Sunday, November 20, 2011

9-1-1 Part 3: INFILTRATED!

INFILTRATED!
The sunrise is magenta 

In the Pepto-Bismol dawn... 

The wino's snore is peaceful 

Almost like a song... 

A sonnet to life 
Tokay 
Rose, Burgundy, and Free! 

With blistered lips from 
Mad Dog 20/20, 
Night Train, or T-Bird, 
or other concoction... 

Their runny noses gurgling 

Their eyes red and crusty... 

Sucking in the foul air 

Of this Black Easter Sunday...

I was dreaming, for awhile 

Of a world freed from hunger... 

Where avarice and greed 

Cannot plunder... 

For a crust of bread 

They’d kill their own mother... 

The derelicts need food 

But, they would rather have Vodka 

Can't hardly blame them 

When you consider their options!

Speaking of liquids 

It’s time to deliver... 

The folly of last night 

To the porcelain angel 
Half wiped out 

And the other half sober 

I headed for the john 

Leaving the front door open



The Last Temptation of The Wiener Christ!


"Hurt Me Baby"



I didn’t know it then 

But a crisis was brewing... 

Outside my studio 

The God Squad was forming! 

Porn Again jerk-offs 
Calendar salesman! 

Got inside the Black Cat, 

While I was "Doing the Honors” 

The Christ/Kitsch sales pitch 

Made me nervous 

My bad check bounced 

Before it was even folded... 

"This is for the Pastor 
He really needs the money..." 
"
To buy swaddling clothes 

For your Poor Little Bastard!?

THIS IS THE TEMPLE OF SHRI WEBBO!!! 

Next time I piss, I'll lock the fucking door!!!"


"Do you like those paintings?" 

The torment begins... 

"They're quite Satanic 

If I do say so Myself!”

"THAT'S JIM AND TAMMY FAYE 

CRAMMED INTO THOSE CONDOMS!" 
She screams

She grabs her chest-melons 

And starts to fall backwards... 

Her wiener army 
Of christ puppets scream 

Scattering like rats 

Or be crushed by the Queen!!!  

Her tonnage by all, 

Is completely forsaken... 

In lieu of wild genuflection and 

Other Cult manifestations!

I lock my door, 
Out of self-preservation...  

After tossing the whole bunch 

Out on their bibles... 

They run down the Mean Street 

Heading for Mt Zion! 

Nothing wrong with them 

That wouldn't feed a few Lions!




Pop Goes The Weasel!!
Jim and Tammy Faye Baker in compromising positions.


Where is the S.W.A.T. team? 

When you really need... 

To bust up some Crap 

Put In a bag 

Set on fire for 
Vulgar vespers... 

On the "Guiding Light" doorstep 

Of deified nausea... 

Home of the self-serve 

Crew-cut maggots... 

Burying Into the Dead Sea 
Hieroglyphics 
Or... 

Turning in your parents, 

For a "Free Ride Offer" 

To a Flock-Shucking Bible Thumping 
Theme Park circus... 

In the middle of the swamp 

Mating gentile faithfuls 

Pitch used condoms 

Out three hundred-dollar windows 

While vulva-licking Hypocrites 

And their gold-chain poodles 

Crap like Deacons 

On the Acrylan carpets 

And their time-share condos 

Sold ten times over... 

Pray As You Pay!! 

For the butt-gouging honor!!! 

Fleeced by the convicts 

On the Chain-Gang of Mercy... 

And forgiveness for lust, 

By that Secretary Poking. 

Wallet Stroking 
Mousey 
Little Shit 
Mascara-Faced Porker 

Leaky-Eyed 
Boo-Hoo 

Voo-Doo 

Lard-Bucket 
Bunco Bitch 

While some Lord Filled 
Bellhop Deacon 
Wears her Parachute 
Sized drawers 

On his sweaty little head 
Fucked up 

In some smelly church annex 

He sits on the toilet 

Resurrecting his "Little Buddy" 

For Tammy, his queen 

The Pages Turn Themselves 

As his tithe hits the ceiling!!! 

Utterly pathetic, and totally obscene


Boo-Hoo Tammy
"Tammy Faye Baker doing what she does best."



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