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pat Aug 2014
quarter tunes and squirt bottle bafoons
fooling loons out of cash money bank statements
complacent in textile original files
factual ***** in their feather capped heads
circumcising oatmeal kids. Picture this,
bits of fish in outer, not inner, space.
Dr. men manipulating through card tricks
leading to their pent house, fenced out from fresh air.
Nocturnal ****** pressured into dieting
shedding their skin and coughing up black sticky debris
recently I've found more comfort in scolding hot teas
then in eargasm speed dating or mango flavored cough drops
office cops crop pictures of rundown Puerto Rican shops
sloppy kissing gets me wishing for brass buttoned bell
bottoms
televised ****** questions. Sectioned off sidewalks
body shaped chalk talks for motherless kids to gawk at
steeples crease the clouds spreading rapid growth of ingrown
hairs
I pair myself against bears that tear me limb from limb
I'm figuring on pinning up accomplishments
on the egg white walls of my first apartment.
tarped floors and fluorescent glowing ceiling tiles
riled  up mice relentlessly fussing with nests throughout
the night
typing taxidermists chat next door
I'm more ashamed of my basement floor
He stares into her eyes
Cold, and hollow.
Long past expiration
Yet still so blue and swimming with life
He keeps her around
Skin pulled back with a taxidermists touch
Remaining young, and eloquently soft
Forever
He moves her around
Like they're dancing in the rain
But the rain would make her eyeshadow run
Darkened tears streaming down
A sallow yet preserved face
Young and fresh forever
To do with as he sees fit
He's mad
Preserving mommies corpse
With the tenderest touch
She still eats dinner with him
But when he feeds her her mouth goes slack
Since he did not sow her lips shut
Eye lids peeled back forever
Mouth stuck in an Icy grin
He'd always loved his mothers smile.....
But she hadn't loved him
She was focused on the home owners association
And impressing her neighbors
While her son she loved to call darling
Was festering, desperately wanting her attention
But he was never good enough
He just wanted to make her proud
Now her face says she's proud of him eternally
He'd always loved his mothers smile..
Mommy smiles forever now
Lucius Furius May 2018
How quick we move from labor nurses' hands,
wrapping us in a diaper, to taxidermists',
artfully arranging our limbs in the casket.....
What matters in this moment, this
one great blink of God's eye,*
is not what we own or've done
but the press of flesh upon our flesh;
the feeling; our Communion.
* The lifetime of a human (70 years) is to the lifetime of the universe (14 billion years, so far) as 10 seconds are to the lifetime of a human (2 billion seconds).

Hear Lucius/Jerry read the poem:  humanist-art.org/old-site/audio/SoF_072_blink.MP3 .
This poem is part of the Scraps of Faith collection of poems ( https://humanist-art.org/scrapsoffaith.htm )
Scott Gunnion Oct 2018
13 stroke 14
Or some time in between
An evil angel- having bided its time
Thrusts a pound into an apple

The world grinds to silence

In the brunt of dusk
Lightning struck four chambers
That one by one did turn to mush
And for months to come
There was little else of which they talked

Red run dry overnight
Awash in the moonlight
Though your name peeled slowly
Like a toffee apple painted with gold

And in the smudge of dusk
Infinite eulogies did erupt
Embalming you
Sweeping away all wrong

Enlightened
They carved their condolences into toilet doors
And gawped through stained glass windows
As your shadow did spasms  

An **** of taxidermists
Painted you peach with modesty and
Stuffed you with hindsight
Before blue light ignited

Making you shapeless

They made you a martyr
Your funeral a coronation
- In Technicolor
Though you only ever wore black  

Now history fills you with fiction
Fills you with colour


End
I began crafting the following words
late morning eating me whey and curds
never able (though quite willing) ugh
for constipated excretory system to...
function optimally and make turds.

In highland manor convalescent home
ideal to buzzfeed subconscious with a
long catnap until... free animal equality
i.e. meaning declaration of indepence
encompassing all creatures great and

small, whereby each breathing, living,
cohabiting with kvetching **** or
lesbian sapien as well other organisms
gifted to roam across terra firma all
their natural unfettered existence.

Damp and cold spring weather purr fect fur mice elf
when yours truly (me oh), a stray cat in previous life,
with cheesy mouselike timidity, stoutly readily avow
outsize feline family members, experienced powwow
among fodder, when boxed in corner, I litter lee mutter
against feral general instinctual lionized in mane know

wing, (albeit audacious, ferocious, vicious...) tigress
calling me hey you Eufrates cat, chicken sh*t, getting
browbeaten meekly accepting, I brought humiliation
bowing passively giving up feebly accepting furry us
kickstarting, ripsnorting, urinating madding crowd,
nor standing proudly on all faux pas inept descience

non verbally communicated threats how sissyfuss me
best be declawed locked & linkedin and with lucky dog
effeminate mystique (er... rather mistake) born as runt
plainly evincing, categorically jackknifing, trending
embarrassing brother and sister near kin courtesy mine
unpardonable finicky behavior catnip never endowed

deserved more egregious than petty file within glorious
historical annals regarding Felis Domesticus, therefore
deeming unacceptable "fake catatonic" diagnosis allow
wing no holds barred, all barred holes la cage aux folles
assignation, designation, integration... imprisoned with

aforementioned outcast species, and/or repurposed cow
feed since unanimous conclusion no snowball chance
in hell (low kitties) decreed by none other than Morris
nsync with animated commercial starring Sylvester both
though ostracized caving into rich money deals cash cow
role their saving Grace (and private Ryan) neither well

received (more so treated) outkast within immediate family
nevertheless everywhere taxidermists experienced affection
despite catalepsis poised to strike stance, and highbrow
folks entombed themselves with selfies and roaring whisk
herd manner of nine kampf existences exemplified heyday

courtesy of each special fearless cate, whose track record
boasted untold unfortunate victims comprising killing
fields, thus wimpy creature regarding chance Matthew
Scott Harris never honored as dignified compared to how
his brethren and cistern forever appraised with to meow,

prey tell savoring flesh as tender vittles kitty chow chow,
which genetic fate automatically cost first of nine lives
(mine) lovely bones feeble, who wanted nothing more
than to curl himself in a ball and sleep blissfully,
eternally and merrily dreaming about Lady and *****
poe' wit out making sense and sensibility doth lean.

— The End —