Resistance Is Not Futile!

Part of me hated the bastard.

Part of me wanted to kill him.

Part of me wanted to drink him up.

Part of me loved the thrill of him.

Kill or be killed.

Smiled as he said it.

Then off popped the tops

Of a bar with no limit.

Now guzzle and gulp and wake up Mister Big Head.

Now you wanna be dead, instead of living?!

What have they been giving

You down at the dance hall, prance hall…

Whatever you call it.

It is trying to cart you away!


Get Your PTSD Before It Goes Out Of Style

Fuckin’ buddy dropped out of site!

One second he’s beside me, the next, swoosh! I felt his hand brush my arm as he clawed the air, hoping against all hope that what was happening, was not happening to him.

I knew what was happening to him at that brush. His brush with death. Or at least near death. Or wanting to be dead.

Buddy knew it too. We all knew…

What we knew in that instant was that some of us were going home tonight, and some not. Buddy was in the “not” category.

Yep, this Halloween would be a harbinger for the remainder of buddy’s life because tonight, buddy’s future sploodged in a hole new direction.

If he lived, I thought, he’d be more cautious. Likely waay more cautious. He’d probably be much more skeptical about the supposed good nature of mankind, too.

If he lived…

I bet future buddy would watch his step more. And he would watch the steps of other people more, too. It didn’t help matters that he was a native guy and had already been through a fair bit of shit.

But whatever, up to now he had faced his challenges head on, with as much confidence as he could muster and even though we seldom thought about buddy’s race, or anybody’s race for that matter, tonight was about to change how we all felt about ourselves and people in general.


Because tonight was the first time that all the kids on our street banded together to send a message by exerting our minor influence on the meanest old dude in our neighborhood.

Tonight was icing night for a frog tossing, knock out ginger cake delivered to Senior Sad Sack of Shite the week before and the time had come to give BugEye Boozer the recogition he deserved…


The lessons of time teaches parents and kids about the ins and outs of tattle-tales. Both groups understand that tattle-tailors are often not well respected, usually not appreciated and mostly unrewarded for their efforts.

Adolescents, on the other hand, don’t contemplate tattle-tailors on account of their reality being made up mostly of games, gossip and grand exaggerations and even though our group didn’t acknowledge the risk, kid snitches were a thing and tonight the stench of that basic knowing wafted over us.

It just so happened that two of our fellow caperists were doing double time as Backoff Buckoh’s kids. Sure, they swore up and down that they hated Hammered Hank too, and they were right there with us on the front lines, catapulting frogs and supervising meat cannon logistics, so every cocked arm new exactly when Sir No Funnery would open his front door.

But, as it turned out, one of the haters didn’t hate enough because, well… buddy…

Was our cohort threatened? Maybe. Coerced? Possibly. Regardless, he was right there among us, creeping through the same cold, wet grass we crept through. Suppressing the same squeaky giggles we all suppressed. And ya, gulp gasping as we all fucking gulp gasped – while saving his own omission lying ass by being the furthest witness away from a good compadre’s murky oblivion.


See, what buddy and the best of us didn’t know, and what was to cause all of us – especially buddy – a great deal of emotional grief, was that the little prank we were about to play on Master Moron had been revealed to him.

Because you know what the old bastard did?

As twilight faded into that cool Halloween evening, Sir Sam SmartAss stealthily moved his outhouse ahead.


Some War’s About Fightin’ Wars

You do. You do.

It’s all about doing.

Baby, you do me in.

I don’t know where to begin but

Doing, it soon wears thin.

Dead guys with clean clothes.

Been there, seen doze.

Mirror bullets for Werewolves.

Stand back, the door’s closin’.

Touch Baby, but not those ones.

Those’ll just blow us away.

And Baby, I want us to stay.

Pretend it’s just another day.

Baby, we’ll take time to play.

Then this day won’t drag us out,

Put us down, make us talk mean.

It certainly won’t blow us away!


From then on we’ll watch what we say.

We’ll play the game.

If we’re careful, the same

Outcome will become the

Real one we wanted.

Smile. Nod your head. It’s okay.

We Have Nothing To Fear But The Fear Makers

You are going to hell.

And you stink.

Probably lower Eye Que.

Than you think.

You’re waay too fat

Tree hugger, you.

Sneakily allowing animules to

Crawl into you through

Barbeque sauce.

You ain’t lost.

This is home.

There Was That Daily Reminder: Shit Adds Up

He niced his hundredth person,

For that week!

He coulda niced a hundred more…

But some folks didged and

Others dodged.

They deflected nice… what for?!

Show another playa you’re playin’!

At least…

Smile at a playa.

Nod at a playa.

See what a little respect can do!

But everybody head down or

Maybe talk out loud.

Maybe one more selfie given

Got room in the cloud.

Oh ya, you on prime now.

They got you, and hard!

What you want is what you get.

Don’t hafta try that hard.

Cause that’s your credit card.

Welcome to the spiral!

No screaming.

The Hallway And It’s Rooms

There’s this life

And that life and

This life and that.

Where you wind up

Twists on where you bin at.

You looking forward?

Or you looking back?

Time doesn’t care

It’s the ball that you bat.

Little House Just Like Da Big House

This house was run by vote.

Votes ran this house.

Mom and Dad tallied the notes.

In this house.

They said every vote surely counted.

They would count and then recount them.

Then they’d say

Just like we said;

Mom and Dad get that brand new bed.

The tallied voting said…

And the votes, they ran this house.

The Seestem Licks It’s Arseholes

Goddamn! It’s same show title three!

Well, watchers come and see!

You’ll shudder and tee hee!

Set disbelief so free

That it straps you on.

Eight seconds sooo long.

Sings your whole song.

Then with one buck

Sets you free…

You’re FREE!

Constraint, I Shall Banish You To The Ends Of The Earth!

Fuck, he was a retard!

He’d see shit comin’

Then, while hummin’

He’d s-l-o-w-l-y get ahead.

Like mama always said.

There’s something in your eye.

Something that’s so fly.

Ain’t me what they say.

Another light flies away.

Them, they never stray

Into the vast unknown.

Curious’s home.

But with him comes the shitty-est of luck.

The Cheater’s Guide To Heaven

BOOM! He wanted to see God so bad.

BOOM! Was the only way he thought he had.

BOOM! Exploded sadness turned some others mad.

BOOM! Enter the Sandman with his hands of glad.

Shhh! He works in silence, wrings the good from bad.

He yins their yang then.

They begin to question.

Their path to heaven.

So the Sandman gives ’em hell…

The Dimensions Between Sight And Sound

Some came in saucers.

Others had reptile skin.

Some had no skin at all

And weren’t where they had been.

When they landed after tactile.

And just before smell.

One could see them but not feel them

Because touching them was, well…

Waay out of the question.

See them on the edge of sight.

Feel them just past felt.

Communicating soundlessly.

The endless, boundless wealth

Of knowledge.

If You’re A Cat, It Ain’t Monday.

Five was the number.

The number was five.

Then he’d come awake.

Then he’d be alive!

Seven was a number.

A number which he dread.

Seven was a forcer

Force him outa bed.

One was rent.

Water, fifteen.

Life insurance, taxes

In between.

Then it’s a clean break.

Maybe wake ‘n be baked.

Tummy ache can be faked

Cause school uh waits for you.

He Could Say It Was The Lord But It Was Life

Words kept coming

Like non-stop humming.

Like a far away train will rumble you.

You feel the world a rockin’.

You hear somebody talkin’.

The rocks get hot to walk on.

So now you run.


Stops being fun.

You come undone.

Not the only one.

And now you’re never tired

Because you’re always wired

And you don’t know

You’re sleeping

Alot more.

Get Your Pareidolia On, Shite Is Adding Up.

The plays and the players.

Just another day.

Nothing to be seen here.

Why not look away?

The sky’s not falling.

The earth ain’t shakin’.

You ain’t in a hot home

Awaken without bakin’.

Count you your blessings.

Hang ’em on a wall.

Get a little mixed up

Who ya gonna call?

No one.

Get Bent

Blow your stack.

Come undone.

Put those loved

On the run.

Stop all fun.

Cause shit ain’t going your way.

Swear out loud.

Asshole proud.

It’s allowed

Cause you’re a jerk.

You live to hurt.

Hurt yourself first

And then the others.

Where Are You And What Time Is It?

Say this again tomorrow.

For tomorrow holds no sorrow.

It’s a brand new day

With a brand new way

Of doing things that

Shouldn’t be done.

But today you can

Replay your plan

Cause today all things are different.

See, the man changed his mind.

Today you’ll find

Him rather kind

So do that which shouldn’t be done.

You Don’t Play With The Big Boys

You roll the die.

You don’t ask why.

Just barely try

To understand.

It’s underhanded.

Won’t understand it.

Can’t get behind it.

Cause you don’t know

Mister so-in-so.

So you must go

Along, to get along.

Now get along…

Space: The Final Fraudtier

He lied to himself,


I think I can.

I think I can!

But as an also ran

He was in a clan

That lied on their resumes too.

There was no no-can-do.

But didja really think these things through?

It was you… just you.

And that ain’t enough.

An Asshole’s Hegelian Dialectic

Fo’ sho’ he was an asshole.

He had those asshole ways.

And without any effort

He could asshole on for daze!

Sometimes he would wonder.

As assholes seldom do.

What made me such an asshole?

Can I dam my river of poo?

Maybe read a book or

Take a course or join a goddamn church.

Or maybe join the military.

They manhandle jerks.

But do it, you do something.

You made this problem, so…

You must quit your assholenish.

Or prison’s where you’ll go.

He Was Good On Taxes

He just paid income tax and

Tax on his gas and the gasser

Paid their taxes all the way down.

He paid their tax, too.

On his car, too.

Every fucking thing in his house was taxed too!

His food. His clothes.

The fooders and the clothers.

He paid their tax too!

They told him after taxes

That his loot was tax free!

Sweet Jesus, fuck me!

This is tax free?!

Ain’t no tax left for me!

His Initiative Showed None

You don’t quit, you don’t start.

You’ve turned not trying

Into an art.

You don’t follow direction

But want us all to becon

To your call.

It ain’t your fault.

It’s a default.

For the not so innocent bystander.

He Was A Small Man Baring His Cross

He could hear the birds, or not.

He could flail in this net

But he was caught.

And goddammit, these were problems.

Andy had no way to solve them.

So he cried out to the night.

You know this isn’t right!

Andy’s damn near outa fight!

But the universe wants more.

And Andy, that’s your chore.

You open wide the door.

To you’ve not been before.

You’ll cry in there.

You’ll die in there.

But out here, Andy… live!

Mike Roe And Mike

As below. So above.

Things never fit.

Like a glove.

Your Days Are Numbered Now Name Them

Six hundred years old.

On his thirty-ninth childhood.

Jonah finally learned to shit his pants.

He could shit those pants with ease, now.

No need to scare shit out.

All done with zero grunting, he was proud…

Ya gotta learn to shit yourself, he knew.

If it takes six hundred years.

Cause once you learn to shit yourself, my friend.

No shit can come from fears.

If You Need To Be Angry

A punching bag, you’re not.

But, here you are… caught.

In the eye of a drama storm.

Drama storm.

Drama storm.

Turn and torn.

Man you rustled bag!

You Hag!

Queen of Drama, Storm!

Suggestions Dropped Like Grenades To Fall On

The Boogieman wears my droopy pants.

The Boogieman wears my shoes.

The Boogieman, he limits me.

Tells me what to choose.

Fear this, fear that.

My Boogieman knows just where it’s at.

Staying Where God Wants You

Pretend you are a fuckwit.

A moron and a gloat.

Pretend you’ve nothing to offer.

Then think about your oath.

Your oath. Your oath…

Just think about your oath.

To UPHOLD life.

Against all strife.

And now, apparently, you’re in it.

It’s time for you to bring it.

Sing or just wingding it.

But Madame or Good Sir.

Bring it.

The Stupid Future And Past

It hit him in the gut.

Right. In. The. Gut.

Weren’t no ifs, no ands or buts.

There it was and just because

It was there, he could see it.

He could feel it, be it.

Let it run amok.

Or he could look away.

Go and play.

He could really not give a fuck.

That thing was there.

That much was true.

But it did not tell him what to do.

He could shelve it for the future.

Redesignate it’s past.

He could do this from where he stood right now.

Create a new future and past…

If You Open The Door For God He Will

The Devil makes you do stuff.

You don’t want to do.

And God, he wants whatever you want.

Cause God, he works through you.

Satan works in other folks.

Via tempers they can’t control.

They stab you once maybe fitty times

And you don’t ever say whoa!

See, God and Lucifer, at your beck and call.

God is gonna help you good.

For Slewfoot, you take the fall.

But buddy, don’t you think for a moment.

You are doing this all.

The Deadly Lack Of Imagination

They didn’t think it was a bear.

Just the shadow of a rock.

Cause this bear never growled

And it never, ever talked.

It just cast this shadow.

Not much there to know to

Run this way or walk all day

But some who say

It’s a bear alright.

We need more fright!

And get out of sight!

Don’t wait til night!

Or it’s cover of darkness.

You disregard this

At your peril.

And they did…