Pass me thee unsalted cracker rag,
and I shall Pop star you a wheelie.
Then gag me a dual nut sacker, fag(e)
In the United States of totally grody(ie)
Meet me at the emptied bike racks
We'll bust a phat brody, and drink pepsi free.
Before Mrs. Felcher's Physics (cl)ass.
Spit wads, and rock hard
candy, nipples. When she pushes
her glasses back up the bridge of
her cute narrow nose the
whole world sighs a boner.
In Welch's grape flavour.
Frito -O- lay me down for a nappy.
Then, deforest me Canada, I want it all(y)
Her wick'd lumber stacked like vertebrate
Curled me a stoned beaver.
Deadly death me dead Ward cleaver
and the Seavers, and you will
see no grievers. just
a handful of jelly bean condoms,
and a jarred bearded fetus'.
O----> in
Simony Omnivours | | Earwigs ^ your
\/ || ^ ^ good
^^^ ear
A mighty Sequoia paint brush collection.
An ancient Oak flea ridden doghouse.
A pine coffin for my dead(ly)ist things.
A precious Ash monogrammed cigar box.
and the fragrance it brings.
[But I don't smoke cigars, Sir.]
A Maple spaggetti sauce spoon
Cherry wood suspenders for president(s)
Apple pipe your Senator's face protestant.
Giant filthy nigger pores on the sycophants.
and sunscreen campers with asian eyes
Environmentally safe bug spray lies
and sex on a moth ball stuffed bipolar
bear that your great Uncle Charles
the III named Harry right after
he put a bullet through
it's tight white skull
and brain (less)
seal sucking day planner.
Let's Harry palm pilot our farewells?
And then R.I.P out another mother's heart
on a Rasco scooter in a Florida amusement park.
In these United Dualities of Totally Grody.
How many useless idiots does it
take to screw in a Nucleur self
screwing lightbulb?
Every single one of us.
Author notes
This is for my felled marine brethren in the capitolistic trenches of the middle east.
Written January 8th, 2004
In a list
A contest entry
- F*ck the government by DragonDemon.
300 points, ended October 4, 2004, 13 entries
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
1 - 6 of 6
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i don't know what to think
i'm still trying to figure out wtf this piece is about, lol, it's a lil too late and i'm a lil too tired to care for this really anyways what is with this line "Giant filthy nigger pores on the sycophants." i don't know any Marine that is that disrespectful to use the n****r word, i just find it wrong... well anyways thanks for entering i guess
it was a very unique and interesting write i'll give ya that much credit, take care ~Raven
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Dude, whatup with that horse? He's looking at me. Is he a horse8?
What was it that the horse ate? Oh crap, I'm going off on a tangent.
This is so much fun to read, I think I have to bookmark it. I love the whole bit about the bipolar bear, and a jarred bearded fetus. I could read this over and over again, thank you so much... but the damned horse is still staring at me. -
Oh the poetry fall right down the rabbits hole. First stop has VH HotForTeacher blaring in my ears - Horus8Sytle. Couldn't possibly be Alan Thicke and those crazy kids from Growing Pains could it? Nah. Moon Unit then starts singing Valley Girl. The visual break then a trip through the forest with some hunting, camping - oh. I'll stop. There are lines I adore and read by themselves over and over. Of course, the playdate you have going with these words...and the dualitiesally keeps me coming back to politics of CanadaUS but I need more time. Totally, fer sure.
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Fine Iron
beuty. u r a genus.
Forgive me...I feel like writing this on each and every comment so as not to raise the wrath of the poet(ess), but that's just my own pity/rage pouring out in a small squirt of emotional ejaculation. Here, take my handkerchief...I insist.
But. You. You do not deserve the easy way out. No. You deserve to stand there and watch me bleed these words through slits on my wrists because you caused them. Your words, razors to the psyche, twisting~turning~slicing~writhing into the very cerebral cortex core. Look at me Poet and see what you have wrought.
Wooeee. Took a bit longer to shake that one off. Either you're using industrial strength verbs or those new ballistic nylon nouns. Hell, no - I'm fine. Just gotta get these last few phrases out of my mind...
You have an interesting repetition going with wood species that reads well even though I'm not sure what the culminative effects will be, but I like it. And let's root out a few choice mentionables like "bipolar bear", "harry palm pilot", "rock hard candy, nipples", et cetera. I could go on and on, but it'd be pointless because I get a dozen meanings to this piece and am trying to tie my brain around your title - US of Grody....grody as in "yuck"? My slang module may well be outdated, I apologize. Seems to fit though.
Oh, and the nuclear self-screwing lightbulb? I could answer that but you wouldn't wanna wade through the environmental impact statement...trust me.
Strong poetic images, focused rage, weirdly penciled magazine pages, and carefully chosen words (or lucky ones that were left in during the edit)...yah, must be a Horus8 Standard Cruising Model. Damn they built fine iron back then.
Edited on Jan 08, 9:14 p.m. because 'felt like it'. -
you sound so angry and mad its great. love the way its all spat out rough harsh uncaring deadly on and on and on relentless...what were you sticking out at me to try i dont want to buy it but i feel sucked into you and your world enough to just say all of this. i cant remeber one line of it and yet its all in there like a big knotted feeling of something in your head that zonks me out. i am just going to read it again.....yes we are all to blame for everything.yes i am definitely mind dead.
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intresting peice you got there. what is spuna? i keep seeing it on your magazines pics
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