seemed like a live concert in my trailer park
"Hey Jude" rattled every thin window here.

Blue lights flickered, as all my neighbors called 911,
I was overpowered with emotion,

No one could hide as I next played, on my Christmas present
( 10000 watt amplifier made by JVC)

"Let it Be" and heard na na na and sacred chords loud
through Bose's best.

I almost heard the cop when he yelled, but did not hear any thing, after he tasered  me, except for all my neighbors cheering keeping time with sirens and Na na na.

I heard in handcuffs and spasms, "My Guitar gently weeping"

The retired vaudevillian engraves his love's epitaph while eating caramelized clusters
The local sodomites huddle around and mourn outside the morgue
Waiting for the body of their **** to be handed over
They've given her body an overhaul
She looks more alive than when she was living
Hobnobbing with the well-to-do

The retired vaudevillian comes to collect the body of his deceased wife
He looks down at the sodomites
For their outlandish appearance and choice of employment has resulted in mistrust

"Oh my love, why couldn't you have been the driver instead of the passenger whose body was jettisoned into the air and smashed upon the asphalt?"
"She could do ten thousand breast strokes, paint masterpieces with one brush stroke"

The sodomites began to taunt the vaudevillian
Calling him washed up
He retorted back calling them toothless heathen ******  
A mercenary was called to end the dispute outside of the morgue
He killed half of the sodomites and tasered the vaudevillian

The undertaker wheeled out the body bag on dolly
But he lost control, and the body went careening down the hill into a cloudy bay
The party of mourners grouped around the bay and watched the body float on to the afterlife
She left behind her has-been husband and her **** ******* cohorts
I bet she would have appreciated this little organized dime store wake

Pet’s Revenge
For example a Dachshund dog was thrown 5 floors to his death
The owner photographed this and posted it online
His dog looked like he was sleeping but was dead

I tracked the Dachshund Dog’s Killer down and killed him
I put him in an 80s violent video game with block graphics
I hit him with a stabbing dagger in both shoulders
Then machete chopped half of his pinto skull off
Finally finishing him off with a flick knife in the gut

Next there was the case of the animal rescue centre
9 pussycats were murdered for no real reason
Except they were living in the centre

I drove up to the animal sanctuary in a Technical
I beeped and they opened the gates and I saw him
The Pussycat Murderer who swaggered about like a real man
I aimed my remote control 50 Cal gun with my PS2 controller
And popped the ******* with a hundred 50 Cal Raufoss rounds

A woman cut the foot off her dog with a machete
Because the dog annoyed his owner
All this was filmed and posted online

I found the Limping Woman who made her dog painfully limp
I said Hi and smirked then tightly tied her up
And had my way with her 25 times in a calendar day
Her ***** was sore and needed stitching due to the table leg
As did her feet when I sliced off all her **** toes

Most bizarre of all was the small dog
Who was partly skinned alive by his owner
This dog was rescued and given treatment

Dog Skinner was a hard man to find but not hard in a fight
I threw him a knife and said, ‘Skin me or be maimed...’
His lunges were slow and unskilled and embarrassing
I blocked them with one hand and closed my eyes
I snapped his spine with one single side kick

And a man drove his car and threw out his dog
Like a bit of trash with duct taped up feet and muzzle
The cops rescued the dog and jailed the man

I impersonated a Police Officer and ‘apprehended’ the suspect
Who had just been released from jail for leaving his pet dog for dead
He let me into his house and I Tasered the ******* and duct taped him up
I dragged Dog Duct Tape Man to my fake squad car and put him in the trunk
I drove him to a secluded spot and did a very enjoyable EJK

I enjoyed each and every act of Pet’s Revenge and ******
This is my new job and I always enjoy it and get away with it
I have backing from Big Brother and the Illuminated People

I love fake things.  the tasered clown.  the sheep my young father remembers being sliced like bread.  the paper shredder that kept some animals from entering the time machine.  the baby in riot gear.  the other baby telling itself not to move.  the blood’s blood type.

Upon lying supine - eye shutter lids
into the land of Wynken, Blynken, and Nod,
where the sandman beckons and bids
dead to the webbed wide world,
yours truly immune to wakefulness
despite being tasered courtesy cattle ****,
or struck by lightning hurled
by the invisible hand of God
inert as a cow pattie or blocky clod.

While surrendering into deep slumber
recollections harken back
to the following nursery rhyme;
Rock a bye baby on the tree top,
When the wind blows
the cradle will rock,
When the bough breaks
the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby,
cradle and all.

Scant minutes elapse before I drift off  
into the subconscious land of sleep
(while android counts/
dreams of electric sheep
to make sure none went missing)
lethargic fatigue yours truly cannot slough
after buzzfeeding my belly
and satiating thirst for knowledge  
from respective culinary,
viz sans surfeit smorgasbord
and savoring meaty mixed morsels
erudite literary trough

slogging thru most famous works
courtesy Arthur Evelyn Saint John Waugh
storied titled such as
early satires, Decline and Fall,
and A Handful of Dust,
the novel Brideshead Revisited,
and the Second World War trilogy
Sword of Honour,
which substantial tracts
terrific tomes, I have yet to read,
but nevertheless immensely admire.

So submerged, mired, bogged, et cetera
within the realm,
where extravagant small scenes thrive
within the body, mind, and spirit electric
(captivation with closest state
constituting dead weight)
ofttimes lingers long after
emerging from slumber
perhaps being rudely awakened
by the following unexpected figment.

Most unpleasant to wake
from a clangorous start,
whereby nerves frazzled,
and getting forcibly
sprung loose and unwound
untimely woke out theta sleep
what...the... creaking, effing,

hashtagging, jump/kickstarting, pinteresting,
and screeching re: sound
emanating from suspected garden gnomes,
until I finally came round
up to their impish ways and means
whimsical fancies to propound
unleashing an unexpected raft

of musings upon the cyber sea
indicating masculine pronoun
he him his after first shot
of high test coffee
(prepared by the missus she/her),
to start the day subsequently the wife found
me reading the screaming headline
news today oh boy,

whereby all manner
of political talking heads expound,
when debt ceiling comes crashing down
raising capitalistic pandemonium
sense and sensibility drowned
spelling partial/total government shutdown
point ******* at dented prez clown.

Hard to believe remembrance of things
long passed into scores of yesterday's ago,
nevertheless still faintly reverberates
within the windmills of my mind.

Case in point being the following
reasonable rhyming vignette.

The night of my spectacularly
exhausting seventh birth,
I dreamt about an amazing fictitious place,
and taint nope pull lace on Earth
cozily warm like a wood burning hearth,
where embers snap,
crackle, and pop with mirth
best show in shutterfly REM
hmm...memory wool worth

(at least for near future) stayin alive
whiskey indeed no comparison, dip pin dive
ving into subconscious realm, and drive
ving devotees mad, 'specially when bing
a **** hull lie ("FAKE"),
thus wide awake temper
aerily perhaps til five
(more minutes), when
(laugh-in) Ruth Buzzy's hairstyle as bee hive
honey combed noggin will cease to jive,
and crown jewel will suddenly seize
gnome hatter, hatter how hard I strive
to stay awake
for no particular rhyme, nor reason
won during, how far

this chap can push himself to break
king point, which presently me make
foolish poem just to slake
hungering need to slather palaver
which yukon leave or take,

since essentially nary a clue
handy dan dee blues - zee drew
pea senseless blather
basically (AWOL) din flue
zee brooked stream of consciousness
writing whatever zaps glue
*** bobbing sponge
with grayish cerebral cortex hue
cranking out words as they snap,
crackle and pop to this Jew
dishy us scribe of Schwenksville knew

dulling in an attempt
to splash unexpurgated
lunacy gobbledygook, yes
sigh hug gree quite loo
***, yet this long
(in the dent chord tooth) fell cue
Horton hears a Who,
he experiences silly (NOT solid)
milk chocolate state
ready to moo
myself to cowardly pose new

matter, an unusual burst
of energy recharged
ordinarily inactive cerebral queue,
hence maximization left no time to rue
rationality upended in
frenetic attempt to spew
until...capacity to type another poem
sputters, a dog send to you
and all otter readers within
the webbed whirled wide human zoo!

The bees started fighting
Over what I just don’t know
One threw a sneaky punch
Then they all had a little go
Yellow and black in tandem
Buzzing round the bar
Stinging, punching and biting
Oh how very very bizarre
A glass went crash
A plate when whack
Mr Sting slumped to the floor
As the chair bounced of his back
The bee police were called in
All riot shields and batons of wood
To separate the warring gangs
As only they really could
They threw in the tear gas
And tasered many a bee
The trouble they dealt with in no time
And then home for some milk and honey

Kids are playing up
I’ve tasered them
And put them in cuffs.
When they
come round
I’ve got a pit
in the ground.
If they don’t calm
Down
For heavens sake
I will fill the pit
With deadly snakes,
If they behave
Feed them I might
Then after they can
Play with dynamite..
My children I know
Can be a bit of a pain
They told me once
They thought
I was insane.
They love me really
So don’t call the cops
If my wife finds out
I’ve written this crap
She will blow her
****** top.