Mom
by Bartimere Gong 

To stand under
the eyes of mom
the judging glare
of mom

To be shivered
by hands of mom
face like raisins
of mom

To be insulted
the tongue of mom
bitter questions
of mom

I have no job
the truth to mom
rent does not care
dear mom

Don’t get me wrong
I love dear mom
the constant bitch
dear mom

One of these days I will have a million dollars
one of these days I will have a house on the hill
one of these days mom will need money for medicine
or clothes or food or shoes or walkers or old people things

I will give it to her
but not without a
lot of needling
dear mom

Up, Up and Away
Hey how’d this goddamned bear get in here? Shit, I wish this beautiful balloon was bigger and had a closet to hide in or something. And a wet bar.

Ray Manatino’s Reworked Classics
Baa baa, black sheep, have you any wool? Yes sir, yes sir, what the fuck do you think I’m wearing here? Does this look like polyester to you?

Curses
I curse you with the spirit of Ralhallah, for charging me this late fee, Blockbuster. The one-eyed stare of Tulanjabi will seal the fate of thee, cock-buster.

Alphabet Soup
Anemic anteaters from Azerbaijan bounce from brassieres and bark at batons. Cold-water codfish cause cramps in the colon of a dark-dimpled debutante named Deborah Dedolin.