘔𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘕𝘰𝘳𝘮𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘙𝘢𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘌𝘹-𝘏𝘰𝘮𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘈𝘤𝘵𝘰𝘳 𝘛𝘰𝘯𝘺 𝘍. 𝘙𝘢𝘯𝘥𝘢𝘭𝘭
I'll lovingly beat you like a hunter with a seal-beating stick lovingly
stick-beats a seal because, anywhere but Canada, lovingly beating a
fat-**** **** with a big, seal-beating stick ain't no Earth-ending deal
that could make Phil Collins, at gun-point, change his name to Bill,
eat waffles with a pine-wood bed slat or adopt a titter over a squeal
It was too late for sorrow, as her witch-*** was froze until tomorrow
I danced with your dad who doesn't dance bad for a *** dad in plaid
Once I'm buried in a hole, because I was so sick that I was declared
by a doctor dead, I'll never be alive to toast again your Cuban bread
You puked runny puke on my mom's T.V. 𝘚𝘵𝘢𝘳 𝘛𝘳𝘦𝘬 dishes, so now
we will have to live on your raft & **** in water like ******* fishes
do when they swish fish bones out of whack with bone-fish swishes
Here I am, hiding behind my Maserati during World War Two with
nobody violent around me; eating dead rabbits & taking things easy
Easy does it during World War Two when ***** & brassieres were
in short supply along with ice tongs, lip gloss & mink bikini thongs
I could've ate my pelvis-breaking weight in frogs & puppies, cuddle
fish & guppies. I could've loved you for your flat warts, like a 6-ton
elephant spurting in gray quarts. But you were so ecstatically crazy,
******* out on my pretty-boy face, that you had to cram it up with
everybody everyplace. Your buck-toothed **** dentist won't never
dentally-know how you pull apart stringy roots underneath, with 16
of your 22 black-rotted, misaligned teeth. I spiked your wine with a
harsh laxative to get you going more often, then I shot your **** &
crammed his rap-crapping *** into a 55-gallon-steel-oil-drum coffin.
“Jesus Christmastide! Why do ****** call you 'Stubby,' Stubby?” I
asked Stubby. He just sat there, clinically dead & grub-stiff grubby;
so I #22 scalpel-stripped him to make him less chubby, because gay
Stubby had visions of ******* an eye surgeon & calling him hubby.
Picture me 20 years ago, after the amputation of my toe. Picture me
20 years from now, married to a beef-cow. Picture, picture, picture,
then picture me pictured badly: with a crack-***** grinning madly.
**** who know know, by January you're ******* Iron Man noodles
through rear tubing & improving your high sight with a ladder-rung
eye-band & 2 days later you're dying of long cancer on Lung Island.
It was scary when the bottom fastened itself upward onto a lump &
when Jesus blessed Cebunese kids scavenging pagpag at the dump.
David René de Rothschild tethered 2 purple ***** to a dollar stump,
while Our Lord rescued Irish colleens chewin' garbage at the dump.
It is rumored that Bill & Hillary have shared ****** intimacies with
each other, that were interrupted 3 times by Roger, Bill's ½ brother.
***-******* like to wait 40 years before making insane, ******-****
accusations against all men who live in white-built African nations.
I was slurpin' yogurt & smashing white maggots in bare feet & hair
dryer-drying my blond hair in my windowless room, 3 floors above
my street on a Friday, 1 day after Walt Disney's gayest gay day yet,
before full rubbers broke through to make the sidewalks gooey wet,
to knock Mama off a donkey that had been her lifelong donkey-pet.
I hate bus trips! Oh, God! When will the God pain train trend end?!
As I grew to love her neighboring orifices & chocolate-milk glands,
Naomi Campbell smacked my white **** when I called her Bonnie,
with the same baloney handful behind what makes my nuts manful.
I don't care for the stiff-**** fluff & flare, or the slimy guff & glare,
of naked ***** gettin' axles lubed at the naked **** axle-lubing fair.
My syndicated business share differential queered the poor nusance
as it gave me a primer glued with solid gander ******* goose sense.
Prickling something is better than prickling nothing I suppose for a
bug-zapped minute that cuts a snail in a harpsichord or in a spinnet,
made by piano-tunin' ****-buddies in the Georgian city of Gwinnett.
You dumb, ***-******! I can't believe that you are more gay than 92
Rob Reiners, ***-******* 600 raunchy Biskra Province coal miners!
Rob Reiner ****** a pygmy during the holocaust when Polish Jews
felt lost & he walled in his father-in-law 'cause dad was pygmy-tall.
Coal moaners surrounded me like a rash. I fought them with bullets
& bull ***** after I ran out of cream cheese, Kotex & blue crayons,  
in hopes that 1 day, I might skip barefoot again through grey lawns.
A quick look-see at any cemetery puts things into perspective, dead
& deceased, no hens riding *****, no soccer, no mismatched socks.
You removed your cold lips from mine in the coal mine making me
mad, so I took off my wedding dress to make a baby with your dad.
I was paralytic with fear when your **** came near, as I was out of
chicken feed; so I slit open my ulnar artery & quickly bled to death.
I answered your pathetical moan for help, like a collie ***** in mid-
moan whelp. My dog's a godless pagan like you too & she wants to
drink from the toilet like any pagan guy; but she's a chihuahua dog
so, unless she is fed wolf hormones, she'll not rise toilet-bowl high.
Elton John offered lots of **** attention if, when regardin' his ****
as he's porking park cops, I'll not ever jam a big monkey wrench in.
Elton John proffered love & attention if, in regards to his **** when
buggering Central Park cops, I will never ram a steel park bench in.
I was eating pig-kidney with a **** Vietnamese woman in a shed &
she asked to split my kidney & I jumped 'cause she wasn't well-fed.
I was puking oily French Canadian porcine kidney gristle onto your
Michigan-made robe of silk, as I lactated luke-warm pig buttermilk.
I barfed slimy French Haitian ****** brain stem treats onto your 34
devilish Voodoo ******* of silk, to make you lactate spicy pig milk.
A mean-spirited queer attacked me, when I was not looking queerly
around for bad queers. Lord Princely Jesus, these preter-neo pseudo
ultra modernistical queer times are upon us to ***-******' seize us.
Oprah's teats were bound to her chest by mucho ****** rings, which
made her want to use a milk-goat's milking-machine for **** flings
when she was alone ****-******' ****** & ***-porking ding-a-lings
I sermonize & preachify, as of late, against ***-*** at the going rate
for hooded rods trimmed to helmets, as circular cuts are a boy's fate
Like walnuts crackin' at dawn between the lumpy thighs of ******,
I pop plasma-filled blisters to render them into itchy, fiery-red sores
Because ******* riot after lines are drawn, I hide 2 pink scrotal nuts
to save them from ablation, because when they're gone they're gone
& devoid of vitally-vibrant, dual-testicular sensation by stimulation
In the world of Yip Harburg, everyone must die, you know it's true,
like a wasted ****** who's turned blue, all-the-way speared through
I want movies of Ava Cherry with no clothes on, lounging softly &
luridly, pulling me with Afro curly-cues on a **** trimmed torridly
as cool chick Sita Chan flies over a Hong Kong bridge discordantly
I trace your Nordic-loving *** sidewise across Conneaut Lake when
I'm 3% sober, from January the twenty-third to the ninth of October
Across the vast expanse of your ever-widening *** I mark my space
to keep my place before the next ship arrives from Pluto moon base
When peace is declared, my mistress will put away her war nuggets
for good, because as she aches for a half foot of timber I will slip to
her my thrill-hammering, impregnating, baby-broth-squirting wood.
See my Mongol eyes? See how far apart they are? The preterhuman
distance 'tween them has kept me from being smashed flat by a car.
When I was tiny small I'd scream brattily as a bratty tot, “Mommy I
want to watch 𝘛𝘩𝘦 𝘝𝘢𝘯 𝘋𝘺𝘬𝘦 𝘋𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘚𝘩𝘰𝘸 with old Hose Prairie a lot
whilst me & the hot baby sitter **** on a cot & **** Mexicali ***!”
**** chick laboratorians, working for the forensics lab, use ****-kit
combs on their red bushes when public **** outrage pulls & pushes
You'll be alright, no doubt, after you have twin infants to straighten
your *** out. We'll have fun with white vitamin D from Earth's sun,
while I  twist your hair into a fashionable bun, 'cause you got a gun,
& you say that you will shoot me 9 times once your bun is all done.
“Who's it?” Asked a cook cookin' corn pone, to which I bemoaned,
“It is a phone call from a chickee who combs her ***** hair alone.”
A guy can count, when he runs, on his biggest right-foot toe, just as I counted on you camper-crammer Breanna, 15 little boyfriends ago
when you chirped like a meadow crow in an '05 red Dodge Shadow  
before folding 2 **** lips over in a corporate, ****-lip-folding show
for bread, dinero, gelt, mula, cash & seventy other words for dough
On the porch I was wildly horrified from this haunted-house fear as
Grandma struck me with cheer over her **** so sharp & **** so near
to my rock-hard-pronghorn projectile & manly, wedding-tackle gear
“At the bottom of the finest menu is offered wren mignon, captain”
a crew man proffered, before his wife got pimped by Peter Lawford
A million dead love-birds littered my dream-life & dream- girlfriend
after I epoxied her pate beyond the apex of the fore-crown's top end
Last month we ate turkeys from pointy beaks to wrinkly **** holes
while our wife crones were fingered like ****** Mao finger bowls
Breanna, I fear you, to be near you and to hear you when you boil a
chicken in the kitchen, when you turn on me with merciless *******'
to precipitate the most tremorous of Parkinsonian, lard-*** twitchin'
Breanna, I fear you, to hear you near you when you boil a wren like
a California chicken kitchen cook who sews ***** by hem-stitchin'
in dawning hours when plane Earth's keen on night-to-day switchin'
I wouldn't let you down like I put the window down, like I put your
mother down, or when I peeled your fish-net hose that wrap around
your creamy thighs that ruin our seedy *******/constructed lives
to make us want left states to turn right or men high up to fall down
upon a Battle Creek holt in the snotted knot of a carpet bomb round
that'd blow the shell off a turtle & a goose off its soft, goose mound
into a better diet whereat gay waivers are paced to England's pound
I'm forced to live in the woods & eat moles 'cause I really do love it
and I'd never ***** that I am too royal toward it, or very far above it
or *****-***** to ream & **** it, even when I'm 768 miles from it
Unlike you, with your greyish bumps, I ain't scarfed corn dogs with
stinkin' garbage men, in garbage trucks, speeding to garbage dumps
My ditzy ***** went crazy from a street drug so, like they did with
father Grigorii Rasputin, I shot her twice, then wrapped her in a rug
While I'm swingin' an ax in an abortuary to unsettle my calm bones
I find quiet consolation listening to near-dead, half-deaf Tom Jones
who dreams of Earth minus lesbians grooming dads as mom clones
Sharing my lunch with an out-of-work ****** makes me feel larger,
just like after my big ****'s been slammed in the jamb of a car door
The snow Christened Christ, freezing hot after-birth iced. His Mum
was a ****** who had babies, while Daddy bit a dog that had rabies.
Hey you *******, I am ***-high in the Jakarta Turbine project
so I got no time for them or Lloyd Bridges & his hemorrhoid ridges
as my tick-bit chihuahua'd sooner *** on what is left of Bruno Leon
With dour Vince Edwards it was a horror to power-rinse head warts
I inhale the stench of birds being cared for in the privacy of a closet
where fruits ripen after paying a homosexual closet security deposit
In the future all good people will act like Donny Osmond a little bit
when they're comfortably seated on a heated toilet seat taking a ****
The ****** nurse in fancy nurse uniform, through which I saw ****
fur, led me to the hospital bed so that I could have my way with her
like the fakes who were John Forsythe, Sam Jaffe & Raymond Burr
could, if they had not died as rabid dogs like Allāh said they should
as the eternal souls of those who are bad shall be shredded for good
“Listen Missy,” I said, “I could spend many nights ******* you raw
or brushin' my curly **** bush on my million-dollar yacht instead!”
My thumb's numb where a dog bit me, just after I ****** his *****
in Satan's kitschy church for a mass that was less camp than witchy
among Hillary's ****-suckin' pigs who're no less shaky than twitchy
It's Kung Fu in reverse, the adoration & the adulation that paces me
across sad, fairy-land meadows where I chase fairies of race fantasy
Pry wide your gob, goofy goober, wolfin' waffles in the men's room
ain't never got 1 ****** locked up for gay pimping, we can presume
A clock's ticking *****, like a sticking stitch stuck in a witch-*** snit
on the bald nog of a drained chimp **** from the massacre at Tikrit
Green rhymes with spleen & a spleen that has gone green is seen as
being badly corrupted by a putrefyingly-deadly, infarcting gangrene
Suicidal tribes, I think who link upon the brink must not, of course,
drink pink ink from a sink as it could push bowel twist knot & kink
I was haunted by wraiths, sprites, leprechauns & hobgoblins till ***
Mark D. Chapman cured x-singer John Lennon's medical problems.
Beause who, minus spinal pain, might for sure say that ****** bare- backing made the normally heterosexual, rough & tumble Ben gay?
Ben is gaily bathing done with Obama at bath houses for **** fun.
Don't you remember that when we were in love we'd hide at Burger
King and secretly eat out each other's burgers until late September?
When we were in love (Don't you remember?) we'd meet at Burger
King to secretly eat out each other's fur burgers till mid-November?
For ****'s sake I shall **** with coffee sippers during coffee breaks
on schooners & rafts crossin' the greatest of America's Great Lakes.
I **** early in the morning to avoid the pre-afternoon ***** & shakes
I **** in the early morning to avoid the pre-afternoon ***** & shakes
In the early morning I ****, avoiding runny afternoon ***** & shakes
I evacuate pre-breakfast to obstruct copious supper squirts & quakes
I pathologize fetid droppings to classify scatological frauds & fakes
I could hurl ***** on cue in the sight of jail-house grits & pancakes
I may sail west within the under-belly pits of poly-finned sea snakes
that slither hither, thither & yon up, if not over, deadly rays & rakes
in pre-gutted conditions, before they are trucked by drays from bays
on sunny days when fillets are flayed; when pay-grades induce gays
who Walmart pays in minimal ways that x-Sam said was a pay-raise
lifted by the Chinese Patriotic Catholic Association, & Mao's praise
that launched the Cultural Revolution's ****-everyone-you-can craze
to the tune of Chou En-lai's burn-*******-Tibet-to-the-ground phase
which obeys the policy of crushing prisoners' faces with lunch-trays
which adores the practice of caving in faces with prison lunch-trays
I'm eating yogurt, nothing fazes me: 11 stays & electric-chair delays
that outstrip the switch poles of Western Electric's antiquated relays
that strip the switching poles of Western Electric's antiquated relays
that strip the switched poles of General Electric's negative tree days
that play General Electric's plane, pointed up over negated key bays
to soil Edison's electrical datum line, croacked west where fur frays
in gay burnt victim pink fashion where blistered, skinned skin flays
sons wallow in pig sties where godly cleanliness forever never pays
while men swallow grizzly plies; where the *** of King Jesus brays
to bluff, brag & boast not; to blow up the pretense of pitiable praise
in the firmament beyond whereat the water may no higher be raised
above the bosoms of fairy maidens, whose fealty amazed Our Lord,
says the holy Hebrew Testament; affirms high-oxygen giants crazed
In infancy I happened upon Mithra, including trivialities Mithraical
& later, with Jesus, new Biblical nuances of Prince Jesus Christical
Michael Jackson's paederastical dancing made Brillo-headed Tito a
badder dancer as it acidified Hindu Vinod Khanna's bladder cancer
Here on 2 limbs hobbles a 110-year-old pervert, Kirk Douglas, who
fugged fugging Marilyn Monroe fugless like 1 Aussie **** Kug lass

— The End —