Farrah
I can remember
shooting bb's out
of compressed air
tommy guns
at red stars on
paper targets
on a carnival midway
in Berdoo
as an early teen
on a warm July night
all the red ink on the
paper targets
to win something
I shot one out
as the girl I was with
snapped her gum
and applied more
bonnie belle after
every snap
when I won it was my choice
between the farrah poster
where she is wearing a red
one piece bathing suit as
her luxuriously highlighted
mane of feathered hair framed
her crystal blue eyes and razor
sharp smile that danced above
an erected nipple that pushed
a bulge into the swimsuit while
she was handsomely outlined
by a multicolored tijuana blanket
that you could always get at the
border crossing for cheap
the other offering to choose from
was a stuffed pink panther or
large white teddy bear
my lil' cholita date was pissed when I
took the poster and left her hanging
because she wanted the pink panther
to carry around and glare at the other
young girls like some amazon displaying
her captured trophy and man slave
she didn't talk to me for an hour and
wouldn't hold my hand as we walked
it got to be too uncomfortable
so I took her to the parking lot
and lit up a red hair joint
that I was saving for later
I gave her the roach clip with
a feather dangling from it
when the yesca was all ashes
I clipped it in her feathered
two tone hair behind her ear
then we made out in our stoned
teenage bliss and she gave me a
hickey to make up for it
but the next night it was just me
with farrah on my wall and a
frozen spoon on my neck
trying to remove the hickey
farrah never judged me for it
she always loved me unconditionally
from that night on
Books I've Read and Discarded
I am a voracious
reader and seldom
pause to ascertain
the damage
I have done
to the books
themselves
their spines broken
on the first anxious
parting of their pages
that get worn, torn
dog-eared
ripped out
their jackets
warped by
the elements
spilled drinks
burnt spoons
blackened pipes
smoldering ashes
splattered blood
errant bodily fluids
bottles and glasses
that leave circular stains
that appear like demonic halos
haunting the covers forever
I have left them all behind
because I have had to
travel so light
move so fast
fly so high
swim so far
books can get
so heavy
so cumbersome
as I crawl on my belly
or jump from a window
or run across the
border at night
but, I would never
use a book I loved
to block a bullet
or a blade
I look in the past
at all the titles
that I mistreated
in this way
at the incidental
wear and tear I have done
to the source of my knowledge
that was acquired with the aid of
their mistreated pages
the source of my inspiration
for life and creation
that emanated from the
display of words ordered
like arranged flowers
of sacred ink
I humbly offer up my service in
mending any books that I can
as I read them more gently than
ever before
placing them back
on shelves
walking away slowly
in case I might
hear them
choking
back tears
as I leave
Home Invasion
the door gets
kicked in
we come in
Dada is home
coming into you
every way we can
telling you what do
how to feel about it
from moment to moment
what to buy
when to buy it
always reminding you
to stock up on more
because you eat this shit up
you hear us when we tell you
it's not enough
you are not enough
you need the super economy size
because you always fuck up
you always get it wrong
so have some of our shit
on a spoon
some of
our piss
in a bowl
some of
our cum
on your ass
now give us
your cash
your credit cards
your children
then get back
to work
to get us more
so we can
give you more
of what we have
got for you
service with a smile
from a disconnected voice
that always tells you
you have been selected
you are the next contestant
don't bother coming down
we have already penetrated
your ordinary lives with
our extraordinary volume
and persistent consistency
we are past the hoop
up your ass
deep in your pussy
tweeting your twitter
expanding your market
your horizons
your need
our greed
we didn't just show up
we were here before you were
Dada is home
in your house
eat it all up
and beg for more.
A. Razor was born in Brooklyn, N.Y. in 1963, but raised mostly in southern California. He was raised with a strong desire to read and write, but an even greater desire to survive, which has aided his experience and longevity so far. He began writing and publishing around 1980 in various underground zines and publications, first in the Los Angeles area, then ever expanding outward from there as he was discovered by Drew Blood Press in 1984. He read his work at many readings and spoken word events. In 2009 he became a member of the Hollywood Institute of Poetics in Los Angeles, CA. He has traveled extensively, seeking and enduring everything from homelessness and imprisonment to serenity and peace.
Archived at http://girlswithinsurance.com/index.php/poetry/poetry/105-ar-1209-three
