Human Flesh Is A Gateway Drug 2019

Human Flesh Is A Gateway Drug 2019

 

Human flesh is a gateway drug

to heartbeats and cartoons,

getting stalked by Oblivion,

and everything ending

without the splash

 

to Trump America and its un-repressed love

of Fascism and tight pants

 

to falling asleep at the bottom

of the pool again

to leaving the door open when

your heart deems it closed

 

to recognizing the absurdity,

that we are a species dependent upon toilets

enslaved by the science of plumbing

 

We have all been shit shamed

and with or without legs,

we stand for it

like a bass drum bending over

for the kick pedal

until it feels like whatever started this thing

is playing Metalica extra fast

 

over and over

the song goes on until we’re gone

 

Helen,

Are you keeping up with these politics?

Shit shamed drum songs, Helen!

prostates shaped like Mandy Patinkin!

or maybe it’s Mandy Moore,

either way

 

Which 2020 candidate is going to be the first

one to promise to protect us

from something like that?

 

Human flesh is a gateway drug

to cold sweats and sentient fucking, like

that time her boobs went different ways

while his balls have never seen eye to eye

to Kelly Ann Conway scoliosis of the soul

 

Human flesh is a gateway drug

 

to churches burning

and everythings-arsons signing the ashes with swastikas

to living in a world of swimming suits

when I’m infinitely terrified of being chewed

into bite size edible bits by something in the water

 

to the lady in front of me

screaming this morning at the self-checkout machine

JUST TAKE MY GODDAMN NICKEL!

Why won’t you take my nickel?!

Why can’t just this one thing go right?

 

Human flesh is a gateway drug

to my man bag going everywhere with me

Nostromo patch sewed on tight

 

My man bag contains many pockets

What’s in this one?

a back up pen, my laptop charger

8 valerian root pills in an enormous re-sealable plastic bag

and a really old condom

that hasn’t seen the sun for so long

it’s probably assuming that Obama’s

still president

 

The lucky bastard

 

Human flesh is a gateway drug

to trying something new by repeating yourself

to currently being movie obsessed with the Unbreakable

Split Glass trilogy when last week

I was obsessed with the movie Krull

 

In Krull, a beast shaped face the size of a mountain

falls out of the sky, and with the help of Russian space aliens,

declares itself the smartest/richest/bestest creature in the universe.

40% of the population believe the goddamn thing and submit to his

tyranny voluntarily. Everybody else goes down fighting, laid flat

by the creatures weaponized slip of the tongue bombs, launched

flat into the middle of their faces from their very own goddamn

cell phones, a ridiculous device that the people in this world

clutch in their palms like a sixth finger and gaze into somewhat perpetually

in an unsuccessful attempt at pretending the world is what they want

it to be. In Krull, Prince Colwyn is a metaphor for democracy and in a third act

attempt at bravery, climbs the big beast’s face with a morally suspect

band of space hoodlums which includes a really young version of Liam Neeson,

and even though Colwyn has a really cool pointy star shaped boomerang,

they are no match for the Beast and the rebellion is quickly obliterated

like a twenty piece bucket of chicken McNuggets. The Beast, victorious,

precedes to put its name on every goddamn building left standing, and

builds walls around walls until the entire planet can’t take the weight

of such things and collapses in upon itself like a big balloon farting

itself back into non-existence, everything watched over by an empty night

 

 

Helen,

I’m sorry

 

That last bit about Krull

wasn’t accurate

I made that up

 

because Sarah Huckleby Sanders told me I could

it’s called a ‘slip of the tongue’

which in 2019 is a phrase used to explain

intentional lying, but in my day

 

it was just the name

of a pretty good Whitesnake album

 

Shit,

Human flesh is a gateway drug

to wrapping things up

because we’ve only been promised 5 minutes

 

to everything dying, even

800 year old cathedrals

and hair bands

and love

 

(written for the 4/20/19 Poetry Rodeo, Mercury Cafe, Denver, CO)