. The Poet's Beat .

. The Poet's Beat .
"A working class citizen is apt to see this country for what it's worth... A miasma of interlocking variations on differing demographics and geographies unlike any other inhabited space in the world. The American Dream. The rolling footloose hills and the upstanding Apache badlands where criminals cut bread with priests and the children of Hollywood. I am no different. Yet I am still brazen enough to think that the world is a playground built by the rugged hands of a hard-working man in order that my fantasies be materialized." -- P.P. Vonnersdale

Monday, December 5, 2016

Momma's Wish

Momma said,
"get on the train and never look back,
leave your daddy and I at the edge of the tracks,
urinate in potted plants and collect your little turds in a sack,
never give out opinions - only solid facts,
rack the pool balls in the pool halls fast and for cash,
laugh when everyone else is sad,
trash the fuck out of the back of every taxi cab,
don't let your balls get grabbed,
cut the throat of every would-be mugger before you get stabbed,
dance on the grave of anyone who has ever made a mistake - good or bad,
drink milk far past the date the experts say it should last,
hand job everyone and then dash,
smoke fags with sass,
drink wine from a goblet and beer from a wine glass,
wake up every day at full mast,
fuck until you are gassed."

Momma looked upon my tender head and was just a little sad,
"we hate to see you go, son," she said,
"but the truth is your father and I are gonna have a blast not having
to worry about your tiny ass."

The conductor called for the passengers.
The engineer blew the whistle.
I searched for the nearest potted plant.



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