The Rest of 2015 in Shitty Poetry

March 9

Hey guys
I love watching John Oliver
So I can know what to be enraged about
While I do nothing about it
*jumps on fixie and rides off into sunset,
beard whipping behind in the wind*

March 21

Dump Stories

So I’m popping a work squat
And some dude occupies the next stall
He sits and starts grunting
Says “you can’t…”
I’m thinking “you can’t what?”
I look over and he’s wearing the same shoes I am
The exact fucking shoes
He’s already gone. Efficient.
I’m still here working on these hemorrhoids.

March 31

I fired up the old Narcissism Machine
Slacktivismed and Hashtified
flailed, histrionic
the gnashing of belief
mulled the perks of sociopathy
took a day off
to gaze navelward, skyward
Epiphanies: 0

April 10

Hey Pentecostal girls
smoking an E-cig in the romance aisle
Puffing, snapping selfies
All hair and denim
One thing for damn certain
Mom and Dad will reap what they have sown

April 13, part 1

So,
hey hey
My my
The status quo will never die
Stab yourself right in the eye
Give Hilldawg all your dollars

April 13, part 2

Guys
I just invented the time machine
First things first
I’m not a fan of Beanie Babies being the world currency
This beanie duffel is mighty inconvenient
So frustrating to make change

April 14

Guys
We can have four more years of Joe Biden as VP
Possibly eight
Just imagine The Onion articles
This Trans-Am ride never has to end
It’s completely legal
I googled it
Some of you folks have connections
Call somebody
Fire up some Billy Squire
Let’s stroke

April 23

So
Someday, when $15/hr victory is won
And the minimum wage workers of America
Claw their way up Maslow’s pyramid
To where I sit
When they can pay the rent
Feed the kids
Who is going to legislate away the self hatred
Of running a register
Hurtling towards forty
Making bachelor’s degree lattes
Who’s going to pass a law
Answer that shit

April 29

Ode to Bea

I’m so happy to be a booger monster
I love the window, why doesn’t it love me
I’m so happy to smash up all the crackers
I love the toilet, why doesn’t it love me
I’m so happy to play with sister’s toys
I love the bathtub, why doesn’t it love me
I’m so happy to make big diaper dumps
I love the kitchen floor why doesn’t it love me
I’m so happy to pull my sister’s hair
I love the crib rail, why doesn’t it love me
I’m so happy to be a booger monster

May 4

To make film reference
OR to be edgy asshole
Third option?
Or step into fourth
Fifth side if possible
Go back in time
Toss baby Lucas off a cliff

June 20

Where in Seattle
Do you buy a flag
Of Southern Oppression
And, burning that rag
Might give you a thrill
As if you actually did something today

Other than giving money to China
Other than getting fake Internet points
Other than busting that liberal nut

If you won’t tear it from a pole
If you won’t tear it from a pick-up
If you won’t tear it from the hands of a screaming son of the confederacy

Save your nickels and give them to charity

July 4

Thanks Too: Electric Boogaloo

Thanks for The Police, I really like that song
the one about not standing too close to them
is that why they shoot all those
unarmed black people?

Thanks for that tyrannical flag
The one that flew over the boys in grey
or the ones in blue
or olive drab
or digital pea soup vomit

Thanks Obama for all these jobs
low wage, internships, temp
minimum wage
maximum rage

Thanks for Sanders, Feelin’ the Bern
herding the kids ’cause it’s Hillary’s Turn

thanks for the three dollar gas
the four dollar eggs
the fourteen dollar steak

Thanks for the marriage
Thanks for victim blaming
Thanks for slut shaming
Thanks for the Wrath of God
Thanks for the Wrath of Man
Thanks for the Wrath of Khan

Bagpipes.
And that song that won’t stop playing.

June 23

Governments clamor to pull down the banner
We’re busting a liberal nut
Walmart and Amazon won’t sell that rag
And we’re busting a liberal nut
Seattle burns imported novelty flags
So we all bust a liberal nut
Texted and tweeted and shared and hashtagged
Let’s all bust us some liberal nuts

Gay marriage this week so it’s time to forget
All the Jenners, and transethnic fakers, and yet
The nation is pumping with progressive sweat
While we bust out this liberal nut

Please wake us next shooting
It’s time for a rest
After busting these liberal nuts

September 10

It’s such job security
No one stacks these games like me
How long before they realize
I cost what two teens make?
Palpitations
Mistake!

September 13

Flaking, popping, Brundle-Bob
But never do I become Fly
Ever festering and sloughing
Thirtysomething asshole guy

September 21

Maybe I’m the kind of shit guy
Who would buy that HIV drug
And hike the price
Because you won’t do anything but cry
I double dog dare you

September 23

Fall 7 times
get up 11
Don’t need 9 lives
All dogs go to heaven
Eat pray love
Fuck prey and EAT
I bust phat rhymes
That fit in a TWEET

September 30

Damn you George
I will never sell my stake
In the Wheal Leisure mine
Who do you take me for?
FUCKING FRANCIS

October 1, part 1

I support mass euthanasia
for neckbearded impotent rage
despite all my white knight malaise, yeah
I am still just a rat in a cage
maybe it’s time to stop caring
somebody set up us the bomb
perhaps it is time they stop living
oh so fragrant, in basements, with mom

Maybe it’s time to start screaming
Maybe it’s time to name names
Maybe it’s time we admitted
it’s just ethics in video games

October 1, part 2

The Blame Game, or
Ode to Conservative Emergency Response

You’ll be shot by neckbeards and told it’s all your fault.
You’ll be murdered by cops and it’s all your damned fault.
You’ll be raped by frat guys and it’s somehow your fault.
You want fries with that? That shit job is your fault.
The hurricane drowns you and it’s all your fault.
Can’t afford cancer treatment, but that’s all your fault.
A drone bombed your wedding and that’s all your fault.
You got an abortion so it’s all your fault.
Your city is burning and it’s just your fault.
You loved the wrong person and now it’s your fault.
Face down on the beach in the sand it’s your fault.
You’ll fear everything, and so that’s all your fault.
You voted or didn’t and it’s all your fault.
You tried and you failed and it’s always your fault.
You worked and you slaved and you died it’s your fault
your fault it’s your fault it’s your fault it’s your fault

October 4

Famous people hanging out
hanging out
hanging out
Famous people hanging out
nobody gives a FUCK
(circle circle dot dot nowIgotmycoolguyshot)

October 5

They pile the desks against the door
instead of curling under them
another murder drill goes by
like klaxons of a bygone war
no nuclear terror from the sky
(although that could come any day)
but threats from angry flaccid guys
erect to finally have their way

They lock to keep them in and out
to fire marshal’s sheer dismay
while parents argue, fret, and shout
The Facebook hits and shares and likes
the screeds and essays thrown about
while talk show hosts tell jokes no more
laypersons, experts, gnash and wail
militia men: “my cold dead hands”

That death should stalk the tiny ones
’tis something foreign they will say
to watch a child before you grow
to university and then
struck down by coworker or friend
your heart detached in other’s hands
is something for a distant land
Afghanistan or Turkish bays

Remember, little Alamo
The Hook that always brings us back
a dank quatrain that doesn’t rhyme
and Reese’s Pieces by the sack
so next time just go fuck yourself
two hours spent insomniac
attempting healing poetry
this nihilistic fucking hack

October 11, part 1

If you’re going to be late
Be late making love
Be late listening to The Breeze until the horns kick in

October 11, part 2

Paint all your carcinogens pink
Pink cigarettes
Pink factory emissions
Pink farm chemicals

Shut down the clinics and just paint the buildings pink
Dump all the vaccines into the ocean and dye the waters pink
Like albino rabbit eyes
Pink drill bits, pink cops shooting kids

Paint the cemeteries pink

I just fucking cured cancer
I’ll take one awareness statue in the center of every metropolitan area
Pink

October 14, part 1

Hey guys
Remember back before you had
The Database of Everything in your pocket
When everyone was self-actualized
And paid attention
LOL

October 14, part 2

Sweet progressives
go to sleep
Uncle Bernie’s
counting sheep
When he’s finished
You can rest
Your weary heads
‘pon Clinton’s breast

October 28

Fat titty man who can’t run a mile
can’t get it up?
just murder a child!

Fat titty man, come back from the wars
can’t get employed
look what we’ve got in store!

A blue uniform for you, fat titty man
a bottle of gin
and a gun in fat hand

A short education in who you must shoot
what they look like, what color
what a fine-tittied brute!

Fat titty man sometimes forgets the rules
Shoots a white kid in braces
on camera, fools

In walks America, Video Sleuth!
(from CSI watching
and Bones with The Booth)

Consider it accident, that’s how it goes
when you smoke Mary Jane
in pedestrian zones

So that story ends until fat pig repeats
and maybe next time shoots
your kid in the streets

November 6

The endless cognitive dissonance
of factory fires and children’s smiles
of crushing concrete and squeaky baby shoes
of swollen hands and jingling toys
of bleeding lungs and camera clicks
of moldy dorms and memories
The Gap that we can only bridge
with Merry Fucking Christmas

A weary face before you asks
just for a name, and nothing else
a collection of some sounds to shout
above the din of murmuring businessmen
why not yell Merry Christmas?

This coffee can’t be brewed for naught!
no, beans procured under a whip
and bought for less than what they’re worth
brought here to sell for far too much
prepared by hands who’ll never touch
a steering wheel the likes of yours
expertly marked with regal crest,
a thundering two ton chariot
constructed to fight suburban wars
in big box stores
for imported piles of multicolored plastic
stocked by people who must be less
be paid less
paid back for their mistake
of Having Less in America
(yet still more
than dirty foreign faces
in the trickle-down races
to the bottom
of we don’t care)

but then, again, the stab, it strikes
the conflict of the things we know
that Jesus died upon the cross(?)
his name bestowed upon this orgy
the neverending celebration
of industrialized civilization
does not rhyme
does not ring true
is not in tune
with fists thrown over TV sets
with scratching, screaming, over dolls
That lost forgotten Feast of Thanks
we cancelled for a shopping spree

Two magic words, they spring to mind
the salve that soothes the mass confusion
capitalistic abracadabra
to spread upon our thought contusion
Say it louder,
Merry Christmas
we can make it all worthwhile
the stars in clear December skies
outnumber still, the mangled lives
entire continents wait untouched
their virgins aching for the thrust
of Merry Fucking Christmas

November 19

The further dropping of pretense
is part of the natural progression
Heritage nowhere to be seen
just the red-faced Red State scream
of “Terror!”

The issue, since the dawn of time
the limitation of The Game
is not enough companion slots
though many have tried, in vain
to upgrade

How many faces are, to you
A Person and not Some Strange Ape
Fifty, a hundred? And then there’s what?
Zeroes stretching vast, across continents

The Great Ones did develop hacks
to fit more Zeroes in a slot
A Category, if you will
A Place to shove the Foreign Ape
Alike enough to stay the hand
gripped ’round sharp rock
Sometimes

This shoddy software limited
by hardware meaty, moody, Man
racing against the deadlines
of multiplication
versus devastation

So, unsurprising as it is
to see it played time and again
The Sting of What’s Alike, to me,
seems like enough to stay our hands
gripped ’round sharp keyboards, triggers, rocks

I hope that I can keep a spot
for children curled against the sand
and shaking, burly, Southern Men
both people, too
but is there room
in here?

November 22

Clap your hands and stomp your feet
Feel the Bern of Willie Pete
Trump’s a Nazi! Hipsters moan
vote for Inevitable Perón!
Single Payer is for whiners
Need eyeglasses? call the Shriners

November 23

Happy Birthday Miley Cyrus
Happy Birthday Doctor Who
Happy Birthday Boris Karloff.
Harpo Marx, and Snookie, too

December 1, part 1

A Happy December to all you baristas
I never knew coffee would be
a precise undertaking so meticulous
it requires a bachelor’s degree

A hot, Merry Christmas to all you baristas
and a new year so joyous and free
perhaps they’ll promote you to shift manager
after you finish your Ph.D

December 1, part 2

The Shittiest Generation
storming the beaches of Facebook
dying on the islands of Reddit
shot down over Twitter
succumbing in the Tumblr camps
Born too late for glorious musketry
Born too soon to ravage star clusters
Born just in time to browse dank memes
Wikidiots know everything and nothing
(look that up in your Funk & Wagnalls)
Human Googlepede
diarrhea Ouroboros
desensitized
LiveLeak piles of YouTube bodies
This rectangle’s warm cocoon
Makes Drone Pilot look good
compared to Grill Commander
Professor Coffee
Stockboy Man
Here’s to exciting times
Here’s to the Flea Circus
Here’s to peeking out Skinner Box doors
but staying in
just for a moment
Here’s to being bored until The Next Horror
Here’s to music
Here’s to victory
Here’s to the trees

December 26

I love the fucking 26th
When we discard the joy and mirth
All pretense dropped, and what remains?
The seething carnal dull-eyed gaze
as teeth rip into clearance racks
of hot post-Christmas afterbirth

December 27

I wish I were a fandom geek
Hell, I’d know everything!
Those Writers would all bow to me
The Science Fiction King!

the plotholes! What they should have done!
why, if I were around
I’d fix it lest they fly this franchise
straight into the ground!

I’d have the greatest references
’cause I’ve seen everything
I’ve read and listened watched and learned
Extended Universes burned
and even through fanfiction yearned
for cross and slash and species turned
to robot foxes, it’s confirmed
I’d be the chosen one,
the nerd who wields the magic ring!

I wish I were The Fandom Lord
the story catalogs I’d hoard
into my fanny pack on board
My Starship, Criticism Ford

My stories layered! Onions! Shrek!
Bartholomew and the Oobleck
flows forth from the Dark Tower’s deck
to mix your favorites all to heck

And if you think I’ve gone insane
just wait for the Public Domain
the fairy tales ripe for the plucking
picture Cinderella fucking
Sherlock Holmes, Odysseus,
Cardassians from Deep Space Nine

I want to be The Fandom God
Fanatical fantastic Zod
Impale them all upon my ROD
THE WIKIGEEKY UBERMOD

I WANT TO BE GALACTUSNERD
AND SHOVE IT ALL INSIDE
MY GAPING ANUS OF OPINIONS
TERRIBLE AND SNIDE

I WANT TO SCREAM IN TERROR
AT THE THINGS I CAN’T CONTROL
I WANT TO LEAVE THIS BASEMENT
AND CLIMB OUT THIS WRETCHED HOLE

I wish I were a fandom geek
perhaps I would enjoy a thing
to make it perfect, hold it dear
the tears would flow, the angels, sing

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