- Home
- Conrad Baines Talbot
The State of Old Lines Page 2
The State of Old Lines Read online
Page 2
crumbly and crummy
Amid a phase of hired hoes and crimson haze
He sneezed and we artfully seized monocles and money
He fought for age, for a liar's loans, for the unfurled page and deeds
He's a hypnotical dummy, rumbling grungily, a fallen faery
With famed tan fades and freed particles of spunk, glee and honey
An untamed panphage, he's solitary-taught like a grump-skunk
His sheen of scum seems cut-free and sun-shamed in dun ways
His bible braises graves for days with bar-knuckles, smutly
As he lazes through rival raves. His tar suckles bluntly
With scars like barnacles and chutney, and tattoos a tribal fan-page
He shouts a libel rampage through the ever-damp haze
Of fire-kilned ugly in his forever tramp-age
The Unhittable Grin
He began in a shack, brimming with crack, limning lacks with tack on trim shims
And winning thin tracks, raising hackles. He's callous and twee
As his team tackles with malice and glee, his ballast is free
His ramshackle palace is foul as can be
Lambs crackle and flee, his phallus is dumb, faculty-free
Rain trickles in creeks, his bowels are loose as stragglers leave
Pain tickles his cheeks, his jowls tighten the face that daggers do weave
Gaggers mean green per scene as the laggers seem keen
He's seen what he's seen, his saggers deem him racially clean
He's facially lean, basically teen, his words are curt and phrasally mean
He nasally fiends, hurls flirts and blurts screeds at fae-silly peens
He steams up spas hazily dreamed
He knows one day he'll be lazily gleaned from the days he'd been weened
Amazingly preened, he'll forever be creamed
He knows no women at all yet about him they flutter
His smile is ferrous, feral and garish, they sputter and stutter
Like a mugger in cheap perfume, their skin is unchurned butter
His mind, a bodega with a weak curfew of clutter
He interviews humbled fuckers in huddles, he mumbles and mutters
Of mirthless measures in random scansion for suckers
He finds worthless treasures in abandoned mansions and gutters
He meanders lifelessly towards land, lost with a broken rudder
He strokes oars for whores, and involuntarily shudders
When love comes to shove, he'll gracefully gut her
He flits about and flaps wings where there are no kids allowed
No pink trapping, no rinks for lapping, no laws against slapping
No cartographers mapping, no pornographers fapping in the derrière crapping
All the cherry hair-free Marys are napping with ideas like vapid padding
The wisely unwary fairy is rapidly adding crabs to alleys like labs in girl-dwelt valleys
He lisps like Susies or Sallies, hurls melted galleys at pelted trollies
He trips, oozing values and whirling welts at taboos and dollies
The faery's fabulous follies fail to fulfill fat fruits who frolick
Like dicks with colic and cash, sad truths do call it and ashy tics can bawl it
The flashy faery crawls quick and hauls hicks for pricks, mawls nicks
And measures only the thickest of sticks, the deepest of rifts
The faery fists, hisses and misses lists of gifts, gives mental kisses
On clandestine trysts as he gregariously grifts, starts tiffs
And passes out mescaline tricks like Mexican licks, hilariously riffs
He supplies spliffs to mess with him through stiff winds. He guesses new trim
And profitably dresses his unhittable grin
Present Bull
She's a garden of hardened blooms
Like rotted tombs, she's unmargined, exhumed
Too rude too soon, ultradoomed, unbooned, her mind well-looned
A hell-goon whose pell mell tunes rose and fell anew
She brooms up rules and tells fools of moons
Her womb looms like dunes and booms like bells
In the cacaphonous wells of spume, she fumes and zooms
Her diaphanous veil spews sales few and hale
Her after-male failed at bail, to adequately rail and at laughter in jail
Her craft hurts like shale, like grafters flail and nail privates
She'll shaft her grail and drive it, then wail live kits
Like her knife hits are wifely wits, rife with brittle life pleas
Her strife-glee fits her wrist nicely, unwisely
She spicily flies high sigh-lean and lively
And dies, surmisedly unrightly
She was chesnut glory, unrested, her bust the best and hoary
She sorely chored her pest, ignored his whore-seen story and more fees
A blossom of more peace could not be more forlorn, nor free of gory floors
She was a rose amid thorns and ivory Moors, a score-needy mistress of sorcery
More Circe than nursery, she threw purses with glee at persons too weak
Her worst part is her bleak, her Maryland meek, her encursening cheek
Her barely and garishly chic meat is her best, her furnishings unblesséd by beauty
Her untested cooties are lessening unduly, she smiles sexily, unruly
She won two trees from moolies and outran police cruelly
Love fuels her few flights of beauty; her unhoneyed duty and bun-buggered dun booty
Spark mutiny and spew many cutesies up chutes to mute seas
Her flutes flee from mooks who shoot cold hooch and uproot the endless down duke
Her face is a gown of gold loot
Her voice is hearty and full; her parties are pleasantly dull
Her love is presently bull, of heaven she faithlessly mulls
She eventfully pulls, unwholesomely crows and lends lows and levers
To cruel Janes and heifers. She even helps hos with web-lures unrevel
In leavened hellfire and devils. She tells buyers to rebel
With treble she tries her mettle, unsettled as cops scurry to kettle
She truthfully heckled their speckled wrecks of curfews and nettles
Unfettered by betters, she dentally flees on relegated knees, her anise, unfenneled
She lettered in kenneling her dog, a collarated fraud, meddling abroad
She tolerated his rod, his unmitigated baud, his lauding of hot broads in sweaters
For him, she was better than God
A Rat I Know
There's this rat I know
Whose whiskers are long and sinewy
They stretch, and he gracefully meanders
To deep crannies cast in shadow
He snorts like Colombian kings, and dances with glee
He preens his daily facade, and gathers his leashes
His tail is stubbled and scaly, eyes pink and dry
But his smile is wide and white, and it rings true
His charm goes on for miles; he lies in fathoms
And misleads in spades; he brings no tools
Nor arms nor legs
He's a hollow rat, and vain
There's this rat I know
He pimps garbage like gilded glitter, robs white folk
And grabs gobs of gizzards. He never gets injured
In spite of his schemes, he tap-dances away
From his nestmates fairly slain. He feigns offense,
Gives with respect to widows and orphans, like middle-aged bosses
And enlightened landlords. His eyes flicker lightlessly
His smile is a plague, his coo typhoid, his gifts are always rocks
His lips spray lies and brainpox. He knows who he is
And what his words will always have wrought
Pain and fear
He's a hollow rat, and taut
There's this
rat I know
He packs and rants in carefully-torn slacks
Sports hats and mistreats acrobats
He never wants for long any single thing that he lacks
His lady rats love how he struts brusque, slaps brats and lazy sluts
He headbutts flats, cuts tacks, bucks fats and hugs tats
When solving a problem, he backs hacks and schemes to the max
He goes all out as he attacks flacks and whacks the American pax
Protests the pimp tax and cries like limp sacs for wizened girls
Nevermore lax, he hurls and harps
He's a hollow rat, and sharp
There's this rat I know.
He builds his nest like a queen bee
Eyes hives with malediction, lies to lemony chives
He freaks at stupid beasts, wonders why
Bears don't pay taxes, spites mice like a
Vindictive cat, he's hip to jive turkeys
Ready to give thanks and eat allies. His fur
Is lice-ridden. He likes girls rice-lidded
His heart is basalt and blood, buried boldly
In bricks by big hicks
He butts bitches and gnaws on britches
He's a hollow rat, and thin
There's this rat I know.
His teeth grow like kudzu fangs.
Ever-sharpening gums, his jaw is a blade.
His eyes flare with green, verdant and jealous,
Running wild. His jaundice catches and
Fatly forages for fruits with cash
Like yellow cowboys, he ruts in stews
That simmer in tempered pots. He dances
Writhing amid jungle beats. Women wet,
Issuing vaginal wine which he drinks
Like Russian widows
He's a hollow rat, and wise
There's this rat I know.
He seduces maggots with vinegar and sweetmeat
They crawl to his claws. He snaps like crabs
And harvests clams who wiggle whitely
He'll bring false hymns to churches globe-wide
His sumac armageddon will fall in flames
Whose smoke cloys spices he spat snidely
He has a face that rips lonely ladies and plants lilacs
In grape fields. Grabbing toes and lemons
How he mines hearts from heaving breasts!
His teeth name eyes
He's a hollow rat, and lame.
My City
My city reeks of battered lace
Its haunted by ghosts whose brittle tongues hide their shattered face
Mile-high porkpies with egos that preen and prance like flattered waste
Pretty ladies, dancing sickly storms for seconds in some scattered space
Tattered alleys turn and
Amid a phase of hired hoes and crimson haze
He sneezed and we artfully seized monocles and money
He fought for age, for a liar's loans, for the unfurled page and deeds
He's a hypnotical dummy, rumbling grungily, a fallen faery
With famed tan fades and freed particles of spunk, glee and honey
An untamed panphage, he's solitary-taught like a grump-skunk
His sheen of scum seems cut-free and sun-shamed in dun ways
His bible braises graves for days with bar-knuckles, smutly
As he lazes through rival raves. His tar suckles bluntly
With scars like barnacles and chutney, and tattoos a tribal fan-page
He shouts a libel rampage through the ever-damp haze
Of fire-kilned ugly in his forever tramp-age
The Unhittable Grin
He began in a shack, brimming with crack, limning lacks with tack on trim shims
And winning thin tracks, raising hackles. He's callous and twee
As his team tackles with malice and glee, his ballast is free
His ramshackle palace is foul as can be
Lambs crackle and flee, his phallus is dumb, faculty-free
Rain trickles in creeks, his bowels are loose as stragglers leave
Pain tickles his cheeks, his jowls tighten the face that daggers do weave
Gaggers mean green per scene as the laggers seem keen
He's seen what he's seen, his saggers deem him racially clean
He's facially lean, basically teen, his words are curt and phrasally mean
He nasally fiends, hurls flirts and blurts screeds at fae-silly peens
He steams up spas hazily dreamed
He knows one day he'll be lazily gleaned from the days he'd been weened
Amazingly preened, he'll forever be creamed
He knows no women at all yet about him they flutter
His smile is ferrous, feral and garish, they sputter and stutter
Like a mugger in cheap perfume, their skin is unchurned butter
His mind, a bodega with a weak curfew of clutter
He interviews humbled fuckers in huddles, he mumbles and mutters
Of mirthless measures in random scansion for suckers
He finds worthless treasures in abandoned mansions and gutters
He meanders lifelessly towards land, lost with a broken rudder
He strokes oars for whores, and involuntarily shudders
When love comes to shove, he'll gracefully gut her
He flits about and flaps wings where there are no kids allowed
No pink trapping, no rinks for lapping, no laws against slapping
No cartographers mapping, no pornographers fapping in the derrière crapping
All the cherry hair-free Marys are napping with ideas like vapid padding
The wisely unwary fairy is rapidly adding crabs to alleys like labs in girl-dwelt valleys
He lisps like Susies or Sallies, hurls melted galleys at pelted trollies
He trips, oozing values and whirling welts at taboos and dollies
The faery's fabulous follies fail to fulfill fat fruits who frolick
Like dicks with colic and cash, sad truths do call it and ashy tics can bawl it
The flashy faery crawls quick and hauls hicks for pricks, mawls nicks
And measures only the thickest of sticks, the deepest of rifts
The faery fists, hisses and misses lists of gifts, gives mental kisses
On clandestine trysts as he gregariously grifts, starts tiffs
And passes out mescaline tricks like Mexican licks, hilariously riffs
He supplies spliffs to mess with him through stiff winds. He guesses new trim
And profitably dresses his unhittable grin
Present Bull
She's a garden of hardened blooms
Like rotted tombs, she's unmargined, exhumed
Too rude too soon, ultradoomed, unbooned, her mind well-looned
A hell-goon whose pell mell tunes rose and fell anew
She brooms up rules and tells fools of moons
Her womb looms like dunes and booms like bells
In the cacaphonous wells of spume, she fumes and zooms
Her diaphanous veil spews sales few and hale
Her after-male failed at bail, to adequately rail and at laughter in jail
Her craft hurts like shale, like grafters flail and nail privates
She'll shaft her grail and drive it, then wail live kits
Like her knife hits are wifely wits, rife with brittle life pleas
Her strife-glee fits her wrist nicely, unwisely
She spicily flies high sigh-lean and lively
And dies, surmisedly unrightly
She was chesnut glory, unrested, her bust the best and hoary
She sorely chored her pest, ignored his whore-seen story and more fees
A blossom of more peace could not be more forlorn, nor free of gory floors
She was a rose amid thorns and ivory Moors, a score-needy mistress of sorcery
More Circe than nursery, she threw purses with glee at persons too weak
Her worst part is her bleak, her Maryland meek, her encursening cheek
Her barely and garishly chic meat is her best, her furnishings unblesséd by beauty
Her untested cooties are lessening unduly, she smiles sexily, unruly
She won two trees from moolies and outran police cruelly
Love fuels her few flights of beauty; her unhoneyed duty and bun-buggered dun booty
Spark mutiny and spew many cutesies up chutes to mute seas
Her flutes flee from mooks who shoot cold hooch and uproot the endless down duke
Her face is a gown of gold loot
Her voice is hearty and full; her parties are pleasantly dull
Her love is presently bull, of heaven she faithlessly mulls
She eventfully pulls, unwholesomely crows and lends lows and levers
To cruel Janes and heifers. She even helps hos with web-lures unrevel
In leavened hellfire and devils. She tells buyers to rebel
With treble she tries her mettle, unsettled as cops scurry to kettle
She truthfully heckled their speckled wrecks of curfews and nettles
Unfettered by betters, she dentally flees on relegated knees, her anise, unfenneled
She lettered in kenneling her dog, a collarated fraud, meddling abroad
She tolerated his rod, his unmitigated baud, his lauding of hot broads in sweaters
For him, she was better than God
A Rat I Know
There's this rat I know
Whose whiskers are long and sinewy
They stretch, and he gracefully meanders
To deep crannies cast in shadow
He snorts like Colombian kings, and dances with glee
He preens his daily facade, and gathers his leashes
His tail is stubbled and scaly, eyes pink and dry
But his smile is wide and white, and it rings true
His charm goes on for miles; he lies in fathoms
And misleads in spades; he brings no tools
Nor arms nor legs
He's a hollow rat, and vain
There's this rat I know
He pimps garbage like gilded glitter, robs white folk
And grabs gobs of gizzards. He never gets injured
In spite of his schemes, he tap-dances away
From his nestmates fairly slain. He feigns offense,
Gives with respect to widows and orphans, like middle-aged bosses
And enlightened landlords. His eyes flicker lightlessly
His smile is a plague, his coo typhoid, his gifts are always rocks
His lips spray lies and brainpox. He knows who he is
And what his words will always have wrought
Pain and fear
He's a hollow rat, and taut
There's this
rat I know
He packs and rants in carefully-torn slacks
Sports hats and mistreats acrobats
He never wants for long any single thing that he lacks
His lady rats love how he struts brusque, slaps brats and lazy sluts
He headbutts flats, cuts tacks, bucks fats and hugs tats
When solving a problem, he backs hacks and schemes to the max
He goes all out as he attacks flacks and whacks the American pax
Protests the pimp tax and cries like limp sacs for wizened girls
Nevermore lax, he hurls and harps
He's a hollow rat, and sharp
There's this rat I know.
He builds his nest like a queen bee
Eyes hives with malediction, lies to lemony chives
He freaks at stupid beasts, wonders why
Bears don't pay taxes, spites mice like a
Vindictive cat, he's hip to jive turkeys
Ready to give thanks and eat allies. His fur
Is lice-ridden. He likes girls rice-lidded
His heart is basalt and blood, buried boldly
In bricks by big hicks
He butts bitches and gnaws on britches
He's a hollow rat, and thin
There's this rat I know.
His teeth grow like kudzu fangs.
Ever-sharpening gums, his jaw is a blade.
His eyes flare with green, verdant and jealous,
Running wild. His jaundice catches and
Fatly forages for fruits with cash
Like yellow cowboys, he ruts in stews
That simmer in tempered pots. He dances
Writhing amid jungle beats. Women wet,
Issuing vaginal wine which he drinks
Like Russian widows
He's a hollow rat, and wise
There's this rat I know.
He seduces maggots with vinegar and sweetmeat
They crawl to his claws. He snaps like crabs
And harvests clams who wiggle whitely
He'll bring false hymns to churches globe-wide
His sumac armageddon will fall in flames
Whose smoke cloys spices he spat snidely
He has a face that rips lonely ladies and plants lilacs
In grape fields. Grabbing toes and lemons
How he mines hearts from heaving breasts!
His teeth name eyes
He's a hollow rat, and lame.
My City
My city reeks of battered lace
Its haunted by ghosts whose brittle tongues hide their shattered face
Mile-high porkpies with egos that preen and prance like flattered waste
Pretty ladies, dancing sickly storms for seconds in some scattered space
Tattered alleys turn and