The first order is to close the border radio fool spewed into my ear allowing his fear to be too near they're takin' over he vomited across the air waves another anti-Mexican neo-fascist ranting rave

He leans against the wall,
trapped there for eternity
by shutter and film,
unaware of my future stare
and wonder.

The battered man.
Skinny and worn as Tom Joad,
but drained of the anger

They want to hand it to us
upon a silver platter,
but even though they've screwed us all
that really doesn't matter.
We'll find a way to lose the race
though that might seem erratic.

Thank god he is in the ground
at last.
Now we can remake him
in our own image,
mold him like clay
and bake him in the oven
of our longing.

That bothersome tongue of his
has been silenced.

Lead us not into temptation,
Knead us hot, Jen, to oblation,
Tweedie knots blend Hindu frustration,
Bleedie blots spew incantations,
Feed the tots who feel starvation,

Skittering, Skittering, Skittering,
As if my brain had turned to mice,
running madly,
turning the wheels of my mind.
Frantic little voices,
squeaking, squeaking, squeaking.

Need beat and beat or I feel beat
like dead dog lying in the street
Mingusian riffs to drown my fears
Bukowski's growls to fill my ears

A voidish horror fills my head

I'll not shove myself into sanity's
box,
hexagonal peg into cubic meat
grinder.
I'll not dig out the inner eye that sees
the soul,
to make myself
the blinder.

Oh, woe is me
the blog gurus
won't let me post a thread!

I must have sinned
some grievous way,
to them I guess I'm dead!

I wished to post
a comment on
a poem that I had read.

I am not happy today.

There is a hole where
joy should be.

There is a void where
satisfaction should be.

I cannot look at a chair and say
I made that.

Being is a riddle with no answer
that we struggle
to solve.
Perhaps we are words
chosen at random.

Not a tale told
by an idiot, for
there is
no idiot, only
us.

Perhaps life is a

"Teacher beats student with chair; Is awarded key to the city."

"Senator admits 'I'm in it for the money'."

"State Government Begins Door to Door Distribution of Bourbon.

"Lies, lies, everywhere,
writhing and gasping." says O'Hara.
Not so,
they are much stronger than that.
We must beat them to death
with poems.

Its our purpose,

Then there's McCain,
who's quite a pain.
It's nuclear rain
if he wins the game.

I fear his plan
is to bomb Iran.
Blood in the sand
and streets of Tehran.

He likes jackboots

Just had my colonoscopy,
it's really not so much, you see
it's really a necessity
for guys who are as old as me.

A camera on a long line
was pushed to where the sun don't shine