Glorified Pelican

I had it wrong, misinformed by a

pelican. Stuck his head in

the sand, clamored on and on

about glorified violence. Something about

the letter G but I couldn’t

understand. So I sent the bastard

home with a bag of weed

and clipped wings, so the beautiful children

could learn to hate.

Robin

Not Anymore

and forest rain

and bludgeoned seal

but nowhere - not

here

and promiscuous wife

and serrated blade

but nothing - not

this

for daylight orgies

for holes in the knees of my jeans

but someone - any

one

and ceilings of ice

and stained glass prison bars

but never - not

now

and ferris wheel divers

and 151 and valium

and now - not

anymore

The Garden G'nome

Woe is me, a little too

late. Barking at the cherry

moon. Hound dog in the kennel

crying “Ain’t that bastard’s

singing sweet?”. The garden

gnome still stands alone

spitting watermelon seeds at

shooting stars ‘cause sunshine

doesn’t clean his dirty soul.

Yet Another Pigeon

Drip Drip

Drip, drip, drip,

one little drip can’t think,

can’t check my oil.

Bop-ba-da-dop, bop-ba-da-dop.

Too much for plastic wrap, too much

to throw away.

Somewhere

in the Netherlands a man lays back

and cries “Help me! I can not drink this drip, drip,

black, rum, coke and bloodshot

button up tie.” In the after life

Geronimo walks

with both eyes closed. Through pip-pap-tink-

tink-tink-pap graves. God bless

this Holy soil,

this rain.

Wheel of Conflict

So the wheel is conflict of evolution revolution

involuntarily defending unending cycles of emotion

motion unaware of introspection passing inspection

eroding simultaneous valleys of truth mountains

of lies eradicated dictionaries full of theories

full of contradictions of speculations of testicular

germination within the stamen of auricular

excretion God yes! we have evolved beneath the

wheels of hybrid industrialized mastectomies apart

from separate misquoted peculiarities

summed up by the urine stains on your bed