Untitled Punk Poem

Welcome to the multiverse

it’s on the fritz again, so we only have access

to this one particular reality right now

graveyards duke-ing it out with legitimate obsessions


Would you like to leave a message?


Tell them that their televised will be revolution

Tell them that those hours of over-sharing

on social media will be remembered by the future

like a baby’s 71st shit


Tell them that time is an abandoned Winnebago

and that in the end it’s always over

because the wind eats

its own kite


Does anybody want some fruit?!

I think there’s still hummus

in the radiator

Flush my insides out again


No matter how much I’d like to say

I’d watched the original Planet of the Apes

in the theater during its initial run

that’s never gonna happen

because I wasn’t born yet


Blame the abandoned Winebego, Helen

because I don’t blame you


Note to self:

buy more cinnamon candles

I mean, a lot more

stock up on those fuckers

like you stock up on anti-heartbreak serum

and Moleskin notebooks


stock up on them

like Adam, clumsily mispronouncing

Eves name after the first time they

had garden sex


Remember the garden sex, Helen

Of course you do,

damn it,

We never had a garden


Love is a rusted bear trap

This is worth the damage

I’m back


I’ve recently decided to claw my way back

out of the bunker

and give it all another go


Carl Kolchak is my co-pilot

Leonid Andreyev has been placed in charge

of emergency landings


I fight for the preservation of love

on top of a world where

Anagrams betray their own alphabet


Clowns are like hemorrhoids

nobody writes love songs

about them


Hey, Does anybody out there remember

that one Bionic Woman episode

where she saved everything before it was over

but before that she taught 6th grade

and allowed one of her students

to bring an un-caged lion to class with her

for show and tell?


I love you , Jaime Summers!

But that was inappropriate!


Hot sauce!



And salad dressing!

What the fucks hanging out

alongside your refrigerator doors?!


I had a crush

one time

on a pair of goulashes

even though I didn’t know

how to correctly spell

the name of that thing

I had the crush on

I loved them, regardless, etc.

Do we have to go into all of this again?


Everything ends

Everything promises absolutely nothing

besides oblivion and the loneliness that takes

place in the middle, and curtains


Are you my curtains, Helen?

Are you my curtains?!

I mean, all these years in and I still

have no idea how to move on

Not because you’re unmovable

It’s just that

I’m really bad at this


I miss those fun times

and I want to have fun times again

It’s the again, that drives things

to madness


When you know what you’ve lost

while recognizing the fact

that you’ve got all the years after that

to naw on it


My bones hurt from

William Hurt-ism

(insert favorite quote from The Village here)

“The boy is unaware?!”


Google some Gogel, mother fuckers

The Overcoat short story

is something helpful

for you to read

when it hurts


Last night Coldplay’s ‘Clocks’ just came on

my jukebox tv stereo

and I usually fast forward through it, but this time

like a time traveler suddenly realizing

their super power

I was all

Leave it on, fuckers

Leave it on

because time is a shitfaced Winnebago

Why does it have to be so hurtful

Good question, Helen


Why you gotta be so hurtful?!

You Gilligan’d all over our island

way out in the ocean


Where the Love Boat became our new



and Us Magazine decried

“Tell us, America! Where’s the justice in that?!”


Did you perchance

get my colander?

Would you like to hang out?

The exclamation point is implied


You know what else is implied?

Our mutual love of cinema

I haven’t packed the bowl

in what a salamander would consider months

Note to self: pack the bowl

and also figure out how

salamanders measure time these days


Nirvana’s libido

wore a speedo

while eating Cheetos

and the sound…


Bright semen

so much smarter than

the dick that it came from


Whatever happened to hacky sacks?

Whatever happened to not being alone?

We are nothing but, alone


ground beef

vs sky beef

sky beef almost always wins


I went to the corner Gasamat this morning

and witnessed

The death of the payphone

all over again


I have a complete collection of 44 1976 Bionic Woman

trading cards now

They’re great


“Jaime hears enemy on the mountain above her”

Enemy stops doing enemy stuff long enough

to utter, shit, do you think she can hear us?

Before returning to their enemy stuff

without even waiting

to hear the response


There’s a skull on our desk

and a cinder block wall behind that

so tell me, honestly

how far are we going to get?


“Jaime controls runaway elephant”

Which is a helpful skill to have

because just the other day

all of my elephants

ran away from me


I screamed

and I cried

and I tried coaxing them back

but my elephants

just stood there

staring at me from the far tree line

refusing to wave back


“Jaime drives a nail with her hand”

The nail penetrating

all outer bits that have

been turned to wood

The future of humanity

dissolving into a history

of fence posts and wet blood


Where’s your Michael Jackson now?!

You fifthly swingers, you

Where’s your Michael Jackson now?!


I drove a nail through a fence post once

with my hand

Where’s my 1976 trading card at?!

I once drove a nail through a fencepost with my hand

only it wasn’t a nail

it was everything that I’ve ever loved about you

and it wasn’t a fence post

it was how you never think about me

and it wasn’t my hand

(it was my soul)


“Jaime at the controls of a locomotive”

Reminds me of how you used to drive my train

into that deep tunnel

until even my caboose whistled


Remember the airplanes, Helen?!

Remember how they circled the top

of the Empire State Building

in the 1930’s?

on a Trump-like mission to eliminate

love from this world

in and attempt to bring down Kong


“Jaime attacks airborne enemy”

Gweneth, stop!

If only The Bionic Woman were

alive in 1933 and by chance happened to be in

New York City at the time

maybe then she could have prevented

a Trump presidency

maybe she could’ve saved Kong

maybe she could’ve saved us all


Everyone raise their hand, if they like

salted caramel cheese cake


I’ve never tried it

Maybe I should pick some up

from the store


“Jaime is a teacher when she’s not solving crime”

It’s true

The Bionic Woman teaches 6th grade

where she bashfully flaunts her ability

to write out lesson plans incredibly fast

on the blackboard

because she’s almost always late for class

It’s great


“Jaime ponders her next move”

Maybe the saddest card, really

because every move pondered

is another move away from me and you

because your love for me had to switch genres

from non-fiction to fiction


A fiction I keep alive most nights

while I’m hallucinating big fat spiders

staring down upon everything

from the corner of the bedroom wall


Causing me to leap out of bed, limbs flailing

even though I know: It’s fiction

I love fiction

Who doesn’t love fiction?!

Fiction gave us Cagney and Lacey!


Fiction gave us Dark Shadows and Winnie the Pooh!

Fiction gave us a viable outlet

in which to better understand and survive all this goddamn



Jaime breaks Six Million Dollars worth of heart because she has amnesia

Jaime breaks his heart with her bionic forgetting that she ever loved him

Jaime forgets where she put the snow shovel, again

Jaime punches a villain at the local diner and gets French fries in her hair


Jaime refutes the rumor that she’s crying

and insists David Lee Roth

made the whole thing up

in his head


Jaime uses her bionic hearing to boycott Van Halen

and listen to her favorite punk band instead


Jaime attends a sad funeral for Oscar’s pants

Jaime knows how to roller skate effectively

and can sing karaoke like a champ!


Jaime walks out of a bar with me

after successfully ordering

spinach dip to go


Jaime used her bionic arm during intercourse

Jaime smiles before tossing a shovenistic

jewel thief into a display case while humming

that one song about tiny hands by Jewel


Jaime kills all the plants because she left me

and I have no idea how to water things

Jaime has no patience with hashtags

#nothingcompares to you


I’ve fallen in love with someone who’s moved to the future

We all live in a prairie dog ghost town

past which a guy goes by driving a school bus

faster than I’ve ever seen a school bus go in real life


and the mountains look like

bottom of the fish tank decorations

aquarium architecture


where the birds

are as large

as Mars


We live in a prairie dog graveyard

where séances are sold on the corner

like bootleg copies of Armageddon and I press on



I live within walking distance

to a Petco right now

in an apartment that doesn’t

allow pets


Sometimes I just go in there

and stare at the fish in the fish tanks

and dream


The blood parrot fish

The green Chromis

Fire shrimp

The Scopas Tang

with thin long nose and big trick

of being yellow all the time


Where only the ferrets stare back at me

Caged eyes to caged eyes

How Lowes?!

Mattress Firm!

Bed Bath and Beyond!


The only thing more scary

than a prairie dog graveyard

is a prairie dog graveyard at night


Love is a talk box

Society is an ant farm

stuck atop the dresser drawer

of another ant farm’s ant farm


The longer I’m sober

the more that I feel her

all the way over there

on the other side of the graveyard


Religion is a soup kitchen

in a world without spoons


Helen, I might be too old for that

Hold on there, darlin’

What’s your fleece size?


I mean,

I’ve moved into the new place now

and I’m different

more mature maybe, I mean

I vacuum now

and floss

but I still don’t dust

I don’t know why

Maybe I like the dust

Maybe I ask it stuff

in the middle of the night

like Fante asked us

to do


I’m O.C.D on the tidy side these days


Helen, (!)

How are you?

I hope everything is well

that way


How ya holding up out there

after all those California

pre-dystopian fires

and Trump tweets?


Maybe our love is dead

or maybe it’s only dead

like Spock was dead

at the end of Wrath of Kahn

trapped inside a world of elephant shaped

bong hits and maybes


so maybe

our love is dead like Spock

at the end of Star Trek II

which would leave open the possibility

that our love will find

itself jump started to life again

thanks to the Genesis Program

and forget everything it ever knew

about William Shatner

for a little while after that


but that’s alright

we’d be cool

and while we’re playing maybe

Maybe Trump will wake up tomorrow

and find himself unable

to lie anymore

like Jim Carry in that movie Liar Liar

Holy shit, that’d be a hell of a day


Maybe dogs can’t look up!

Maybe the prairie dogs are just sleeping!

Maybe the Marvel Universe will be the first movie franchise

to fight its way into our universe

to save us all


I’m not an optimistic person

by nature

what does that mean?

So Marvel movies saving humanity

That’s as optimistic as I get




Why is this movie we’re working through

all of a sudden co-starring Wolf Blittzer

How does something like that happen?


In this world, something else is always happening

while I stand here, missing you

something else is always going on

that’s the catch phrase of the universe


Something else is always going on


This life is absurd

the world, with all its

sandwiches and cutlery

and salmonella

Salmonella is tonight’s safety word

Salmonella is my copilot


it’s your copilot

it shits in the rain

and talks to birds


Salmonella gave life to the multiverse

Salmonella gave life to Multiverse Johnson

Multiverse Johnson gave life

to weekly pamphlets

for a little while

that raged against

the dangers of a Sarah Palin vice presidency

and Salmonella


Salmonella gave birth to middle of all night shopping shows

and humanity, prairie dog graveyards

and a broken romantic’s shoddy sense of time

Get in the bionic transport vehicle, Jaime


The world needs you


Love is a second floor balcony

architecturally absent of staircase


without those bionic legs of yours

we’ll never get up there


Where are you going?


We’re fucked


written for this week’s Punketry show

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