The Hero of Hempstead

Mark was mad because he was from Hempstead 

and all his city friends called him a pussy 

He bought a bayonet at the Army Navy

strapped it to his leg

flashed his Spanish teacher 

and got suspended for a week

Later, he hurled half a forty 

through the church window 

and nailed a priest on the head 

He went inside and pissed the pews

as Father rubbed his bloody skull

A crying boy then fled the confessional 

—Hempstead erupted in controversy        

Mark was hailed as a hero 

Reporters interviewed him 

Talk shows extended invites 

Beauties graced his lunch table 

Last Thanksgiving

he and a cheerleader 

borrowed Mom's Volvo

to catch a midnight showing     

They were never seen again

Mark's city friends still call him a pussy

Some people are never satisfied 

Who Cares

My church got bombed
My house burned down 
My Mustang was stolen
My photos are gone
I lost my '68 Strat
I lost my Warhol prints
I lost my Winnie the Pooh
I was bullied as a child
I was neglected as a child
I was abused as a child
I never was a child

Who cares

I lost my partnership
I wrecked the van
I've OD'd fourteen times
My wife left me
My children hate me
My cholesterol is high
I've lost faith in God
I regret my decisions
The dogs keep barking
The drones keep buzzing
I can't feel my hands

Who cares

I don't like my voice
I don't like my face
I don't like my image
Someone pushed me
Someone mocked me
Someone belittled me
The cashier ripped me off
The lawyers ripped me off
The government lied 
My cousin is in jail 
I'm hearing voices 

Irrelevant

I'm anxious
I'm feverish 
I'm jaundiced
My liver hurts
My kidneys hurt
They're following me
They're slandering me
They're controlling me
They've poisoned my food
They've stolen my identity
They're plotting my downfall

Who cares, man
Who fucking cares

What's Your Agenda

Heard that man speaking 
Didn't like what he said 
Saw that woman waving her flag 
She really hurt my feelings
Why are they trying to steal my rights?
I wrote a manifesto but threw it away 
Couldn't say what I really feel
I'm like an ancient warrior
Fighting for what's right 
I follow my forefathers
Blood
Purity
Discipline
That man said things I find insulting 
He's talking to kids, for God's sake 
Influencing the next generation
It's just not right
I started working out 
Eating better 
Staying hydrated 
(Why did I always try to hide?)
That protest made me angry
Snowflakes insulting my country
We didn't invade Iraq for nothing
Our good soldiers didn't die in vain
Back to the manifesto 
So much clearer now
The Search for Truth
Light Through Darkness
Good Things, Right Things
It's always been so simple!
That worm and his false words 
That rat and her rotten flag
Empty smiles 
False agendas
Profiteers
And our kids listen to them
Why do people love liars? 
There must be consequences
For their words
Their lies
Their influence
My forefathers have spoken
I am the Protector of Truth
Righteousness
Purity 
I am the Light and the Fire
You are the ashes of deceit
The manifesto is finished
The training is complete
My mind pure
My body clean
Discipline
Discipline
It shall be done
 

The Altruist

Droves of girls cry in the streets

at the news of his untimely death

Grown men stand silent

as the hearse rolls by

What a fine man he was 

Came up from nothing

Fought for his country,

sacrificed everything to stop 

those sons of bitches

that threatened our freedom

He returned home decorated 

and never spoke a word of it

Went on to teach poor kids 

coach the football team 

volunteer at the shelter 

after church on Sundays

Only fitting he should become mayor

and return this town to its former glory

What went wrong?

How could they be so cruel?

God isn't fair, the young girls cry

and bitter men clench their fists

as they lower him down

with a three-volley rifle salute

His widow stands at the grave

recalling the Chicago World's Fair

when they held hands 

and watched Graf Zeppelin 

ascend the sky,  

a promise of the many wonders 
their world was soon to see 

Simpler Times

Candy store comics after school. Rom has silver blasters for hands and everyone is in a panic. But it's forty cents and I only have a quarter, so I buy a bag of chips and head home 

I bounce a Spalding the entire way. When I get home William is cross-legged on the floor, box of Yodels in his lap, Woody Woodpecker on TV

Mom is on the phone. I ask when we're eating but she doesn't hear. I snatch a Yodel and kick William in the butt. He doesn't respond; he's in there with Woody

The doorbell rings and Rex starts barking. Mom hangs up, peers out the window, curses. She yells for me to put Rex in the bathroom. I drag him in by the collar and return to the livingroom

 
The two men in the doorway wear dark suits. They're clean cut and reserved. "I haven't seen him in a year," she says. They nod patiently, glancing at the barking bathroom

 
One hands Mom his card and they leave. She rushes to the phone. I ask again when we're eating but she doesn't hear. I free Rex and grab another Yodel 

It's 4PM. The Little Rascals is about to start

Transactions

Wrap them in plastic wrap them in blankets I can't think 
with that stench was that your cousin I saw in the gutter?
It's getting dark the truck won't be there much longer
grab me a water a loaf of bread I'll trade you these 
sandals (no, that's not blood) just get me a water 
the truck's gonna leave I think I hear another drone

I was a performer long ago I dove from the highboard
they loved me they cheered I even made a few bucks
there was a Romanian girl she had kind brown eyes 
sad eyes I think her father beat her we fell in love and 
we would meet after the show and walk around town 

Hurry up kid just run to the truck before the bombs start 
again I don't want to get blown up these dogs will tear out 
my eyes wrapped in plastic wrapped in blankets they won't 
even give me a proper burial get me a water a loaf of bread 
I'll trade you these sandals come on don't you see I'm dying? 

Her father told her to marry me and he'd pay for the wedding 
he just wanted to get rid of her see she had one foot that was normal and one that was very small otherwise she was perfect kind funny rich brown eyes long black hair but she couldn't work and her father the bastard he considered her useless

I wonder how things would be if I'd stayed gotten married 
worked with her bastard father while she cared for the kids 
(a real family, you know?) but I just couldn't get past that tiny foot and now here I am in a bombed out city fighting off dogs with a drone taking aim every time I scratch my goddamn ass

Read "The Ivory Box" at Squid Literary

Ever start a new job just to learn it's far worse than the old one? 

"The Ivory Box" plays upon the bizarre irony often found in pre-code horror comics.

Thanks to @squidlitmag for publishing it! 

Check it out:

https://www.squidliterary.com/journal/categories/fiction