Where did you park your fish?

That wasn’t a fish, you twit

That was a Ferrari

Isn’t that a type of fish?

But it’s wheels within wheels, wheels within wheels

Easy, easy, Ezekiel

Wheels within wheels, wheels within wheels

 Down in gutters deep, searching, crawling

Crawling through the trash, searching

For some thing old some thing new

Some thing stolen, some thing purple

A robe, a triple tiered crown

Anything will do

Asinine, passes time, passes useless

Re-cycle-less trash, toxic waste


Passes footballs, passes wind

To state of oranges idiots

And the only thing more obscene

Perverse, evil, than the lawyers and judges

Is the law itself

Or maybe it’s the religion

Plastic priests are selling

Flogging to the masses

At their masses

Feeding the poor people barker’s eggs

Their gods, plastic images of breasts

Worshipping Tits

And on the thirteenth day

Mother superior created



Let’s fleece the sheep, religions sole aim

Let’s lead them to hell, it’s only a game

The gold isRome’s target, to hell with the rest

Inscribed in their solid gold three tiered crest

While poets write, but what is right?

Pagan ceremonies, every day

In hospital shrines, where they sacrifice babies

Murdering infants, in the name of women’s rights

What is right?

Sorry, that should read,

TERMINATING, don’t sound as flat as murdering

Sexual freedom is slavery

Whose, or is that whores

As is the mother, so is her daughter. Ezk. 16:44

Sacrificing babies, to the gods of lust

Of perversion, while abortionist’s bank accounts

Flower with life

The blood of foeti screaming from the gutters

The sewers of society, (I nearly said civilization}

In which we walk, down in the gutters searching

Searching, scrounging, through personal columns

People Wanted, love wanted

Discarded people available

Going cheap, reduced to begging

For friendship, or love

While those who reply put their neck on the block

The chopping block of life

Another sacrifice to the gods of loneliness

Alone-ness, sacrificed to the fear

Of being alone

Sacrificed to the Lonely Hearts clubs

Going cheap at $95.oo a chop

Hacked to emotional death

By mail or maybe just the lack of it

Down in the gutters of today

Today’s insanity, humanity

I scarce dare use the word

There’s no such thing, or maybe .0000000000001%

Of the population


Who is it?

You think it’s you, but I know it’s not who you think it is


That’s just to assure this becomes a best seller

On the news stands

Or is it the NUDE stands?

Hate women? No, just whores

Who sell themselves short, of what they could have been

Sexist? Sure.

FORNICATE! There, the F word

To ensure literary accolades

Commercial success, artistic acceptance

And one 87 year old poet (successful), said

Who needs a woman, maybe one day

One will meet a lady, one day, if I can remember

Where I parked my fish

Or is it a Ferrari

I can’t remember

What are you doing here anyway?