“I don’t like to brag on it, so keep this on the down low, but I discovered the meaning of life and now I’m sworn by an oath to an invisible body, sorta like a majority, to protect the knowledge from you, which is considered best for you, because you haven’t solved the riddle of your own loneliness yet.” Mindy sat Lotus position, wrists set just above her kneecaps, open palms awaiting alms. “But we like you, so we’re practicing patience and exerting hopefulness, sort of like an effort of will but without trying.” When Mindy smiled her face relaxed and she closed her eyes, focusing on the slow draw of her breath, before she exhaled abruptly in short, snorting whiffs, and she rolled, mimicking the manner and posture a bloodhound, sorta like downward dog, seeking luckier than good, survivors.
“You will never catch me doing that.” Walter shook his head with a slight smile as he followed her ass with his eyes, “But don’t stop on my account. I can honestly say what you are doing seems like it’s helping me… perk up a little.”
Tomica resented doubters
as much as bible thumpers
way her mama anointed her boobies
before buying her a training bra
now how you like that
in my gorilla mask
I get to be Tom Sawyer
and make you want to
white wash my fence
Tomica shimmied with her bravado
I'm a shoe-shine foot soldier,
all quiet on the western front
why, I can dig those ditches
for half the pay
and twice as fast
if you're willing
to shake hands
and bet on it
go ahead now and hunker
down in them fox holes
like you're sizing up for your coffin
act like you ain't fooling
dream in lists
I'll mend the hole in your bucket
as soon as we can lay
this to rest,
and in peace
As nectar in the sieve
your widow assured to grieve
the day she met
on your grave, and the devil gave up
I swear by it.
Now wait just a minute, you said, there were all of these People. Different points would come, not to know you. They’d remain lost, uncertain of where to find your context, unfamiliar with almost every reference dropped, direct or un, distorted by layers of pop culture, appropriated, outsourced, and printed on coffee mugs, those thick beer tumblers, funny underwear, words next to smiling turds and cacti that look like dicks that belong to pricks, even if they wanted to, when they felt desperate, but most of all they wanted to be discovered, and not so much by you, they wanted to be validated; to be the validation thru vindictive and self admiring favoritism. And so you sat there with your fingers above the keys, listening to the floes of ice crack, and the trickling made you feel a faint tugging, and so called to nature, you stood at the precipice, pissing into the wind, while shooting for the abyss and the world was golden.
Rodin relied upon his secretary, heavy as David was stone cold, all of his sling shots and pelts hanging on him like leather and fur testicles, wine drunken and funneling from a skin bottle, tight as a drum so he punched him. His secretary landed hard, on his chin, managing to save his teeth, but not the top of his bottom lip that cushioned the blow of his front row which sunk more than bit and when he sat up to spit, he wobbled. “Now look at my tits!” Rodin bossed his secretary, “When you take my dictation, inside your shorthand, I don’t want you to think of my mouth.”
He would be Full
of Him self (again)
Truth (in drunkenness)
Again, recovering under the guise of Grace
The mask of His father was an ill fit
same as His boots, would never be
worn out from marching
or working very long, along side
as a black sheep
but He was Not
When He swore
He was going
He blamed His father's pain
and admired His mother's Grace
the way One admires resilience in prison
and he loathed Her especially
Where she took
the occasion to perform
Jailhouse Rock, wooden spoon in hand
lip synching to Elvis Presley
between serving-up and Doing
the Mashed Potato...
Egging her boys on
with a platter
of paprika freckled, deviled-eggs
His father Spiked
...Sentimental than loving
and Leaning over, Gave
Him a nudge
and a wink, He Whispered
slurring loud enough
for the whole family
What He had
long ago, That He was the softest
of His three sons, Being Married
to a social tongue wagger
who was so Quarrelsome in bed
She shared it
with a stray cat and an untrained dog
Wedged between them
Which could only mean
This would help Him
when He needed
So drink Up, My boy
"It wasn't for the love of tennis that we explored His
footnotes" Sandy introduced Oscar this way, "It was
rather a cruel joke."
"As I can attest." Oscar flashed a smile of utterly
flattered approval. "Do please go on."
Sandy, never one to wait for permission, stepped on
his last word, conjoining it to her twin speak at
once. She said, "He dragged us through the details
of his murder and not just the events that led up to
the way he hung Him self, but every single clipped
Oscar shuddered. "It was positively grisly."
"I believe He wanted us to know... He tried to love
us." Pernille interjected gently.
Oscar laughed in his amused manner. "Alas, My angel,
how you always see the good in men."
Sandy was paused to observe Pernille blush and
glance down under Oscar's not insensitive,
"It is but a reflection of your love, kind Pernille,
lovely sweet Pea, that such a compliment
bestowed upon such a fool, could ever be
imagined true. Ah, but you are the very
essence of Hope herself, that last shard
of beauty, left in the box... and even as the
key has been thrown into the abyss, you
would remain open, every secret airing upon
the wind... how you would set a man free..."
Pernille gasped and clutched her pearls.
Sandy spanked Oscars icy hand away from
Pernille's knee. Pernille shivered and pulled
at her hem.
Oscar laughed, his manner more amused than ever.
"We could never quite picture it though." Sandy
continued, "The way his wife discovered Him.
The way He left her to clean up after Him, for
the last time..."
"I believe it was Grand Pa Pa that might say,
"He died the way He lived." Pernille perked up.
"Indeed He was a messy boy." Oscar championed
Pernille's meek contribution.
"He was a cocktail." Sandy put it bluntly, "Which is
not only the Right Combination, but a bomb. He
bombed Him self. He died Not just, Nor justly
Hung; He died bombed."
"To die as Absurd as Absurd would have Him."
Oscar moved his hands in a gesture of putting
the frosting on a cake. "To Be or Not to Be... That!
Is The Infinite Jest."
"He'd grown weary of carrying Pigeon code, over
the grid, fairground to truck stop to titty bar
and started to believe in killing the messenger."
Sandy explained, "He'd been alarmed by the
narcotics cops that chased Him after curfew... Up
and down the alleyways, His bare feet sliced
on the jagged-mouthed tuna cans, He scattered the
chorus of fish-reeking toms... Barreling into
the trashcans, to lie..."
"Got the wind knocked out of Him!" Pernille startled.
"After all he was a windbag." Oscar encouraged
Pernille pouted much to the admiration of Oscar who
found her to be complete, if not adorable.
"He was unafraid to make men into a monkeys and
bound to Inherit the Wind." Sandy divulged, "He was
an atheist, crossed his heart for show and sworn to
die for the same, as well as a borderline..."
"Genius?!" Pernille shouted the possibility and
practically jumped out of her seat.
"How very casually the modern reader throws
that word around." Oscar chided Pernille as if
she were more than the child she already was.
Pernille pouted much to the admiration of Oscar who
found her to be complete, if not adorable.
Oh... it's you. Why hello there Mr. Badger. What was that? I'm Invited...
to Where? Oh... to your Rave...
Well, now I do enjoy dub-step once in a blue moon...
What? Not a Rave?
Oh! You said your Grave?!
Wait a minute,
I'm invited to your Grave?!
Oh... I see... everyone is invited... The more the merrier...
Not the more the merrier?
Ooooh, you're hoping at least one person you invited shows up...
to BURY you...
Certainly if you have sent out one thousand invitations, some
bring a shovel...
Well, now I don't know...
Are you dead, Mr. Badger?
Uh, huh... uh, huh...You already feel buried alive...
But you want to make it official...
Wow. I'm... at a loss...
Did you want me to say a few words?
Like, were you wanting a eulogy?
I hardly know you...
Mr. Badger, do I remember
that night you went Tiger? Well, now... let me see...
You were always considered to be
in a family
of agitated hot heads,
If that's what you Mean?
Now, wait just a minute!
You don't have to bite my head off...
Oh, That's not what you said?
You're not the head?
Oh right, right... of your family...
But you're burning bright?
So... what? You want me to recite...
Oh... you said your whiskey intake
had you flying high as a kite...
wrapped around a telephone wire...
and caught on fire!
Just like your dearly departed father...
Oh... not dearly?
You say he had T.B.?
And that it was a tragedy...
How cold was he... His temperature dropped
He was dank
when he drank
but he would not stop
and now you've got the rot?
Indeed... Indeed... I do see, your eyes look cowardly
yellow, I do believe
You want what? Carrot Juice?
Oh... you said...
Do I remember
when you went
after all of the Abuse...
Because you were sad
about your Dad
so you hate
for haunting you...
into this Channel... You are channeling... His...
Wait what? To whom am I speaking?
And you're inviting me to the Grave
for your son?
So you won't be the only one?
You need some one to shove his body
and some one to shovel
him over... so he won't get any older?
Well... Don't the two of you have some unresolved business?
I'm certain I can
as I have
Count me in!
I'd be more than happy
If the Badgers
I saw that you were weak,
You jumped into that puddle
on purpose, remembering
yourself a child
to splash in a reign
made of your own worship
after rainfall, and everything
even the rainbows
mixing oily water under parked cars
You are marveling
The world is trickling
drip by drip...
You open your mouth wide
to cloudy sky,
a yellow chick
ignorant of drowning
You would be cooped
The hens can't teach you
they can only peck
you to death
The rooster can't teach you
he can only crow
for the son
The farmers can't teach you
they want to breed you
then eat you