Underoos

I call your name
through a million pairs
of tighty whities
not knowing that you are free ball nation
looking for something other
than Batman and Superman underoos
I know that you fall
forever into the child within
never knowing that you are being watched
through loop and small glory holes
in the restrooms of a deceased Walmart
I call your name
before you be raped
by Holy Man Under Command of God
leave this house
leave this planet
leave this world
be free before he yanks down
your underoos.

Sabaoth

To correlate is correspondence
as power becomes orb
by means of our magic
and positive vibrations
correspondence is ascension
as we speak to demons
to intercede for us before the angels
for we too want to become
the Hosts of Heaven
the Hordes of Hell
the Eons of the Earth
in this and any Saturday
ṣĕ b ā'ō t for me
anytime, possibly next week
if you have nothing else to do
after we go to the movies
to ascend forever
to put God on all fours
rape him and smear his face
with our dominion forever
ascension corresponds to us
we undeserving children
of burned Bibles
and upside down saints.

Cloudberries

I give in to the moorlands
although ‘tis easy to say
that I couldnae fight to death
with the spirit I’ve never seen
I am completely
responsible for my own suicide
for when Temple is laid siege
there’s always plan C
and the moorlands, where you grow
although I thought you were from the clouds
and you tasted like cotton
but ye were too orange a Rosacae
in Eurasian moorlands
and I couldnae fight this hex to the end
not even with panaceas of unknown Chinese origin
nor with remedies of ancient recipes
found in archaeological valuable deposits
‘tis easy to say
ye can, with just one look at me
that this warrior ate his own axe
and that cloudberries don’t help in the fight.

Hylozoism

Preach me, Sugary One
that all peaches in life
are plump and ripe,
ready for the taking
in the breasts of Woman
if she be the guide by Sky
painting the sky with her hair
black blue rook
with cork flutes and danubes
preach me, Sugary One
that all matter has life
that we all stand connected
in our hearts
through the HeartWorldKingdom
where peaches mingle with plums
where sakuras and white flowers
throw their flowers tenderly at your face
for all matter is alive
and stands connected in the breast of Woman
if she walks in the air
in the Sky
in the Kingdom that lies
beyond the gates of our heart.

Whammy

Collect the herbs
burn thy incense
and start the prayers
inside the four-pointed circle
to remember the ole words
and the odes they sang about
as you try to lay siege of my pancreas
you are so full of it
-sugar-
that it takes a gall(e)on of insulin
to take you in
the only way worth to follow
is Halloween
the dark road to the portal
signaled by the 6’2” rabbit named Frank
I shall invoke the spirit
of Jim Morrison
to take you away with rivers of sperm
whale sperm
as I put my whammy on you
collecting hideous and heinous herbs
burning Hari Krishna incense
-the one you bought me at the airport-
and starting the rants
against you and my people
that supported you
get back
to whatever bottle you came from
O’ Prince O’ Toads
Icabod Crane and the headless jockey
call of all lights out
hear it
hear it well
for this whammy means
no more of your white sand ass
neither in Halloween
nor during the rest of the year.

Zillion

What be the difference
between mage and witch
would be like asking
for a zillion answers
like why does rain
comes down
instead of going up
why you win the lottery
and not me
tell you what,
it has to do with Murphy’s Law
but that is not the case
‘cause flattery shall get you everywhere
if you know a zillion things
and how to have your way with people
like zillion of unanswered questions
one of them: why is the sky not green
even at sunset?
Why is Z the last letter,
and always one of those
with the least quantity of words?
Tell you what
there more than a zillion answers
only if know where to look
only if you know what to think
you are yourself
a zillion you’s
a zillion minds married together
in Shakespearean worlds and sonnets
come together in a zillion synapses
always threatened by Alzheimer’s
so don’t burn yourself out,
there are also a zillion ways of doing that.

Clyster

Not to tell you
this poem is an ode
to your enema
but spread them wide
for clean fits you
and you fit sex
if you can understand
that pleasure cannot come
without mortification
whether of body or soul,
never of spirit though
so spread them
and share the fullness
inside
of me.