POEMS 1999 by Tom Miller
end of the year
i
haven’t written much lately
but there is still drinking
smoking cigarettes and
marijuana
all the poet’s vices
and idea makers and shakers
with the split pea soup
on the pot
and fingers on the run
pecking out more of a
ramble than a poem
this poet enjoys the gold
in cuervo especial
and me in only a towel
my neck cracks
like a machine gun
the blinds are closed
the light is out
heading into next year
right after christmas
1999
seems like a song i heard yesterday
resolutions for the new year
it's a new year
and i resolve
to continue drinking
smoking
writing
fucking
trying to fall in love and failing
fucking
avoiding creditors
staining my teeth with coffee
fucking
and i resolve to
check out
at my appointed time
maybe this year
maybe the next
poetry and dingleberries
some poets
remember every word
they ever wrote
and can read their work
anywhere
off the cuff
as for me
I’m not that
bright
without paper
I’m nothing
but at least
I don’t
walk around the
town
with a
dirty
ass.
another cigarette poem
the
smoke from my
smoke
is young and old
together
floating off
into the air
like snow
the ashes
grow
out and off
down and gone
up goes the smoke
down go the ashes
out go the
2 girls
the skin head boy
watches after
he wants to
fuck them
once
and then
hate them for being
sluts
I had better
put this out
before the
filter burns
and the stars
wink out
and the moon
drops into
the sea
another cigarette poem
into the dust.
I monster
I am the dirty thing
in the closet
under the bed
in your underwear
I have no love
for you
you’ll open the door
you’ve been
expecting me
and my cock
will fuck your ass
with no mind…
animal!
Fuck you
like an object
and you are a thing
like me
you’ll say
thank you
when I leave
my cum on your face
and marks where
my claws have been
you’ll think about me
every day but
I’ll forget about you
like money you give
to a stranger
never expecting
to get it back.
dumb fuck
did you think
you could hold
anything
like a sea shore
or a fence
are you some kind
of camera
are you a painter
of landscape
even the painter
even the camera
fails
the sea shore
erodes
the fence
deteriorates
so does the painter
so does the poet
did you think
you could imprison
memories?
Nothing holds nothing
you dumb fuck
the paint
is
m
e
l
t
i
n
g
a
s
we
speak.
the best in town
last time
I ate sushi
a roach crawled over
and sniffed my
fish
then he crawled off
and I knew
it was fresh
on death and a duck
I’ll go out
on a sunbeam
or a
comet
but not
in an ashtray
not in an
empty bottle of beer
I’ll go down
in an explosion
of frightened
glow-in-the-dark
fish
or
evaporate in a drop
on a hotplate
hell!
I wouldn’t mind
a trip
down the toilet
in the shit of a priest
out and into the
sick green sea
but I’m not going out
in the thick puddle
on the sidewalk
of a young girl’s
first cocktail
or on a boat
in a pond
with a duck
and the afternoon
sun
shining sunbeams
of me and ashes
and beer and fish
and mist and shit
and vomit
and a duck
one duck in the pond
dead center
in the crosshairs
of my bazooka
there was a man who had to fart
not an ordinary fart
not a bean fart
not a beer fart
not an egg fart
nor an asparagus fart
but a fart of
such magnitude
a blend of the
worst
best
a biblical fart
a fart for the
history books!
A better fart
than ginsberg
a better fart
than plath or carver
a better fart
than poe or tennyson
a better fart
than even bukowski
a fart to shame
kerouac and blake
a fart to outright kill
e. e. cummings
a fart to kick
ayn rand in her man cunt
a fart to obliterate
gertrude stein
a fart to assassinate
langston hughes
a fart to implode
any and every great writer
there ever was
is
or will be.
stand back
you bastards
because when the stink
is gone
there will be nothing left
but clean fresh
air.
Here’s my ass.
Here’s my butthole.
Here comes jesus to
send you all to burning
white hell.
I feel it.
this is real.
this is poetry.
This is your stinking
motherfucking cocksucking god
almighty poetry sucks my cum spurting
ball licking SATAN FUCKS
ALL THE HORSES IN THE BARN
JESUS!!
JESUS!!!
GOD!!!
JESUS!!!
URGH…
UMPH…
"poot."
the irony of fire
the old
wooden church
burned down.
arson,
they said.
So they
collected funds
and built a new
better
bigger
church.
But nobody thanked god
for the arsonist.
for you god, sincerely
the climb up the tree
a child’s joy
the climb down
an adult terror
what of the fall
god?
Where are you
when summer leaves
turn into light
the ground into
darkness
I only know
I want to be
a better man
we all have sinned
some less
some more
I
perhaps
more than most
to be good
is an intangible
savior
but I do want love
and redemption
what of the fall
god?
What of the fall?
I pray
let me fall well
or at least
better than before
let me fall
like a child
forever
(for roger)
is a sound
ringing
in the silence
of space
in the stones
buried deep beneath
cities
penetrating
even diamonds
forever
is not a word
but something
beyond the
boundless ocean
of lights and
cold suns that
dream of us
together
Things You Can Do - 1999
1. Bring helium balloons to an old folk’s home and tie them into everyone’s hair.
2. Pay for City Hall to close down a street for a parade you’re planning. On the day of the parade, walk down the street.
3. Go into the library and shout at the librarian, "I DON’T HEAR VERY WELL! WHERE DID YOU SAY THE HUSTLER MAGAZINES ARE?"
4. Kill a mosquito with a needle.
5. Pull the wings off of an Africanized honey bee and put it in a red ant pile. That’ll show that motherfucker!
6. Tell your boyfriend or girlfriend you’re from Mars, and then anally probe them with a kitchen utensil.
7. Try to get a cat and a snake to fuck each other.
8. Fondle a parrot, but don’t repeat yourself.
9. Pull a fish out of the water, and when it opens and closes its mouth for air, put a little chewing gum in there.
10. Fill a squirt gun with milk and shoot cows in the mouth with it.
11. Go into a church, and when everybody is silent for a moment of prayer, shout, "I DON’T HEAR SO WELL! WHERE DID YOU SAY THE HUSTLER MAGAZINES ARE?"
12. Go to a hospital and find the maternity ward. Switch out one of the babies for a porcupine.
13. Go to the most expensive restaurant in town and order the steak and lobster, to go. Eat your food in the patio of the Homeless Shelter. If any of the hungry homeless people ask for some, say, "Get away from me. Can’t you see I’m eating?"
14. Ride on the public bus system with a turkey neck hanging out of your pants.
15. Next time you’re out at a club, try the following pick-up lines and see which ones work the best:
· Feel like gerbiling?· Anyone ever tell you you’re buttfucking ugly?
· So, what’s it gonna’ cost me to get you into bed?
· Nice tits. Where’d you buy ‘em?
· You’d love me. My dick is shaped like a starfish.
Football - A Play for 2 Male Actors
Ed and Bob are sitting on a park bench, talking.
Ed: I was watching you last night.
Bob: Really?
Ed: Yes. Out there on the field. At the football game.
Bob: We kicked their asses.
Ed: I know… but YOU were great.
Bob: Really?
Ed: The way you threw the ball to the receivers?
Bob: That was the easy stuff.
Ed: But then, in the last few minutes of the game, you ran it in
for a touchdown.
Bob: Just a lucky play. But we sure kicked their asses. What a
game.
Ed: The way the coach patted you on the butt…
Bob: What a game.
Ed: …and then, all the players patted you on the butt.
Bob: Yeah. They were congratulating me for the touchdown.
Ed: And I wondered if maybe later…
Bob: Now wait just a minute…
Ed: …maybe later… YOU’D let ME pat you on the butt.
Bob: Hey… um… that’s just a football thing. It doesn’t mean
anything.
Ed: It means something to me.
Bob: No… that’s okay.
Ed: Bob?
Bob: No.
Ed: Do you think I could…
Bob: No way, man.
Ed: …just pat you on the butt?
Bob: No.
Ed: Just one time? Just one little pat on the butt?
Bob: Listen man, are you queer or something?
(There is a long pause.)
Ed: Can I pat you on the butt?
Bob: Maybe if you played football, but you don’t.
Ed: I could learn. I could learn the rules. I could study the plays.
Bob: It just… wouldn’t be the same.
Ed: But we’re friends, Bob. Friends! Not like those guys on the
field, who you see just for practice, and for the big games.
We see each other every day. We eat together; go to the movies
together, laugh together, and yes, sometimes even cry together.
So I’m asking you, not as your team mate, but as your friend.
Can I pat your butt?
Bob: Are you sure you’re not gay?
Ed: Just one time, and I’ll never ask again.
Bob: If I do, you won’t tell anybody, will you?
Ed: I promise. It’ll be our little secret.
Bob: Well… okay. Just this once. (Bob offers his ass.)
Ed: (Pats Bob’s butt a couple of times, like a little girl.) Thank you, Bob.
Friend! My best and only friend! Thank you!.
Bob: Don’t mention it.
Ed: Can I suck your dick?
End
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