So I’m pretty ripped right now but you’ll never see it. I’m not like one of those fags on the Space who show off their six packs, I do it for myself and… Okay, the chick next door I hate when you fuckers force me to tell the truth. Now I had this skin thingy I thought was Psoriasis so I’m ripped and I have my shirt off but only for the Sun to cure my Psoriasis thingy and the chick next door. Right?

Now I reclaiming my brothers yard that has been lost to Nature. I’m cutting trees, shrubs and I almost decapitated the Mailman who made the mistake of standing still under a tree I had my eye on. Now the more ripped I get the more the young chick next door waters her tomato plants, no shit! Funny as hell. I wanna tell her “your plants need snorkels.” I just smile and say “Hello” cause I’m on a mission and Rama of the jungle will not be denied. So I finally have the yard back and I get a call from the Dermatologist who took a skin sample a week ago for analysis. Turns out it’s Cancer.

I could give a fuck but I never miss an opportunity to fuck with people, Doctors, Judges, lawyers don’t matter. And the only reason I’m still alive is I’m waiting for Congress to pass that “Kick the fuck out of your Ex-wife day” Has anyone heard anything on that? Let me know if you hear anything. So she says it’s cancerous and I say,

“How did you know Doc? My birthday is the 20th of July and I am indeed a Cancer.”

“No, No Ed, the test showed Cancer.” Concern oozing through her voice.

“Of course it did Doc, did ya think it would show up Taurus?”

Pause…

She starts laughing cause she knows me a bit and she tells me It’s not a real big deal we just might have to “cut your balls off to arrest it.”

“Doc, you fucking with me? Never play around with a man’s balls Doc, unless it’s in the bedroom.”

“By the way what’s it called Doc?”

“It’s Thomaluecytyeyourfuckedatosis”

I know stupid question, for some reason I heard Julie Andrews singing “Supercalifragilous Expialidocious”

But she assures me “just take these pills and don’t get pregnant.”

“Whatever Doc”

Now I can’t go out in the Sun too much and I hope the chicks tomato plants don’t die cause of it.

So I go to the Kitchen, now I’m a muscular version of Martha Stewart, my obsessive nature is to clean cause my Brothers don’t do it. They insist on a cursory washing of the dishes despite that stainless steel thingy I bought back in the day when I had cash: called a dishwasher. I don’t have the heart to tell them when they turn their backs the shits right in the dishwasher. Now to appease them I put a nice clean towel on the “clean” counter where they can lay the washed soon to be washed again dishes. Right? Now I also wash stuff like large Tupperware and pots which I lay on the “Clean” towel to air dry.

Pretty simple concept, ya think? Nope, the “clean” towel is often host to my Brothers making pizzas on it, bottles of ketchup and pickles. Which, of course, defeats that whole clean towel thingy. I can’t say anything cause I’m an indigent, obsessive-compulsive, muscular, Martha Stewart wannabe with Cancer. But I want to scream, “Do you Fuckers make bologna sandwiches on your pillows? WHAT THE FUCK!”

Oh well, I’m about done with the outside work, repaired concrete steps, repaired fence, painted parts of the house, edged the lawn, fucked Mother Nature up and told the bitch to “back the fuck off! Poet is here now Mutha Fucker”

Gotta turn my attention to the inside of the house, what a fucking mess. The first ten times I cleaned the toilets I donned a Tyvek suit with live air. Well I am an Obsessive-Compulsive, muscular version of a Martha Stewart wanna-be, soon to be responsible for dehydrated tomato plants Poet with Cancer.

Whatever…

Invisible tentacles
Push away the sky
Demonic hoards work gravity machines
And archaic machinery
Fueled by lust and burning souls
Faces replaced by black hearts
Not deigning to beat
Flying Iridescent insects wingless
Fall
Deeper Into the chasm

The insatiable void
Devours screams into silence
Just below the slow lurching rhythm
Of organic cogs pleading
For release…
Pleading to the supreme muscle
That will never cease.

The mechanisms of the hole
Have all become visible.
Each mask of flesh
And tissue has dissolved…
The pretense of all human issues
Has been resolved
With the clarity of a single glance
Inward–
Into the eye of raw primordial reality.

Eerie calm
Amidst the howling silence
Essence distilled
Granulated
Awaiting deployment
Shape Shifting shadows
With wands made of clouds
And abandoned bones
Prepare incantations
Ectoplasmic scripts float upward
Nucleotides seeking union amidst the pulsating mass
The Hole prepares for birth

All possible data
Has been collected
The embryo
Weathered by caustic evil
Intentionally unprotected
Emits a siren’s blaring cry
Of living…
Of living…
The initial sign
Of human life unforgiving.

I’m the Poet
With my head up my ass
Examining
My colon
My intestines
Reporting to the world
Something
Ain’t quite right in me ville

I need poetry that bleeds
That makes me uncomfortable
That has an edge
That cuts me
If I get too close

Poetry
That grabs me by the throat
And tells me
YOU GONNA DIE MOTHER FUCKER!

Dangerous poetry
Poetry that guts me
That is banned in schools
Poetry you can’t read
In polite company
Poetry that gets me arrested
Sent to prison
That will rape me with broom handles
Flay my skin
Till there there is nothing
But the words

Poetry that rages
Assaults me
Rips the pillow out of my hand
That drags me from under the bed
That tells me
YOU CAN’T HIDE MOTHER FUCKER

Poetry that speaks of love
Not in rhymed couplets
Nor wistful sighs
But shakes the fabric of time
Shatters the foundation of the Earth
Causes the Planets
To break free of their orbit
Stops the heart
With its pain and loss
Poetry that changes me forever
That allows me to finally live
If only for a second

I need poetry
That I can’t read
But only feel
Ink intermingled
With blood
With tears
With shit and piss
With sweat
That vibrates off the page
And becomes the North Star

I need Poetry that bleeds
I need Poetry
That
Fucking
Bleeds

The music played…
And all life danced and swayed
To its rhythm



And it was…



Beautiful…

Thinking

I could see something

New

Something no one has ever seen.

Before

Scraped

Bleeding

Swaying



Precarious death

Peers through arched eyebrow

Non committal

Death don’t give a fuck

We all on his to do list.



I climbed a tree

And saw

The deadly same

The piercing wail of conformity

The heart rending cry
of the incomplete heart



I will get up

Tomorrow

And

Know

I will climb the tree.



What else can I do?

Consuming essence
best left for
Children’s innocence?

Wouldst thy shed skin
And life
for
a butterflies
Errant Path?

Dance to a falling leaf
in Autumns pain?

A drunkards folly
in muted scream?

The flayed skin of truth
Crying imaginary sin?

Would it be
The Die
Rolls
For purpose?

That the Random Gods
Do so shudder
at Happenstance?

Would it be the clenched tear
Finds
resolution
In
Linens gentle catch

Eat not thy Tail Ourboras
Seek truths gentle caress
Let her dictates
love you

Seek her embrace
And know
The truth
of pain.

Wouldst thy tail
be
An
End
Unto
itself?

How your perfection mocks me

Floating on gentle current

Adhering to immutable laws

As kingdoms of men rot in dusty tombs

Ratios and proportions established

Before the Pharaohs were young

Before the ancestors of man walked upright

Unconcerned with the trivialities of the world

As kinfolk pop and burst upon the lilac scented air

Do you know the mysteries you carry?

Do you ponder your mortality?

Question your purpose?

Can you plumb the depths of this world?

Pierce the shadows that claim the light?

See inside a woman’s heart?

Give meaning to the madness I see?

I am flawed

A convergence of nucleic acids

Coded by uncaring madmen at the theater of the absurd

I am the upside of the die

The tumbling leaf tossed to and fro

by uncaring breeze

The spinning wheel whose destination

Yet determined

You care little for the truths that drifts beside you

That affirm you

Spherical truths of an omnipotent God

Who taunts me

Bubbles…

Only Bubbles

]]> http://oddpoetworld.com/2010/01/15/bubbles/feed/ 0 http://oddpoetworld.com/2009/12/23/adultreaming-the-rectal-roadway/ http://oddpoetworld.com/2009/12/23/adultreaming-the-rectal-roadway/#comments Wed, 23 Dec 2009 11:18:21 +0000 Eddie Mount http://oddpoetworld.com/?p=395 So I am in this Motel room and I have my Johnson poised to enter this chick’s ass. She says “I never engaged in this kind of thing before.” Well, I tell her, “nether have I.”



I use to operate under the assumption that Women were a gift of Aphrodite. An altar where I worshiped, a magical interlude, a punctuation of real, in an otherwise boring life, that was before…



I’m getting ahead of myself…



So I’ve been fucking this bitch for about two hours and I’m feeling good about myself, kind of like Wyatt Earp at the O.K. Corral and the bitch is one the Clanton’s. So I’m pounding away, my gun is primed; being a musician I’m pounding a whole slew of rhythms in that pussy. I am a jazzed ass cocksmith, I’m giving her long strokes, short strokes, varying rhythms, I am Thelonious Monk and the bitch is my keys.



All of a sudden she can not breathe, well, not my problem; she wanted to fuck, right?
And I realize my cock is a potential instrument of death and I play the scenario out.



“What happened here?”
“Officer we were fucking and she died.”
“You trying to say you fucked her to death?”
“I guess so Officer.”
“My MAN!”

High fives…



Of course I stopped. Why?



The story demands our attention…



Five hours earlier…



I knocked on her door, first looking left, then right, a paranoid thing. I have never been comfortable going into another man’s house for the purpose of fucking his old lady. I don’t respect myself, in fact I hate me, but pussy is pussy and my old lady is useless.



I wonder if the same scene is playing out at my crib, some Mandingo mother fucker who’s got my worthless wife slammed against the wall, and she’s repeating verbatim what’s going through my head. Shit! She’s not a Poet; fuck her and her Mandingo boy.



She answered. Her smile was predatory, she looked like she wanted more than I could ever give, anyone could give. She looked that hungry.

Her eighteen year old boy is on the couch eating a hot pocket, watching Nickelodeon and eyeing me. Now he has no dog in this fight his biological Dad is on his third ex-wife and his Mom is fucking me at the moment. His step Dad is in South Carolina at the loving suggestion of his never faithful wife.



Our eyes meet. I can’t read him…odd…
She grabs my hand,
“Let’s go in the bedroom.”



I look at the bitch like she has two heads. Her room is right behind the wall where the TV is playing Scooby Doo. And the thought of Scooby saying Rut Roo and Her Mom screaming Fuck me Jesus…Fuck me… Is even too much for scum like me to bear.
Besides don’t need her kid calling me Jesus.



She is insistent! Won’t let up. I know her kid hears her pleas, her need. I’m making a joke out of the whole thing. It’s like a fucking Kafka novel, here I am trying to protect her and her kid and she wants to kick my ass because I won’t fuck her with her kid in the house.



“I’m outta here.”
I walk to the door.
She follows me, grabs me and pushes me against the wall.
Now I’m not a big dude, I’m a bad mother fucker but I’m not big and I let her manhandle me.
I’m thinking about the kid…her…



I look at her and then her kid munching on a hot pocket pretending…the world is… Rut Roo…



She is a tangle of needs and wants…
I knew at that moment I could never be the answer to that thing that burned in her, her eyes…



“We’ll get a room”



I should have run away and never came back, but… pussy is pussy and I have not had any in a while, being married and all that…



So…

The middle was the beginning and the beginning is now…



I’m looking at her ass like Columbus looking at the new world. She never been ass fucked and I … what the fuck… My cock was sucked into her ass, it was like Lassie running into the arms of little Timmy, home sweet home.



It was a violent ass fuck, I slammed that mother Fucker and she bucked, lord did she buck. I was angry, I was fucking her lies, her Son, her husband, but most of all me. I should know better…



She shivered and shook and collapsed on the bed. I was amazed a woman could cum being ass fucked. She reached behind towards me and grasped my hand. I pulled away and ran to the bathroom. I started vomiting and wiping the brown sin off my dick. I knew it would never be clean again. No matter how long or how hard I scrubbed.



“You okay Babe?”



I couldn’t answer.

Grasped by

Crushed fingers

Vainly

try

To stay inside the lines



Sizzling tears

Burn

The innocent

Scorching beauty

A flower

That

Shall never ever blossom



Heart wrenching greed

Insatiable

Monolithic

Complete

Undeniable

Total

The slavering jaw of the Wolf



Who will take up sword?

Who will lend voice to this din?

Who will defend beauty?

Innocence?

Joy?

The weak?



I hear the trumpets blaring

A call to arms.

The clank of amour

And the sweat of viscous violence

Lay not that upon my brow

I seek peace

Evaporation

Loss

Always loss



Yet

They cry for help

And their tears touch me.



“Your sword my Lord”



I hate what I’ve become…