Friday, May 20, 2011


I would like to say hello to my Mother!
She is a pretty good lady
May she have all the fried okra and cornbread
that she could ever want

Thursday, May 19, 2011

Clean Flying Spaghetti Monster

It rolls from within me like
a backfire from a Nixon era driving machine
brought to attention and forced panic
riddles the very loins of me
Definite as a killer bee swarm on
a school playground.
The ancient Pastafarians
could see the temperatures and rising seas
like the event that fills within me
The embers wakeless inside that only
the Monster would understand this abysmal
affliction that haunts and taunts
Some times I can see it
like a drug store hallucination
The Flying Spaghetti Monster
floating and glopping
so majestically
With sound that rivals
the eruption of a beer volcano
The Flying Spaghetti Monster
verbalizes to me:
"Can you see the clean"
The Flying Spaghetti Monster
bellows down to me
wallowed noodle tentacles closer to me
"Can you see the clean?"
"Can you see the clean?"
More trees destroyed by me
Paper after paper
In the water office
destroying these things
Through the dark valley
Repetitively the perineum really
knows the society of me
The genuine company of me
again and again and again
never completely
Nesting in my mind like an abortion
billboard on the side of the road
Oh Great Flying Spaghetti Monster
please save me from this neurosis
that never ever leaves
Always burrowing in my psyche
Never escaping the shackles of my neural structure
It seems I am destined to live unlike any pirate
chained to this plague of disturbance
that cripples my fate
always in front and below me
Am I clean
Truly clean
But Flying Spaghetti Monster never answers me
It just bursts out like an old town clock
from a fake Austrian town:
"Can you see the clean?"
Oh Flying Spaghetti Monster
I do dream and maybe if I am lucky
one glorious day I will indeed
See the Clean