A Poem, by damn, When he Should be Filling out Applications for a New Life

By Seamus O'Sparks on August 2, 2017 — 1 min read

I wish I had a huge cock
Something to split the crotch of the world
While death jerked me off
I’d name my penis, “Burps.”
“Easy Burps” I’d say
Then I’d do all the porno
The women would make a bug-eyed squirm
And the men would wiggle in doubt
I’d love the life
Lips to ass, all the way home
Fucking pianos until they went out of tune

No… I wish I was good with numbers
Math and shit
Jizzing integers on the world
I’d solve equations-quadratical, radical
Man would I bust ‘em in half
Then it would all be a buttered spud
Me and the numbers-counting the blessings
Because you sure as hell can’t count on people

Instead, it’s all words
My words-the fucks and shits of the day
When the screws are put to you
That much tighter

My words are all the junk I eat
Turned to fat
And heart attacks
And dementia

My words are the ever ready epitaph:
Here lies all the meat
He was gravy in life
And now, all the words he has left
Are carved upon this rock

Posted in: Poetry

The Story of Seamus

Seamus O'Sparks is the seventh son of a Seventh Day Adventist who went on a seven-day bender starting on July 7, 1977 at a strip club called Seventh Heaven at the corner of 7th St. and 7th Ave. in the West Village.