How To Make A Worm Do As You Command
By
Tom Miller
A Book of Poetry, Short Stories, Rumblings, Musings, and Flaborkia.
Revised and edited by Tom Miller
January 16, 2006
© 2000 FREDInk Productions
By
Tom Miller
A Book of Poetry, Short Stories, Rumblings, Musings, and Flaborkia.
Revised and edited by Tom Miller
January 16, 2006
© 2000 FREDInk Productions
Random Love
I love you, I
Said to her and she said,
UFOs are coming to
Take me away
She could have said
Frog or sewing machine or
10,000 beers had poison and
Were recalled
And the employees drank
Them and never died
She could have said
Anything really, but then again,
She could have been anybody
Anywhere anytime and
Maybe we were in love or
Maybe we were dead baby
Seals bleeding on the ice
How was I to know?
How is anyone to know?
Fish Lips Look Like Kissing
When you catch one
And pull it out of the water
And put it on your boat
It lies there and
Tries to live
The fish lips
Open and close like kissing
But really, the fish is
Dying
Dying trying to catch
A breath
Asking itself,
"Why me? Am I that stupid?"
Sometimes you throw it back
And watch it swim away
Feeling a certain pride that
You could catch anything at all
On your line
But sometimes
You just look
You wait and watch until
The lips don’t kiss
Anymore
Madhouse
Try anything
To get you going
Put your face
In snow
Bite off your toenails
Eat a bug
Watch a blade of grass
For seven hours
Masturbate
On a flower
Sing songs
Made of words
You invent
Do something
Anything
Lift your ass and
Fart glory to the sky
Hurt your friend
Get them to trust you
Then hurt them again
Put money in your mouth
Kiss dirt or trees
Normal things
Are as strange as this
Try anything
To get you going
To be alive
Before your greatest possession
Is a tombstone
Bought on credit
Wine
I have done
Things on wine
I would have never done
Things which I am both proud
And ashamed of
Grand things
Selfish things
Things which saved the world
Sucked dicks
Fucked pussies
Threw up on
People while
Sucking their dicks or
Fucking their pussies
Written the greatest poems
Of the century
Written the worst poems
About my mother
Taped a lizard to a firecracker
Smoked wax I thought was crack
Played with my shit
Put my finger in a dog’s ass hole
Dropped a cricket into an ant pile
Cried curled up in a corner
Held a gun to my head
Pulled the trigger
Been so drunk I
Couldn’t load a gun
Sometimes it’s a Chateau Le Blanc and
Sometimes it’s Boone’s Farm
Blow Your Friend
When in doubt
Blow your friend
Make your friend tell you
You suck dick better than his
Girlfriend
Take him to that dumb place
Where men shoot their schlorp
Where they make the dumb face
AHHH YORRGH NYAHHH!
Where wars and job and money
Disappear and instead, a white scunge
Splurts out of a blood filled
Tube of flesh and stink
Blow your friend
So that everything that matters
Turns to glue
Swallow every drop of
Essence swallow every half-baked
Child
Interfere with reproduction
Do it for pleasure
Help prevent a new child being born
Into a world of idiots by
Eating them
Swallow cum out of a
Swollen happy prick
Do it with a friend of yours
Because you’ll be doing them a favor
That you’d only do with strangers
For money
A Cat With Balls
I had a big furry tabby cat with the biggest set of cat balls
And though this cat had no claws, he terrorized the neighborhood
Cats by beating them to a pulp anyway.
It was the balls, I think. If you have a big set of balls, you don’t need
Claws to beat up the neighborhood cats. He didn’t know he didn’t have
Claws. He beat up the neighborhood cats with his balls.
When my cat would come home, I’d pet him and he’d purr. He’d purr
Like a ’74 Chevy Nova, he’d purr. And I’d pet his head and I’d pet his balls.
I’d say, "Where did you get that big gash on your head?"
One day, I came home and there on the porch was a rat head. I don’t know
Where the rest of the rat had gone, but the head had big eyes, horrified eyes.
I knew my cat had chewed this rat head off while it was still alive.
"Good pussy," I said. "Good pussy. What a set of balls on this cat. What a set of balls."
One day, my cat didn’t come home. I found him later in two parts on the road.
He had been run over like many cats get run over.
Acne Girl
Her face was pocked with acne and none of the boys wanted to take her to the prom, so she decided to go alone. Maybe she would meet a boy there who also had nobody to go with. Maybe he wouldn’t judge her by her unsightly acne and maybe he would dance with her.
That night, she coated her face with acne medication that would help to dry out all the pus that had coagulated around her eyes and nose. The next morning, She applied makeup and powder to disguise her horrible acne scars and pustulated mountains of infection.
When she was all finished, she looked like giant sandpaper, but only under directional lighting.
"I’m beautiful," she said as one of the boils on her lip oozed a yellow fluid. She wiped it away and headed out to the prom.
When she got there, all the boys looked at her acne and laughed at her pus. They were pointing and laughing, and acne girl began to cry. But off in the distance, there was a boy seated all by himself. He weighed three hundred and seventy five pounds, but he had a handsome hairstyle.
Acne girl thought to herself, "Now there’s a boy who will dance with me. Yes, he’s a fat blob, but I’m a pustulating pus pocket of infection. Maybe if we get together, we’ll show these so-called beautiful people that love isn’t about being perfect, it’s about hot passionate sex. She made her way over to him and said, "God, you’re a fat fucking blob!"
He replied, "Christ on a cross hatch, you look like a lava flow."
"Want to dance?" she asked him.
"Sure," he replied.
They held each other arm in arm and began gyrating to the music.
"I bet you’d like to fuck me," she said.
"Yeah," he replied. "You’d probably be so slimy and oozing that it would feel as if I were fucking a pretty girl."
"And you." she added. "If I can find your cock between the folds of ham you got hanging from your paunch, I’d make you spew like a popped zit."
"Deal!" he said. "I’ve got a room right here in this hotel. Let’s go and lay waste."
The two went off together up to a private suite, and as he lay over her to penetrate her wound, she blew up from the pressure of his ungodly weight in a bath of yank.
"God damn!" said the fat boy. "It’s one thing to have an acne problem. But it’s another to actually be an acne problem. Some people really let themselves go, and I find that quite disgusting."
As he made to exit the building, his distended belly caught him in the doorway and the fire department had to cut him out of the doorframe with a power saw.
The funeral was held at Acne… I mean Acme Cemetery in Bethesda, Maryland. She was buried in a giant absorbent cloth and her tombstone read: Here lies the body of acne girl – who used to be a human and now is a bucket of hurl.
And as for the fat boy, he managed to lose three hundred and ninety-five pounds over the next year and died a short time later from anorexia.
Just before he died, he had developed a severe acne problem.
And that just goes to show you: When two people fall in love, the only things that can get between them are problems.
Picture Book
I look at these pictures
They can’t be real
Though they show me
With friends I have known
No, I was never that young
Never that happy
The grain of the paper
And shine of the gloss
This is nothing
There are no memories
That can be captured like this
Are there?
It’s a movie
Or a television show
I was never there
It just looks like me
The same way
You look at a night sky
And see stars one minute
That are gone the next
Echoes of Echoes
Seems like I’ve been here before
Singing the same songs
Smelling the same smells
Drinking the same wine
It’s all familiar
Every wave
Or drop of water
Or snowflake
From a distance,
My friend
From a distance
They all look the same
Death Now and Tomorrow
Try to do it
Every chance you get
Die
At the poetry reading
Die over a cheap beer
Die
Thinking about the one you’ll
Never have
Pack up the gear
And die
Maybe in the ocean
Where it all came from
Die there
Or maybe in your bed
Every curve and contour of the
Pillows and sheets
You know it
Die where you know it
Die in the arms
Of the one you love if you can
Or die near the one
Who never loved you at all
Let them see you go
And maybe tomorrow
They’ll know
Like you know
Here and There
I’ve been watching you
For a long time
You don’t know
Because it’s my secret
Watching you talk
And talk
Smile
Sometimes because you mean it
Once in awhile
Only seconds at a time
Our eyes meet
And we’re both there
I would trade everything
For those moments
How To Make A Worm Do As You Command
Worms can’t hear
But they feel vibration
So you stomp on them
With your boot
"Feel this, mother fucker!
You mother fucking goddamn worm!"
But then they can’t feel
Because they’re dead
That’s just how I think
All the loves I have ever known
Feel
They feel like worms
Dead worms I’ve killed
With my boot
Because the mother fuckers
Wouldn’t listen to me
They never knew I cared about them
Never knew I wanted to hold them
In my arms
Never knew I wanted to
Kiss their slimy puckered asses
From here to Madagascar
I would have given anything
To each and every one
Everything
But worms only have one thing to do
And that’s ruin your apple
I love you, I
Said to her and she said,
UFOs are coming to
Take me away
She could have said
Frog or sewing machine or
10,000 beers had poison and
Were recalled
And the employees drank
Them and never died
She could have said
Anything really, but then again,
She could have been anybody
Anywhere anytime and
Maybe we were in love or
Maybe we were dead baby
Seals bleeding on the ice
How was I to know?
How is anyone to know?
Fish Lips Look Like Kissing
When you catch one
And pull it out of the water
And put it on your boat
It lies there and
Tries to live
The fish lips
Open and close like kissing
But really, the fish is
Dying
Dying trying to catch
A breath
Asking itself,
"Why me? Am I that stupid?"
Sometimes you throw it back
And watch it swim away
Feeling a certain pride that
You could catch anything at all
On your line
But sometimes
You just look
You wait and watch until
The lips don’t kiss
Anymore
Madhouse
Try anything
To get you going
Put your face
In snow
Bite off your toenails
Eat a bug
Watch a blade of grass
For seven hours
Masturbate
On a flower
Sing songs
Made of words
You invent
Do something
Anything
Lift your ass and
Fart glory to the sky
Hurt your friend
Get them to trust you
Then hurt them again
Put money in your mouth
Kiss dirt or trees
Normal things
Are as strange as this
Try anything
To get you going
To be alive
Before your greatest possession
Is a tombstone
Bought on credit
Wine
I have done
Things on wine
I would have never done
Things which I am both proud
And ashamed of
Grand things
Selfish things
Things which saved the world
Sucked dicks
Fucked pussies
Threw up on
People while
Sucking their dicks or
Fucking their pussies
Written the greatest poems
Of the century
Written the worst poems
About my mother
Taped a lizard to a firecracker
Smoked wax I thought was crack
Played with my shit
Put my finger in a dog’s ass hole
Dropped a cricket into an ant pile
Cried curled up in a corner
Held a gun to my head
Pulled the trigger
Been so drunk I
Couldn’t load a gun
Sometimes it’s a Chateau Le Blanc and
Sometimes it’s Boone’s Farm
Blow Your Friend
When in doubt
Blow your friend
Make your friend tell you
You suck dick better than his
Girlfriend
Take him to that dumb place
Where men shoot their schlorp
Where they make the dumb face
AHHH YORRGH NYAHHH!
Where wars and job and money
Disappear and instead, a white scunge
Splurts out of a blood filled
Tube of flesh and stink
Blow your friend
So that everything that matters
Turns to glue
Swallow every drop of
Essence swallow every half-baked
Child
Interfere with reproduction
Do it for pleasure
Help prevent a new child being born
Into a world of idiots by
Eating them
Swallow cum out of a
Swollen happy prick
Do it with a friend of yours
Because you’ll be doing them a favor
That you’d only do with strangers
For money
A Cat With Balls
I had a big furry tabby cat with the biggest set of cat balls
And though this cat had no claws, he terrorized the neighborhood
Cats by beating them to a pulp anyway.
It was the balls, I think. If you have a big set of balls, you don’t need
Claws to beat up the neighborhood cats. He didn’t know he didn’t have
Claws. He beat up the neighborhood cats with his balls.
When my cat would come home, I’d pet him and he’d purr. He’d purr
Like a ’74 Chevy Nova, he’d purr. And I’d pet his head and I’d pet his balls.
I’d say, "Where did you get that big gash on your head?"
One day, I came home and there on the porch was a rat head. I don’t know
Where the rest of the rat had gone, but the head had big eyes, horrified eyes.
I knew my cat had chewed this rat head off while it was still alive.
"Good pussy," I said. "Good pussy. What a set of balls on this cat. What a set of balls."
One day, my cat didn’t come home. I found him later in two parts on the road.
He had been run over like many cats get run over.
Acne Girl
Her face was pocked with acne and none of the boys wanted to take her to the prom, so she decided to go alone. Maybe she would meet a boy there who also had nobody to go with. Maybe he wouldn’t judge her by her unsightly acne and maybe he would dance with her.
That night, she coated her face with acne medication that would help to dry out all the pus that had coagulated around her eyes and nose. The next morning, She applied makeup and powder to disguise her horrible acne scars and pustulated mountains of infection.
When she was all finished, she looked like giant sandpaper, but only under directional lighting.
"I’m beautiful," she said as one of the boils on her lip oozed a yellow fluid. She wiped it away and headed out to the prom.
When she got there, all the boys looked at her acne and laughed at her pus. They were pointing and laughing, and acne girl began to cry. But off in the distance, there was a boy seated all by himself. He weighed three hundred and seventy five pounds, but he had a handsome hairstyle.
Acne girl thought to herself, "Now there’s a boy who will dance with me. Yes, he’s a fat blob, but I’m a pustulating pus pocket of infection. Maybe if we get together, we’ll show these so-called beautiful people that love isn’t about being perfect, it’s about hot passionate sex. She made her way over to him and said, "God, you’re a fat fucking blob!"
He replied, "Christ on a cross hatch, you look like a lava flow."
"Want to dance?" she asked him.
"Sure," he replied.
They held each other arm in arm and began gyrating to the music.
"I bet you’d like to fuck me," she said.
"Yeah," he replied. "You’d probably be so slimy and oozing that it would feel as if I were fucking a pretty girl."
"And you." she added. "If I can find your cock between the folds of ham you got hanging from your paunch, I’d make you spew like a popped zit."
"Deal!" he said. "I’ve got a room right here in this hotel. Let’s go and lay waste."
The two went off together up to a private suite, and as he lay over her to penetrate her wound, she blew up from the pressure of his ungodly weight in a bath of yank.
"God damn!" said the fat boy. "It’s one thing to have an acne problem. But it’s another to actually be an acne problem. Some people really let themselves go, and I find that quite disgusting."
As he made to exit the building, his distended belly caught him in the doorway and the fire department had to cut him out of the doorframe with a power saw.
The funeral was held at Acne… I mean Acme Cemetery in Bethesda, Maryland. She was buried in a giant absorbent cloth and her tombstone read: Here lies the body of acne girl – who used to be a human and now is a bucket of hurl.
And as for the fat boy, he managed to lose three hundred and ninety-five pounds over the next year and died a short time later from anorexia.
Just before he died, he had developed a severe acne problem.
And that just goes to show you: When two people fall in love, the only things that can get between them are problems.
Picture Book
I look at these pictures
They can’t be real
Though they show me
With friends I have known
No, I was never that young
Never that happy
The grain of the paper
And shine of the gloss
This is nothing
There are no memories
That can be captured like this
Are there?
It’s a movie
Or a television show
I was never there
It just looks like me
The same way
You look at a night sky
And see stars one minute
That are gone the next
Echoes of Echoes
Seems like I’ve been here before
Singing the same songs
Smelling the same smells
Drinking the same wine
It’s all familiar
Every wave
Or drop of water
Or snowflake
From a distance,
My friend
From a distance
They all look the same
Death Now and Tomorrow
Try to do it
Every chance you get
Die
At the poetry reading
Die over a cheap beer
Die
Thinking about the one you’ll
Never have
Pack up the gear
And die
Maybe in the ocean
Where it all came from
Die there
Or maybe in your bed
Every curve and contour of the
Pillows and sheets
You know it
Die where you know it
Die in the arms
Of the one you love if you can
Or die near the one
Who never loved you at all
Let them see you go
And maybe tomorrow
They’ll know
Like you know
Here and There
I’ve been watching you
For a long time
You don’t know
Because it’s my secret
Watching you talk
And talk
Smile
Sometimes because you mean it
Once in awhile
Only seconds at a time
Our eyes meet
And we’re both there
I would trade everything
For those moments
How To Make A Worm Do As You Command
Worms can’t hear
But they feel vibration
So you stomp on them
With your boot
"Feel this, mother fucker!
You mother fucking goddamn worm!"
But then they can’t feel
Because they’re dead
That’s just how I think
All the loves I have ever known
Feel
They feel like worms
Dead worms I’ve killed
With my boot
Because the mother fuckers
Wouldn’t listen to me
They never knew I cared about them
Never knew I wanted to hold them
In my arms
Never knew I wanted to
Kiss their slimy puckered asses
From here to Madagascar
I would have given anything
To each and every one
Everything
But worms only have one thing to do
And that’s ruin your apple
