pansies paninis
penises going through gateways
of space/ time shine the ever bright
interstellar voyager
ya panties thrown up beyond the dresser
what the world doesn’t know about you
is the panties down at the
foot of the dresser
it can’t be
I am drunk off this brand new wine
don’t need to ferment long
for it to become a song
anyone can turn pop star in Vegas overnight
check the sun blemishes
the lioness guesses
famishes will
cover the earth
ya flat tire fuckers
ya milk duds
ya dead beats
vampires…
fuck ’em dead into shade
loungin…
you can call me Reggie on Facebook
“yo Reggie what’s goin down?”
but I won’t answer because
Reggie is not my name
listen to yourself thinking
the bones broken, sore, waifish
there is a draft in its high capacity
at this significant subtle juncture
since I was little, realized
I was after the rapture
it don’t pay much
look like much
but it’s the motherfucking rapture
it’s true— can’t trust too many (can’t trust the kryptonite)
they hide their skeletons deep in walk-in closets as big
as my apartment
“you know you should write a whole poem
based on people’s baggage… what they bring
into the room, bring into work, bring into a relationship…”
that would be too easy
your beautiful double-standard is buckling
this is a power trip
but tables turn so don’t
act so surprised
fundamentalist dilapidations
if we can’t handle… these angels of mercy
how are we gonna handle aliens?
BGKPOETRY.COM 