Casey Is the Bat

The Mudville 8 were out of luck, for Richard Sprat was hurt.

He broke his ankle sliding poorly into home base dirt.

Without a team of nine the Mudville brave, a forfeit faced.

The crowd of 13,000 wore their colors with disgrace.

But on the board an unfamiliar name replaced ol' Sprat,

A 'Casey Wood' was playing third and he was next to bat!

The fans all stood and craned their necks to see this Casey boy,

And when they got a look of him they roared unbridled joy.

They didn't roar because he was a man of strength or good,

For Casey wasn't man; he was a goddamn piece of wood. 

The other team protested, but their anger was in vain.

There were no rules against a baseball bat playing the game.

Casey stood but three feet tall; he was a rod of oak,

He had a pair of googly eyes in some attempt at joke.

The ball boy propped our Casey up, the umpire signaled 'start',

The pitcher threw a heater and the first strike was a dart. 

The bat was unconcerned, he showed no signs of shame or fear,

The crowd was loud and cheered him on, but Casey had no ears.

The second pitch was called strike two, and they began the cry,

A glorious Mudville chant, 'C'mon now Casey, hit it high!'

And as pitch three came to the plate the wind knocked Casey down.

The deed was done, the bat was out, the hero of the town.

The crowd came to their senses and they murmured in dismay,

'I can't believe we thought a fucking bat would save the day.'

----

Millennials Are Killing The Proverb Industry

The grass on the other side may be more green

But it's 1080p on my new tv screen

A stitch in some time may in fact save you nine

But just buy a new sweater on amazon prime

Don't count your chickens before they do hatch

Unless it's a pre-ordered fresh direct batch

The early bird may get the wormy most sweet

But the early post doesn't get many retweets

----

Doctor’s Orders

The dusty musty book embossed 
A thousand years of knowledge lost
It's edges worn, it's paper shorn
Containing dearths of facts forlorn

It opened with a crinkle crack
It's pages slowly peeling back
It’s finder, sick, here searched for clues
From Doctor’s words on what to do

The book contained (within it’s spine)
A dogma of forgotten time
An artifact of age gone by
Before the ash became the sky

She read its ode and fell with grace
Thin lines of pain upon her face
Her final words felt like a noose,
‘We should have listened to The Seuss’

A person’s a person, no matter how small

-The Seuss

——

Romeo & Cigarette

SCENE II. Outside Capulet's Bodega.

Enter ROMEO

ROMEO
But, soft! what light through yonder Deli breaks?
It's nicotine, and Cigarette is my fix.
Arise, fair fix, and kill this envious jones,
Which is already sick and pale with grief,
That thou her maid art far more fun than she:
It is my lady, O, it is my brand!
O, that she knew she were!

CIGARETTE enters, coughing profusely

She coughs yet she says nothing: what of that?
Her lung discourses; I will answer it.
I am too bold, 'tis not to me she hacks:
See, how she leans her filter on the floor!
O, that my lips would sit upon that floor,
That I might suck that butt!

CIGARETTE 
(coughing)
fuck me!

ROMEO
She speaks:
O, speak again, bright menthol! for thou art
As glorious to this buzz, being o'er my head
As is a wing'ed messenger of heaven.

CIGARETTE
O Romeo, Romeo! whatfore smoke thou Romeo?
Deny thy doctor and refuse thou quit;
Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love,
And I'll no longer be a bad habit.

ROMEO
(Aside) Shall I hear more, or shall I spark at this?

CIGARETTE
'Tis but bad press that is my enemy;
Thou art thyself, though not a marlboro man.
What's marlboro man? it is nor hand, nor foot,
Nor arm, nor face, nor any other part
Belonging to a man. O, smoke some other line!
What's in a name? that which we call a cig
By any other name would smell like shit;
So Romeo would, were he not smoker call'd,
Retain that dear addiction which he owes
Without that title. Romeo, fuck thy health,
And for sobriety, no part of thee
Take all myself.

ROMEO
I take thee at thy word:
Call me but love, and I'll be new baptized;
Henceforth I’ll never puff another fag.

CIGARETTE 
My filter's not not been kissed a hundred times
from that tongue's countenance, yet I know the sound:
Art thou not Romeo and a marlboro man?

ROMEO
Neither, fair shaft, if either thee dislike.

CIGARETTE 
How camest thou hither, tell me, and wherefore?

ROMEO
With love's light wings did I o'er-perch thine pack;
For cellophane wrap cannot hold love out,

CIGARETTE 
If you do smoke me, they will murder thee.

ROMEO
Alack, there lies more cancer in thine tar
Than twenty of their swords: look thou but lit,
And I am proof above their influence.

CIGARETTE 
By whose peer pressure crave'st thou of my butt?

ROMEO
By love, who first did push me to a toke;
I bumed a pall mall and he hooked me thus.

CIGARETTE
But trust me, Marlboro man, I'll light more true
Than those that have more packed into their tubes.

ROMEO points to a sign that says ‘Beer’

ROMEO
Lady, by yonder neon sign I swear-

CIGARETTE 
O, swear not by the sign, the fluorescent sign,

ROMEO
What shall I swear by?

CIGARETTE 
Do not swear at all;
Or, if thou wilt, swear by thy ashtray mouth.

ROMEO
Wilt thou leave my cravings unsatisfied?

CIGARETTE
What satisfaction crave'st thou of to-night?

ROMEO
The exchange of thy love's stinky butt for mine.

CIGARETTE 
I hear some noise within; dear love, adieu!
Anon, cashier! Sweet Marlboro man, be true.

ROMEO
So thrive my soul--

CIGARETTE
A thousand times good night!

ROMEO
A thousand times the worse, to want thy light.

CIGARETTE 
'Tis almost morning; I would have thee gone:
And yet no further than an addict's brand;
Who lets it stray but little from his hand,

ROMEO
I would you were my brand.

CIGARETTE
Sweet, so would I:
Yet I should kill thee with much cherishing.
Good night, good night! Parting is such a drag,
That I shall say good night till morrow's fag.

Cigarette Exits

ROMEO
Sleep dwell upon thine eyes, peace in thy pack!
Would I were sleep and peace, so sweet to hack!

End

——

Reincarnation 

When I die

Let me come back as an ostrich

A yoked-up sac of ignorant hate 

with knives for a mouth

A spiteful pool noodle 

with a meaty fist for a brain

A downy rage-ball with two emotions:

Psycho

And

Waiting-to-be-psycho

The thing god made right after PCP

And right before whatever he hoped would eat ostriches 

Make me that

Or a manatee 

----

Muffler Fucker

A muffler fucker fondles tunnels

Tucking his luck and hoping to buck

A muffler fucker ducks and shuffles

stuffing muck and sucking trucks

A muffler fucker always hustles

Full of pluck he runs amok

A muffler fucker's member suffers

Scuffed junk from rough trunks

----

Guy From Boston Sitting on a Toilet

I ate a lotta

Old frittata

Now my ass is

Spittin' watah

Go Sox.

----

It Could Always Be Worse

A zombie with class
Moans without any sass
As he munches and crunches and lunches on ass

A mummy with grace
Doesn't dare to efface
When his wrap becomes trapped and unravels his face

A vampire, though vain
Doesn't think it a pain
When a blood dribbled flood falls and makes a big stain

All three agree it could always be worse
Being alive, now that's the real curse.

——

PAIN TRAIN

I AM TRAIN
TRAIN GO ZOOM
GET INSIDE
PLENTY ROOM

TRAIN DO JOB
TRAIN GET STUCK
PEOPLE MEAN
SAY TRAIN SUCK

PEOPLE WANT
PEOPLE SAD
PEOPLE MOAN
TRAIN GET MAD

TRAIN LIKE MOVE
TRAIN LIKE FILL
MOST OF ALL
TRAIN LIKE KILL

——

Love Stuff

Fall in love with me
It'll be cool
We'll both be like, 'dang, this is super dope!'
We'll laugh when we hear the train go bing-bong
Because of that inside joke we'll have
Man, that joke is hilarious

Fall in love with me
We can do love stuff
The stuff we hate to see when we’re not in love
But mostly we’ll just wait to say that MTA joke
Seriously that shit is so funny
‘Bing-bong’, haha

——

Cave-School Blues

My stegosaurus followed me to school today
He makes an awful racket when he wants to play
His tail impaled our teacher but it's all okay
Because of mental trauma now we all get A's

——

It’s Time

The good times were good
the bad times were bad
And though now’s the time where you may feel quite mad

The time that we’ve spent
Those times we were brave
Are surely worth more than the time we’d have saved

It’s time now to go
The time’s now for change
Of course it’ll feel rather awkward and strange

But time doesn't stop
A clock ticks anew
I promise, my friends, I will make time for you

——

One Eye Open

Now I lay me down to sleep
To count some mother fucking sheep
If I should die before I wake
Then god just made a huge mistake

I'll kick the gates of heaven down
And scream, 'alright you fucking clowns!'
I'll interrupt a holy mass
And put my boot up Peter's ass

I'll choke an angel with their harp
And find a cloud that's good and sharp
The Trinity will sputter spit
A Father, Son, and Holy Shit

And through the chaos I'll descend
Amongst the living once again
My warning echoed through the fog,
'When I come back there'd best be dogs.'

——

And Chill

Needle deeper
Be the martyr
Twist the knife a little harder

Take the high road
It's less traveled
Watch my patience come unraveled

I won't rue
My being choosy
Next time you can pick the movie

——

SUCK IT

You suck, my friend, and I do too
We suck at many things we do

Sometimes I suck and know I should
Sometimes I suck when I am good

Sometimes I suck and spread the shame
Sometimes I suck and I'm to blame

Sometimes I suck because I blow
Sometimes I suck and never know

Sometimes I suck and can't say why
I always suck when I don't try

You always suck when you don't try
We always suck when we don't try

You gotta bomb and suck and blow
And give your dumb shit time to grow

and when that shit is good as fuck
Guess what? Sometimes you still will suck!

So henceforth when I suck I'll say,
'I suck right now and that's okay.'

——

The Ballad of Pretty Boy John

Pretty-Boy John

Was a Wild West thug
Had a heart made of coal
And a beautiful mug

He stole heads of cattle
And relished a fight
He held up a bank
And his ass was real tight

The no good
Lily-livered
Strong-jawed
Adonis

——

The History of My Beard

At first it grew in patchy splotches
Random bits of fabric swatches 
Creeping out in mismatched notches
Textured rough like unkempt crotches

And that's where we're at as of today.

——

Evolution?

Evolution?
Why don't feet look more like hands then?

Evolution?
How come monkeys don't make air conditioners then?

Evolution?
Why is gazpacho cold then?

Evolution?
Why is dipping dots never the ice cream of the present then?

——

This Is The Title Of The Poem

This is the start
Where the topic imparts
And you learn of the rhyme scheme
And cadence

This is the art
Where the words become smart
And with puns we make fun through
Complacence

This is the part
Where the poem has heart
And you feel a reward for
Your patience

This is the dart
Where I make you say ‘fart’
And you realize the poet’s
A sadist

——

If The Guy Who Named The Walkie-Talkie Was King

Sneezy Wheezy - Influenza
Fixey Witch - Doctor
Billy Bard - William Shakespeare
Cheeky Speaky - Gossip
Slappy Grabbies - Hands
Moldy Oldie - History
Pantie Shanty - Closet
Drench Trench - Bathtub

——

The Delicate Art Of Bathroom Selfies

Sexy flex!
Sexy flex!
Suck it in and puff your chest!
Change the angle
Change the light!
Change the filter
BLACK AND WHITE

Sexy flex!
Sexy flex!
Make your body look complex!
Moody hairdo
Moody eyes!
Moody background
GIANT THIGHS

Sexy flex!
Sexy flex!
Put your ego to the test!
Take the photo
Take a look!
Take another-
DELETE THEM ALL 
THIS WAS STUPID
WHY DID I EVEN TRY
GODDAMNIT 
LOOK LIKE A FREAKING BAG OF MILK

——

Hero

Superman is big and strong
He stands for good and rights the wrong
He's brave and kind and selfless too
But Superman is not like you

You are stronger I recall
You are not a man at all

——

Thought For Food

I gobble praise and admiration
Feast on words of affirmation
Feed me views
Share my news
My sustenance is validation

munching, noshing, watch me swallow
comments, likes, subscribes and follows 
Pay your dues
Be amused
My belly’s full, but I feel hollow

——

Knot For Me

I'm stuck, I suck
I'm out of luck
I'm trapped right in the middle
I stink, I think 
Just like a sphinx 
Without a damn good riddle

I blow, I'm slow
I cannot grow
But also cannot shrink
My glass is brass
And tastes like ass
But thirsty, I can't drink

But through the good 
and bad 
and twixt the neutral I still sigh:
'Although I cannot win 
or lose, 
I'll never wear a tie.'

——

Green Eggs and Ham: 2017
(Or: Why I Quit Serving)

I will not eat the eggs and ham
I'm vegan locavore I am!

I will not eat a pig or cow, 
I will not eat a fish or fowl, 
I will not eat a milk or cheese, 
Sometimes I will not even breathe.

I also can not eat this bread, 
I'm gluten free inside my head.
Not celiac, just gluten free,
I have a real fake allergy!

No there's nothing to back it up, 
and that's what make's it very tough - 
could you get me a cleaner cup? 
This one is clean but not enough.

The soup is cold the salad's hot,
my chair and table creak a lot
they creak a lot my salad's hot
the soup is cold, that man is old.

I can't sit next to older folk,
their wrinkles make me fucking choke.
My daughter ate her cup and plate,
she needs some crayons, she creates!

I'd like to split the bill as well, 
I am alone but what the hell? 
I'd like to split it 40 ways,
Yes 40 ways is how me pays.

Here's a Discover, and some cash,
a check, and season 4 of M*A*S*H, 
an amulet that's very cursed,
oh look a tourist, they're the worst!

——

Creepy Crawly

I'm used as bait and stomped by boots
I'm squished and squashed on sidewalk routes
They see me squirm and judge my core
I'm half a nuisance, half ignored

I'm not a worm, I'm only poor.

——

Get Good

I practice to improve
And soon (with any luck)
I'll know enough to know for sure
How much I fucking suck

——

Jealous

The feet are jealous of the hands
For pointing where to go
The hands are jealous of the feet
For running the whole show

The eyes are jealous of the ears
For ears don't have to see
The ears are jealous of the eyes
For eyes can't hear their plea

The mouth is jealous of the ass
For keeping such tight lips
The ass is jealous of the mouth
For talking so much shit

Next time you're jealous of someone
For being them, not you
Remember someone somewhere's surely
Jealous of you too

——

Art

The curtain falls
The roses fly
The actors bow
The critics sigh

The people leave
They go to bed
The ideas sit
inside their head

They go to work
And they don’t know
That they’re been changed
That they have grown

Subconsciously
They’ll use their hearts
And that’s the power
Of the arts

——

What's in a Name

Kids should get to pick their own names
Then we'd have way less Fionas
Steves 
And Phils
And way more Batmans 
Ice Creams 
And Dump Trucks

——

Say It Don’t Spray It

There was a man lacking precision and grace, 
Who’s discharge would travel all over the place. 
His penis would bark,
The seamen would arc,
You might say that he could not keep a straight face.

——

The Island of Half-Finished Thought

I come from an island of half-finished thought
Where homes stand half built using iron half wrought
Where men-folk make love with a half-erect dick
And women fake orgasms one half as quick

I live on an island of half-baked ideas
Where a stray anxious thought breeds a twice half-baked fear
Where half of what's yours equals half of what's mine
And half a Chris Pratt equals two half Chris Pines

You aren't from my world but you'll soon understand
That you aren't quite a stranger to this foreign land
Where the tower of Pisa is only half-leaning
And phrases like half-assed gain wholly new meaning

The island’s my brain and it’s never complete
filled with thoughts (like ‘socks are to-go bags for your feet!’)
But it's nice to remind us that if we're all honest
We're all full half-finished thoughts that entwine us

And all of the thoughts that are inside your head
Are important so cherish them while you're not dead
Cuz you're more than your body and more than your fates
And you're more than the drama your island creates

As we're all just half-finished thoughts standing in queue
And the others in line are all half-finished too

I come from an island of half-finished thought
And I'm made up of pinches of knowledge half taught
And sometimes I'm blind and sometimes I see
And sometimes I'm trapped and sometimes I'm free

This island’s half-finished, but always provides
it’s complete when you start letting others inside

——

Can I Help You?

Ring the bell for service
Again
Really go to town on that thing
Seriously
Tickle that metal nipple till it screams
Slap the shit out of that naughty bell
Don't stop till I tell you
Take your gloves off and raw dog it
Grip it and rip it
I want the other stores to hear
Finger blast that fucking bell
Earn your service
The safe word is 'refund'
Make me say it
Spank that dirty hunk of metal like you mean it

——

Toast

If you fuck up
Take a deep breath
And play it real cool

I'd like to think
That's what happened
To whoever invented toast

——

The Raver by Edgar Allen Bro Pt. 1

Once upon a midnight bender, I was fucked up I remember,
Over many a cheap and potent vodka red bulls that were poured.
I retired to the shitter, for a puff off my one-hitter,
Suddenly there came a pitter-patter at my restroom door. 
’Tis some diesel bro,’ I muttered, ‘tapping at my restroom door -
Just some douche and nothing more.’

I was in between semesters, seeking but a brief sequester,
And each separate empty mixer gave me courage on the floor.
Drunkenly I wished for closure; - vainly I had sought composure
From these drugs surcease of woes pure - heartache for my failing scores -
Marks which me left no choice but to withdraw, sans degree and poor-
Dropping out for evermore.

And the clumsy sharpies drawing cocks upon the dirty walling
Thrilled me - filled me with weed induced visions never felt before;
So that now, to stop the geeking of my brain, I started speaking
'Tis someone who smelled the reeking ganja through my restroom door -
Just calm down and stop from freaking out inside this restroom door; -
This it is, and nothing more,'

Presently my buzz grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
`Bitch' said I, `or bitches, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was toking, and get paranoid when smoking,
And so faintly you came poking, poking at my restroom door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you' - here I opened wide the door; -
Sinks and mirrors, nothing more.

Deep into the mirrors peering, watching my reflection sneering,
Waking shattered dreams all twenty-somethings fear down to their core;
Silence grew there, like a cancer, and the darkness gave no answer,
And my plans to be a dancer vanished with the words, `My scores!'
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back 'your failing scores!'
Merely this and nothing more.

——

Caff31n3

One cup of coffee awakens the mind.
Bittersweet sips make the morning feel fine

Two cups of coffee awakens the soul.
Warmth spreading inwards to make you feel whole

Three cups of coffee awakens the body.
Jitteryglitchesandtwitchesun-knotsme

F0UR CUP5 0F C0FF33 AWAK3N5 TH3 MATR1X

WATCH A5 1 C0NQU3R 
L1F3 15 1N 5TA515
1 AM G0D FAC3L355

1
AM
W31GHTL355

——

One Small Step

Hey
If the moon can have a dark side
And nobody gives a fuck
I can stay in bed all day
And order delivery
And maybe be too sad to even eat it
And you're just gonna have to be okay with that

Yo
If the moon can affect the ocean's tides
Just by existing
And everyone is like, 'good job moon!'
I can pay the interest on my student loans
With my credit card
And expect a little validation

Listen
If the moon can eclipse the sun
And get its picture taken
And it doesn't even have water
I can get drunk too much
And look at photos of myself in high school
Because I'm full of water

——

Crayola Colors: Rejected (Accepted)

Placenta Magenta (Razzmatazz)
Inner Darkness (Outer Space)
Sequined Foreskin (Metallic Gold)
Buscemi’s Eye Bags (Chestnut)
Indigo Girls (Mango Tango)
Hot Breath (Manatee)

——

GOAT

'The thing to remember,' the dying man croaked,
'Are the three strongest weapons you have when provoked.'
'Compassion is first, and when used like a sword,
'Will slice through all hate like an axe through a board.'
'The second,' he whispered, his light fading fast,
'Is knowledge, with which moral judgement is passed.'
And with his last breath, the third weapon dispensed,
'... The 2000 Baltimore Ravens defense.'

——

Get a Real Job

The venders jam-packed every part of town square
Each competing for focus and hawking their ware 
In the center, a man of a strange disposition
Began his illusionist street exhibition

He magic'd a top hat and magic'd a cape
He magic'd a dove, turned it into a snake
He magic'd a bouquet of roses (long stem)
And all the while bellowed, 'come see, Bethlehem!'

He handled the crowds like an old puppeteer
And (with slight-of hand) produced coinage from ears
But before his last trick a man ran by and said
'Everybody come quick, some dude just raised the dead!'

He watched as his dwindling crowd disappeared
Entranced by 'real magic', the street artist feared
He took his last bow with an audible sigh
He couldn't compete, fuck that new Jesus guy

——

Traffic Light

Red means stop
Green means go
Yellow means be careful

Blue means sky
Green means grass
Black means you probably didn't listen to the first part

——

Poppin' Off

'I quit!' she exclaimed with a stamp of her foot
disturbing a pile of unsettled soot
She raised her umbrella and rose a few inches
And turning, face burning, said 'listen up bitches,

'I sang and I danced till I calloused my feet,
I spoon-fed you sugar to get you to eat,
I showed you a world that should awe and astound,
We rode a demented-ass merry-go-round!'

'But it wasn't enough, still your air is atrocious,

Your super callus fragile Ids are extra damn precocious!'

——

Canning

I planted a rant
I watered a woe
I preened and I screamed and I watched contempt grow

I weeded out logic
I fertilized gumption
I made a nice scarecrow just out of assumption

I harvested hate
I jarred it in glass
And that's how I opened a can of whoop-ass

——

​