Monday, February 16, 2009

Two poems by Kevin Bennett

Two poems
by Kevin Bennett

Lynch. Lost. Da-Da.

A bowling coyote missed a pin;
A broiling lobster couldn't win.
The moon has breath consumed in cheese,
And Teton breasts are worth a squeeze.

Roll a joint or roll a smoke,
Jump the cliff and go for broke,
Jack-knife zeppelins through the sky,
Watch fat salmon swim to die.

Dice are rolled by hounds of leather,
Fat girls prefer cooler weather.
Martians don't like cakes of rice,
And unkempt children gather lice.

Swim until the water's dry.
Eggs, I think, were made to fry—
By gangly sasquatch skeletons
On growling Harley Davidsons.

Nightmares of young boys and girls
Plague dictators ruling worlds;
While rapists prowl the streets at night,
And artists preach with false insight.

The mind becomes a frail machine,
Perversity is hard to wean
From fishwives telling tales of lore
And losing truth's absolute door.

Children cry as adults beat them;
Souls are incensed when death reaps them.
Lions roar through streets of pearl,
While starships find the planet "Earl".

Then galaxies dance with conviction,
Stars and comets building friction—
Fission, fusion, sparks and lye,
Make mushroom soap and fire pie.

Roiling smoke from Mount St. Helens
Only busted one dude's melon!!!
Interpreting this is a cinch;
Just understand one small word: "Lynch".


When Faust was Homeless.

The window was open, yet the flies would not leave.
They buzzed and cavorted and walked on my sleeve.
And I yelled and I hit at them time and again,
But they dodged and made movements I could not offend.
So I drove all the faster as rage gripped my face,
Heading to a quickshop wherefore to buy mace.
But alas! I was loathe to ignore the fowl pests,
Thus my driving was suspect as I topped the crest—
And the semi that saw my swerve through the left lane
Had time to scream: "Look out! What are you, insane!!?"
Though how could I hear that fat cat at the wheel
With a broadsided bumper and no even keel?
Thus I spun off the road; careened right off a cliff.
Thank God no females could my corduroys whiff.
The flies were ecstatic when end over end
The Cadillac tumbled toward the ocean.
The flies liked the challenge of keeping their stead,
While detritus flew and I lost my head.
I swore and I screamed and I begged and I cried,
And saw my life flash before me, right 'til I "died".
I remember thinking, between blue waves and clouds,
That this cliff was much larger than physics allowed.
So those moments took hours and years just to pass.
As time fell to slow motion even though I fell fast,
And my wasted life's errors were full manifest,
In my head, through my conscience; worse than the fly pests.
I saw visions of heaven as waves became near:
They were swift snatched away and a man with a leer
Began laughing and snarling and slapping his knee
While rubbing his belly and pointing at me.
Needless to say I was very surprised.
He said: "Son, don't you know me? The Lord of the Flies?"
I replied: "You're the devil, and you don't exist!"
He smirked: "Don't you remember? "Twas I gave you this!"
And my mistress was nude posing in my office,
Making seductive sounds that I could not resist—
While my wife at our house worked over the stove;
Not suspicious toward my e'er lecherous rove.
Then the Porsche I had stolen through duplicity
Gleamed in the sunlight and sparkled at me.
Back to years in a college with orgies and weed,
Back to nights at the tavern; my vacuum to feed.
Then my paycheck before me—so large and so fat—
Had Lucifer's face mixed with that of a cat
That purred and meowed before smiling at me.
"Don't you see?" The cat asked, "now you must pay the fee."
"But I didn't mean to…to do all those things."
"But you sure did enjoy these pleasures life brings…"
And I cried and I cried while the Devil he paced,
Then he upheld a contract, said: "Why the long face?
I don't come to all saps that I catch in the street;
See, to me, son, you're special, because only you meet
Some requirements for something I've been planning for eons.
So sign this slim paper and rise over the peons."
I saw it, my heart leapt, I said: "Will I live?"
"In a manner of speaking, your soul you must give."
How close to signing I came, yes it's true;
But thoughts soon assailed me so that soon I knew
Something was amiss with this giggling Satan—
If I was already dead, why was he waiting?
And the answer that came was so swift and so bright
I imagined an angel of light late at night.
Then the devil smiled broader and laughed as he vanished,
And time returned as though it hadn't been remiss.
Opening battered eyes with an effort I saw—
The ocean before me and screamed: "AHH! AHHH! AHHHHH!"


Then my face hit the floorboards of a brothel's latrine,
And I knew the whole epic had just been a dream.
And though drunk I still was I jumped right to my feet,
Shouting joy to the sky and that forgotten street.
A fat hooker with eyes of mascara and green
Mumbled from the stall over; something quite obscene.
But I was alive! I was free! I was clear!
…and remembered a joke from the man with the leer:
I don't have a wife or a Porsche or a job;
I live on the street, I'm a pan-handling slob!
I've done so for ages, till a man in a suit
Gave me cash and a Bible, then gave me the boot!
(I'd passed out in the archway of a church on West Umbrook,
And the pastor had given me cash and the good book.)
So I'd gone to the city; to a place I knew well.
"House of the Rising Sun" holds the story I tell.
And I'd drunk and cavorted until I passed out;
Near a mountain-filled poster and a urinal's mouth.
And the flies had been real, landing on me in sleep,
Probably hoping some drunken flotsam to reap.
Then I felt in my pocket, and found it was there.
The book I'd been given and took without care.
Now I opened it up and took stock of its contents,
And felt myself ache at the life I had flaunted.
When a fat buzzing fly took a seat on a page
I found myself drenched in a torrential rage.
I killed it and smashed it and made it go "splat",
Then saw the red verse where I'd made the bug flat.
The verse said "Jesus Wept," and I wondered at what,
Then I looked in a mirror and saw a grim rut:
Years where my face was had carved it in pain.
In dirt, grime and rust from the sidewalks I'd lain
On since time immemorial had proposed to me;
And reading those words, I too did weep.
The whore a stall over yelled: "I gotta' sleep!"
I said: "Shutup, you harlot; you can sleep when you're dead!"
To which the bitch howled and came after my head.
So I felt that the time of my visit was through;
It had already been part of my plan to adieu
From the red-light bonanza in Manhattan Square;
Where the seventies made a man struggle for air.
On the streets again walking, the book in my hand,
I looked for small insects that might wish to land
Anywhere near my person; I'd swat them with ease:
Both real and of metaphor, if these thoughts can you please.


What a lengthy digression through ramshackle rhyme.
I hope I've filled these minutes of your precious time
With laughs, gasps, and eyebrows raised high in suspense;
Because God only knows these lines don't make much sense.
But true they all are; to the flies in the air.
And take heed, my friend; for flies masquerade fair—
In dreams and the promise of wishes fulfilled;
But yet they are rotten, borne from sewage spills.

Author bio:

Kevin Bennett has been a lunatic as long as the moon has been around to give such a word definition. However, before being a Lunatic, he was a very devout Adjective, and it has been observed that his very name was used as profanity in several states of mind. Contemporarily, he bides his time driving in circles over weekly 12-hour shifts. Intermittently he can be found bedraggled, bamboozled, and skunked at the local pub.

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