Ugly Lasts

You gotta know

That the magically

Lovely curvalicious

New girl behind the

Counter at the Walgreens

Won’t be ringing up

Your canned goods for long

But the poor old woman

Whose been there forever

Will be there for another

Eternity or two And you

Must understand that the

Sexy new guitar student

Will be quitting soon after

Her fingertips start to bruise

But the grizzled old guy

Who only just decided

After losing most of

The flexibility in his

Hands To learn every AC

DC lick ever jammed

Will be at it as long

As his sanity or yours

Holds out Everywhere

And at all times it’s true:

Beauty disappears too soon

While ugly Lasts

Even in the strip club:

The sexy-ass brat swishes

Out the door not long after

She comes to know that

The famous rappers won’t

Be arriving, just the endless

Procession of tragic old

Crackas blowing in with

Whatever crumbs are

Left over after they’ve fed

Their fat wives and

Ungrateful kids because

Beauty makes a beeline

For the exit

And disappears

while

ugly sticks around

And

Lasts and

Lasts

And

Lasts

 

–FB

 

Ted Kaczynski

You might know him

As the Unabomber.

He wrote that eventually

Technology would put

An end to human freedom

And dignity.

A Child prodigy

Who empathized

With animals

And grew to become

The youngest math

Professor at the University

Where he taught

Just long enough

To swing up a little

Land and a smaller

Shack, where he lived

His beliefs, unlike 99

Percent of so-called

Humanity. But of course

The roads followed him,

And when he realized

They’d never leave him be,

He brought the battle to

Them. And you feel badly

For those who caught

The shrapnel of his

Revenge, but at the

Same time you read

That a social media

Mogul is meeting

With scientists, and

Because you read,

You imagine children of

The future being programmed

To believe that all the cool kids

Take the chip which condemns

Them to transmit their thoughts

Instantly to their so-called

Friends, making any unapproved

Beliefs impossible, which

Would be the end of human

Freedom and dignity. And

Then you have the crazy

Thought that just maybe

Guys like Ted might be

The only defense. But then you

Remember the exploded

Innocent. And that’s the

Greatest crime: taking

Innocent life. So don’t

Worry, I’m not about to

Blow up

Anyone, because even if

I did believe it was the

Only way, which I don’t,

I can’t believe humanity

At present values freedom

And dignity anyway.

And let’s not forget

That the world is a place

Where treason reigns,

Even among brothers.

–FB

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Don’t Feel too Bad for the Fading Beauties

Because you read poetry

And you’re not a psycho

You feel bad for

The fading lady

Whose sagging smile

Made every Hell

A Heaven for a while

Back in her day.

And you feel sad too

When you see the

Solitary stripper

Up there barely

Moving those hips

Because she doesn’t

Have health care

And because her

Aging ass only draws

Pity tips. Feel bad for

Them but not too bad.

You gotta know that

Both the lady and

The dancer spent

Their fresh

Hips and thighs

Smiles and breasts

On psychopathic

Pro-sports fans

Who

Made

Rapist dog

Murderers

Into millionaires,

Rarely if ever

Tipped anybody,

And never

Read poetry.

 

— FB

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

So Kobe Crashed

He was one of the luckiest

Men who ever lived, bouncing

An orange ball around in

A time and place when a

Guy could make millions

for that sort of thing…then of

Course there was the alleged

Rape. I reviewed the

Case, and it seems likely to me

That he did it. But hey, never

Mind her pain, he could bounce

A ball, right? Most pitiful of all

Was the old gaffer sports reporter

Admitting on national tv that

He cried in his keyboard over

Kobe’s crash. Too bad old Kobe

Couldn’t bounce like a basket-

Ball, gramps. Really though, I

Don’t feel good about Kobe’s death,

And I do feel bad for his

Daughter, and all

Of the non-rapists who

Went down. But isn’t that

The way, the best die with

The worst, and millions of

So-called men cry in their

Beers for a man who might

Have raped their daughters

And then grinned all the

Way back from court.

Enjoy your beers and

Ballgames, America.

–FB

No Ass

I’m amazed at images

Of all these old white rockstar’s

former and current gfs

And wives. You’d think

That with millions in

The bank and worldwide

Praise, they would have

Found themselves women

With ample derriers.

But no, it was one skinny-

Ass psuedo-hippie cocaine

Sucking skank after another.

It’s somewhat strange when

You learn that all these old white

Rock farts learned from the

Old black bluesmen who

For the most part

Created the rhythms and

Licks that the rockers just

Sped up. Of course the

Bluesmens’ lyrics were

reality-based, not the bubble-

Gum peace and love lies

I grew up listening to. I

Would have been so much

Better prepared for the harsh

Truths of life if I’d grown

Up listening to the bluesmen

who knew that since you can’t

Trust any woman, you might

As well get your lies from one

With a sweet baby face and

A big fat ass.

–FB

The Delusional Animal

I can’t even remember

If I’ve written this

Poem before. After all,

I read the same poems,

Play the same songs,

Watch the same films,

And dream the same dreams

Again and again, so it really

Doesn’t matter if I’ve written

This poem before. The same

Delusions again and again:

A world where creatures

Need not eat other creatures,

A world where people only

Fall in love with those who

Can love them back. A world

Where a human being can love

Another human being, and

Not just their beauty or

Money. Pick your

Delusion, baby. There’s just

So many. Just enough to keep

Us alive for a while though.

Nietzsche said that man is

The unhappy animal, but that

Doesn’t apply to everybody. So

I say that man is the delusional

Animal, because we all keep

Believing in something we know

Can’t be true. We have to. We

Just do. My unknown God, we just

Do.

— FB

Best Theory Yet

My furniture consists

Of mostly piles of books:

Philosophy, History, Religion,

But the best Theory of what’s

Behind all this I saw on an

Episode of some low-budget

Sci-fi show: we’re all just pets

Of some hyper-advanced alien

kids. And heaven help those of

Us who belong to the delinquents

And sadists.

–FB

The Maze

The hardest thing

About secretly

Driving into the city

On a Sunday morn

To put food out for

The homeless cats

Who live in the make-shift

Shelters I built isn’t forcing

Myself up or dodging the

Cops. The hardest thing is

Finding a spot to piss after

The 45 minute ride out.

Tired of pissing in a cup

In some lot scrutinized by

24 hour video cameras, once

I pulled into the budget

Supermarket. After stepping

In with a full bladder, a cute

Black rent a cop asked me if

I needed some help. She wasn’t

Impressed by me driving out

To feed homeless cats, but she

Did direct me to the facilities.

Afterwards, I considered buying

Something, but there was only

One cashier on and the line

Was long. After trying for a

While to exit the spot, I came

To realize that every other

Avenue of escape was blocked

As if to say get in line and buy

if you want to bounce out.

Well, I wasn’t having it, and

Once again, the Bratz Doll

In blue had to ask if I needed

Some help. She had a face and

Body, and the way her hips

Swayed made me wanna make

Swirl baby. But dolls aren’t

Moved to mate with old

Crackas who feed stray cats.

But it’s all for the best, I love

Sentient beings too much to

Want to bring any into a

World like this.

— FB

The Martyr

On the playground

At St. Mary’s Elementary,

I had a fantasy, really I

Had many. One featured

Me dying while defending

The sweetest-looking blue-

Eyed girl in school. Another

Fantasy starring me was about

A motorcycle race that had

Mysteriously been arranged

So that she herself was the

Winning prize. Both fantasies

Ended with me dying valiently,

As bloody and tragically-

Handsome as Jesus himself

Hanging on on the cross in

The Lord’s house. But I died

Happy both times, because in

Each fantasy, I breathed my

Last as she held me in her

Snow-white arms and didn’t

Even mind the blood

On her uniform dress.

I didn’t know then that first-

Prize girls don’t bother with

Losers, especially if they shed

Blood for them.

And so many

Love those who

Spill blood,

any blood,

Instead.

–FB

The Unlovely Unloved

Sure, you can claim that beauty Is subjective, etc. But that’s only True to a limited degree. There are beautiful types and vice versa in any human society, and the love they get far outweighs that bestowed upon the unlovely. Well, I guess I know what it is to be both and neither. There have been those who’ve considered me attractive, and a few still do. But since I’ve spent most of my life alone, unloved by most I was attracted to, I have to recognize that I am one of the unlovely. Well, it’s not the worst fate that

Can befall a human being. Lacking attractive force is like lacking one of the senses. A person who is unloved by those he or she could love romantically has more time to study, to express, to self-actualize really. And time enough is no small consolation prize. Lacking attractiveness can lead to a heightening of the empathetic-sense. Look at those who help out our fellow creatures of the not-so-human kind. And while it won’t win you or me the love of any super-models (no matter what some will claim), or get either of us 10,000 likes, empathy, sweet empathy, is a kind of beauty too.

— FB