Tag: surreal poetry

——ERECTION CREAM GIVEN OUT TO THE HOMELESS——

I had no idea that there were homeless in Placebo Town

standing there in line for some free erection cream

the gentlemen in front of me

were discussing what a marvel of engineering

the Mars helicopter had turned out to be

the bingo card inside my head exploded

MARVEL ?

a simple way to put out forest fires

(+) with the erection cream came one pair of rubber gloves

and a list of instructions:

  1. don’t eat the cream
  2. don’t get cream in your eyes
  3. wear gloves to apply
  4. erection may be painful
  5. be mindful of your partner

lovemaking: a poorly remembered version of the same thing with almost no friction, rhythm being the best one could hope for

television suggests that the arts have gone astray

music just vulgar noise movies without subject matter lacking a beginning and a proper end

actors have forgotten how to recite lines

white poets write about their sex and drug habits white poets who have outlived senior citizen recognition

blowing kisses to Jagger in his space socks

older adults rarely free of restraints

given

upside down medication

they salute one another with the finger

using sturdy thick blackguard words

from another era, another location

oral sex therapy

after lunch

Robert Frost and Machine Gun Kelly, I need not dramatize

I need not dramatize the presence of dangerous gases

in their bloated egos

Robert was an enemy of modern times

he kept court with “manly” roles

Machine Gun Kelly was outside bending over

in the showers

bending over outside

the realm of anesthetics

at one time

too young to know the penalties

of fast living

the foretaste of death

rumored to be a hangover

from sustaining life

who was I to speak of sustaining life ?

who was I to play parlor games

with the foretaste of death ?

——

sitting outside the Central Market in Poulsbo, Wa

if I called the poison center would they send help ?

angels whispered, “shake it off”

senior citizens sipping coffee

“Aqualung” playing in the background

just a pinch and reality kicks in

a poster of Allen Ginsberg naked

on the back wall

no one seems to notice

the size of a greyhound bus

with bad body hair

the Beat Babylon Poet

if only he had sodomized Robert Frost

sodomized him without an anesthetic

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