The wheel has been lost
[let me repeat]
the WHEEL has been LOST.
Does anybody remember
where it was seen last?
Who forgot
to put it on its side?
It can’t run away
if we paralyze it–
I remember when stone
just sat there, inert.
It didn’t have an agenda,
didn’t have important places to go.
All of a sudden we’ve got rocks
on the run!
Our women and children
won’t be spared.
Give me some pork with cheese on the side
just for the sake of sacrilege.
I don’t want any griping or bitching,
did you read scripture this morning?
It’s high time that concerned folks like you
be scrutinized for their glossy ideals
of rainbow-filled skies and lollipop clouds
thrown up just to please your delusions.
Great, you give a rat’s ass about my diet.
Move on, live your goddamn life.
I just
wanna furnish
the whole world
with chifforobes
and butternut squash nuggets,
ya dig?
Otherwise, potato scraps
and maple-nut porridge
will have to do
until we get our hands
on porcelain fixtures
of all kinds.
Heaven sent this message for a reason!
We can’t stare at it with blind eyes
while the rest of the world sleeps.
What kind of people would we be
if we just let a pair of kitchen shears
go by the wayside?!
We need to give them a proper home
before they end up as scrap metal, or
worse, a pair of average scissors.
Substance abuse caters to the infinitely patient and unlikely tortoise shell comb, unbreakable and unwilling to change its sorry status as a tool of man–it’ll live out its days as an unrepentant drone, content to wallow in the vanity drawer with the brushes and lotions of the world.
I have no use
meddling with some
cute piddly melody
if nothing of substance
ever becomes of it–nay,
there are too many jokers
caught in this farmer’s market
[and not enough bok choy to go ’round].
While I’ve got your attention, I have a couple things I need to get off my chest. For starters, this shirt is really bunching at my armpits. You don’t mind if I take it off, do you? Well, I’m taking it off either way, so your opinion really doesn’t mean squat to me at the moment.
But you know, I only took off my shirt to show you the other thing I want to get off my chest. Do you see it? Look closer. [Closer! CLOSER!] Yeah, it’s weird to have a toenail growing out of a nipple. I’m not offended that you vomited; apparently I’m the only documented case of this ever happening.
I wanted to ask you a question about this thing. Should I just trim it and polish it, or should I go for more drastic measures? I don’t know if my insurance will cover this type of cosmetic surgery. I should just get a boob job and hope that my new jugs distract from the freak show.
WHARVED 