- Non-Erotic Poetry
- Nine Hotdogs, Twelve Buns
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the world is quite mad
they invented the line to wait in
and we are ensnared by the absurdity of it all
gods to keep us in lines
few of us even recognize
nine hotdogs, twelve buns
and we quietly drink and possibly imagine
police brutality and cum stained intern’s dress
life that does not quite resemble
reality television and Jehovah’s Witnesses
the obnoxious blathering of empty meaning
they force feed crap through all five senses
the vulgar proclamations of conquest
on the mattress, and the wasting disease
that drives us to deadlines, flatlines, madness
it’s a small insipid character
this humanity that feeds, thrives, drinks
from its own shit, piss and cum,
where they happily broadcast stupidity
to the neural receivers of the masses
cyanide to drain the soul of any hope.
