January 30th, 2017

at home
                    watching life unfold on my flatscreen tv
i know
                    all those motherfuckers are out there after me

takin’ my job
ignorin’ my god
shootin’ my grandma in her sweet, old face

we need
                    a loud unintelligible raging authority
you’ll see
                    that’ll restore our ever-decreasing sense of relevancy

get a new job
shit on your god
shoot your kiddo right in its fucking face

i hear
                    all the rich people telling me we’re all the same
no fear
                    i’m not just a pawn in their perverse wealth management game

there’s no jobs
what if there’s no gods
shoot ourselves in the nose just to spite our face

at home
                    waiting for the world to crumble down around me

at home
                    waiting for the world to crumble down around me

at home
                    waiting for the world to crumble down around me

January 30th, 2017

January 29th, 2017

a mewling baby
swings in a basket
woven with duct tape
and nylon ropes

seven men surround the child
seventh sons of seventh sons
the baby cries for mama
while the men tuck in their shirts

“don’t despair!
you are secure!
and still you swing
so bright and free!”

10 years later
swings a monster
from a rafter
in the basement

spitting snarling
malformed and twisted
safe and bound
free as can be

January 29th, 2017

January 28th, 2017

There comes a time when we heed a certain call
When we must hate everything, everyone
There are people dying
But its time to turn our heads and hide
Safe and sound, away from it all

We can’t go on pretending day by day
That we ain’t filled with a greedy, holy rage
We want what’s ours, ’cause we work so very hard
And the truth:
It’s you…we don’t wanna see

We hate the world, we hate your children
We are the ones who made Breitbart OK
And we hate giving
There’s a choice we’re making
We’re selling our own lives
It’s true we’ll look back someday
And we will weep

Send them away so they’ll know that we don’t care
And so we can say, we’re the land of the free
As God has shown us by smiting foes with stones
So we all must cut the helping hand

We hate the world, we hate your children
We are the ones who made Breitbart OK
And we hate giving
There’s a choice we’re making
We’re selling our own lives
It’s true we’ll all look back someday
Look back and weep

When you’re down and out, don’t look to us at all
Work hard like us, there’s no way that you can fall
Let us realize that a change can only come
Once we burn the place down for profit and fun

We hate the world, we hate your children
We are the ones who made Breitbart OK
And we hate giving
There’s a choice we’re making
We’re selling our own lives
It’s true we’ll look back someday
And we will weep

We hate the world, we hate your children
We are the ones who made Breitbart OK
And we hate giving
There’s a choice we’re making
We’re selling our own lives
It’s true we’ll all look back someday
Look back and weep

January 28th, 2017

January 27th, 2017

Torture can work, man
Torture
can
work

Torture is work, man
Torture
is
work

Make a bad hombre break, man
Hombre
will
break

Pain is your fate, man
Pain is
your
fate

Torture can work, man
Torture is work.
Torture can work, man
Torture is work.

Torture can work, man
Torture can work.
Torture can work, man
Yeah Torture is work!
Yeah Torture is
Torture is
Torture’s our work!

January 27th, 2017

The Waterwood Box, 7

Catch up!

Adam lifted the box to eye-level just in time to watch the drop fall from the box. His eyes followed the droplet through the air to the dry ground at his feet. The light, brown dirt slightly darkened where the water drop landed. Adam flipped the box right side up and stuck his hand inside the box to feel for any other wetness. “There’s nothing in it though,” he said.

“Well, there was something, but you lost it,” joked Mr. Might.

“That’s not funny, honey,” said Mrs. Might, smacking her husband’s arm.

The joke wasn’t funny to Adam either. The situation made him uncomfortable. He set the box on the table. Monkey jumped up from the table and ran inside to use the bathroom. Adam looked down to where the drop fell. The small spot of wetness looked larger and darker still, as though someone spilled a tall glass of water there. But that couldn’t be. It was such a tiny drop. Adam slipped one foot out of his flip-flop and touched his toes to the wet ground. Is that mud? The spot grew into a spill and, before Adam’s eyes, it blossomed into a patch of mud. Adam panicked. “Dad, Mom, what was in that box?” Mr. Might stood up from his chair and he, too, noticed something was very wrong.

“What the – ?” he said. The muddy ground give way as soon as he put his full weight on it. “It’s muddy over here.”

“It’s muddy over here, too.” said Leon.

Cory looked at Adam. “What is it Adam? What’s going on?”

Adam shook his head in disbelief. He could only watch water well up from the ground around his feet. Confused and frightened, he couldn’t move. After a few seconds, Adam found his voice. Water encircled his ankles. Adam looked to his parents and cried, “What did I do?”

The Waterwood Box, 7