I am flattered to matter so much that
you intend to keep your eyes on me.
Even when I am home you want to see
how all fares with my activities.
Such a preponderance of concern
is truly something I haven’t earned.
If being violated, observed, is
mandatory, I’d prefer to have a
Big Sister watching my female self
in every room of the house.
Will I be viewed in my car, the one
place I may freely sing off tune?
If so, I expect no criticisms,
hitting the mute will have to do.
I’d have to give up so very much,
like scratching where it itches,
picking my nose in a fierce dig,
wearing hobo or very little clothes,
and eating food that just hit the floor.
How do I know I won’t be taped,
my parts cropped for pervert art?
If the honey, I should get some money.
I have to say I am mighty boring.
Sister or brother should take care,
put a kotex on their forehead to
reduce soreness when snoring
heads slam down hard on their desk.
Who will watch the watcher of me?
Oh, I know, our shared Big Father will
see your sincere gaze aiding me.
Those from the Far Right
Aren’t all that bright
They really can’t wait
To peddle their hate
And make people feel uptight.
They stomp around without a care
Furiously waving their flags in the air
Freely attacking migrants on sight
Wrongly believing that might is right
As they demonstrate a Hitleresque flair.
While the poor continue to hurt
Totally fooled by those in Brownshirts
Wage slaves continue breaking their backs
Corporations continue to not pay tax
Oh look there’s another billionaire pervert.
So don’t be fooled by the loudest voices
And be wise when making political choices
They came for the Gypsies, the commos, the Jews
And one day they might even come for you
And the fascists will all rejoice.
I was in dire need
Of a holiday—some free time,
To stare at the beauty of nature
And not be called a pervert.
Not a play day
To lie with the same old phrases:
New year, new me,
Or this year will be my year.
I felt no need for screaming,
Or firing a million fireworks;
They never change the future,
So I chose to watch from a distance.
To watch the stars fall,
Then meet the rising fireworks,
Then join the happiness—
From nature and from man.
But alas, it did not happen
As easily as it seemed.
I had to join the crowd
And be wild—one last time.
Initiation killing
Is so unfulfilling
Innocent people get hurt
Killed by a pervert
That is so sadistic
Or even animalistic
Many people do it under a lid
Because the victim is a kid.
Killing his own daughter
Is no matter for laughter
Abused her, his own daughter
From her there was no laughter
Beating her, and raping her
His speech is a slur
Drinking all day
Did not help her in any way
He raped her
then he killed her
She was a means to an end
Someone he could expend
He did not known what to do
Her life he could not re-new
So he hid her body in a drawer
Because, she was only four
73 years ago
A kid my age steps off a curb.
And, in the motion of falling, he believes he can reach heaven.
He has the thoughts of someone
with an inverted ribcage
And he’s sick on cigarette smoke and hypocrisy.
A kid my age, 73 years ago, calls me a pervert.
Through the thin veil of time and space
We lock eyes.
I say “I see you.”
He says “You’re sick.”
But that’s wrong and he knows it.
I am not the sick one.
He is the kid with the killing hat
And the giving hands
That despise the people he gives to.
He is the kid with filthy thoughts and phony smiles
Who sees the hollow spaces between his ribs
In the innocence of a child’s eyes.
And despite the filth beneath his tongue
And the alcohol stinging his throat
I cannot bring myself to
Feel anything for him
other than
Pity.
Did you hear the latest dear
Gooey gossip hot off the press
Like a cold beer for your ear
But hold what you know close to vest
I hear that man is really a ma’am
Or it may be it is vise versa
The sports team is in a sham
No one willing to silver serve her
Well I’m told there’s no hope
For the pervert posing professor
He pretends to hold heart of gold
Till he caught red handed confessor
Well I hear another teal tale
Seems the woman lies to her mate
Aftermath is the dad bales
For she has lied about the father’s babe
What say you about the pew
Going to bust hell wide open
Of the few like me like you
Who gossip with tongues so golden
I say that if it is a fact
One can surely surrender to share
For no one is perfect as glass
Life is but a truth or dare
We share a truth and slanted news
Not always seeing the error of ways
Until the news is about you
Enjoy the gooey gossip of the day
Is it just me or do all old guys drool
At the sight of every young chickie
Could it be I'm a perverted old geezer
Or normal but no longer picky
Once thought I was quite sophisticated
With very discerning tastes and all
But the older I get, the less picky I am
Probably need a complete overhaul
Don't go calling me a nasty old pervert
Females were meant to be admired
I'm sure they're totally aware of this fact
By some of their provocative attire
Sure not complaining, trust me on this
Wouldn't have it any other way
Just to ogle these beauties walking by
Brightens up the dullest of days
Not a pervert, just a healthy old male
Enjoying the finer things in life
The female form in all it's perfection
Counteracts all of life's strife
The lawyer hopes,
you get arrested.
The disease hopes,
you become Infected.
The doctor hopes,
you become ill.
He supplies you with the
pharmacy pill.
The police hope you're
a criminal.
The diet hopes you,
don’t do nutritional.
The landlord hopes,
you never buy a house.
The pervert hopes,
to stare down Your blouse.
The whore hopes
you never marry.
The D.A. hopes,
you sing like a canary.
The dentist hopes,
your teeth decay.
Your parents hope,
that you obey.
The mechanic hopes,
your car breaks down.
The overweight person hopes
to shed a pound.
The undertaker hopes,
you're almost dead.
Covid-19 hopes
to infect and spread.
The plumber hopes,
your sinks clog.
You hope your prince,
is not a frog.
The teacher hopes,
you can't learn.
This is the way,
the wheel turns.
Turbo1904?
This is home,
I grew up here.
I'm a native,
A true pioneer.
The homeless taking
Over downtown.
The pervert dressed
Like a clown.
This town is not like
It used to be.
Taking over by Fentanyl
And Poverty.
I drive around,
Everything is strange.
Time ticks on,
The wind of change.
Lovers and friends,
They come and they go.
Some days are high,
Some days are low.
This hometown runs
In my blood.
I stand by it from the
Church to the thug.
I have ventured off,
Always to return.
The battles I have fought,
The lessons I learned.
In all of its glory,
This is where it began.
In all of its glory,
This is where it will end.
Turbo1904?
Being bigger, better, faster, stronger
These modern times, a far cry from
Being saner, kinder, gentler, wiser,
Are a cancerous race to satisfy the insatiable.
With our advance into abundance
We have lost touch
With the old world
Of tradition, balance, moderation, restraint.
Instead we now have all that we dream,
Each of us a Midas
Able to grasp
If not ever hold.
Able to spoil and pervert
All that we touch, taste, and feel
The everyday and mundane
With the rare and exceptional.
Now we each deserve it all
To have our cake and eat it too
With all the lust and greed, envy and resentment
That comes with limitless expectation.
No longer tempered in desire
By limits
Self or other imposed
We grasp for the highest fruit.
Confident as in a dream
We will fly
When we lose our grip
And fall.
(11/23/23)
O how have I suffered such great graves!
I have been pierced by the swords of my kings
Injected with the liquid of their corruptions
They have rescinded my harmonious names
They have plucked away my treasures,
With every good of mine
Possessed unto themselves as stern,
And given them to foreign sons.
For self-benefits they have sold me to them,
And these Whitefaces treat me anyhow
Just like I was a cow;
To implore each their gem
In their own fathers’ land.
I, even I Africa, am replaced for a ring in my destroyers’ hand.
I have thought my kings would therefrom free me
But they yet serve them rather than me.
Woe to they that are presidents of poverty!
Wretched are the princes that pervert my people;
Cursed be the prophets that preach tribalism and nepotism;
And wicked are they that set my peoples asunder!
Away with the fairies
No sense in my head
“Just feathers and sawdust,”
or so my mum said
With vacant expression
I stared into space
She said, “I won’t do much
For the human race.”
I told her, “I’m thinking.”
She said, “About what!”
And I said, “Your sister,
Aunt Maisie is HOT!”
I think I’m in danger
of a sore behind
My mum said, “She’s too old,
and you’re not her kind.”
I said, “Mum, just last week,
we went to the zoo.
She said she loves big snakes!
Well, what could I do?”
My mum screeched, “You pervert!
You’re still just a child
You’ve got nothing downstairs
to drive women wild.”
I said, “Keep your hair on.
Your sister likes lads.
And also, she told me…
mine’s bigger than Dad’s.”
So, you thought you have the right
To in my bed pass a night,
Not alone, with your lover,
Vulgar love-making brave,
Sensual pleasures coarsely crave…
You have my mattress defiled,
All night romances of the wild;
For hours with a pervert
Who claims she is a convert.
Now, a discolored white sheet
I’ll gladly burn in the street
To Junk Press give a story
And have you shamed Miss Glory!
Bed used without permissions
A sin not for remission.
We’ve abused our great freedoms
to reap the results
with school and church shootings
hate speech a new cult
No respect for the flag
or sacrifice made
ignoring our veterans
despoiling their graves
Our streets wait in ambush
where the enemy hides
to prowl in a wasteland
where evil decides
The constitution a weapon
to pervert and inflict
traitorous courts
with laws nondescript
And blindly we run
(toward the cliff)
greed our marching song
narcissism the battle cry
—America is gone
(Ardmore Pennsylvania: April, 2023)
I would not spare a vacuous moment
For those dregs at winter's end.
I would not honor their enchantments
With an effort to pretend.
I gladly fight against the sands of time
To offset their whorish shrill.
I would shine a light upon their darkness...
I would die upon that hill.
Evil is as evil does...
A pox upon our land
And if you haven't noticed...
It's gotten out of hand.
Their machinations and meanderings
Breed a stench of ill-intent.
They pervert the weakness in our folly
Akin a dance of sly torment.
With evil's victory almost certain...
We're in for quite a ride...
But to those who stoop to curry favor...
Beware... I'm on the other side.
The End
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