almost okay

Fanfares and welcomes to
our newest literary contributor,
Professor Dirk Beat...

Passport To Nowhere, Dig?

Your paper shufflers allow me to move
I can't breathe your air, though, man
Your air suffocates me
Your arbitrary rules bend & break me

Bent & broken I travel still
This world never stops moving after all
You know what I'm talking about
The sun doesn't really rise or set, man

This beautiful, ugly ball of rock & water
Runs from the sun, turns constantly away
Turns its back, its other cheek so to speak
Because too much sun hurts, too much sun kills

Feel me: I'm in the dry grass now, down flat
Eyes wide open to the scorching rays
I hear music...jazz...Coltrane with bongos
As the tears stream from my dead eyes

And the rest of me dies laughing
Traveling still against my will
Breathing my own damn air
My own damn air, man

-Prof. Dirk Beat

Hell at LAX

Smother that Shrieking Child, Bitch
Would Humanity be so wronged with one less
Greedy Mouth to feed?
One less Evil Spirit to haunt us?

Compare that to the infinite number
Of bundled nerves pierced through
With silver shards of NOISE GLASS HORROR
Nerves tortured to This Point

The point where Anger cannot be held back
And Killing provides comfort to the Soul

Smother it, I say. Smother it before I DO

Hell at LAX, Part 2

Who's fucking Rude, Fat Child is THAT?
The One banging his toy car on EVERYTHING?
Running in circles? Demanding attention?
Banging his BANG BANG BANGS
On my Brain? Whose?

Is he Yours, DAD? Proud PAPA?

My hand becomes a Pistol, a Colt .45
I take slow, steady aim, thumb COCKED
Just so you Know, DAD
I've decided YOU are Responsible
And I NEVER miss

-Prof. Dirk Beat