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POOKA -- a water spirit that looks like a horse
The creak and smell of the leather saddle
Spook, a gelding bought cheap from the trail ride place,
the ground so close
the stirrup, so tempting, like a step,
had anyone ever successfully jumped
from a runaway horse?
many were dragged, foot caught in the stirrup
Warriors stepped down on the ground and
back up, on a running horse --
slipped to one side, clung with heels
and a hand wound in the mane
using the horse as a shield
I held that picture in my mind
and Spook gave up,
head down on his snakelike neck,
though he still ignored the bridle
and kept running till he got to the fence,
he didn't buck
couldn't reach the stirrups; maybe one --
but it might pull the saddle off and slide under his stomach,
clutching a stitch in my side from the pounding saddle
with every stride of those terrible hooves,
the ground in front of the saddle horn,
the bit was in his teeth
All three horses waited at the top of the hill
to run down at you and
swerve off at the last second,
brushing past you at full gallop --
playing chicken
if you walked through their pasture
every summer I got up my courage
and tried to ride one of them;
Christie, a pregnant mustang Dad bought from
the slaughter house bucked me off,
you had to use a saddle with her sharp backbone,
her colt, Donna, an Arabian,
then one spring spook bit off the cat's tail
as she sat on the fence post with her tail
dangling in his corral,
she survived and was a bobcat
Spook let you grab his mane and swing up on him bareback, no bridle
when he was eating hay in the soft snow in
in winter, outside the barn door
when I was eight, dreaming of riding
Horses menaced my dreams for decades
until finally they became more friendly,
swimming in fast-moving rivers --
seeming to gesture for me to jump in too,
once a horse with an unearthly smile
waited outside the door of a school
where we were refugees from a flood
sleeping on the floor,
the horse and bull walked away along the beach once
above my head, sliding in the loose earth
with their powerful muscles and massive hooves
after I took their baby calf hostage
Finally I woke up riding a horse in a dream -- hell for leather
ahead of a raging, pursuing, bull or bison,
it was just like the day Spook ran away
except I wasn't afraid of my horse,
just a profound sympathy and guilt --
the horse couldn't outrun him
with me on his back
It's been a long time now, with no dreams of horses
just a dark haired girl leading a white pony
************************
Ted and Alice and Bob and Shelley
for Ted Berrigan, Alice Notley, Bob Rosenthal and Shelley Kraut
Who thought when we sat around Ted & Alice's
dining room table in Chicago -- Alice, lounging in the window seat
in a gray skirt, pregnant with Anselm
searching for all her poems about stars -- the ones George loved
and wanted to publish
and later Anselm, at five, giving tours of his room to the adults at a
party --
showing his books and paintings; wouldn't go to sleep
Edward, six months, awake in his crib too
playing with his toes -- two little night owls --
at his parents packed party after a poetry reading
Alice telling about the social worker's visit, her saying
how can you live like this?
five room apartment in Chicago
the kids pulling out tufts of stuffing from the old couch
on the beautiful bare hardwood floor
crumbs on the kitchen counters, and not much else
Ted wouldn't move from his favorite chair anymore
everyone left the party but Shelley and me --
to go buy cokes and beers, their refrigerator was bare of milk for
the baby
let alone enough for 100 people!
the women were safe from him, Ted said, as long as they didn't
come
within his reach -- his chair was right by the front door
So we went and stood by his chair and he told us
how he used to inject speed right into his heart
but now he only drank cokes.
I wandered around, discovered the kitchen; lovely bare counters,
no dirty dishes; and following the wall around --
her children, and let Anslem out
left well enough alone with Edward, unpicked up
Later Bob & Shelley moved to New York; they all did
Bob became Allan Ginsberg's secretary for many years,
and they took the train back to Chicago, picked up the car
and drove cross-country when Aliah was five
and Isaac was eight months and learning
to crawl -- staying with friends all along their route
Bob's dad, the psychologist, dying of Altzhiemers
And Shelley told me she'd gone to Upstate New York to the cabin
for a reading -- and going back to the car
through the woods, Alice was drunk and
she had to pull her up -- falling drunk in the snow
There's more than one way to commit suicide
altzheimers, agorophobia, autism, anorexia, alcoholism --
"Fuckin 'A' ", Allan said when he stopped by
on his way through LA,
they had wakes all across the country for Ted
when he died, around 1990,
the one in LA was at Beyond Baroque and the street
outside was closed because they were filming an action
movie -- right in the middle of the wake there was an explosion
when they blew up a car,
Mike Lally was in the back row -- talking about the last time we
met --
his hair was to his waist then, on the news in '68,
being shoved down the steps of the Capital Building in Des Moines
by the Secretary of Agriculture,
and all of us packed in the back of someone's station wagon
driving to Allan & Cinda's party after another reading in Iowa
City --
Mike asking me if I put new clothes in the closet for years too
like him
before I wore them -- was it an Irish thing,
he'd been in a few commercials and an HG Wells, Food of the Gods
movie about
giant mutated animals caused by pollution, genetic mutations
after awhile, before he died
Ted didn't even sit in the chair anymore -- didn't leave his bed
visitors had to talk to him from the hall
Ted and Alice both won $10,000 poetry awards in the same year
and spent it in a couple of months
hanging around the pool hall
**********************************
URBAN FOREST POETRY
Los Angeles you almost break my heart
you borrow it and give it back wrung out --
but I try it on and it's still mine
you pawn it and buy it back for me
you send it to class
and give it back in little pieces, after the test
Auto Mechanics for Women --
what tools do you need for an oil change?
American car; Volkswagon
what tools do you need to do a tune up?
you take it and leave town for days
in a ribbon of tail lights across the desert, for Vegas
you stop and dig up a cactus infested with scorpions
and plant it in your yard
you employ millions
from the air you might be a forest
you hide under a canopy of tree-lined streets and neighborhoods
you tell me don't plant four-o'clocks, bamboo or lilies
you'll never get rid of them, not even with dynamite
don't plant ficus trees; they brought roto rooter into existence
your faucets will slow to a trickle and your toilets won't flush
and you'll have to hold it until you get to work
everyone who comes here says the same things at first
they remark on the palm trees, the car exhaust filled streets,
the glitter of glass on the sidewalks
no one walks barefoot in LA
freeways: 5, 405, 605, 10, 210,
Golden State, San Diego, Harbor
five killed, hitting deer on the new toll road in Orange County
and the fences are already 10 feet tall
transplanted urban farmers dig up their yards, add topsoil, for
vegetables
neighbors cats on every side jump up on the wall
the neighbors' third grade kids
climbed the fence to grab a baby rabbit
stick it in their pockets, and run away to brag at the gas station
now they're in fifth grade
they talk to each other about the old days
come back to throw heavy glass bottles from the sidewalk --
the unmistakeable crash of breaking glass in the driveway
and someone has to go down and sweep up the big pieces
that would cut someone or damage car tires
their parents were from Louisiana, N California, or Oklahoma
but they are from LA
your downtown is miles of strip malls
satin and lace hearts, in strings of Christmas lights
Sunday strolls: window shopping in your malls
or your marshes and wetlands
full of abandoned rabbits, crows, migrating birds and butterflies
Los Angeles you break our hearts
that's where we feel it, in our hearts
-- it is your pain
*****************************
SESTINA -- FIVE RECURRING DREAMS
sestina: a lyrical fixed form consisting of six 6-line usu. unrhymed
stanzas in which the end words of the first stanza recur as end words
of the following five stanzas in a successively rotating order and
as the middle and end words of the three verses of the concluding
tercet. Webster's Dictionary
You are falling asleep
your hand is floating
you drift too high off the edge of the earth, the night sky is so blue
you can't feel yourself breathing anymore
down and down; look at yourself and see what you have on
count each landing of the stairs
you can't feel your feet; they too are floating
you are too tired to move, too tired to feel sad, blue
you can't care about anything anymore
you grab the railing, pulling yourself on
there are bloody hand prints on the stairs
you can barely drag yourself; you must be asleep
You remember things when you see colors: green and blue
you can't hear any sounds anymore
finally the last landing; still you go on
you are at the bottom of the stairs
you walk through your future; everyone is asleep
you move among their bunks; it is easy now, you're floating
Your sight dims; you can't see anymore
frozen at the edge of a polished marble precipice you're teetering on
aren't you glad I was there; pulled you back, says a man on the stairs
locked in a glass building with women and children asleep
you decide to smash the glass door and it opens, silently floating
the women wear lipstick, their lips are green, blue
You sink over your head in quicksand you were just walking on
someone throws rocks at your back on the stairs
you try to analyze if you went wrong; spent too much time asleep
what looked like shallow water; is dangerous currents; you're floating
you stare in the mirror until haze forms clouds, tinged blue
you don't recognize your face anymore
The smooth beige stone looks like Italy; those stairs
crossing a foot bridge over a river; you fall asleep
frozen like a statue, but upright, awake floating
the water a frothy flood and blue; you can't look down at it anymore
you must go on; more often an arm around you helping you up the stairs
won't let you sleep; digs you up when you tunnel underground; pulls
you down from floating
*************************************
INVITATION TO WHOM IT MAY CONCERN
Who whispers so, my ears are ringing
What stops my heart beat, sudden and painful
You speak just when I stop listening
When did I invite it, this life, this temporary memory
Where will the shakeup change our minds
Why did things work out like this
We're always asking why, like children
Why and where and when and what, with whom
COINCIDENCES
warm excuses
the dark spaces between the eyes
the eyelids, the curtains
it has something to do with coincidences
believing in one thing
and harassed by others
NIGHTMARISH HOUSEKEEPING
you're so funny, really
the sign on the dracenia says it's hardy
it likes hot weather
mint growing in a coffee can
bends over the edge of the can
looking for a way to take over the whole lawn
walking slime mold crosses the walls
in dead air spaces
fuzzy, but not a nice fuzzy
it knows hardly any lung capacity
hiding in the bathroom
taking lots of chances
the world of the small might cease
THE OTHER
two worlds
rampant with red herrings
set upon by sleep
a clean bathroom
a small rug, light switch, mirror, shower
a gold shower curtain
the light goes on and off by itself
when it rains; the roof leaks
bird talk in my left ear
early morning
dawn pink
I used to hate waking up early
high tide of diamonds
sparks around the paper perimeter
symmetrical sprouts on the chef's salad
blue days
defray time
no dream, no sleep
the next day
you put it all back
and wonder where
BIG BANG
in the shadows
the big shake-up
the world comes into existence as quarks
people exist as quirks
verdure and koi
wild rice
and slippery rocks
it might be damp and dangerous
PRIVATE INDUSTRY
wine bottles litter the table
like pyorrhea at the annual
office party
*
such a sure thing
you could almost bet
your shirt, your pants
almost anything
*
precedents and hypodermic needles
second and third guesses
this company makes rubber stoppers for syringes
*
the man in the apartment building
up the street
must have come home drunk and parked across
three of our parking spots
*
they must have it made
they have so many ass kissers
they can't sit down
the office manager says to watch the comptroller
walk across the parking lot
he walks like he has a corncob up his butt
he does
*
stand up and lose your seat
*
I dream that we are on a new, high, super highway
but it goes back to the old street
at every cross street
and we have to keep getting off
and going around
*
5 days a week, 8 hours a day; dead or alive
you can do it; others have
for ages in this country
COFFEE BREAK
bare words grace the sandcastle desks on whistle beach
specific cold shoulders
understated back necklines
rigorous, exaggerated imaginations
and traditional slang
you bet coffee needs sugar
as a consequence
bare winds and road maps
inside lots of shoes
beside coffee, by the phone
NERVOUS BREAKDOWN for my 27th birthday
in the absense of mad dogs
driving us off the mattress
the nights are warm
hot rain in the crosswalks
the beating of helicopters on the pavement
and high up crossing the city
happy birthday
out of the blue, a terrifying present
this is what happens
you go on and on
you can't go back
details are different for each one of us
but all the same
the fabric of life rips
and has to immediately mend
taped together with normalcy
you see something out of the corner of your eye
something that seems unspeakable
but is sort of cute like a a crow hopping off the curb
by the bus bench at the Federal Building
what lies out of sight in the past or future
you tremble as if with cold or fear
the truth is not clear,
it just seems horrible
the bull retreats before the minotaur
his breathing is shallow
his arms are folded
he is ready
and will not be put off
go ahead, point your gun at it
shoot
and see what happens to you
the truth knows no favorites
imaginary dreams and terrible memories
imaginary memories and terrible dreams
the real is the same as the fake
BURNING BRIDGES
burning your houses behind you
the whole street of houses
leading into your home town
burned to the ground
each one burned a little more
the Jennings, the Van Pelts
until by the time you get to the Suckows
and Hermans at the end of the block
by the bridge out of town
all that's left is foundations and chimneys
SECRET DIARY
space ships outside the window
call each other Ivan
and I'm not even asleep
motors humming all night
stops right before dawn
EXCESSES
early dawn
I mean morning
damn
little excesses
excuses
you can tell him anything
the unseemly and the decorative
werewolves talking business
a look full of tears
a crowd, a coke
wonderfully improper
there are some words
seldom seen in this tense
my boat is like a night hawk
living in strands of strategy
bees exhausted on the sidewalk
worker bees
walking aimlessly
I guess this is retirement
USED BODY
good shape
one owner
new appendix
has had shots
papers
a tale of two kidneys
I LOVE LUCY
Lucy pulls the plug on the rowboat
and it puffs up
meanwhile in the kitchen
she makes bread with ten times
too much yeast
Ethel comes down
and gets the knife
Lucy stabs the bread
but misses and stabs
the lifeboat instead
the bathroom springs a leak
and fills up with water
then Ethel has to go to the bathroom
and opens the door
she yells to Lucy to get the lifeboat
Lucy says, I can't; I stabbed it
then Rickie knocks on the door
and Fred says, clean up this mess
IT'S HARD TO TEACH
it's hard to teach a mean dog tricks
it's hard to teach a neat dog tricks
it's a trick to teach a mean dog
to be neat
it's mean to trick
it's hard to mean
to be mean
to teach
a dog mean tricks
too hard to dog a dog
mean tricks
mean
dog
mountain stir
strange
beauty
bird
valves roll
perch tender
purple
sleep morning
sweet early
plume
YOU'LL BE FEELING THE PINCH SOON
the troops wanted to fall back
but fell down
fragments of insurance
embedded in their veins
oh, the fallen memories
that beg us to forget them
funny how things change, isn't it, sir?
until you came and pulled me out
I felt no different
go and see my wife and baby
and tell them what happened to me
I see the gun shaking in your hand
I think I should give you a home
if I had one to give
you found me here in my foxhole
or is it a grave, time passes quickly
I see all around me the starry sky
YOU'RE NO ANGEL -- Karma Poem
remember me,
I'm the guy
who used to follow you around
you didn't like to be seen in public
by someone who knew
your private life
you wanted plenty of free space
for doing your
human drinking bout
it became such an issue
that I began going in other directions
whenever I saw you coming
and now I'm uncomfortable
being in the same room with you
sometimes I feel like
you are following me around
COMMON SENSE
life is an obstacle illusion course
*
just like everyone else
a judge should do "student teaching"
in a jail for a year
and pass the time as a jailhouse lawyer
but then maybe no one would want to judge
*
i mean, maybe no one would want that job
maybe jail is not that bad
maybe a forture teller promised
you'd never be arrested
so go ahead, be bold
*
don't take no for an answer
question everything
dance for eight hours
and see if you get tired
*
persistence is rewarded
the Highway Patrol finally
got to trade their cars for motorcycles
like the Hells Angels
we've heard so much about
*
they tried to move its fingers
it took thousands of them
to wiggle the pinkie
soon the whole hand was grabbing for money
*
we're out of the woods now
the bear is out of the woods
the emergency
crawled out of the ocean
and became necessity
*
we are the fishes
that got away
*
out of sight
out of time
*
thoughts in the air
begging to be put into words
before they look ordinary
and disappear
*
sound asleep
we hear nothing
we are butterflies
beating our wings
against the sky
How to Treat Wives
-- serial soulmates
1st like dirt
2nd like eggshells
3rd like a baby
4th like a nurse
1st for sex and babies
2nd for career
3rd for talking baby talk
4th a nurse with a purse
JUST LIKE EDGAR CAYCE
Gramps: I walk on the wings that raise up. It doesn't matter if I can keep up. Who can these days.
Alcoholic: I walk on wings too; at least I think that's what they are. It happens every time I drink tequila.
Gramps: It's pretty late in the day for that.
Alcoholic: Don't tell me your problems.
Gramps: I only got one problem and that's money.
Alcoholic: My problem's the mayor and police; they keep having picnics in my front yard (outside my window).
Gramp: Why don't they post the rules where you can see?
Alcoholic: How many words is this going to take? We're running out of E's and A's.
Gramps: Don't worry, I've been talking for years and I haven't run out yet.
Alcoholic: I know; I hear you every morning singing in the shower and muttering about Pro's and Con's.
Gramps: Don't drift away on me. I want to know how I can get paid for doing what I do naturally.
Alcoholic: I'd like to get paid for drinking (up all the) cheap beer and wine, with tequila for dessert. Somebody has to do it.
Gramps: What's that?
Alcoholic: Some guy downtown is buying words for 15 cents apiece.
Gramps: Don't you believe it, son; the only thing a word will get you is another word.
Alcoholic: you sound like that guy last night that wouldn't quit buying rounds even when we couldn't drink another drop.
Gramps: You mean to tell me that you want to see your kids have kids.
Alcoholic: What do you take me for, a yeast?
Gramps: I don't follow you.
Alcoholic: I mean, count your money and throw it away.
Gramps: In other words, X marks the spot.
Alcoholic: Is that why I keep getting struck by lightning, I thought I'd done something wrong.
Gramps: In other words you're a dipsy doodle, now move along, I think it's getting cloudy.
BARBIE on my 50th birthday
Can I come in?
My bust is large
my hair is long
well-brushed and curly
I am flesh colored
and as innocent
of thoughts as a doll
I am a sidekick to your Lone Ranger
I like Star Trek, Saturday morning cartoons
anything you want to watch
if you are a thinker
I am programmed to speak
I talk about your obsessions
whatever you have a weakness for
you don't have to be a biologist
to wonder if there's life
on other planets
or how we shall use space
when we've conquered it
or why no country can make it
to Mars
air makes fire burn
wind blows out fire
finger attracts fire
loving on borrowed time
repossessed or paid up
your life is seven light minutes
compared to mine
light can be transmuted
but it can't be slowed down
and when it's too dark to read
and the TV screen is reflecting off the chair legs
I'm like the sun
clothes can't cover my beauty
my mind is a pool
in which reason
floats awhile and disappears
nonetheless,
I could spend whole days
changing clothes:
get out of bed; sleep shirt
changed for towel
then nice clothes for work or school
home again; change to everyday clothes
rubber boots to muck about the yard
cleaning up the dog and/or cat poop
skates and bikes and digging in the garden
mowing the lawn
evening gowns
then watching TV in a nightgown
everyday clothes
so worn out and soft
shoes, accessories
every
day
BEWARE
beware what you wear
*
it's been buyer beware for a long time
*
insanity hits like a disease
*
seller beware
the programs that programmed us to buy on time;
to make payments; to mortgage
have programmed us to nationalize
*
the past is before us because we
can see it clearly
we are backing into the future
AMERICAN BOOK OF THE DEAD -- BARDO (BETWEEN WORLDS)
terrorists
victims of passion
all who sympathize
the temporary dreamers
drawn to your plight
like the flight of like-minded birds
don't be afraid
at least we can smile
when we meet
in dreams
the living are bold in dreams
do something
even if it's wrong
through the wilderness of pollution
and wage slavery
we drag dreams back
and die for
an American book of the dead --
I am just a dreamer
but I've seen you
or someone representing you
a symbol such as a yellow T-shirt identified you
we spoke
in body language
you surrounded sheepishly
by your followers
you grab our imaginations
with your young slender bodies
one of us speaks--
my beloved waits outside the door
I open it
but outside the door
were crowds
in London waiting for a train
and going for coffee
at least this city has enough character
to know where you are
not like some city in the Midwest
folie au douze; shared insanity some would say
you twelve terrorists yesterday in Manhattan
leveled the skyline
but the ghosts of cities also remain
why death is perhaps so solitary
if this is true
if there are no more lies in interpretation
if dreams are the small death
if I have seen you
been there, remember
and know
the mute throngs
the vast trackless grasslands
the walking
the folk wisdom -- that three and thirteen
are unlucky; kill one
what if when we die
no one meets us
there's neither heaven
nor hell
even if we tie ourselves together
and die together
try to find the edge of a huge city
slip back a few more blocks
when our attention wanders
walk over and over
to the same place
a point of reference
the edge of land
an ocean
we quickly become separated
I am learning
we can see each other
we can
smile
when we meet
but we're all alone
the ultimate horror
babies wake up
screaming
we are all
the victims of passion
what do you do
where do you...
who do you...
when you're alone
asking yourself why
don't forget to turn around
a loan
alone
a lone
gunman
what if you die
what if you
what if you
what if
what if women
stopped having so many children
children run ahead
to be pounced on
by mountain lions
it is their nature
it is their racial memory
9/12/01
NO SURRENDER
WON'T
BACK
DOWN
--American music: Bruce Springsteen and Tom Petty
music again pours out of open doorways
in Mazar-e-Sharif
mourners wail
sounds like bagpipes
music must originate in
the same part of the brain
as emotion
the drums
dancing, chanting, drumming
in america car radio bass at red lights
shakes apartment buildings
a block away
savage music
takes the place of war
resistence
sublingual chants
vocal cords ripping
yeah!
money
changes
--Cyndi Lauper
DEFENSIVE JIHAD
--Osama bin Laden
two wrongs do make a right--
they always have anyway
there are always two evil empires--
in algebra and in the world
keeping each other in line
to protect the little guys just
trying to get by: the meek,
the trees, the earth
it is a fine line we walk
between total success
and total annihilation
we must give credit where credit is due
we must step up and take our responsibility
ODE TO KRISHNA
you run through the meadows
with your pan pipes
hairy legs
tirelessly pumping
alone in the meadow
at sunrise
the sun comes up
over the edge of the earth
your female followers
all slip away
all home
chopping and baking
don't you wish now
you hadn't slept
with all your
friends wives?
SOAP OPERAS
-- I've done everything for you; you've done nothing for me.
Rick Springfield
--An American Poem for American Women
Esther listened to General Hospital on the radio
I looked out the window over the sink and it was summer;
the radio was on top of the refrigerator
in the afternoon there were Westerns on TV
and I was supposed to stay on the couch
it was my island
Lucille lived next door to the school
on a creek that flooded in the spring
her stories: As the World Turns and
The Edge of Night
the college the girls watched Dark Shadows
In the 80's, me generation
characters got into lots of trouble and
the expendable ones
had to die
significant pauses and lots of illness
some of the characters have gone on for years
almost 50 years--
like Nurse Jesse on General Hospital
she started out as a patient
getting her tonsils out when she was five
then an appendectomy
and a nose job in her teens
pretty soon it will be General Nursing Home
and then General Mortuary
as the characters begin to die
when I was a kid
there were no re-runs
TV was new
smoking a few cigarettes
was good for you
it killed off the germs in your lungs
Indians only smoked at night
****************************
Corporal Klingon
-- Irish-American Poem
an Irish priest--
a vampire, and out of the grave
so fast he passes his own pall bearers
"for a normal procession we would
have stopped at all the bars
on the way to the graveyard."
everything is civilized except for the rattlesnakes
life gets boring
with no one to torture
time-motion studies are quality assurance-- Frederick Taylor
boredom causes the worker the most stress
coworkers, boss, unpleasant or unsafe working conditions
bore and kill the worker
and the fairies herd sheep along country roads
driving them back with whips
**************************
NOBODY WALKS IN LA
when I was a kid
we had to walk up the hill to meet the school bus;
the driver didn't have to come down our road
if the roads were too muddy
and he didn't come
if a bird crapped in the middle of the road
through history
there has always been a reason not to walk in cities
even if you're thick skinned
and don't mind the comments
of extroverts and drunks
or water balloons
or angry people driving on the sidewalk
through history
Vikings, Mongols, the Golden Horde
have wondered if pedestrians
have shit for brains
in America ghosts bum rides
and disappear
when you pass the cemetery
and a little girl kills her dad
because he didn't go to her violin recital
***********************
RATS ASS
-- an American Poem for American Men
"like hell," you say
in a rat's ass
go piss up a rope
chicken shit
you've got a snowball's chance in hell
things go to hell in a handbasket
when hell freezes over
you and whose army
and in hell they want ice water;
shit in one hand and want in the other
and see which one you get first;
the big pieces float to the top
it'll be a cold day in hell
it's cold as hell
it's cold as a witch's tit
cold as a well digger's ass
hells bells
you haven't got sense enough to pour piss out of boot--
got as much direction as a fart in a whirlwind
have your head up your ass
pounding sand down a rat hole
crepe hanger
piss and moan
the shit, you say
you fiddle fart around
you asshole
I should kick your ass up around your shoulders
you make an ass of yourself
you son-of-a-bitch
you poor bastard
you horse's ass
you fell down the shit house
and came up smelling like a rose
you shit house lawyer
who asked you, Lawyer Smith
who pulled your chain
you'd gag a maggot
your butt looks like two bears
fighting in a sack
your face looks like someone set it on fire
and stamped it out with track shoes
you candy ass marshmallow
nail your balls to the wall
smooth move, ex-lax
you sawed off runt
you're full of shit
I'll beat you within an inch of your life
I'll make you wish you'd never been born
you're piss poor
shit out of luck;
you don't know whether to shit
or go blind;
you're half-assed
you piss like a race horse
and shit a brick
you lame brain;you wouldn't be happy if we hung
you with a new rope;
you're as happy as a dog with two tails
get your ass in gear
you don't have half a brain between you;
if I want any shit out of you
I'll screw your head off and dip it out;
I'm not talking just to hear my head rattle
don't worry about shit it floats
shit rolls downhill
you're busier than a one-armed paper hanger
you step all over your dick
you're dead in the water
you're a loose cannon
you think you're hot shit
when you get old they take you out back and shoot you
oh, hell
it's way to hell and gone that direction
drive like a bat out of hell
flat as a bookkeeper's ass
flat as the Texas plains
the snarl of mosquitoes
piss on em
winning through assimilation
tough tittie
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