A Rumble at the Open Mic Night

Up from the Sea

Lining my pockets with currency

freshly earned by Judas

Take a pound of the tender flesh

Scar tissue’s exchange rate is bad this week.

Flesh, well kept, never goes out of style

I’m a fish-faced enemy of the people

Lending power limited

Credit score infinite.

Up, sea

Let the current take me

See through the flotsam,

Age-old pollution.

The Fish with three eyes,

Glowing in the twilight and whispering sweet bubble nothings to the casual observer.

I take my financial advice from a Ouija board co-piloted by the atomic bomb and a piece of the real cross of Jesus Christ.

From Up

Come to me, sweet oblivion

Short my stock portfolio and eat the good leftovers.

Let my car run overnight but keep it safe from those who trespass against me.

All of the eggs in the fridge

Bloody with disappointment. The farmer’s crude lament. 

Let each meal swell in the intestines of my friends and foes alike. 

Sweet oblivion, decorate my yard with half eaten plastic wrappers and coffee grounds.

They will say, “that is a choice.” I will agree.

From the Sea Up

I am the Lord of Greater Inconvenience

You shall know my nominal wrath and be left shaking your head like all of the other suckers.

I’m not even going to be the better for it

It’s just a cup of coffee to me. Size medium, not even iced.

It’s all nice.

When the curtain closes

The applause concludes and the sound of shuffling feet 

Dies off in the now-dusty quiet of the stage.

Lights off

and we return to the soil.