Clean Slate

New places
are almost always
nice
and pleasant.

There's no history
that I'm
aware of.

The place
might as well have been
built
right before
I got there.

Of course,
it wasn't.

The feeling
is still
the same.

Or rather,
the lack
of them
altogether.

There's no dread
or worrying about
whether or not
I'll see a person
I've just screwed over
or denied their
request for love.

Clean slate.

Now,
there's plenty of time
to fuck up
all over again.

There's almost
no
better feeling
and almost
no better place
to be.

A Holy Prayer

I meditated yesterday.

Yes, I,
the metal head,
who drinks too much
whiskey and beer,
and eats too much
cheese,
quieted
the blood curdling screams
and indescribable noise,
and did nothing,
but stare
at a hummingbird
for a half hour.

It felt like
an eternity.

Bliss,
some call it.

When I came back
to reality
I saw
a ufo.

It flew by
an airplane
and danced
in the sky.

It was pure white
and kind of tumbled,
lazily,
through space,
and slowed down,
then sped up,
until finally,
disappearing
into the clouds.

I laid there
in a daze,
almost high,
blessed
to be shown
this wonderful sight.

When I got up,
I searched around
for a beer,
a shot,
a song
to celebrate.

Nothing surrounded me.

It felt good,
but then again,
it didn't.

I laid back down
and closed my eyes.

There was a drip,
a cool, refreshing
break
from the heat and the miracles.

It was my woman
with a beer
and a smile.

Finally,
I said.

What?
was her reply.

Nothing,
again appeared,
this time
out of my mouth.

No need for anything else.

My prayers
were answered.

Faith

A mask
of brute testosterone
is worn
tight.

But,
I know
they are
deeply
insecure.

And
with every abuse,
both physical
and verbal,
they drag
themselves
lower.

The worse
they are,
the worse
their lives
become.

I used to want to
snap
their necks
every time
I heard of their
abuse.

There's no use.

Fighting fire
with fire
resolves
nothing.

Now,
I've learned
to have faith
in karma.

So much so,
a smile
gently
and calmly
rises
inside me.

The worse
they are,
the worse
their lives.

Perfect.

The Big Bang

Her flatulence interrupted
our most passionate
of moments.

It was loud
and rumbled
my balls.

This
bizarre sensation
frightened
my cock.

As it hid away,
she burst into a drunken laughter
and I
began to act like a baby.

Whining and crying,
saying
our sex was ruined.

It wasn't.

Far from it.

It's a memory
I'll even tell
at her eulogy.

Our children and great grandchildren
will be in
shock and awe
at the type of
wonderful connection
we shared
that fateful night.

This,
I shall conclude,
was how
the family
was conceived.

Making the World a Better Place

My nightmares
don't know how
to react.

Usually,
the serial killer or
alien,
that's about to rape me
drops his machete
or his spiky cock
and has a look of
horror
on his face
as he realizes,
I know
that I
am dreaming.

My nightmare becomes
my playground.

I cut off
the head
of the alien
with his own cock.

I melt
the killer's face off
with diarrhea
that sprays
out of my nose.

Then,
I laugh
and fly away
on a sphinx.

These are my lucid dreams.

They rarely
happen,
but when they do,
I am finally
unlimited.

However,
I realized something today:
We are unlimited now.

We don't realize it,
but we
are living
in a lucid dream
everyday of our lives.

We can all
blow diarrhea
out of our noses
and fly away
on a skinned sphinx.

If only
we believed,
this world
would be
a better place.

The Well of Mystery

We are all
intimately
sharing our
internal organs with
Hitler.

That's what a
scientist
told me.

Or at least,
that's what I think
he said he was.

Either way,
my body is not just mine
it's
Jesus'
Buddah's,
and everyone's
and everything's.

It was a lil
hard
to swallow.

Literally.

He also said,
we are
constantly
out living
death.

Meaning,
every 2 years
we replace
all
of our internal organs,
cells,
atoms,
every lil thing.

Every bit of us
dies.

Disintegrates.

Again,
my belief,
my foundation,
was crumbling.

I questioned it.

I question all.

It's just in my nature.

For now.

I don't know,
do you believe
this
is true?

Is your penis
or your
ass
yours?

Or is it
Morgan Freeman's?

Confused?

Good.

Keep digging.

The well of Mystery
goes deeper
into
the Earth.

Avenues of America

There are
no streets
in the world
like in New York City.

They are hard.

They are relentless.

They are grimy
and filled with piss.

They are
obscenely
overcrowded.

They will swallow
you up,
digest you, half way,
and regurgitate you
back out.

Then,
run you over.

As you lay there,
left for dead,
breathing
your last pathetic breath,
the rats
and pigeons
and bums
pick through
the rest
of your soul.

The way
they did
with me.

Visiting Grandpa

We always visit
the cemetery,
every city,
we ever visit.

I don't know
what it is,
but
we  just have to
look at dead people.

Usually,
we stand there
and share a memory or two
about the deceased.

This time
it felt
weird.

Our dog was
acting
strange.

She was calm.

Usually,
she licks the walls
and pisses herself.

It was a nice change.

After hoping over
a few graves,
we ended up
at my great grandfather's.

There was a table
over the top of it
with chairs
surrounding it.

We all sat down.

Including the dog.

It was almost like
a channeling,
but we weren't
intentionally
doing it.

It happened spontaneous
and beyond our control.

The spirits were guiding us.

I could feel eyes on me.

The dog was staring at me.

It was my grandpa,
I could feel him
behind those crusty eyes.

He spoke.

Live
that untamed awesomeness
that resides
within you.

It is
what they call
heaven.

It is in you.

Close your eyes.

Feel it?

Now
live
it.

See you later.

Ruff ruff.

She jumped down
and began licking
the face on the tombstone.

When I awoke,
I felt
heaven
inside me.

To this day,
I wonder how
I could have
missed it.

Flying Fish

He called in 

and said he wanted

wings.

Sure, 

I said,

I'll have them 

ready 

for you.

When he came around,

there were no wings.

I apologized

like a moron.

He threw his

frozen fish

at my face

and left the building.

He really wanted

those wings

and I 

was the worst

person in the world

for not giving them

to him.

I sure as fuck

should have given it

to him.

Instead,

I choose 

to let him go

and chase after

his next

disappointment.

One after another,

he will find them

till he dies

of suicide,

disguised 

as a heart attack.

All because 

I didn't give him

his stupid wings.

Shame,

All he had to do 

was wait

or maybe have

some compassion.

People forget.

You know?

He could've had his fucking fish.

He didn't.

They flew away

along with

the last bit

of happiness

in his  heart.

The Undertaker's Revenge

When he shook
my hand
I could feel
he was
off.

When he spoke
and cried,
I could tell
he was
deranged.

This was no ordinary man.

He had
a sickness.

I just couldn't
figure out
what it was.

Days later,
a friend told me.

He's an undertaker.

He came to this
motivational class
to sell people
their plots.

It made sense.

I mean,
we were
planning our
future.

He fit right in.

He found the right people.

The sacred ones.

He stayed away from me.

I was too
full of life.

But I'll never forget
the way
he sized
me up.

I could hear his thoughts.

One day,
your day
will come
and when it does,
I'll be there,
putting your suit on
your stretched out
cold body
and I'll make damn sure
you
look off,
the same way
you look at
me.

May you rest in peace.

God is Love

She was watching
from the pews.

Every holy Sunday,
he would deliver
an inspiring sermon.

Every holy Sunday,
she would get
more and more
aroused.

This was just
an innocent crush.

More and more
she could not
resist
the temptation.

After his sermon,
she would greet him
and thank him.

After a few more,
she had to
confess
her sins.

He would listen,
most patiently, but
respectfully.

For he,
was a man
of the cloth.

But as she continued
to confess,
he found himself
growing
in his robe.

He could only ignore
his natural
thoughts
for so long.

Before making love
behind the altar.

He left
his robe
behind,
to have a life
and a marriage
with a woman
willing enough
to risk it all
in front
of the eyes
of God.

Is this wrong?

If so,
then so is
God.

I, on the other hand,
believe
there is no
wrong,
when love
is alive.

Even behind the altar.

For love is God.

No one can resist.

This
proves
it.

Purification

They're so perfect.

So shiny.

So good.

This is
exactly
what we want.

Perfection.

We want nice, large,
tasty
apples.

We don't care
how
they're grown.

We don't care
how
they got there.

We just expect them
to look
perfect.

We are obsessed
with perfect.

It's killing us.

This need.

Manufacturers
love our imperfect need
for perfection.

They've even developed
a seed
that kills
not just insects,
but everything
you find ugly
inside
you.

So perfect.

We need this
in every part
of our lives.

In our children,
in our selves,
in our food.

Doesn't matter
if we feed our souls
poison
in the process.

The sad thing is
we don't even
realize
we are doing this.

We are killing
ourselves
for looks
based on a false
perception.

It's time
to burn
the fields.

It's time
to burn
our lies.

It's time
to turn
this world
ugly.

The way it was meant to be.