bob munchkin had a rifle in his silver pants

bob munchkin had a rifle in his silver pants
by shawn misener
lungs rising from the smoke
the man dipped slowly into cement
wagged and waved
cautiously insane
creeping past the bed womb
with his eyes on the guy’s prize
ova paranoia on the foyer
past regret in a handicap spot
whistling Bob Munchkin
had a rifle in his silver pants
ova and ova
again
with the moon’s death
he would cease seizing
and finger the home from here
sleeping dead forever
‘till the bitchslappin’ sun
steals his chains and underwear
and people must be dealt with
one way or another
he would exist limitless
if he knew how to milk that cow
pale and centuries old
parked in the shade shimmering
with god stuff
and money bursting from the holy ass
The bottom’s gonna come up suchly
and kneecaps are gonna shatter
he knew he saw the future
somewhere close

0 thoughts on “bob munchkin had a rifle in his silver pants

  1. You must be blessed with a working class saint’s idiomatic finesse’. Reading this poem in my mind’s eye is like watching my favorite supermodel ski flawlessly naked down Mt. Fuji in-between flags like knockout coconut beauty weaving art rutting its mark ejaculating sweet soft snowcone essence into the timid winter air… ahh, you get my point.
    Word selection/ideas is so difficult to really do ‘uniquely’ with balance and poise…not too much poetics stuffed thru the creative funnel cake if you know what I mean…a true poet’s expression with divine flow.
    Dammit! Now i feel this urge to go out and buy silver pants! I already got the rifle, hehehe. Kick ass poem, dude!

  2. Ahh shit! Yep, i didn’t even notice the no-punctuation…good call. Which is not to say that a poem sans-commas et.al. will sucessfully ‘flow’ better and even then i suppose it’s every reader for themself. But hey, if i was homosexual (and there’s nothing wrong with that), I’d whisk this guy to San Francisco and get married by an Elvis preacher, oh wait, that’s Las Vegas,…we’d tie the knot on the Golden Gate, eat Rice-a-Roni, and bed-n-breakfast at Alcatraz! The material jostles my ‘everything might be ok with the universe even if it’s not at least i’m not alone in this blessfull struggle’ P H E R O M E S… alright, i’m gonna go get my medication now…

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