Small Hands

Small hands
Wispy hair
Gentle eyes
And a heart full of care.

She doesn’t fear me
As others do
She holds me
Her tiny body next to mine
She makes it an armor
For the lies
That this disease
Forces before my eyes;
She says she’ll protect me
From the monsters I see
And show my diseased mind
What is true.

A gentle kiss
From a gentle child
As she hums a lullaby
To help me bid
This world goodbye
And enter one with no fear;

I love her
For her innocent voice
Makes my demons disappear.

Social Order No.3

Forgiveness is a vile thing
Hatred satisfies our lust
Egregiously their hearts they bring
How dare they sow the seeds of love.

No greater virtue is this
Than to love those who hate
To your own bloodlust dismiss
And to raise up, instead of denigrate.

A Kill Rate of 97%

I met a man
At the store
I asked him
How he was
He said
“I’m here
But I won’t be here
Next year.”

It was cancer
Of the pancreas
A cancer
With a
97% kill rate.

He looked healthy
Not like
Someone
Near death.

But he spoke
Like the dead man he is.
His words
Using more breath
His stare
Long and
Distant.

He was kind
Affable even
Sitting in the store
Awaiting death.

I thought of
What he might have been
As a child
Who his first love
Was
If he won
His first fight
When he lost
His virginity
If he’d ever
Left the country.

I wondered
If he had
Pancreatic cancer
In the list of
Ways to die
That we all keep
In our heads…

It made the store
Seem trite
With its cans
And bags
And boxes
Of food
Stacked high
Half of it
Destined
For the dump.

It made me feel
Like I was wasting my time
Buying hummus
And fruit.

Having
This short conversation
With a walking corpse,
Made me feel
Foolish
For the time I wasted.

Then his phone rang
And he left
After one last wave.

I’ll probably never see him again.

Bawdy Songs: Rick, Jacque, and Bob

There was a man named Rick
He had a giant dick
Thicker than a tree

To the girls he’d show
When he wanted a go
But sadly they would flee

Until he found a whore
Who was wide as a canyon floor
The first he didn’t split
From ass to tits
And she always wanted more.

Then there was Jacque
He had a tiny cock
Skinny as a straw

Too small for his palm
Or child’s sock
Or a lady two inches tall

But then he got a bride
And in her ear he’d ride
Then she went deaf
From the mess he left
‘Cause he forgot to come outside

Now there’s bob
What a dreadful slob
Who couldn’t buy a whore

His dick was a nub
But still he rubbed
‘Til his feet stuck to the floor

He’d jerk it all day long
One arm was twice as strong
Than the other
Sad was his mother
And that’s how I end this song

Big Mick

There was a man named mick
He had a great big dick
Thicker than a tree

To the girl’s he’d show
When he wanted a go
But sadly they would flee

Until he found a whore
Who was wide as a canyon floor
The first he didn’t split
From ass to tits
And always wanted more.