John Van Pelt Presents

Buxom twenty-somethings fix street lamps.

But first, faces hover inches from pavement.

They took common sense...

Threw it in the street...

Kicked it into the sewer.

The men with brown pants seem to have their shit together.

Long bus rides from short trips.

Descriptive colors invoke images.

All invoked images are horrible.

It’s all bad news.

Shithole denizens make use of images unreal.

Boring assholes are outside keying cars and smoking stockroom boys.

Staying childish enough to stay out of heaven.

The adults are allowed heaven.

Most are licking wounds from red tridents.

Wild wolf become redundant.

They move men through sickly, wet snow.

Cowardly men butter biscuits and clean shit stains from underwear.

Everyday seems like King Kong.

Something big and stupid that only exists for purposes of melancholy and sorrow.

Halloween scarecrows bleach in July.

Smartass kids light them on fire at nightfall.

Mental patients want to be left alone to think about tits.

The black nurses still pinch thighs for obedience.

There is rarely a pitchfork sale.

Your enemy can always see you coming.

Unless you’re a pre-ejaculator.

That’s today’s lesson.

If life is cum, cum fast and often.

Old lady walkers and cheap tooth fillings fill the crusher.

Half pounds of memories are sold for five solid bucks.

We can split a half pack of smokes.

or

We can run into a porn booth for half price.

In these days of dubious victories, the world is our cloister.

In this world, skeletons never smile.

Their jaws move up and down.

Outside a car is lit ablaze.

Internally, patrons of a coffee shop are moved by the bowel movement on the floor.

The denizens agree with each other and bash each others heads apart.

The pool of blood dries before it hits the door.

Melting assholes stink up the highway.

Punch after punch...

I keep shaking my jaw and stare at your fuckin’ ass.

I didn’t forget to water the flowers.

That’s right.

They’ll live forever.

Distilled water strips nutrients.

Ex-girlfriends strips everything else.

I stick my fingers in blacktop.

I stick my fingers in my nose.

I want to smell industry all day.

A car flips ten times on the interstate.

An old man gets out.

An eagle lands on his hood.

He speeds away.

His life is speeding in front of him.

But it’s taking too damn long.

A concrete embankment is punctuation.

A fella in the middle of nowhere-America is sick of his dick and wishes for tits of his own.

Daddy peers through the keyhole jerking off.

The pot roast is ruined.

Mommy puts the rest of her cigarette out in it.

Stuntmen are vaulted into the air.

Crows heckle as he hits Herald.

Herald is the director.

Girls are coerced into nudity.

Middle-aged men freely walk around.

Their cocks haven’t worked in years.

Run ones hand over dough with a marble inside.

Orgasms muddy up shorts.

Shit does a better job.

You shit your pants.

You get sent home.

A man sees a red planet.

A man walks on a red planet.

A man inhabits a red planet.

A man gets tired of red planet.

Fuck’em!

I seldom feel the urge to throw myself through glass doors these days.  Most of my time is spent sitting on grassy knolls tapping my toes together as ants crawl up my arms.  I can smell and feel fall coming on.  I nearly forget how I haven’t fucked in over a year.

Spiders no longer tell me their troubles.  Small birds seem to be getting along just fine.  When I walk down the street, I don’t look for dour faces, just high-fives.  I kick flowers up and put them in my lapel.  I started wearing clothes that have a lapel.  Christians and Atheists buy me dinner.  Dogs strut when I get near.

The sun drips over the moon like an orange creamsicle in July.  My days and nights are delicious.  Girls have started to call.  No longer am I in a fevered waking nightmare of sexual deviance, their no longer frightened off.  When I shave, there’s nary an ingrown hair.

Jesus “freaks” give me thumbs up.  When I masturbate I achieve full erections.  When I cum, I laugh heartily at human behavior.  When I dream, choirs sing as I fly through the air whimsically bursting clouds.

I eat and the calories don’t go straight to my ass.  Phone calls are received unsolicited.  I watch Japanese cartoons without the hope of panty shots.  My drivers license expired.  My new picture looks like Burt Reynolds.  Young people appreciate my insight into music and movies.  They laugh at my jokes.

Young women no longer scramble for a phone to call police.  They tell me they will make love to me.  They can see how I looked a hundred lbs. ago.Different races are no longer represented by fools.  Every man is judged by his mettle.  Birthday balloons float longer than they should.  I am rarely reduced to a fat,alcoholic, retard.  Girls that cheated on me are now living in squalor, remembering how funny I am.

My car starts the first time, every time.  I never run out of cigarettes.  The radio only plays my favorite music.  I kicked everyone's ass.  All celebrities have dropped dead.  The grass grows evenly short.  I never run out of money.  Women can’t stop blowing me.  I’ve won an academy award. Everyone who doubted me committed suicide. All dogs DO go to heaven.  I rarely need to re-wipe my ass.  I can function like a human being...

BZZZ

My clothes are done.

Of course this is all a lie.

I shit my pants.

Stapled stupid to my forehead

Those that were mean, let me be

I put my hands in my pockets

I was still punched in the face

But I was not spat upon afterwards

Birth defects and unaddressed childhood illnesses, left Brenda mentally handicapped

Some weird bastard gave her a child

Julie

Brenda always has a smile for me in the morning

Brenda always has a smile for me when I come home with wine under my arm

her glasses are thick enough to perceive future events

She squints and smiles with big crocked, discolored teeth

I love every bit of it

If angels existed this is how they would appear