Monthly Archives: March 2016

33

We all pass

The homeless men that cops chide

That the Union Guys learn to hate too

And the Subterranean Queen who gives cheap favors

For some sad lonely dudes

 

But a slow 180 to freedom

From dark moon tar

 

Will bring meadows soaked in sun

Nimbus sprinkled skies

And the easy repose of an hour bus ride


Somewhere in Between

Draw

more drawings

 

and

Paint

more paintings

 

Of farts on

Fire

 

And massive babies

giving birth to tiny adults

 

Spindly Blue Men licking their own asses

 

Women Skydiving

with babies attached to umbilical cords

That are also skydiving

in spread eagle form

Wearing helmets

and parachutes

donning faces that fight the wind

 

Because

 

When we look at them on canvas

We can’t help but laugh

 

Being 8th grade fuck boys

Which we still are

hiding in bags of Cheetos

that lie below beards

and Cheetos stained wine glasses


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