La Rue

crazy eye joe stands
on the corner of 34th
and 5th avenue crying
out some random chant
we are the nutters we
come from the sea
we are the tangerine
fighting machine!
no one looks at poor
ol' joe he waves his
arms in the air and
repeats his chant again
and again until a group
of angry British men
surround him and beat
his poor ol' body oh poor
ol' joe oh poor ol' joe i
guess he never realized
his chant was offensive
to the British in 1984.

Who is the Fairest One Of All?

is it fair,
to me at least
that I have to always
look behind me
at all times?

is it fair,
to me at least
that I’m overlooked, forgotten
simply a ghost in a shell?

is it fair,
to me at least
that I can’t conform
that I can’t blend in
that I am held responsible
for something out of my control?

is it fair,
to me at least
that when I come clean
I’ll be treated like
a second class citizen by
fellow peers,
friends
or even strangers?

now,
is it fair,
to me at least
that I’m held in limbo –
this eternal limbo,
this ambiguous limbo?

no.
it’s not fair to me at least
to live –
possessing and
not possessing life.

life, my past,
my present,
my future,
currently on hold.

jerk

Macbeth is, well,

gathered here

by authority, [Macbeth]

as a sign of shortages

in battles with the

Philippines.

Macbeth is, well,

the product of

an ideology:

pretentious snobs

residing in this [is]

California.

Macbeth is, well,

soon sent to battle [soon]

to fight for his land

without any training

from a

Fort Knox.

Macbeth is well,

void of health insurance

so his wounds aren't [dead]

covered by our taxes

and your money or

Medicare.

entrenched

in moments

of insipid awe,

we gather

all

indispensable ideas and

thoughts -

read from mysterious

tomes

from lands afar.

this fermentation of knowledge:

it is

our

natural barrier

to heaven.

as i wave in the face of a bear

baby beatniks brush by burroughs
king ken kesey kicks kaiser kerouac
jolly ginsberg attempts necrophilia
and monitors with monikers
convey communist thought

baby faced moonshine momma,
eclectic taste in homemade wine
rape me, rape me, rape me, she cries;
but jolly ginsberg prefers her dead
and king kesey still kicks kerouac
and beatniks beat burroughs
64, 928 times

dodos infest ginsberg's thoughts -
compels him to write 'howl'
kerouac and burroughs make man-love
sharing the sun and the fun while
ginsberg still writes 'howl'
with dodos on his mind.

get high get high get high
get high geth igh geth igh
gethi gh gethi gh gethi gh
gethig h gethig h gethig h
gethigh gethigh gethigh gethigh
gethighgethighgethighgethigh
jack writes 'on the road',
bill composes 'naked lunch'
they came down, came down...
caaame down, caaaame down,
dawdle.