All the Piggies

I stop a man in a black suit walking out of a business meeting over public education.
“Excuse me sir,
The shit on the sole of my shoe has a better morality than you

Sea side Nazi
Can you tell me where the Jew hides,
While you sleep in a warm self righteous bed?

Can you create a future that’s worth fighting for?
Can I trust that your greed doesn’t surpass your love for the common man
and the future generations to come?
Or are you a pig rolling around in slop you call gold?”

Are you the inspiration behind the nefarious deeds
to those who face the consequences?

All the forgotten children
Turned into pimps and whores

Are you as guilty as those goons
For those whacked pigs?
As the aspiring musician with the long hair and guitar strung over his shoulder?

Were you the glisten in her eye
Carving helter-skelter in to the walls of her mind?
Like she did to his hairless chest

When you look through his eyes,
Eyes not unholier than yours,
Is your face marked with a snout?”

Laughing Electrical Chairs

I told him that I’d be great.
That my words would soar and I would dedicate each breath
To changing this world of angst

But read it back to me
Throw me a line
You’ll know how impossible this is
This must be

The shit I put a bow on and call gold
My platinum predecessors
Know this path
They know how far behind I lie

They sit on thrones, burning electrical chairs
Laughing at me.

I am so many years from the gun
And when I reach the trigger
It still won’t be good enough

So what’s the point in trying?
What other option do I have?

Like Whores

I work until I’m blistered
Like stockings on Christmas eve
My esophagus is filled to the brim
With toys and a curiosity
That reminds customers
Of a child

My sentences are no longer coherent
What good is my voice
If I can keep that cock standing
Under the tip of my tongue

But I never have problems
Putting plump fingers
Where they don’t belong
In the body’s
Dark alleyway

Yank up the skirt
Be proud of this boiled bitch
Hopping
On the senator’s
Pogo stick

I know how honorable
anal plugs
and swallowing
a stranger’s
steam
can
be.

Under the Muzzle

Is that how you see me?
On hands and bended knee.
Would you rather have your Mercedes
than this old sled dog
Calling out to be free?

When you read those fairy tales
At such a tender age
did the room at the top of the tower
directly translate to kennel?
Is a fair maiden
Man’s best friend?

Could the idea
that your own mother
differs from cerberus
be so ground breaking.

Could a thought
hold more content
than a bark
or a growl?

Or will the leash remain
like a noose forever tightening
a noose of sexualization
and breeding.

Only when a dog bites
is it a dog.
When an underdog bites back
it is a bitch
So is it a complaint
or a compliment?