Federal Employees/Scarecrows

To hell with the bureaucratic bloat!
All its members march off like scarecrows
To that big roaring fire that is their collective destiny
You can see that they are afraid
Straw down-turned to inspire pity
Don’t be fooled!

Even sadness can be Machiavellian
Says the dictator
At the first sign of weakness
They’ll happily come marching back
Writing industriously in their offices
Gesturing at ghosts
And the phones married to them
Stamping reports with aplomb
Nodding sagely at unheeded air

This is the hell that they
Would place on you
Without so much as a second thought


He trips. He soars.

Something wet he tripped on
A little too ripe for his tastes
But unavoidable all the same
He blamed the words
Told them they were wrong
Even though the source
Was as presidential as they come

His counterpart was a tyrant from the future
Across the murky world of fish and coral reefs
Similar things were said
Except one word was slanted too steeply
Now He of the Mighty Famine
Is exposed
Maybe deposed

Right before those fatal movements
He trips. He soars.
Transporting ballistic national pride
Above the inspiring waters


The Moon Speaks, I Listen (Part 2)

Dayton arrived at the gas station twenty minutes later. The night couldn’t encroach on the lights, but it was waiting for them to die out, to rip existence apart and swallow the tatters. Or so his little green friends¬†were trying to tell him.

But the gas station was calling his name, and the demented green rabbits wearing little top hats looked at him strangely. Harry would be able to help him out. The man always came through, in some form or the other.

“I was going to sell these pills to a minor. Good thing you showed up,” Harry said. He was always a man filled with idle threats.

Dayton gave him a noir-ish look. ¬†“A green-haired rabbit is trying to worm its way out of your mouth. And that top hat it was wearing just fell to the floor…”

“Sounds like next big hit street drug. I should stock up on the anti-street drug. Everyone needs to sober up at some point. I’ll make millions!” Harry said, making the shape of a billboard with his hands, and smiling, revealing a silver filling.

“I need your anti-thing, Harry.”

“Oh, here. Take it. You earned it after you fully stocked the meat plant. I’ve never seen so much deer meat,” Harry trailed off.

Dayton eyed the pills suspiciously before throwing them down his gullet. It felt like swallowing an anvil. He made a face. “I think you got the better end of the deal.”

“There will be many more, my friend. And don’t ever tell me that you need my anti-thing!”

Dayton nodded, grabbed a soda off the shelf, and left the store. The rabbits were still fucking with his head as he walked across the parking lot. Their green fur seemed to intensify in color, and their eyes were like haunting little pebbles. Like the kind you would see at the beach. They crawled along the streetlamps in a creepy spiral formation, and he chose to look at the cars or a confused looking old man skulking by the corn fields. The need to distract yourself to get through life was a fundamental law of nature.


The Universe of Fetid Breath

The fetid breath of a broken man
Created a massive universe
Radical Carnage
Epic Disaster
Shock to the Hillside

Fuzzy brains just want coffee
But it’s too late for that
And too early for
“Two-Toes Swamp Dweller”

It’s also true that language
Doesn’t usually address glaciers
Or pockets of warmth in the
Aquatic Kingdom
Just give it a shot next time
When the earth has reset
And governments decide
For the same structure then as now
In a unifying miracle

Maybe the glaciers will give you curt nods
A sign of respect
They will hold the line
As they are pitted against nukes
Let loose by a very successful man