SEVERAL SANDWICHES by Dennis Doph

touchdown jesus. 24

I think that I shall never ever see
A fucking mess like candidates for Tea Partee
Floundering, beset with rage and inchoate confusion
Not to mention serial demented delusion
This is the bunch which makes us neigh and nicker
While they push their WE ARE THE REAL AMERICA
cherrypicker

Out in Delaware we have that babygirl disgrace
Wilmington's answer to Plan 9 from Outer Space
Ms. O'Donnell sometimes referred to as Crass Christine
The convolutions of whose brain are like nothing seen
Since the dear dead days of phrasemaking Father Divine
Or since Mary Woolstonecraft Shelley invented Frankenstein
No one equals the witchcraft of this truly unslick chick
She is several sandwiches short of a picnic.

Then in Nevada another brassy babe has the throne
Sharron Angle emerging from the Twilight Zone
She has pertinent information to stuff our collective craw
Like Dearborn Michigan being under Sharia Law
Or asserting what appears to be her inborn need
To exercise Second Amendment rights on Harry Reid.
But I must commend this singularly ignorant Reno twist
For being able to escape every professional journalist!
Hate to be hangin' since this Scrag last saw a decent dick
She is several sandwiches short of a picnic.

Storming out of Buffalo -- barely controlling his anal expulsions
with Beano
Comes His Ugliness Himself Carl N. Paladino
Stumbling around on stocky Guinealegs, with each push and shout
Threatening every journalist with: "Take him out!"
Hopefully New York will not be saddled with this fearsome uomo
And we can bask in the Democratic sunshine of Andrew Cuomo.
Paladino's so explosive it would be a mistake to flick your Bic
He'd explode before we even get the chance to set out the picnic!

Doesn't matter whether he shouldn't have or shoulda
Rand Paul is much better off worshipping Acqua Buddha
Worshipping quff that had to be paid off to see the back of
Worshipping his shrimp of a Dad Whose Ayn Randisms
no one can keep track of
What he should have kept track of is to make his manager
stay in place
Instead of throwing the protestor in the gutter and stomping
on her face
Rand Paul is not even invited to the picnic. But he can chew
on this bone
While his poll numbers keep on dropping like the proverbial stone

and up in Alaska.
well .... what's happening there is not something which happens every day
While the fat mayor of Sitka's numbers can suddenly take your breath away
Lisa Murkowski should just give up that brood mare stall
While Miller's Jokebook shackles another journalist against
the courthouse wall
Now that it looks like none of these bastards can turn the trick
Every god-damned one of 'em is several sandwiches short
of a picnic.*

*and while we all must go and vote and wish for happier days
Thanks, Eugene Robinson, for this nifty turn of phrase

MIRROR, KILL by Frank O'Hara

All the mirrors in the world don't help.
Nor am I moved by the calm emergence
of my image in the rain
It is not I who appears or imagines.

See
If you can
If you can make the unpleasant trip
The house where shadows of my own childhood
Watered and forced like overgrown bludgeons
You must look
I cannot.

I cannot face that fearful usage
and my eyes in, say,
The glass of a public bar.

Become a depraved hunt for other reflections.
What a blessed relief!
When it is some disgusting sight,
Anything
But the old shadowy bruising
Anything
But my private haunts.

When I am fifty
Shall my face drift into these elongations
of innocence and confront me?

Oh, rain, melt me!
Mirror, kill!

THE RHYME NEXT TIME by Dennis Doph

touchdown Jesus. 23

As I keep trolling on
From this dusk to next dawn
And I feel your breath hot on my neck
I feel marginally enslaved
And a bit more depraved
Than the hubris I just keep in check

And my Man Thing won't wilt
Bulging out of my kilt
As it promises considerable bloom
If you feel tropic breeze
As you sink to your knees
I'm sucking more than hot air out of this room

While I promise delights
On sweet midsummer nights
Entertaining (and straining) the Troops
What I do One on One
Is fascinating and fun
But it gets just delightful in groups!

So, inviting you to binge
With the Bears at Palm Springs
Should not ratchet you up with alarm
It just puts some more WOW
In the surge of this plow
Since a blush is just part of my charm.

You won't lose any shekels
Counting all of my freckles
Or countering most of my sass
So you must come to grips
With penetrating my lips
Spreading the hairy butt cheeks of my ass

Though you may not think it smart
Prostituting my art
Wondering why all these Bears think I'm a swell beau
You won't question a thing
When you're strapped in that sling
And I've ventured on up to my elbow!

Here's offering the best,
Penetratio delictum est.

THE MONOPOLY GAME OF THE FLYING FIST

touchdown jesus. 22 by Dennis Doph

FISTBIRD was released
On a rainy night in Manhattan Rainy miserable night
Back in 1969. LOTHMAN showed him
Where his sphincterhole was located
D
Unacknowledged owner of FISTBIRD
folded his long very foldable hand The Left One
To penetrate Lothman Learning to his astonishment
His newly created entity FISTBIRD
would seek out Lothman's hole over and over
and over

Lothman showed D how to stroke
His willing puckered hole Push the Fist
That Flies Like a Bird into that hole
Stroke, stroke, stroke, stroke.
Pound, pound, pound, pound.
Seek.
Seek.
Seek.

The Second Hole, high above.
Fistbird found the Second Hole
Entered Lothman, felt the sleek reality of his
Long wet-all-over transverse colon
Fistbird knew
He was home

Lothman taught Fistbird the positions
Swan. Starfish. Amoeba.
Powerdriver.

Fistbird was released
Into the long fisting night of Manhattan
with only a map of Pigbaths to guide him

Fistbird flew
Many, many years, into many, many men who needed
A Flying Fist to go where no light ever shines

Then he met
The Blue eyed Boy who did not want a Flying Fist
Pounding where he thought a cock should be
Blue eyed Boy commandeered D's perfect cock
for seventeen years Then let D go off
Into another more improbable Los Angeles Night
As the Boy went pursuing youthful Persian meat

D looked down at Fistbird
Fistbird looked up at D
Every digit quivering, Fistbird, kept under wraps
Seventeen long years fast in the fantasy known as monogamy

Fistbird flew
High, Wide, and Handsome, which is a movie starring Randolph Scott
Randolph Scott played his last starring role
Involved in a winner-take-all game of Monopoly
Do Not Pass Go, Do Not Collect $200.00
fly, fly, fly, little Folded Fist
Fistbird
Natural Ruler of the Educated Butt

Fly
Up the willing asses of the Butt Regimen
Those who cannot live by dick alone
Fly
To the temptations of pornstores down on
The drunken end of Pornstreet Santa Barbara
Private screeningrooms Not so private
Fistbird trolls the halls of Backroom Heaven
Looking for an ass where he can fly

Waiting
For magnificent Topman who traps him
Magnificent Topman in his tight yellow tshirt
In the backroom where Topman has his own Johnny Wadd
Pornflix shown. Topman makes D sink to his knees
Take his sperm then
They play the Monopoly Game of the Flying Fist
D stays on his knees face still covered with
Topman's delicious sperm Fistbird inverts himself
Into the classic Swan Position, flies up
Up up up
Topman's perfect puckered wet ass

Flies, flies, flies
Finds Topman's Second Sphincter all fluttering wild
Waiting for Fist Invasion D spreads his knees
On the floor of the screeningroom Long dead
Johnny Wadd penetrates some crying boy
On the screen of the room with his thirteen inch
Man extension
D shoves Flying Fistbird into the hugely muscular
Man in the yellow tshirt penetrating that elusive
Second Sphincter flying, flying, flying
High above Like the miners trapped in the Hole in Chile
But in reverse. Flying deep, deep, deep
Into the glistening hole of the Man in the yellow tshirt's
gut

The Man cries tries to extricate himself
From Flying Fistbird knowing it is hopeless
Flying Fistbird must fly till he has found his home
Up so near Topman's red beating heart

Fistbird gives Topman his second orgasm
While on the floor knees still spread
D the owner of the Flying Fist
Shoots his solitary load on the floor of the screeningroom
Wet
Complete
Till the next time