Daily Archives: April 17, 2016

Looser Than Lucifer

Radio preacher, how you do talk —

lips looser than Lucifer’s,
forever spitting hate
from a so-called Christian face.

Did your God forget
to put a muzzle on your judgment
when He laid His manly paw
upon you to make you,
or are you insisting 
He was perfect at the craft
and this is — YOU are– 
are as good as it can get?
Are you really your God’s
best marketer, making claims
for your own humility
before Him
even as you
aggrandize yourself 
and scrape
another layer of patience
off of me?

Radio preacher, get you gone — 

you sticky fingered priest,  
you knife tongue pastor,
you pope of the nighttime rope,
you saint of the burning necklace,
you deacon of past prejudice and future petrified heart,
you congregant in the church of bending love
into daggers and handcuffs,
you bishop of murder under the high altar:

your game is
looser than Lucifer,

who at least
did not hide his dark hatreds
behind a Cross,
who at least
owned his pride
at not being in the slightest way
anything like God.


Steak Or Chicken

Originally posted 12/29/2010.

george clinton must now and then
think about giving up the stars
for a steady job in furniture repair

prince must sometimes think about saying
fuck it
i’m going into retail

bruce has to think about
the carefree life
of a plumber

mick must occasionally think
about financial analysis
as a late career choice

it’s the same with me
i wanna be
a rock star 

the way each of them is a rock star 
with a name that projects their particular cosmology
the minute it’s uttered

i want my name
to change the inner monologue
of anyone who hears it (that’d be SWEET)

but instead i’m in the store
looking at frozen fajitas
and i could be just anyone

if someone calls my name
i don’t turn around right away
they couldn’t possibly be talking to me

so inured to being a nobody
even my own name
doesn’t evoke anything in me

except annoyance that i’ve been disturbed
before i can choose between
the steak or the chicken

most days i don’t feel this way
i just go through motions
i’ve been through before

and i’m ok
if not happy
the world around me isn’t mine

i just live here
i mean so little to the living 
that when i stop living here

someone else
will be just fine
bearing my name

but right now i wanna be a rock star
and i want my name to make the choice
of steak or chicken for me

with a sense of grand inevitability
they should just magically appear
in my cart with its four perfect wheels

then i will thrill inside
as what i want
turns into exactly what everyone else wants

and then if i change my mind later
so shall change the fajitas
and so shall change everyone else’s mind and taste

i wanna be a rock star
instead of this — 
vacillating and anonymous mess

standing in the supermarket aisle 
in front of a bright freezer
wondering for ten minutes about a choice

between shitty frozen steak
and shitty frozen chicken
as if it matters 

and all the while nobody passing me 
seems to have a clue
about whether or not i’m even there