Thursday, June 21, 2007

Bruno Walker makes an appearance

Molly has a new admirer. His name is Bruno
And what he wants is you know
Which is what I want too.
A little earthly happiness would be heaven.

When we met he said his last name was 111.
That dog won't hunt, I said, with a fuck you
look in my eyes. But he was a go-getter
and he said his last name was Walker,

and before that it was Walter.
And he said he would write me a love letter
and compose symphonies in my honor

And he said he would do it right
or write me a series of love poems. Well, sir,
you ghost them, I'll post them on this site.

Monday, June 11, 2007

Bewitched

Hysteria:

Wry heading (sip dream hosting) make
bone conversation about failed wake
and crimson (lush);
Al stays late after work (you trip) bush.
Eager, sea (not) ripples.
I don’t know what happened to my nipples.
Oh, there they are. Firm as rocks.
Lovelies for straight jocks.
Wish I’d stayed home and fucked.

Sunday, June 03, 2007

Bothered

Listeria:

Dry wedding (whipped cream frosting) cake
phone conversation about sales (fake)
any velvet (crushed)
always late for work (blue slip) rush
eager peanut nipples
tight clothes sausaging ripples
movies for eight bucks
wishing I'd stayed home and fucked.

Saturday, June 02, 2007

Do I have opinions?

Yes!
I believe in Romeo, as Juliet said
when she lay in the coffin pretending to be dead.
That Bush is no good, said the ambush chief
and I guzzling gas can get no relief.
The father figure resembling Charlie Chan
believed in the decisiveness of a fatal gesture.
As for me, I believe the most important news of the day is Lindsay Lohan
was an also ran (what could be truer)
a hundred years from today
when my reasoning, logically sound though obsolete as bonnets,
will have gone the way of Sir Thomas Wyatt's sonnets
Because you can't strut your stuff
when you're old and gray
amd there isn't time enough
There'll be some changes made
beside the hemlock tree in the shade
starting today
A change of heart or in the weather
in the bread and butter eaten by Werther
who has to decide whether
or not or not or not or not or not
nobody wants you when you're doubt and out
and this I know without a doubt
let the luck that was once a blaze remain an ember
I swear to be true to you come December.