Archive | June 2016

Misfire

TheMagicRealist.com

I can beat myself up at the drop of a hat
But the world does a much better job by design.
Try cashing a check with no mark of the beast.
You’ll be pointed to Hell or mistook for deceased.
As a world remains troubled, my worth’s in decline.
Between you and me, though, I’m better than that.

Another smart phone hit the pavement today…
Yet a childish outburst from my chamber of hell.
I’ve contempt for millennials smug in their game.
Did we fuck up your world?  I will take the damned blame!
Take your tissue technology’s volatile spell
And swipe it in the most natural way!

Sometimes I can’t handle the rage that I feel
So I tend to speak softly and feign a limp dick.
Should my words tear the flesh as mere ordnance do?
I will NOT own a gun! Does that satisfy you?
I am ready to leave here, and let it come quick.
I’m an old, burnt out bastard, and folks, that’s for real.

Foghorn Forlorn

TheMagicRealist.com

What is up with you, boy? Get from underneath there.
Don’t you know that’s the first place a rooster will look?
My big mouth’s been a pushin’ you through all along.
You’re now head of the head cocks. What did I do wrong?
It’s a slap in the face, boy; my gizzard’s been shook.
But, I’ll act like I’m happy and don’t really care.

The things that you say, boy, are right off the wall.
I couldn’t do better, and ain’t proud to say.
But, my boy, you been yip-yappin’ like Elmer Fudd.
It’s no wonder folks want your name dragged through the mud.
I been workin’ my tail feathers off night and day.
And what thanks do I get? … A ‘yes bird’ uninstall.

I may rough up a chicken who gets in your way.
That’s the way that I am, and I ain’t here to please.
In fact, boy, I’m big on the brash just like you.
We made a good team, but for now, we are through.
If you need me again, boy, just drop to your knees.
If you really had to, that would sure make my day.

The Wellbeing and Wonder of Whack

TheMagicRealist,com

Pick a noun – any noun, ‘doesn’t matter which one.
If it’s whack that it’s lacking, know where to get some.
There’s a town that has oodles – an infinite source.
It’s an attitude bred in the psyche, of course,
Not an actual place that’s devoid of scum.
If your thing’s out of whack, go to Whackville for fun!

There’s a drought on abundance?  Well, how would one know?
By lack of accessories on shopping carts claimed?
Or maybe by facts hocked and spit on the street
For beggars to stare at while trying to eat…
Can I eat with the homeless and not feel ashamed?
Something seems out of whack; that’s the reason to go

To Whackville intent to cop copious supplies
Of the purest, most wholesome whack under the sun.
From there, I can see there is nothing amiss.
Every actor on stage knows to strut into bliss.
When returning from Whackville, my task is near done.
Spreading whack, I’ll lift spirits and roll a few eyes.

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