Poem: Hock Loogies

Where’s my fucking Fanta, motherfucking cocksucker

and you’re not even good at it, artisans take pride

in work done well

but you’re not of them, are you?  You’re just pumpy pumpy

spurt goblin madman, a lemming over the cliff

praying for a better tomorrow, stupid, take no pride

in your punishment, been asleep for months

in a great coma, now where’s my fucking fanta!

 

You don’t know never knew and won’t ever

understand the breaks or why they happen

the way they do, see this is the god finger

going right in your eye, we’re all pawns

in a maggot blender

begging for scraps, man, so take what you can

get when they throw it away, dress it up

marking it new, off-brand lazy philosophy.

 

With your new threads they will call

stylish, convince yourself of purpose

meaning and progress, stepping banana peel

abbreviated misgivings

of short counts, the world is a poison pit

all and sundry escape, eventually, so no

point is farther than simply to enjoy

what you can, spit on the ground.

Poem: Hock Loogies

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s