by John Kendall Hawkins
- The Glass House
What is evil? Let us count all the ways.
Where you live do witches get thrown in pools?
Do hags flash fingers and exclaim, "You're made"?
Do your kids have their Twinkies snatched in schools?
Where I reside 2 + 2 = 5.
Or else. Union Jacked flags will be deployed.
You'll hear, It is what it is or some kind of jive.
Warlocks zap with juice? Then you're being toyed
with. It's the cliches, the empty thinking,
the self-loving animal roars, banal
fascists who despise culture, kine blinking
at bodies they pushed into the canal.
It pushes me to the edge of my mind
to be locked up among this Glass House kind.
II. Waiting For RICO Jesus
From Monday to Friday they kill, kill, kill
and on Saturday they confess their sins
when Sunday rolls around, then it's all grins;
they imbibe the Body and Blood like a pill
that forgives and forgets -- Christ as a fix:
the more you destroy civilization,
the more you need transubstantiation.
Christ! Poor Father Knox has developed tics.
Tell them this and you'll be next on the list,
so don't tell them whatever you may do --
keep it in your head, like the Golden Rule;
they'll f*ck you like the proverbial fist.
When Christ returns with RICO and a gun
Man, oh man, won't we have some roundup fun.
III. Tony Makes A Move
Who'll end up like Mussolini upside
down from a rope, spanked like a piñata
full of bon mots, eye hanging by a thread?
Who knows. It's early. Eat your frittata.
Your mother says virtue always arrives
with the rain. I guess. Where is she? Loves you.
Read the paper and shut up. Fascist lives
are in the news again. Il Duce, too.
Well, there she is (breasts still blazing). Hi Mom.
Sea calm as when I first touched her belly.
Screamed like a kettle when I made her cum.
Bye, she says. Bye, he says. f*ck it, really.
Tony's ready; it's time to make a move.
He leaves a fuckin tip; he's in a groove.