The Legend of Boneyard
turtle
tortispullo

Boneyard was a wicked and mean old cat

Full of spite, full of hate, and oh so fat

It wandered amidst the graveyard at night

Hunting for something to claw at and bite!

 

It would scratch the earth for a morbid treat

A rat or mole or a sweet chunk of meat

A fat spider would be a tasty snack

But a rotting hand was where it's at!

 

Gnarly black fur that was crawling with creeps

Dirty scythe like claws and razors for teeth

Baleful eyes in the light of the corpse moon

Jade wisps floating in the dark of the tomb

 

Boneyard that monster, that terror, the fiend!

Gluttonous feasting on things best unseen.

It found rot so delicious and divine

Such a grotesque and villainous feline

 

Legend has it though it may not be true

That evil old Boneyard killed a man or two

Leapt from a tree onto the poor sot’s back

Tore out the man’s throat with the first attack

 

When the sun rose there was not much to see

Chewed bloody bones piled beneath an old tree

Twice now, bones have been found heaped under there

Might be dogs—badgers—or even a bear?

 

There were no growls or howls the night before

Just yowls and mewls outside the grave-keep’s door

He locked it up and made nary a peep

But prayed and cowered and dared not to sleep

 

A wise man would have quit on the next day

Found another job leagues and leagues away

For the old grave-keep was the next to die

Something got in and chewed out his eyes

 

I cannot tell how a cat can feast so

Yet this is no common cat—I do know

Might be an evil old thing, spawn of hell

Best to avoid something so foul, so fell

 

Ill luck when a black cat crosses your way

This is not any old black cat they do say

You’ll not have bad luck should it cross yer path

Nay you will find green eyed fanged evil wrath!



A Pantoum
turtle
tortispullo

Song of the North

 

Hwaet Lo! A viking we shall go,

and all within Aegir’s reach

fear our axes as we reap

for the Norse do not sow.

 

So let all within Aegir’s reach

hide their women and their gold

for the Norse do not sow,

and when we fall, we fall to feast!

 

Let them hide their women and their gold

and dread the howling hordes advance

for when we fall we fall to feast,

and so risk the Maiden’s choosing glance.

 

Dread is the hordes howling advance

for as skalds will sing, they must surely know

we risk the Maiden’s choosing glance

to rise in flight above the gathered foe.

 

For as skalds will sing, they must surely know

that the chooser’s hands are cold and sweet

as they rise in flight above the gathered foe,

off to feast in the All Father’s keep.

 

A chooser’s hands are cold and sweet

honeyed braids so sweet like blood

off to feast in the All Father’s keep,

we see our corpses in the rusting mud.

 

Honeyed braids so sweet like blood,

her hands as soft and white as bone.

We see our corpses in the rusting mud

as the Valkyrie carry us home.

 

From Byzantine palaces to Danish snow,

all those within Aegir’s reach

fear our axes as we reap,

for the Norse do not sow.

 

Hwaet Lo! A viking we shall go

…a viking we shall go!

Old Scratch Comes Before the Dawn
turtle
tortispullo

Old Scratch Comes Before the Dawn

 

In the dark a hairless paw

Twisting in shadows

Tipped with moony claw

Cat o’ nine tails

Whipping in quiet fury

Writhing in the deep

Black

Sea

Of the closet

 

Padding across the floor

I can’t hear it

It has opened a door

I can feel it

Cat with nine tails

Cold breath on my neck

Hissing

Sweet

Love—It sings!

 

In the dark there is a song

Debauched melody

There is something wrong

Euphoric disharmony

Cat with nine eyes

There is nothing wrong

In

Loving

Ashmedai



To the melody of Blues Image's Ride Captain Ride
turtle
tortispullo

Fly Casey Fly

By The Kuu Image

(For my cat, Casey Jones, God rest his weary soul)

Seventy keekus sailed in from the dark grey skies one day

clawed off of their air-ship, and began to yowl away,

"Calling all to come along, we must leave very soon,

We will dance our lives away on the darkside of the moon!"

 

Everyone ignored that yowling, paid it no mind at all

They were too busy hating to hear that warning call

An atomic storm was blowin' through the dead grey sky

Seventy keekus sailed right off without saying goodbye!

 

Fly, Casey Fly upon your mystery ship

Be happy with the friends who have joined your trip

Fly Casey Fly upon your mystery ship

Leave them all behind in their Earthly crypt

 

Casey Jones was the captain; he tried to warn us all.

If we don’t learn how to behave ourselves were going to fall.

No one bothered to hear it but Casey had to try.

Then he flew off in his air-ship and began to cry.

 

Casey turned to look down just one last time.

Waiving a lonely paw as the earth slowly died.

When he turned back he smiled in fanged delight.

Sugar Magnolia and the Baron had joined his flight!

 

Fly, Casey fly upon your mystery ship

Be happy with those friends who have joined your trip

Fly Casey fly upon your mystery ship

Leave them all behind in their earthly crypt

 

Fly, Casey Fly upon your mystery ship

Leave them all behind to wallow in their own bad trip

Bye Casey bye, how I miss my cat

I take comfort in the fact I know where he’s at!



Writer's Block: Take me to your leader
turtle
tortispullo
If an alien ship were to land in your backyard and choose you as the earthly representative of humanity, what would you tell them about our world? Would you consider going back with them for a visit?

Leave now and dont look back, were lost, were done. We fucked it all up. Nuke us from orbit.

Who's all Coming?
turtle
tortispullo






Who’s all Coming?
 
When asked who is all coming

I ran down the list

plus Panthor.

Panthor?

Yes, the big purplish cat

you know,

Skeletor's mount

he will be there.

 

Panthor is pretty laid back

doesnt even need a litter box

will just lean his fore paws against

the shower wall

and piss down the drain

(runs the faucet to wash it away)

 

Panthor is pretty laid back

Oh, but if he gets into

some cat nip

watch out!

he goes a bit weird

not a good weird

a very bad weird

let me be frank

Panthor gets a bit horny;

-invades your personal space

-starts sniffing crotches and spraying

- yowling weirdly

(this yowl is the herald of headaches and nausea)

and rubbing against furniture

(all about and everywhere slight shining slivers of purple hair)

and spraying furniture

with big cat funk

(when he gets like this he will violate any orifice)

women, men, animals, the couch!

doesn’t matter

and if her blood is upon her—beware!

he will go right for her

and try to mount her

or

eat her

(possibly both at the same time)

kinda depends

on if he killed

or fornicated

already that day

 

also

be wary of open wounds

stubbed toes dripping from peeled back

nails staining your sock

parted flesh on fingertips

with blood spots on band-aids

he can smell it

even when your upstairs

and he is in the basement

 

but please try not to worry

no catnip

no problem

 

So,

Just say, "Panthor be cool!"

and he will slap you some paw.

 


Honor & Jealousy in the Ashes of the World
turtle
tortispullo

Honor & Jealousy in the Ashes of the World (A love poem)
 
Let me tell you about this motherfucker;
If this were medieval times…
Or
post apocalyptic tides
beneath scorched grey skies
with sick dying eyes
watching from bones
of molding Wal-Mart’s
(Chaos)
feudal societies
warring monarchies
absolute anarchy
fallout, nightmares, infected
(scavenge survive cannibalize)
the whole fucking deal!
MOBILIZE
and I had my kingdom
and he had his keep
our banner-men before us
our friends beside us
their lovers behind us
but not ours
she is in the middle
 
shining like beaten copper in a brief broken ray of starving sunlight
fighting through the black choking atomic shroud
 just to show us
something beautiful
and wonderful
and worth fighting for
on the corpse of my hypothetical earth
                       
I would stop the great fight
it would be my duty
to avenge this personal slight
the bastard placed upon me
                        but I would face him fairly.                       
 
AND DRINK MY BEER FROM HIS SKULL


The Fall of the Bearded King of Babylon-A revision
turtle
tortispullo

The Fall of the Bearded King of Babylon

Saddam Hussein

wore a beard in defiance of the hangman.

This is what I surmise

because to be a gleam

in history's eye

without that stache

(like Joe Steel’s

and asshole cops

and coaches)

or with it

hiding amongst a grizzly mangle

a wild tangle

an uncharted forest at the edge of the world

(here there be dragons)

or perhaps fleas

leaping about amidst the trees  

or little lurking lice (loyal to their liege)

this great beard

can only be worn to spit in the eye

to stubbornly defy

the proclamations

and accusations

of the hangmen.



...I wonder what they meant.
turtle
tortispullo



"The Future" by Leonard Cohen

Give me back my broken night
my mirrored room, my secret life
it's lonely here,
there's no one left to torture
Give me absolute control
over every living soul
And lie beside me, baby,
that's an order!
Give me crack and anal sex
Take the only tree that's left
and stuff it up the hole
in your culture
Give me back the Berlin wall
give me Stalin and St Paul
I've seen the future, brother:
it is murder.

Things are going to slide, slide in all directions
Won't be nothing
Nothing you can measure anymore
The blizzard, the blizzard of the world
has crossed the threshold
and it has overturned
the order of the soul
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant
When they said REPENT REPENT
I wonder what they meant

You don't know me from the wind
you never will, you never did
I'm the little jew
who wrote the Bible
I've seen the nations rise and fall
I've heard their stories, heard them all
but love's the only engine of survival
Your servant here, he has been told
to say it clear, to say it cold:
It's over, it ain't going
any further
And now the wheels of heaven stop
you feel the devil's riding crop
Get ready for the future:
it is murder

Things are going to slide ...

There'll be the breaking of the ancient
western code
Your private life will suddenly explode
There'll be phantoms
There'll be fires on the road
and the white man dancing
You'll see a woman
hanging upside down
her features covered by her fallen gown
and all the lousy little poets
coming round
tryin' to sound like Charlie Manson
and the white man dancin'

Give me back the Berlin wall
Give me Stalin and St Paul
Give me Christ
or give me Hiroshima
Destroy another fetus now
We don't like children anyhow
I've seen the future, baby:
it is murder

Things are going to slide ...

When they said REPENT REPENT ...

in his time of dying
turtle
tortispullo




Saddam Hussein
wore his beard in defiance of the hangman

that is what I would surmise
because to be cast in
in history's light
without that stache
(villainous in the ranks of time)
grown instead into a the wildman's pride
is worn to defy
the proclamations
of the hangmen.



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