“Lobster Mobster”

Curt the crazy crustacean wanders the ocean

floor with his eccentric entourage of bow-legged

starfish and omnipotent laser-eyed seahorses,

searching night and day for the lost loved ones

who stole his tremendous tan-colored telson,

pinching and crushing all who oppose him.

Word spreads fast through the seven seas

of the lobster who lost his tail to the waves,

and now Curt is truly and horribly pissed off.

But when he finds what’s he’s looking for,

the stupid son of a bitch will turn and twist

with anger, for his pal Mitch is the real snitch,

and Mitch has no problem sleeping with fishes.



“Dinner With Lucifer”

Sharp knives and forks arranged

stabbing into the table setting as

well-mannered roaches toast to

the health of their impending meal.

Folded napkins in distorted shapes

of origami demons dance in the

ruby candlelight near the centerpiece.

Stale smells waft from the kitchen

doors bolted to the marbled floor.

With a poof of black smoke the host

appears before his seat across the

mile-long veal-varnished table.

With a curled crispy smile he speaks

with hands outstretched to summon

the main course from the ceiling.

Cole-carved chandeliers burn black

flames to the sound of crackling hogs.

Seared strips of salivary slip from the

bones of the roast and levitate to plates

spaced across the tabletop matting.

Satan scratches his horns and speaks

with words unnerved, “dinner is served.”




Tyrants pull the strings of self-love

but the click and shudder belongs

to the beholder of a puppet’s eye.

Watch the world fall to pieces

as the miserable misfits of society

feign their smiles and cries for

the sake of inanimate approvals.

No care given to the simple act

of thought or pure imagination,

but countless hours they dedicate

to the misguided belief of inclusion.

Irony is pure in potent times like these,

social is anti, to yourself you must keep.