Niall Rasputin

by Horror Sleaze Trash on March 28, 2013

My beautiful picture
Niall Rasputin lives on a houseboat in a swamp in SE Louisiana. He writes poetry to kill his mental demons. Then, he feeds their bodies to the alligators. He smokes too many cigarettes and drinks too much coffee most days. He has a love/hate relationship with the universe.
(1)
 the golden drool  

 

he smells like burnt out

light bulbs wrapped in week-old

deli meat.

 

“the ghost of your red panties

haunts my every erection,”

he whispers unto the emptiness.

 

“yippies of nipples grow on blue birdsongs

and red street signs. siren whores!”

he shouts into his dilapidated

brown shoe.

 

as I walk by,

I hand him a sympathetic

5 dollar bill, and ask him

to kindly leave the bus stop.

 

whatever he has,

I don’t want to catch.

 

he stumbles away yelling,

“hemlock vagina pie

with saddle cheese dressing.

Miss Satan lies therein!”

 

one weary day,

I might demand that God

explain itself to me.

 

on that day,

I hope some kind person walks by

with a sympathetic

5 dollar bill,

and a word of sane advice.

 

amen.

 



 

(2)

feels

implosion feels.

time lies.

eons sleep.

you whisper.

neon dreams.

Dad drinks.

sex bruises.

space wants.

death crawls.

Mom dies.

drugs ooze.

trees fall.

chimneys belch.

smoke breathes.

witches burn.

Sister calls.

birds steal.

words drown.

Brother snorts.

sky taunts.

legs tingle.

horror reels.

insects buzz.

implosion feels.

 

Fate hides behind the distractions

with a fire in his eyes and a knife in his hand.

 


 

(3)

 

litigious

got sad and bored,

walked 6 blocks,

climbed 8 flights of stairs,

walked to the edge of the roof,

and jumped.

 

landed on the sidewalk,

shattered several bones,

bled a big shiny puddle,

but Death did not come.

 

now,

I’m suing the building owner,

designing architect,

concrete company

who laid that sidewalk,

and 12 year old

who filmed the whole scene

with her pink smart phone,

and posted it to the internet.

 

I’d sue Death, too, if I could.

how dare that rotten bastard

stand me up at the casket!

 

it’s painful and frustrating

to be a perpetual victim.

 

but, the pay and benefits

really aren’t too bad.

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