Friday, January 24, 2014

I Ate a Gun With Mixed Results (Or is Death the End?)

I ate a gun and then she said
Baby that is coward talk
Or at least I think it is
But I can't understand you
So can you please remove the gun
From your oral hole please
So we can talk
And I did and then I told her that all
Love is fleeting and death is the only
Embrace that lasts a lifetime and she said
I can understand you much better, see my love
Without you deepthroating that revolver and also
Death is not the end
It's just a way to avoid paying any more taxes to
The government
Damn the government I roared and then more loudly
And an end to ice cream trucks!
And then I recanted and told her instead my dream about opening
A muffin boutique in Antarctica
They really love muffins there and they're sold for their
weight in herrings
But she slapped me and shouted!
Fool, how will you unfreeze the dough!

And I toyed with the gun and she
Ground her teeth in despair and said:
Death Is not the end, would you stay on topic please?
Now kiss me on the mouth
Death is not the end, I intoned. Not even in Cleveland?
There they have elevator music, she said, my tongue in her ear
I always get ears and mouths mixed up
And then she forced us apart
But what about love I said, surely it transcends death
and she laughed bitterly and explained how a squirrel once had stolen
A raisin crumble from her
We pondered the symbolism of this in despair
And I fondled the gun, like a lover and she said
And maybe if you ate some rye bread and peanut butter
Instead of that gun you would see
That it tastes much better and also
That it will leave less of a mess on the walls
When you pull the trigger
On the sandwich, I said, They have triggers now?
She then looked sadly, out to the sea, which was odd
As we lived in Manitoba
So I put down the gun to get her attention
I pine for the sea, she said, but it is not for we
For us we can have this
And she placed a toaster on my lap
Which she had been hiding under her dress
Almost in a religious trance she put in the bread
We watched until it popped and she said
Peanut butter can be the doorway to new worlds and perceptions
That's deep, I said
She put down the toaster
Yes, especially if you get the two gallon pail
We pondered this for three hours
That was when she hit me with a baseball bat
She also had spirited under her dress
That's a really big dress, I exclaimed, before hitting the floor
Toast crumbs went flying everywhere
I tried to dive to protect her from the crumbs
But I was on the floor
And the gun went off, puncturing
The peanut butter jar
We knew despair and wept and held one another and tried to scoop up
Some peanut butter that leaked out
We dipped in some rye bread, but it was not the same
Never again will it be the same, she said
As a goose egg swelled on my head where she had hit me with the bat
Never again I murmured
And heaven has no cheesecake!

Wednesday, January 22, 2014

'Oh great zen master, so wise and learned. I have traveled many thousands of miles and endeared great hardship to seek out your wisdom. May I approach?'
 

'Yes, my son, come closer. I am old and wise, but my vision grows poor and my hearing fails.'
 

'Master, I humbly beg your attention.'
 

'You, who have braved such hardship, have earned the right to approach and ask but one question, and only one.'
 

'My question is this, oh wise one: What is the best passive thing a person may do with one's life.'
 

'Cheer against Manchester United, of course. Now get on out, the games about to start.'

Wednesday, January 15, 2014

A Matter of Taste

Cider's too sweet
I am sweet enough
With my tooth rotting grins
With my lackadaisical sins
I will deliver more sweetness with my
Rust bent razor blade an' pipe
Than all the raised thighs in the dance hall
Sweet as those may be

Whisky's too  golden
I am golden skinned too much
With my jaundiced shins
With my yellow stained sins
I will shed off more gold with
My rough hewn song
Than all the trumpets in ancient Rome
Sweet sounding as they were said to be

Lager is too sharp
My knives are sharp enough
With my shimmering scars
With my searing desires
I'll cut your debate in twain
I'll show you more sharp play
Than all the cheats in Rosedale
As deft a touch they claim to be

Vodka's too transparent
I am more opaque
With my lungs filled black with tar
Malcontent enough by far
A toast to the death of the Tsar
I'll down more carnage than
All the Cossacks could swill
Hard wroth riders though they be

I should settle then for water
But rain belongs in the gutter
And it brings too much discourse
Gives me lack of recourse
Fills my head with ill healing
Losses of income and teeth and meaning
Sends everything running
Running down the drain

Which brings me to heady wine
Red dark or clean white
Made from grapes divine
Stain my lips bloody
Make me inviolate
Make me your friend and brother
Or deepest darkest lover
Oh wine my heart belongs to thee

Saturday, January 11, 2014

I Like Swearing (A Drinking Song)

I like swearing
It makes me feel happy
If you don't like me swearing
Why don't you fuck off

I like singing
It makes me merry
If you won't join my singing
Then you can stagger off

I like drinking
It takes away the pain
If you don't like my drinking
Then you can be the one................
Oh you can be the one my dear...........
The one that does abstain

(Chorus sung slowly)
Ohhhhhh
Why don't you piss off
You shant spoil my fun
If you don't like me swearing
At least then pass the rum

I like to run and play
It makes me free
If you don't like my running
Then stop your chasing me

I like climbing
I'll use you as my rungs
If you don't like it brother.............
I said if you don't like it sister.......
Then you just bite your tongue

(Chorus repeats)

by Daniel Smallegange, esquire.

Thursday, January 2, 2014

Frozen Wood

Because frozen wood
Don't burn so good
I wish you were here
But not for your cheer
All your hot air
And the fire of your stare
Would thaw out the wood
And it would burn good