Jibber Jabber from a Jim Jam Jabberwocky

Non-sequential nonsense from a man with nothing left to lose, except his job.

we kiss and we cuddle
in grave like a puddle
shallow and temporarily filled.

we twist and we moan
knowing our bodies are on loan
for what purpose
why does that matter?

you shot the cop
I shot the banker
someone on the roof
dropped us like anchors.

we won’t go to jail
but who knows about hell
only fairy-tales end with
happily ever after.

A Place Called Home

I want to go where the sun doesn’t rise
and the cold stands still
like a shiver in your bones.

where leaves don’t grow
and insects don’t scream
a place where grey
is all you dream.

where scarecrows walk
and blood runs in the streets
a place that knows
the meaning of beat.

I want to go where the sun doesn’t rise
and the cold stands still
like a shiver in your bones.

No.28

I am an adult in age
but still very much a child

fearful of the boogeyman
who resides under my bed

though I am old enough to know
that the space under my bed
is my subconscious.

The Field Trip

every year the kids take a field trip.
giddy with excitement they line up.
the location is kept a secret.
they never go to the same place twice.
usually it is a small town in the middle of nowhere.
but one it was a major city.
though the kids got too out of control.
I am sure you could find the newspaper clippings.

this year the bus hurdled down a tiny country road
ending in a small quiet Hamlet town by the ocean.
the children marveled at the orange and yellow hued trees.
against the blue of the sky and ocean.
some have never seen a seagull before.

The town when the bus finally stopped
was even more quiet than usual
being the dinner hour
the perfect hour
the kids all talked about what they were going to eat.

Before they were aloud off the bus.
The driver reminded them of the rules.

1. Stay with your assigned buddy
2. Be as polite as can be to the locals.
3. Always wear the required uniform.
4. Don’t get greedy.
5. Have fun.

The driver smiled as the kids filed off.
He always took pleasure in this day.
How the kids ran in glee.
Smiles hidden beneath the paper mache masks.
their little hands clutching their little knives.

he never thought about the locals.
the pain inflicted with each jab and slash.
never really thought about the screams.
mostly due to his own brutality.
can’t have cops trying to save the day.
kids need to eat.
they deserve their own thanksgiving.
who cares if it is a month before everyone else’s.

when they returned to the bus at the predetermined time.
as good children ought to do.
he asked if they had their fill.
he could tell by their lazy lethargic response they had.
though one little piggy got greedy
and to the bus drivers dismay
vomited during the trek home.

and as he cleaned up
he reminded all the kids
this is why we have rule number 4.

Tripping Through Pubic Garden

eating mushrooms from your snatch
my eyes dilate big black balloons
floating heavenward into your body
I see what you see and me is no longer you
hands stretch past particle boundaries
bending erotic hallucinations color spectrum
low hum moaning twists pelvic thrust
vibrational high drifting though clouds
one conglomerate hysterical ball of energy
tasting wet moist earth and womanhood entangled
climactic spasms erupt ether wave after wave
not a decade longer than that moments lasting thirst
a monument built in frenzied air now golden
our bodies tenderly synthetic to the touch.

No.27

my ability to be popular
is as great
as my ability
to fly.

No.26

I disappear into myself
into myself I disappear
is this my version
of a party?

Around me people discuss concerns
this music is only for I.

the colors
the colors
warping velvet.

I am fleshless disconnected
blind to rule books of society.

what is fun?

I disappear.

NO.25

I’m poisoning my body
with no shame

hell has a bed
with my name

horns hide under my
beards lion mane

life isn’t serious
we’re all insane

remember that
when playing the game

nothing but yourself
is nothing but lame.

No.24

ten thousand jet black grackles
knock knock knocking on my door
I have no memory of where
the blood came from.

It is not myself in the mirror
but the monster I have
feared in my dreams.

how do you say the truth
while trying to be reassuring?

I heard screaming.

Mother Knows Best

She rose from the dead.
To lecture her children
once more
about the importance of being frugal
and not pissing money away on
items unnecessary.

like a luxury coffin.

it took the children
who were adults really
hours and hours
before they figured out
how to kill
their mother
again.

this time
hey used the cheapest
flammable liquid
they could find.