Not Quite Ready For Key Lime Bankers

Short poems
don't waste as
much time
as long ones
being last in a long line
of fairly useless
outcomes
no one needs suffer
since no one needs care
and since no one
is listening or laughing
out there
it would hardly
be fair
to sit here and judge
just what went wrong
instead lets cover
Beatles songs
and build a statue
to a bong
LIVE FROM NEW YORK
IT'S KING KONG

Slice Of Lime, Optional

it's an escape plan
a rocket pointed skyward
an opening in the ceiling,
parents grieving holding the evidence
of them conceiving , hard
breathing and eyes mist
and weeping
a rocket pointed up, fired at
the stars, takes the last child
from the planet of the cars,
toward some sorry stupid hope
buried way out there in space.
some vain masturbatory wish
for a selfish wanking race
to be given the chance
to replace all that's good,
natural, real and true,
a stupid hope, like get well
soon, or i love you,
a rocket propelled coffin
with a living babe within
an escape plan
into the frying pan
and out of the fire

an escape plan,
walls encased in stone, steel,
lead, brick, wood
should prevent the world
from crashing in and spoiling the
mood,
you were ready, they were
not, now you got what they
want, what they need,
but don't have, cause while
you were over there,
stockpiling underwear
they were doing anything
else, everything else,
nothing bad ever happens
in the land of the keebler elves,
now you got supplies of
water, a virgin, young
daughter
and a taste for the slaughter
you just can't fake,
sealed up in a shelter,
with no way to adaulter,
with no help on the way,
an escape plan that
worked a bit more
than ok
an escape plan? more
like a stay plan,
you didn't escape it,
it swallowed you whole,
left you alone
with no place to go,
and no one to see
an escape plan
hatched in the land
of the free

an escape plan
be the hand that writes
the books
make the rules,
make the laws
not the follower left
describing what he saw
to a bored police officer
looking to score,
Be the headline news story,
the cautionary allegory,
Be the one they make
the TV movie of the week
about
the best way to escape
fate
is make such a big
noise
to shatter brass
plates
decide who is good
and who has to go
declare yourself God
or the next best Joe
the men who can
tell just what
God likes,
tie yourself
to the Lord
and through
your holy noose
survive,
you can't lose a game
where you make the rules
by agreeing to play
you sacrifice principles
it doesn't matter at all
no one escapes
from dino to ape
no one escapes
son of God
son of a bitch,
no one escapes
if you're reading
this
you won't escape
a grave without marker
a night gone darker

everything begins
and ends again
in the world
without sin
An Escape Plan
is gin,
slice of lime,
optional.

EMANCIPATION PROCRASTINATION

The United States of Dependency
The United States of Transparency
all laugh, love, live in the same
lil' lie
all beg, fall, give for the great
big eye
you're a little kid, now you're a big kid
quick
which kid are you,
red, white, or blue
who are you today
and what day is this
and why should that matter
watch the old men scatter
as the world gets flatter
and you're expected to know
the names, the names
and the dates
and the combination to the
lock
that keeps shut the gates
another prison break,
another boiling lake
along creeps the snake
and breakfast is ruined

burned toast and the ghost
with the most is still dead
no matter how many little
kids pet his head,
no matter how many
breakfast cereals
no matter how many
tv movies
a ghost is still a ghost
just a ghost
not breathing
not living or caring
just scaring and haunting

christmas in july
summer school in december
childhood wishes
burn then turn
like embers
a fire for warmth,
food, to dance around
drunk and nude,
to destroy the evidence,
at the altar doing penance

Christ suffered for you
now suffer for him too
it's only fair that those caught
unaware, be forced to leave their
lair, to stare and try to care
as our own worst fears
get realized
and you try to
write a poem
about your father's eyes
but no matter how you
try, you can't
and he dies

and your books and
the notes that you took
are all left to rot
in the hole that time forgot
the farce of camelot
the hideous waking scream
from the American
dream.