I spy with my little eye, something green & monstorous. Spinning spinning, smoke pouring out of the gear box. Don't worry my sweet potato, there is no precocious star brighter than you.

really? unscapegoatable? christ's death wasn't good enough for that one, eh?

Violence is for the daft, it's true my meaning should've been drafted new I tried, and failed so on the heap it sailed because I have no craft, like you

I played live from the tub already a year or two ago. You are too late. I don't believe an organ would fit for you though. Perhaps you can play my sax? Michael Jost took me. They do that show in Venice beach, but it's called www.bathtubgirl.com a real fucking skankfest, plus if i recall the acoustics sucked and my guitar string broke or detuned rapidly or some shit like that.

Who's Stan Rice?

Not believing in absoluteness of sin is an absolute sin.

dark angel sat on his toilet wond'ring "should I barbecue, bake it, or broil it? whichever I do, with this newly shat poo, I mustn't forget to tinfoil it!"

thanks, I was inspired by z's mayan maid... http://poemranker.com/poem-details.jsp?id=43830

Thanks Caducus. I'm actually feeling rather flat lately.

It is tied in! Isn't it? Is that too subtle!? It's intended as the whole snarkiness of the poem, thumbing my nose at the existentialism I can't escape. I'd like to tighten up the language but I don't know how because I'm a lousy amateur and this is already me stretching about as far as I'm able to reach. Any suggestions? I thank you for the comments.

Thank you! The parenthetical comment has always bugged me, but I can't bring myself to take it out. The "some kind of" is there purely for slamming, you read it with a silent beat before "some", lean into the mike, and kick the line into the audience's teeth.

cummings was my first poet, first literary love. Still shows up in my Regurgitationalism from time to time. Paranoia's easy for me to capture, since I have it.