Tough Love

When you’re bored, don’t bitch at me

Just shut your trap and write, you dweeb

Don’t pout and whine and stare and blink

Just grab that pen and think and think

 

Come up with something folks will read

And sell it so your dog can feed

Don’t waste your time excusing the

Stops to productivity

 

Its not that hard, just look at me

This poem right here took two or three

Minutes to type, unless you need

To count the time I took to pee
Cause then its four, technically

But hey who’s counting? My point, you see

Is writing can come easily

If only you just sit…and think

What We Are

At night, I know, my mind has proved

For that’s when all the mask’s removed

We work and play, and yet we think

Of all the things we want, a link

 

A link to all we want to be

So instead we make a fantasy

We dream and wish and wish and dream

And then when morning comes, we scream

 

We live the lives we’re taught to live

And bottle up the love we’d give

The sense it makes, you know its true

And yet we still uphold the glue

 

We’re holding on, to something that

Is natural, don’t fear it, Matt

But lies, deceit, it rules in fonts

Because we can’t admit our wants

 

This self deception, shining clear

Is why we’ve dug this hole right here

One day we’ll know, just what we are

Just animals, we’ve not gone far

Don’t Wait

Oftentimes, I’ll look to see

The person looking back at me

Watching through a hazy lens

At who that strange reflection is

 

Staring forward, several blinks

Is he the person that he thinks?

Does he do the things he speaks?

Is practice coming from the preach?

 

My eyes still glare, this man ahead

I’ll wonder what, that day, is said

Right now I live, and yet I dread

What memory, of me when dead

 

What mark have I bestowed upon

The family that I belong

I hope they say, when I’m a thought

That happiness is what he brought

 

Improved the lives, of all the men

The girls and kids, the children

For life is but a journey, yes

We walk and run, we talk and dress

 

We do the things we love to do

To make ourselves enjoy the dew

Every day, a precious gift

So smile wide, and heart uplift

 

This path is short, don’t waste your time

Just search and search until you find

The purpose you’ve been looking for

Unlock and open passion’s door

The Tiki Torches: 2

“YEEEEEHAW!”

Driving crazily through the backwoods of a Tennessee highway, Joe and Carl are having the time of their lives in their ’91 Chevy S-10.

“Built Ford tuff motha fuckas!!” Joe shouts out of the passenger window, can of Natty Ice in hand.

“Joe, this here’s a damn Chev Ro Lay!” Carl asserts, punching his sidekick in the thigh.

“Aw hell Carl, what’s tha dang difference? They’re both good enough for catchin’ them naggers! Yeeeeeehaw!” Joe shouts again, leaning his head out the window. “Boy oh boy oh boy I can’t wait to show the rest of the fellas these here torches we got stowed away! We’re gonna light up the en-tire place!”

“Say, Joe, that reminds me.” Carl says, scratching his head with his right hand, pulling it off the clutch. “Whereabouts is this rally anyhow?”

“Dammit Carl!” Joe responds, sipping his crisp, delicious Natural Ice. “We’re going to tha damn mayor’s mansion! Can’t believe this stupid ass town voted one of them naggers in.”

“That’s right.” Carl says, cracking open his own brew, raising it out of the window as if he we’re toasting the Nazi Gods of yesteryear.

SCREEEEEEETCH

“Well she-it! Lookie there. We made it!” Carl shouts.

In front of the rickety ass S-10 that the duo is driving, there is a circle of about 15 or 20 white cloth laden, horse-backed Klan members.

“Quick!” Carl says to Joe, seeing the Klan members who are obviously waiting on them. “Put ur damn hood on!”

In a fury of flailing arms and gritting teeth, the pair don their meticulously carved white KKK hoods, perfectly complimenting their long, white robes.

Bursting out of the passenger’s side door, Klansman Joe approaches the back of the nasty truck to grab his newly acquired tiki torch. Fidgeting for a moment as he tried to light his steel lighter, he finally ignites the tip, which casts a light strong enough to….mimic a firefly.

“WOOOOHOOOO MOTHA FUCKAS!!!! LETS GO GIT US SOME NAGGERS!!!!!!” Joe screams, waving his tiki torch in a fit of frenzy. “Betchall ain’t got torches like THIS!” He shouts, circling about the group of Klansmen on his own horse that he’s just saddled.

As the entire group looks at Joe in curiosity, one slams his torch down.

“Well SHE-IT!” He yells. “Joe, git your ass over here!”

Wondering why Brad would request such, Joe gallops his horse over.

“Lemme see that there damn torch.” Brad says, squinting his eyes behind his white hood.

“Well slap me silly and tickle me Elmo! I’ll be gat damned!!” Brad shouts after seeing the tiny Wal-Smart price tag on the torch. “These boys got them some tiki torches too!”

“YEEEHAW!!!” The entire group shouts together.

As the group begins to realize that they all had the same brilliant idea of buying their torches at the local Wal-Smart, their morale reaches new heights.

“AYEAYEAYEAYEAYEYAYEAYE!!!” They all shout and chant, horses galloping in a chaotic mess of bigoted hilarity.

“Let’s do this boy-os!!” Brad shouts, pausing for a moment to adjust the hood that his wife had just cut that afternoon. “To the mayor’s!!!!”

The Revolt Returns: 9

“Hey guys! Has anyone seen my jar of annoying whispering wisps?”

Approaching the Lenghornian village’s central meeting area, Dustin the Determined asks his co-workers where his pets might be.

“Oh yeah, we actually threw them out.” Chris the Comical tells him. “They all died. Did you not feed them?”

His quizzical stare slowly fading into a devious smirk, Dustin chuckles under his breath.

“Wait. Those things eat? I thought they were like…spirits or something. Well maybe not spirits. But ghosts. Or demons. Or something like that. Ya know? Like sometimes I wondered if they were even real cause sometimes I think I see things that aren’t there and then I’m like”

“DUSTIN!” The servers collectively shout, ending the rant and refocusing his attention.

“Forget them dude. They’ve joined our fallen comrades in peaceful slumber beyond the veil,” Chris assures him.

“Huh. Imagine that.” Dustin dismissively says, shrugging his shoulders. “Sucks to be them! Stupid wisps.”

“Right.” Chris says with a subtle laugh, putting his arm around Dustin’s shoulder to usher him into the meeting that was already taking place. “Johnny, please continue,” he says, looking toward the slightly introverted, usually soft spoken Giver of Speeches.

“Anyway,” Johnny the Jovial shouts to the villagers, “here is the plan. Our Barfly Gnat scouts have caught wind of Spam’s battle plans. We must break this wind! Let me tell you, faithful companions, these are sinister plans indeed. For Spam intends to secretly use her brainless Chilian soldier-slaves to mount a massive assault on this very village. But this shall be merely be a diversion for her true intention: sending her disgusting, uncontrollably hairy minion Will the Wolf to assassinate our village leadership!”

“GASP!!”

Collectively inhaling with such ferocity that Jade the Painfully Attractive Lade’s server apron almost falls off, the Lenghornians express disbelief of their oppressive manager’s intentions.

Confidently raising his hand, Johnny the Gentleman calms his loyal subjects.

“My friends…” he softly asserts, using his other hand to unsheath a blade so powerful it nearly blinds the crowd, “worry not. For I wield Steakscalibir!! I shall embark on an epic mission along with our brave cohort Dustin the Deft and end this treachery before it has a chance to take root!” He shouts, raising the fabled blade in triumph.

“HUZZAH!!” The Lenghornians cry in excited elation. “All hail Johnny! All hail Dustin!!” They cheer.

Glancing over the crowd to witness Brittany the Beautiful deliver a patron’s Blue Moon well after the beer’s expected arrival time, Johnny returns his gaze down to his fellow servers as he gracefully nods in appreciation of their support. Subtly glancing at Dustin, he slyly winks, smirks, and nods in silent acknowledgemnt of the legendary quest on which they shall soon embark.

A quest, as it were, which will define the future of the Lenghornian village for ages to come.

The Revolt Returns: 7

shhhhhhh letusoutofthisstupidjaryouslickhairedmaniac shhhhhhh

Back in the Lenghornian village, Dustin the Determined is carrying around his jar of wisps like a trophy. Easily entertained, he looks at them with the grin of a school boy looking at his first bowl of sea monkeys.

“Ha!” He laughs. “Stupid wisps. Bet you wish you hadn’t made fun of my hair now, huh?”

shhhhhhh pleaseletusoutforreal shhhhhh ithinkcarljustfartedanditsmells shhhhhhh

“Nope.” Dustin says, setting the jar down on the windowsill of his plastic straw hut.

Chopping lettuce in an attempt to help the brainless cooks keep the salad window stocked, Dustin hears a knock on the door.

“Dustin, we have news from the East!” A soothing female voice shouts. “Come, join us in the square!”

Pointing his knife and squinting at the wisps as to say “behave while I’m gone”, he sets the blade down and joins Stephanie the Sweet outside. His curiosity stirring, the pair hurriedly make their way to the center town square. Finally reaching the rest of the villagers, they settle into the crowd. Standing center stage behind a podium, Connee, The Fairy Queen of the House of Front, announces the grave news.

“Lenghornians! I come to you with news of utmost treachery! Our Barfly Gnat scouts have caught wind that Spam intends to overrun us with an army of Chilians from the East!”

GASP!

“This cannot be!” Jade, a girl that everyone obviously wants to “get to know” says.”I thought our Eastern Border was protected by the Calver army!”

“Alas, my dear,” Connee begins,”just because they are next door does not mean they have the capabilities to protect our lands. In fact their burger patties are far too thin to shield any of the Chilian siege weapons. We cannot count on them.”

“She speaks the truth.” A soft, reserved voice says from the back of the crowd. Stepping forward, Johnny the Gentleman offers his services. “Dear Fairy, allow me to raise a regiment of Lenghornian Revolters. We shall defend the realm until our dying breath.”

“Huzzah!” The Lenghornians cheer, patting Johnny on his firm buttocks.

Nodding her head and waving her tong wand, Connee manifests a leather tunic and suit of armor for Johnny, which he assertively grabs and straps on.

“You will need this as well, my Knight.” Connee says, handing Johnny a gleaming silver serrated steak knife.

“Steakscalibur!” Johnny says in astonishment. “Where did you obtain such a legendary relic?”

“Alas, my dear, twas easy for a Fairy of my level.” Connee says with a snide grin. “Come! Accept that which I bestow!” She shouts as she hands Johnny the beautiful blade. “You will lead your fellow Lenghornians, along with Dustin the Determined, to victory! I have read the prophecies. They tell a tale of a massive battle to come! We must prepare!”

“Huzzah!” The crowd shouts. “To war!”