GOD THAT / by spider hacksaw / 2013

i’m closin’ down this fool hall. God That. Rabid rain dear, climbing gulls crunching garbage souls, ahoy there matey, ’tis Captain Blind mind time, i’m gonna splatter that spittle gum bird drop bat shit crazy frozen slick peppermint stick sick poorly gotten gobbled rotten road rage rabbit stew, it’s what’s for dinner mother fucker, so lick it, suck that plate clean, or catch twenty-two welts to the exit of your spine, then you can leave this grief driven castle behind, but not before we chug this jug, and milk you hollow, an empty enemy of the violent kind, for we swarm and marauder goreward, over our kills and through their goods we go, beneath it all, glorious shiny skull of love above, this big skinny dipping sinner sipping off the surface of the moon shine your light upon the gracious face of the gobstopper god slaughtering heaven’s crew.

We all need to take a step back and thank the lord of cancer as we eat all their laughter, that nothing good or awful lasts forever, and never ever makes us remember what we do, or how we got so beleaguered and clever with such a frail depravity as to do what we do what we do when we do the Dew and drown our seven year old sorority ho sister in the sorrows of a good ol’ backstabbing Bar-B-Q Mitzvah, and hot tar and feathering good riddance party, to the glory of the billion dollar bay of pigs, patrolling our sewer streets, looking for grimy crimes to tweet and coat hanger stir in sugar sweet still born violet night silence, of lip balm molten lather cheery cherry heart murmur flavor that ain’t got no reason to alarm the war hog wart lords of mismanaged disaster planning,

because this ain’t your father’s Viet Calm Choir standing at the door, in the garden sky we see before us, as we bring the specialness of tooth decay and the lucky charm-free shooting spree of Harm’s Way to every corner of this defecated decaffeinated defective golden calf half empty glass Universe, freshness-sealed eternally in a wooden bell jar battleship hearse made of stolen stacks of collateral drainage rampage, camouflaged in twinkling brain damage, before being vacuumed clean and street smart mean from the floors of some tilted notion that all men are created in the sequel to the offerings of the days of our Gomorrah Bora war, painted on the walls within the bowels of King Goat Head’s starving belly bloated believers, as they lay frying and drying like raisins in the sun, with stink raising from the skunk of man, out in the stale open air, upon remote control wind-whipped jellyfish crawling bleached riverbed beaches, across this land of the hellish heavenly father, from one Walmart Smiley Faced Kingdom Come of the damned to its mother.

We call for a truce with the lamb of Got Milk, written in the alphabet bullet soup ink squirt gun zip tie lamentations and the sobbing cries of the undying paying praying patrons, ripped from the splinter filled eyes of glistening well fed and lovingly oil-rubbed machination guns, unloaded in to and out the other side of the mountain of flesh belonging to the recess rebel toddlers and hellion school children, delighting in ladybugs and gofer holes in the grass covered playground slums, and the mouths of the mothers of babes, clamoring for some twilight’s last gleaming damnation to be raised down upon this once proud stagnant nation.

Glory be to them that slam the doors of perception upon the faces of the crying snot-nosed wound-licking spiritually poor and their face lifted, vision averted, fiscally perverted, warrior whore class overlording sour power mower souls, for whom the bell whispers Glee, lost for the sake of velocity, in close captioned closed door meetings about nothing whatsoever at all jokes, over and over and over forever and ever, th-th-that’s all folks.

(GOD THAT) (spider hacksaw) (2013)


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