John at the Cock Show

Look at all those cocks!
There are far too many cocks.
I can’t even believe it.
Had I known this convention would be so cockily complete,
I don’t know I would have committed to coming so quickly.
Can you imagine having so many cocks?
I can’t even begin to count them!
So many cocks…
Where did they come from?

Penises to the left, to the right.
To the South, to the North by North West…
Oh my lord!
I… I am inundated.
I am absolutely agog at the attachments in attendance.
It is overwhelming.
My senses are inflamed.
I may flutter and faint.
I can’t –
No, I am sorry
This will not do.
I can’t have this.
This is too many cocks before me!
Please someone take me away from this overwhelming wealth of cocks immediately – or earlier!

Oh, this is better.
Now, this is the exact right number of cocks.
I am extremely pleased.
Thank you.

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Dreams of Rose

I dreamt the rose withered
which came as no surprise;
the bird predicted it
the book before him
and anyone could see it coming
in the current kind of temperature.

But still I was saddened
which came as no surprise;
I had loved the rose
though it had always been weathered
and worked upon in my time
I recognized its beauty
even among its flaws.

In my dream
I saw no rose
simply heard of its passing
for who ever heard of a funeral for a flower?
But we ought to bury the things we love.
What we treasure in life
should see some sense of completio

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I Don’t Want to Hold Your Hand

I know somehow, that you still care
but your emotions are so much to bear
one day you’re kind, the next you just wear
me down.
No… stop it, please.I can’t stand the way that you tease.
It puts me at the reverse of ease.
…Keep distance.

I don’t want to hold your hand.

What will make you understand
how you cannot countermand
all our loving… every day?
Yes, of course, I love you – don’t!
You’ll lose this boy with one more note
I know you can, but if you won’t
respect what I have to say…
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.

We all… constantly change.
I feel you and your vital range
of ways you behave then arrange
…your moods.
I get the same way, too.
And right now, I can’t be with you.
I need space, for a decade or two.
…Let me be.

You’ve already let me down.
So wear black ’til I come around.
I’ll call your name and we can drown
in an an inner light.
Until that time accept my plea
give the space that I so need.
Like I needed you, please me
and let me go away.
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah.

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Old Boy, Old Ways

Things have been distant
between this awful sickness and me
and me and you
and me and crises.
I have walls
and walls and walls
that protect me
from things
but this awful sickness
has no use for walls
and neither does our bond
my chinese brother
from beyond that wall.
I’m so sorry you’re gone
and I barely got to say
how much I loved you
in my little little way.
This awful sickness
takes so many things away
but at least among them
are some obsolete
unnecessary walls.

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A Fine Thing

She said it was fine.
She said you thought I’d be holding a grudge still
after all this time?
She laughed at that.

She said it hurt for a minute.
You hurt me, I admit,
and I held a grudge there
for a day or two
but, they say,
she said
the best was to get over someone
is to get over someone
which is a practice
that I eventually mastered.

You bothered me,
she said,
but you don’t have to concern yourself with it
You no longer matter to me.

Has this been in your mind all this time?
She asked.
I’m so sorry
if it’s been troubling you.
Now that’s a fine thing
and make no mistake.

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Well, the days are just packed in this modern life
with enough to do to satisfy eight wifes
and I’ve got so much to do and I’ve got so much to see
and I do all of it so happily!

The morning starts early with some hash and eggs
served by Young Miss Miranda of the famous legs.
I swear someday, that girl‘ll gimme a date
but it won’t be today because I can’t be late!

I’m heading to the pound to pick me up some pooches.
The loneliest ones, I bet deserve some smooches.
When I get em out and make sure their deloused
I deliver them straight off to the sausage house.

Where they turn the warm to hot dogs in a moment flat
and they turn the me from poor to flush – and just like that I feel like that’s a part of a good morning done
but as soon as I might feel a yawn coming on…

When my body says, “sleep,”
I sleep. You won’t hear from me a peep.
When it tells me to sleep,
my R-E-M takes me cycling really deep.
I neeeeeed my sleep
(I need my sleep!)

Whenever I awake it’s time to do more stuff;
like picking on some bullies who treat babies rough.
Cuz bullies are just about the worst alive.
And since I’m much bigger, I can’t let ‘em thrive!

I go to where I see a kid pushin’ around
some other smaller kid and then I go to town.
Sometimes I leave ‘em breathing. Sometimes I choose
to go off in a corner to take a little snooze.

When my body says, “rest,”
I rest. Our bodies have our interests that’re best.
If my body says slow. I’ll slow.
Why fight it, when my body says “don’t go”?
IIIII need my sleep
(I really need my sleep!)

Some people need only five hours
Some people need twenty five.
I can’t imagine getting to sleep that little
in just a single day to stay alive!

The afternoons involve a little bribery
some sex trafficking and drugs, illegal cutlery,
a couple hours bowdlerized revelry
and then some time for biscuits and tea.

For balance is the thing our bodies crave, I think.
We’re here on this blue marble for but one quick blink.
It can’t be all spent at work or in one’s head.
I’d rather do just what I love instead.

When my body says, “sleep,” I kill.
I love to work against someone’s will.
When my body says “snore,” I devour.
It’s the only way through another hour.
I neeeeeed to destroy.
(I really need my sleep)

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Oh, you germing thing.
You’ve done so much to us
in so little time,
it is astonishing how little we know you,
how little you are.

What you’ve done in your instant invasion
is impressive, indeed.
I hate what you’ve done with the place
as echoes fall down every floor
and this city I know so well
is like a stranger to me now.
But everybody knows
a stranger changes every day
just as one’s most intimate does
growing from one to the other.

Who’s to say what this isolation
extra time with thought
and family
and sleep
and the body’s own rhythms
may do, once we become familiar with it?

These haunted halls of emptiness
may soon prove familiar
and beloved.

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Granted License

Oh, yes.
I had no idea
but you are an answer to a prayer unspoken
a wish unsaid.
I didn’t know I needed you
until you arrived before me like this
with your poisoned roots
your bitter teeth
your shredding limbs
and, oh, your hideous visage!

You are monstrous,
but it is your soul, truly,
that leaves me so in hate with you.
I thank the gods and demons both
that I have been granted license to despise so freely
with a heart so full of venom
that I may
live like this

This new life is wondrous
and it is all thanks to you
and whatever fates brought you to me.
I don’t know what I’ll do
when you’re finally destroyed.
I’ll be devastated, certainly.
You are just that important to me.

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Safety in the Numbers

Just remember:
You’re safe.
Nothing’s happened.
It’s in your head.
It’s only been looks.
You’ve only been frightened.
It’s just menace.
You haven’t died once, right?
It’s not the end of the world.

The looks, though…
His stare, sometimes,
somewhere between motivation and murder
geniality and genocide.

But worry gets no one anywhere.
Fear can be smelled.
Just be calm and cool
and everything will resume normalcy.

Don’t get anxious.
It’s just been looks.
Nothing’s happened
but some unsettled instants.
Nobody’s died

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Paper Cracks

When a younger manI wrote down in a spiral notebook
all the names of the girls I loved
to commemorate and memorialize
for all the years to come.
I would never forget them, surely,
but this book would permanently record
these affairs of the heart
– or almost affairs
– or looks askance.
Whenever I knew their names, I took them down.

Generations later: my brain is mush,
my memories are dust
and I look to the book
to see what the stupid boy had to think about
and to try to jog what few neurons remain
out of their rotted cavernous beds.

The spiral is bent into purposelessness.
The pages are barely in their place
yellowed and cracked
but the pencil etchings that I thought
would stand the test of time?
Pale illegible scratch marks
forever lost.

My past is buried with my memories.

There is no doubt a lesson to be found
somewhere herein
but were I to write it down
how would I ever find it again?

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