The State of Old Lines
twist, a triple-tricking trip, a cruelly-patterned maze
Parks amaze with the creeping crazy, sickened crime and the crippled haggard, traced
Witty walls chatter in nimble-kneed rhyme about a simpleton's time when what mattered was haste
My city crawls at a laggard's pace
My city speaks of nonsense at noon
Rapping at girls with words as sharp as a spoon
Capping cute curls for a caterpillar's cocoon
Napping mute murals hint at the lattice-filler's saloon
Truths languish in gutters as mad eyes fill goons
With venomous lies that drill hills and grant boons
Seven men and lesser guys spill bills and plant moons
My city chants lullabies and silly tunes
My city rings bells of dented tin and gilded gold
It echoes down markets and up streets like saints, assembled and bold
Where we shout our sighs and shun shame, searching the skies for evils foretold
Spires cluster and rage cold, cluttered and tame like boll weevils whore-bowled
Guns name lames, spray flames and mark sharks for game-playing narcs, working the whys for wages oversold
Bitter suits bark at mushrooms and quarks, flaying darks from cup to mouth, lives well-tolled
Hell rolled up and out, laying lush rooms and hearts like pell-mell larks with muck-high clout, knives and mold
My city studies flavor, flattening tastes in a well-practiced fold
Living Hideous
Fred's dogs had no mother and twenty three brothers
Chest-bumping, rest-wanting fearsome guys
Their survival is gleaning lines of preening lies
From crumbled rivals for cream and lime
Joining troubled teams who tumblingly intertwine
Teem with rhyme and test just fine, taking gray tolls markedly
They wholeheartedly bumble after each other's plunder
And hunger for higher numbers of encumbered lumber
Stumbling over stumps, their vital signs and might entitle them to vile vials
And to gruntly rifle through dreams for wanted dimes and unpumped shine
Mumbling lumpers resign and rumble humbled chumps asunder for plumpers
Who rest in sumps amid clumps of thumping thunders, disgruntles denied
Demanding fees to please time, hiding from each others' hunters
And raw reprisals with steam and slime; they best, hump, then dump damp wonders
Excavating cunt-fur for third-base bunters and second-rate tigers in teak and pine
Sluts flee so fine from emaciating shunters who make crevasse-creating blunders
Satiating stalwart stuttering stunters
The first to count the math of their wrath was Howard
Over whom they towered as he whimpered and glowered
The brother whose path was to be a fat brat
A tat-wrapped coward whose sludge is mass devoured
A dirtball showered in a clean bloodbath, unscoured
His love hath soured a matted dowager, once-flattered, now doured
His words were a shaky tower; his muscles scattered, underpowered
His chowder was a flattened, tattered powder, tragically unfloured
The dogs are flounder to Howard's half-pounder
He went down like a golden calf, but louder
Braying prayers like unrouted boundaries
He wore crowns for scoundrel-counters in foundries and flouted waivers
His gray raver laugh more sound and hounder
Slaying flavors of out-of-towners
Staying waverers with a mound of rounders
They're flaying wayfarers for their pound of downers
Next on the hit list was Cecil
An easily feasible freebie whose mitt hissed
He's a heeby-jeeby limp wrist of wee glee
Who survived a shit fist, a rip twist in a twee lea
And a nip-lip slit where his cheeky fleas once did flee
Wheezily sneezing, he nixed a leak and denounced heat
Weakly seeking shilled hips, he mixed ten ounces of slipped micks
Amid illegal measles and years of stir-fried sea gulls
In brassy deep bowls; but not a missed kiss
A targeted rocket from grass-high weed knolls and three holes
In his throat like tracheal pockets
No more snake oil sockets, or hempseed throws
He flops to the ground like the lead moles who mock it
He once freely stole lockets, his soul touchy-feely full
His pockets teem with lucky steel bullets, never used
Cleverly leather-hued, merrily weather-shoed
He verily slew and drew uneasily mental on easels in diesel
And thus was the end of gentle Brother Cecil
Subsequently soon the dogs rocked ten seas
Stalked intently the dependable menses of goons
And swooned over the pre-bought boons of fancies
They pre-mocked wicked Mickey, a defrocked jock
Lugging the bent trees he hogged to chug on free talk
Tugging gently, his hair ruggedly flocked like shocks
He re-flogged his cock lickety-tipsy and jizzed busily
Muggedly well-whimsied, he flossed, was tossed
He's rickety-limbed and well-sloshed
Sticky-chinned, forgetfully unlost, hickeys unwashed
Wicked Mickey high-sought, his eyes wild-crossed
Begging nitpicky sauce, he lost his roster to foster frost
And moshed harsh in marshes he lit dully and posh
He plead fitfully dross and bled loss
Every second in that red doss bitchfully cost
His kitsch was gully, his dick fully-mossed
He was licked, his life flicked, bully-bossed
Next on the menu was Allegro from Montenegro
A fair foe with an egg roll that's glaringly integral
He came with a change of venue and a sere toe
He's fairly low as he tauntingly shows a pair of woes
A flare for slow hoes and a range of debut haunts
His lair glows in dated hues, envenomates the rated few
And emanates blemish-hate in low-blow raunch
From the heavy flows of tired haunches
Even the po-po at the levee knows when to let go
Of his mired launches and over-mowed tangle
Now he's got no dangle like undamed dagos
He fought to the last bagel and bought a fast fable
His muscles of massed cables were nothing for the dogs' jazzed tables
His past labels were no match for their vast stables
He fell at last, like battered sable cradles
The dogs found Moco in a slow-mo slot
Screaming for three hots and a cot
His voice is loco like a no-slope bot
And satin smooth like a sirocco knot
He's beaucoup smart like a sudoku trot
With nerves shot, he's painfully taut
He brought guns out a whole hell of a lot
Screaming of lessons to be scar-taught
His mind is hard-fought like a bard's got
He lined his marred thoughts with tarry dots
Like a far-bought clot of cream tarred by rot
He still sought lots of dreams, barred by thought
From mines charred by pined pot
Never mind the kind with which his mind is fraught
His life was fine and then he saw
How very much it was not
The next dog-foe thought slow and met his quick fate
Amid a chorus of crickets on a bed of iron plates
He walked in lows like morticians of old who flicker grates
Shouting in throes up late his name was Washington of woes
He hocked hoes, licked hate and tricked bait
He talked sows into costing him none
And to
ssing him one, flexibly flossing his front
He expertly deflowered her cunt
She showered his runt, and devoured his stump
Encountered zits for hours, kicked dumps and bumped grit
Pumped sours over it and leaked mumps
Like overpowered chumps with undershowered pits
He rumbled her towers of tit and spelunked brutally
Flunking frugally in the frigid boonies of her universe of shit
Loonily lurching idiot, he defunked in a ditch his goonie nurse
Escaped in a hearse with her puny purse of widgets
And tersely debunked tidbits, mid-blitz
He denied six hits on his ticked picks
And died with limp dick despite a flick to his licked prick
He ran slow and finally slipped wits
Soul flying sans knowing the trick
A trust fund orphan with elusive illusions
Of dusty endorphins and subversive portions
Fussing un-gunned with cursive allusions
To contortions and violins worth minor fortunes
Canny Brother Baller chills amid stores of organs
In a manly-smothered alley, selling sins, wills and even more din
As his tranny kills from his uncanny valley of happy hills
He's a dandy galley with rusty whore-pins
Whose trusty four wins lay crusty lore
With more twins for his scorecard again
He's lusty like core sins; his mind is musty with more mids
He once tore kids for his lord's kin
He's gone overboard with gin, Dover-moored and rid
His fanny stealthily jigged
Canny Brother Baller helpfully slid, oh yes he did
Belongings wealthily bid
He died in makeup and wig
Flinging higher rates at his longing, unhealthily big
Next was another dog-cum-ho jogging gung ho and flogging sunchokes
Framed with a clot-blotted garrote and raw gunsmoke
Lightly toked, she blared and blurred hot, bun-buggered
Like a fuck-bus ruckus uncaring of mines and untucked truckers
Whose fun poke at her bare behind was an uncovered success
Her name was Caroline the Cuttress, the unlovered scuttress
She scared many a mind, hovered and buttressed
And spoke smotheringly Southern with flair benign
"My fame is as pure as this hair of mine!"
Ever-mothering, but neither far nor fine
She hoes with hos in rows aligned
Her bog does blow gritty flows along her rosy line
Perturbed a time, her curves unscried
Her phony kine down doth go in fur and spine
Her scurvied rind is both hurt and fine, curt and kind
She tersely reversed the worst nine nurses and immersed churches in wine
The dirty shine bursts upon her mirth
And finds the earth, fully blind
Her flirty whine, bitter to nines, is the skirty kind
In the birthing line, her thirst was hurriedly mined
Mercifully-brined, now firstly-fined
Bells cursedly chimed, dispersing the grime, lips pursing from lime
The hearse will do just fine
The dogs found Prince George amid liches and witches in a rich gorge
He was tanning his blackness with a pinched forge
Banning his slackness, they scan for mackness in his flack-clad morgue
Finding silly string and miles of whackness upon whackness
Stacked up high on a mattress
Like hilly things with the guile of tactness
The dogs fling piles of gats at willy-nilly hacks
And unwarranted packness, singing of the pure sacness of blisters
Remembering their lackness of bling-sure bragness and fixtures
Like a macerated atlas of fissures, they groom tasks for tinctures
And give glass, fur and sadness in gloom-basked pictures
Berated by dragnets of badness, he misheard flatness
His bratness afflictured and exasperated by a mixture of magnets
Ditchers leave him hatless and lacerated like a unitasking pitcher
Thoroughly catless and castrated
He's incorrigibly batless and morbidly fatless
He's eaten by maggots, now forevermore ratness
The next litter-mate, Charles, tripped his gait
And spilled his bitter hate and marbles
On a pile of slate and tarballs
He's falling down more halls
Lamely lobbing large dolls
And skipping dates with unmerited car-bombs
Hauled far on mall-hardened credit cards
He stalls for chicks with pairs of lard
And calls on hicks to tear it hard
Unparroted, no-card or bard
In every other regard, he fails
Plans marred, schemes scarred
Placing mean liens on his petulant petard
Like a bad batter, he butts far
He's growing sad, sadder and cuts arms
His daydreams abut farms unbarned, adjunct to fallen stars
Charles hardly bawls at all at alarms
As he harms the balls of yarn-happy harpies, perched on walls
Still he dies, smartly tall but with unample gall
Down goes Charles with an unfazed gullet
Hate-full heart made of marbled glass and all
In a haze of bullets and garbled mass with deathly pall
They did cull it, horribly crass
As that dunce warbled, frightfully fast
He finally ends: at once, at length, at last
Brother Carroll was yet another seller
Who didn't cook or clean and lived helter skelter
A terrible melter with a taste for peril
Disparaging stellar books of teens
He brooks no ween despite his green jeans
Embarrassing rooks and queens
There's hooks and liens on his sterile mansion
He gives nice looks and kind means for expansion
His scansion is a crook's like a narrow wan grin
His cellar has nooks of green beans and muddy tin
His sloe gin is a bastion of truth bearing scary chagrin
With a dance gun therein, he's a warily, barely handsome has-been
Not unbearably standsome, nor sharelessly imbibed
He's imperiously ransomed, brainlessly fried
Carelessly jiving like a cabby, fearlessly in drive
Uncuriously banned from the land of canned cries
Lamelessly alive, moistened flamelessly and snide
His feral smile is boisterous from tarot
Arrows fly like sparrows as shamelessly he dies
Narrowly goitered, his apparel cloistered in an oyster barrel
Blamelessly bribed, his marrow loitered
But now it freely flows to farrow
Halfway to a sibling-free pack
The dogs found Garrett a rival without merit
His laughs dared wit from a lisping flea bag
For a fee of crap so archival he could never wear it
He practiced his pretty speech on the need for traps
So one day he could blare it
But his shitty reach befit the dumb ears of demerits
And laps of idiot kids and creeps with earring carats
He suitably stank, unpleased yank
A tree untapped, wheezing in ferret-rank, skeezy and slit
He tanked like a shim unflapped and unbanked, unhid
Whose soul silently screamed and flared lit
He had banked on yids
And the toll violently beamed to tear it
The voices needed lids and the dogs
While outwardly peeved, could never share it
Choices weed out do's from dids
Separating bout-worthy bids from sprout-
early kids
His snout churlishly slid from girlishly thin to stirlessly-ginned
He's furlessly rid
His pain grows big as he stretches from rig to nig
His show shatters, his one last gig
And he sullenly fetches a blatant wig
To show some pig, he mullingly wretches a stationary dig
And gullibly sketches a probationary jig
Brother Dorchester was bothered
Littered with sores, well-pestered
His bitterness festered
His mind became hit or miss
And more and more molestered
By the voices he guessed he heard
To rest, it hurt; at best, he's dirt
He can attest to his uncool shirt
And the gun with too many quirks
He runs, dazed and stunned
Hazed by fun and phased by din
He was played by a djinn
Who offered him sin, proffered gin
And collared slim skin
Green like mustard or beet
He cussed hard and fussed feet
Bustled with elite treats
And hustled to rustle his heat
In the end, all was trusseled
Every last muscle and pus-hole in a plush hole
His life was flushed whole like skeet and bussed bowls
His thoughts decay as the dogs cheat with gusto
He rots away in hot peat, flayed sweet
His soul sought to stay but lost its way
Now he is naught but blots of meat
Western-marked, the dogs next embarked in early fall
Hunting Summer's set, they harked fury and gall
Gruntingly spread, they surely stalled to bury it all
Bunting, Summer sweats like a jury uncalled
The dogs punt treks like blind men in blunt specs
Some cunts vex, others wreck or grunt dread
Runners wet like plumper vets pecking new dreck
Summer lets dogs bum flecks and specks of dust
That gunner gets necked, shouting "Tex-Mex or bust"
Instead he met new techs wed to reds who shred lust
Into the Chesapeake annex of meth-fed lead heads
Laying hexes like Texas rent checks from every tenth ex
He bent threads and whorely cared to lend sex
Summer sent meds, and vented, bled, gorely bared
Dumber than zed, he sped on his sled, poorly fared
He's been scared by stunners and unfavorable spreads
Sorely-pared bummers filled beds as Summer killed feds
And was did by dogs: dead
One brother became the late Queen Anne
Who slew her biggest fan and ran on the lam
Mysteriously lean, she's driven like Mister Plan
As she chilled with a fig and slammed ham
Imperiously steamed and served by a sinister clam
A prelude to a minister's scam, deliriously deemed
Anne is willed to a pig by a canned ram
Peerlesslly deaned, Anne finished her tan, filled her wig
And outflanked the stink of rank twinks
Like locusts plan riots, that dog diminished her brand
For crocus-ran diets, hocused her pocus and violets
Groped her broke wiles and shilled violence
Grilled kids for blokes with impish hands and a critical blitz
Rid grids of yoked bids from the hilted and wigged, the wimpish, ungrand
For the unfocused opus of a joke of a lotus who sprayed mortars unmanned
He built big photos and made mourners of her kinnish clan
And the locus of violence that foreigners still hid
Frowns rilled lips and milled hips mid-cold like Finnish land
Her scrapbooks have frayed corners and a lid
Like a bold British band amid bow-kissed silence that coroners well-did
Her laphook has laid horny ponies who are banned from buying mints
But now trying hints from a shorn lamb and a foamy phony corner man
There's a lonely bam, then she's dead
The stormy stony former Anne
The next canine had mall-whores haul his cess and spray nines
Along the west Bay line, cauldron-blessed, mesh-toed on walls worn
He was Ball-More and he saw fresh hos unquesting, their brawls untested
By fallen bores, tall with staggering breasts that stall stores
The best stay blind in awful dresses and say to maw flesh
His ma was all sore, shawl tore with accurate guesses, and said to ball less
To drop the fall score once more, and cop the immaculate stress of weak leaks
To tear down the sweet, sweet wall of success along the hall of horror and gore
But he was all-dressed, in lime slacks and a mauve vest, with gall to roar
His ego and pall soared and found its rest upon some wretch's flayed crest
His kind lacks that knobbed nest but he fileted his fine and grayed with each mine
He once fetched May's grind and lopped hops best, all the way to the vine
The sketched slay, whine and pop tops, lest the doll of fae shine
Upon his stretched hay brine
His dapper lust brays and wets lines
No matter how much he says less wine
He could never confess in adequate time
The dogs scuttled other targets for befuddled Brother Talbot
A mind-muddled, heart-hid kid in a car bed
Who had one foul foot and a cow hoof
But then cuffed, now, but rough
He could still run when he gunned and growled
Ground-up enough, undercut and over-bound
He scaled up as he sawed down
He piled cups and