I

XOXO MPAA

Suggestion left me unmoved
in one springing theater seat
For such language is like winking
through a Hasid’s shame-borne sheet.

And while untoward, the notion bored
me much as substance might
Its use was one for which I’d none
depiction thereof: trite.

Peril played upon my senses not
in such sense as would connect
with those Grade-4’s so well assured
action’s victims resurrect

Soul stirring old Old Navy garb
turtled necklaced bosom swells
when silver screen goes black, then green
and white with what foretells
the content of the picture.
Mild Language. Violence.

And then: the prized advisory
for church-bred noodles much like me
all craven, craving freak release
writ large in mall-housed AMC’s
eye cups run o’er with see you pee
five hundred Sunday’s censure meets
come-up now—Quiet, get thee hence
—bask in her: Dame Irreverence!

Like a Thief, on J. Night

“Jesus—Back!”
The paper said
Alas! Alack! I fly to mall
to spy Jesus with mine own head.

“I can’t believe he’s back,” I think
“He’s been away so long!” and then
I turn my car past roller rink
toward Shoppes at Oaky Shady Glen

The parking’s bad, as would expect
one when Jesus has come to town
But since He bothered resurrect
I’ll bear the meter’s thorny crown

Of fees. It’s only fair. All thought
of charges soon departs on sight
of Jesus (probably) in throng
of Jesus fans on Jesus Night

“It’s Jesus Night!” I smile
“The air’s electric with the buzz
of He who gave it all for us—
let’s give it up for Him: Jesus!”

In actuality, there’s not
announcement or fanfare
and people seem to share the thought
that they’ll keep cool for Jesus there.

It’s Jesus there. He looks good, too.
None worse for wear. I stand far off.
He has done something with His hair.
I quell the urge to nervous cough.

It’s every right I have to be
here with His laity en masse
My God! He is so Jesusy!
Dear Lord! My heart beats double fast.

To double beat the band!
It’s Jesus and the Jesusettes
singing Psalms for moms and
hymns for him’s with vim for paeans yet

I’m stalling, though the time is nigh
and nigh is what they warned it was,
but that’s my way. I flap “Bye-Bye!”
two hands up high for far Jesus

On the road home, a giggle-fit
the kind I have when struck to feel
a big kahuna of regret
And then but who should take the wheel?

II

Beer Poems, Toasts, & Slurry Boasts
(the Souse’s Pocket Verse and Coaster)

Three Cheers for Beers!
Hic-Hic, Hooray!
I’d like to drink
some beers today!

I wish I may
I wish I might
to wash down Beers
with Buds tonight!

Beers make us Strong!
Beers make us Quick!
Beers turn our Pee-pees
to Dee-Dicks!

God Bless Beers!
His Own Amber Juice!
Allays all our fears!
Turns every dork douche!

Pop a cap
pull a tab
Gonna need to call a cab!

Chug one down!
Read some Buber!
“I and Thou”
Willst need an Uber!

Bloggers!
Joggers!
Big Time Poggers!
I’d trade them all
for two tall Lagers!

Dear Heavenly Fatherly
with ass, great and shiney
please bless that our icebox be
e’er crowded with Heinie

On the first day, God created Earth
But saw His work had little worth
Instead of shedding divine tears
He rolled up His sleeves
and created Beers

Here’s to the Active Shooter
Inside the bar we’re at
This Beer’s for him, and rat-
a-tat-a-rat-a-tat-tat-tat

Our Beers is Cozy:
Oi, Oi, Oi.
Our Cheeks is Rosy:
Oi, Oi, Oi.
To Beds, We Mosey:
Oi, Oi, Oi.
Last sips, then Dozing:
Oi . . . Oi . . .

The boys are out!
Shout: hoo-rah-hoo!
I love being the boys with you!

Hear, here!
A glass of beer!
One hits the spot!
Ten fucks my rear!

Here’s to the bros
with the messed up big toes:
may they ever be fuckin’ in Reeboks

Cheers to the lads
with lopsided nads:
here’s hoping they’ve long and girthycocks

Hot Wife & Good Sport

Yes, I’ve cried (hungover) to a Petersberg sunrise.
And I’ve been sad after my wife has sex with other guys.

But, oh! Those high Petersbergian nights!
What Saint could conjure Cuervo White
and pour it down my tannéd wife
but he? St. P? 
Has not my life
been one Road Trip from Mom to loam?
To peat? To Pete? And leaving home
means hazard, risk.
And other guys
with other dicks.
And some, yes, some,
my wife has picked.
And I picked too,
but at the core?
Cut to the quick?
It’s she who picks,
has picked,
will pick.
It’s something that we do for kicks.

Glass tables! Ultras: aluminum!
This is the trek to stars, from mum!
Telephone light shows life as seedy.
It’s cute when girls tell girls they’re greedy.
When girls are hogging all the cum
under Florida moon. The sun
is down,
my wife is down,
and I’ll have Diet Coke and rum.
Can I get anything for anyone?

III

Bookworm's Prayer

I read until my eyes hurt
write until my hands hurt 
fuck until my dick hurts 
shit until my ass hurts

But I can piss for days on end and then it's time to read again

Game Plan

I’ll smoke and eat chips and get fat
lift my heft from the chair where I sat
and ejected my sperm and ate
chips and then terminate.
And that’ll be that’ll be that.