Ha, I feel mighty silly going over these disgraceful words and embarrassing motions, but I wanna beg for an assload of money!

“Aw, please, oh blessed Lord, have them shamefully jealous hens and cocks at Church, try not to interrupt the services wanting to make fun of my outfit this time!”

“Whoa, holy God above us mere children, I’ll do a much better job of attempting to follow Your many, many commandments, if You somehow see to it that today’s audition to be in Prince’s new band goes absolutely swimmingly!”

“No, sovereign Creator, and I thoroughly ask Your pardon having to correct You here, this isn’t a ‘puffy’ blouse. You see, if anything, I think it is more counted as a ‘frilly’ blouse instead.”

“Yay, Jesus, if Ya want me upon ma very knees ’til da sun go down, den so be it, and I thank Ya kindly, amen, amen; and if ya want me ta shout Yo most divine name witout fail da entire weekend, den again, so be dat too, I’m Yo solemn loudspeaker, amen, amen; ‘cept if Ya seriously want me ta fogive ma loathsum sista fo takin’ da lass piece of sweet, sweet potato pie, ugh, exactly three years ago ta dis date, Ya can jess go straight ta Hell, fo all I freakin’ care, buddy!”

Glorified Squawking

Money kicks its dirty boots inside of your head,
you wanna eat and have a dry place to stay,
but don’t need to wallow in their gutter for pay,
so them amorphous boots can just fall dead.

Punch your words through these vicious gangs,
damn sturdy clamoring worn fists over their harangues,
with snarls of brown teeth biting into our space,
bloody might or may casts an impression in your face.

Walk a couple of blocks hovering low tonight,
had an old heart stomped down and dragged in vain,
as store windows crack only from your shadow,
dispersing patrons like there’s suddenly a hurricane.

Such hands skipping beats above these cold bricks,
don’t miss the rhythm produced by rising steam,
barely heard during their shouts and stun grenades,
laughing at fools knowing one can’t merely dream.

Aches and rage stretched out as a joyous grin,
competing against seemingly unstoppable bogeymen,
to scrawl with diamonds across their glass houses,
now lying in shards from their brash myopic dowses.

It obviously didn’t work is bitterly screamed again,
under their ducking stool after every comedian,
following shortening of breath in its misconception,
and even lesser is their sorry lack of perception.

Look, we gotta produce a good ol’ show of it to fool the proper authorities, or they’re gonna charge us both with a hate crime!

“Ugh, if you’re going to insist on getting this close, Jane, at least try beforehand to scrape a few disgusting layers of grime from that unspeakable nastiness you have the extreme guile to call a body!”

“Come now, Sally, my mommy said that we had to hug and make up, but she damn well didn’t say that soon afterwards we still couldn’t fight like possessed banshees smoking PCP!”

“Sure, you might have been picked over me as the star of our dance recital tomorrow, but you had better watch your flat hairy backside, sister, because you’re never gonna honestly know when I’ll launch into my vicious cobra strike!”

“Forgive me, Jane, I’m just not a hugging type of person.”
“Ha, that’s okay, Sally, since I am enough of a hugging type person to easily balance worthy against your pathetic loss!”
“Aw, listen, bitch, it ain’t really a loss where I’m concerned, yet it’s gonna seriously be your funereal loss in more ways than one, if you don’t kindly take your filthy paws the hell off!”

Bemoaning Kith Residue

“Their bones were your road the first few miles,
and then you became somebody’s path later.”

Sure very good news for you, honey,
but as you can truly observe beyond us,
I’m gonna need a lot more than this,
even if I’m not supposed to be worth it.

You always have the moonlight out,
whether this matters remains your topic,
ain’t in the business to sit for anyone,
got quite enough trouble where I roam.

We already clearly heard this subterfuge,
an hour ago during its parodied performance,
nearly everyone clapped then too, darling,
yet they left and it’s back to just you and me.

Love ain’t real to either of us now,
can’t generate for our rigid satisfaction,
it’s like candy when you’re craving,
except I ain’t a feeble baby no longer.

Makes others sad, yeah, that’s tough swirls,
don’t remember them ever within here,
when I didn’t feel their leash taking a step,
as lies were easily turned into pitiful excuses.

Rushing our kiss across trembling lips,
hope and joy reduced to thick red circles,
scrawled over particulars of a schedule,
perfectly timed from its various rehearsals.

Puhleeze, ye of liddle faith, of course I got a harem da size of ma billfold after I’ve shaken dis turf fo protection money!

“Okay, people, coming up in the next issue of Penthouse magazine, we have an exclusive interview with the singer Adele’s highly estranged father, Mark Evans, sincerely begging for her forgiveness while appearing very dapper and confident, lounging around a romantic beach at dusk. Ha, I’ve always wanted to do one of them, thanks a helluva lot, fellas!”

“No, believe me, I definitely can’t belt out a song anywhere near like my daughter can, but I certainly am quite able to deliver a mighty powerful belt across some lousy, smart-mouthed pansy’s jawbone of an ass for even daring to ask me such a foolish question!”

“Come on, you fine ladies, this here hard cue ball wants to purposely scratch inside of your deep pockets for carnal pleasure! Yeah, firmly take that, Willy Shakespeare, and eat yer freaking heart with onions over a filthy plate, you stinking illiterate, damn nancy boy!”

“Hey, who says it’s impossible for a real man to wear jeans with a suit and still look ultra-classy? Look, seriously, guys, not only is it extremely fashionable as a horny mother-jumper sporting roller skates and extra pats of restaurant-grade genuine butter, it’s just that more so if you also plunge your sweaty bare feet into imitation leather, open toe moccasins!”

“Whoa, in the old days, this now desolate area used to be exceptionally beautiful, with all them grisly impaled heads of magnificently ruthless honor killings atop colorful stakes, methodically stretched through practically the whole shoreline of this once infinitely prestigious estate!”

Smothering Caravan

Please notice who is really in your view,
listen to this voice’s actual experience,
a person of great means without a face,
not necessarily important to pay heed,
at the extreme spite of your own selves.

Forget you don’t like the lake’s relection no longer,
once I’ve tossed a heaping fistful of nasty stones over,
those silly cosmetic alterations were your drivers,
now it’s only all wet as you wake from a nightmare,
and I ain’t around here anymore to help calm you.

Remember my address has drastically changed,
since then when we used to spar almost daily,
about a tough ring of our very raw wits on parade,
for gleeful spectators practically in your shorts,
warm and cozy within popularly blessed reverence.

Talk the talk is muddled by clever manipulators,
because they can’t seem to even pull that off either,
falling down to split their hang-lips before starting,
while plainly everyone comes brashly to the rescue,
never bothering to record the winner of this task.

I ain’t interested in sugar in my salad or main meal,
think we ought to also skip our dessert entirely,
instead save it for why we can honestly celebrate,
decidedly lasting until time itself forces liberties,
where we ain’t in control cruising toward an obscenity.

Yikes, where are my manners? Sorry, guys, I wanna introduce my twin brother. Clearly, he’s had uber-major plastic surgery done…

“Hey, welcome, whore fangs! Uh, excuse me for being a wee bite too honest back scare, everybody; of corpse I mean horror fans. Geez, obviously the only whore around these parts is any stupid netwart desperate enough to actually televise my udderly dreadful trash!”

“Aw, I don’t really give a sweet damn if I’m literally centuries older than my new boyfiend, darlings! Rowrrr, easily translated as: ‘I still like ‘em young, baby!’ Ha, and besides, ladies, unfair is unfair, after all; because while I’m most certainly guilty as charged robbing the ol’ cradle, he’s also caught red-handed busy seriously robbing the grave!”

“Yeah, let me take a little minatory to decompose a wild guess of exactly what you dudes are thinking: ‘Whoa, is he one lucky boy to be going with that hot luscious babe!’ Muhahaha, paleeze, humans, as my quite daring lover, he’s mainly rather fortuitous to be presently alive!”

“Ugh, come on now, people, my crazy-ass eyes are way the hell up here! Oh, and I sin-cerely hate to break this to those somewhat more visually challenged members in our audience, but these two soft bulbs located near the vicinity of my amply exposed, ahem, chestal region, are just large goiters.”