Gobble gobble ho ho ho it's the language of the season
Time for long johns, mittens also coughing and sneezin'
Kissing strangers in the street
Blubbering emotion you excrete
Mostly it's time for a “you, your wife and Santa” threesome!
in memory of my great friend
Rudi Rubberoid
Grossialdo! Grossialdo!
Rip the face off Uncle Waldo!
Scare that fellow once too often!
Nail 'im in a wooden coffin!
Plant 'im nicely six feet under!
Leave 'im there and let 'im wonder!
Dig 'im up when heartbeat ceases!
Cook 'im for his giggly nieces!—
Yuk! Old Waldo's brain is oozy!
I can't look! It makes me whoozy!
Ship the corpse to Colorado!
To his mother! GROSSIALDO!
.
[This poem first appeared in a mail artist magazine edited by Rudi Rubberoid, Nomo the Zine Spring 1994. It was collected in my volume Daisy Zoo and Other Punk-ass Nonsense.]
When taking a bath in the tub
The first thing you'll notice, if you stay in too long,
Is how your fingertips shrivel.
Then, as you rub and scrub,
You might see bits of skin coming off your legs and arms
And you begin to grow little.
Some children pay no attention
To the warning signs I mention;
They stay in the bathtub all afternoon,
Until they start to dissolve.
They get smaller and smaller and smaller
Until they're far too small to holler;
They get wrinklier and wrinklier and pretty soon
They've shrunk so much there's nothing left
Except a ball of wrinkled skin
Where once a healthy kid had been.
This wrinkled skin is dyed blue
And sold in the store as a prune.
"How Prunes are Made" was in Nomo the Zine, November 1991, and was reprinted in The Ratty's Gazette 8, 1995. It is a poem in the ongoing series "Lucifera's Questionable Daycare Poems and Stories."
O, little birdy,
haven’t you heardy?
You will be plucked today.
Cooing and lovin'
soon in the oven
baked on a silver tray.
Glazed honey sweetened
you will be eatened
served on a plate e'er long.
So, little birdy,
O!, little birdy,
sing to me one last song.
“O! Little Birdy!” was in Rudi Rubberoid’s NOMO THE ZINE, January 1992; then in THE RATTY'S GAZETTE 8, 1995. It was gathered into my chapbook collection LAKE OF THE DEVIL: POEMS OF MOROSITY AND JEST (Seattle: Duck's-foot Tree Productions, 1995) limited to 75 copies.
Set em up Joe, got a little story your mind it will blow
Bout a chick and her beau, making out in the blinding snow
Got stuck till spring
Warmth unstuck their things
Had sixty-eight kids and a donkey they named “Nomo”!!!
I'm young but I remember tryin to strt
ballin den my life strted falling but I was
den giving free shots to bring my life
back up like free throws now I'm tryin to
come up off of pain like I'm d rose. Its
2014 this when my life really strt getting
important. Now caring more about
myself ,feels worth it. That's just to be
certain that my future won't be hurting.
And skip the adult stage of getting my
life nursed. I'm just saying I gotta care
about me first. Lately I just been
thinking. Dang I ain't no baby nomo. I'm
almost grown where I will hav to worry
bout my own bills and not bein poor.
Cause dats my worst fear. Knowing dat
my life cudve been gone put me in my
own tears. Thats why I don't want to
disappear. Cuz I want to be successful
and have a career. No guranteeds but
imma try to succeed doin positive things
this year.
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