Global Thermal Haikuclear War IX

The Turd Burglar strikes

Again! But the cops don’t care.



Lone Wolf with pony tail

I’m a Lone Wolf and I need a hair-do to match because when it is on and I am in it my hair had better look good so I went to the cuttist and said, “I’m a Lone Wolf and I need a hair-do to match.” She said, “I can dig it, baby, ’cause when it’s on and you’re in it you’ve gotta look good.” And I said, “And that’s why I came to you.” And she said, “I can dig that, too, because you’re a Lone Wolf.” And I said, “That I am.” And she sat me down in that chair and ran those fingers through my chocolate locks, and she nodded her head, and pulled my beautiful hair back behind my head and put a rubber band around it and said, “done.” And I looked in the mirror. And it was a pony tail. PONY TAIL! And a single tear with the emotional weight of billion newlyweds slid down my cheek and I jumped out of the chair and howled, “LONE WOLF!”
Because that’s what I am. And that pony tail was the last piece of the puzzle that when it was finished was a gorgeous portrait of a beautiful renegade that was me, because I am a Lone Wolf and then later that night I went to the club with my sick new hair-do and I hit the dance floor and the d.j. turned off the music and the spot light blazed on me and all eyes were on me including but not limited to the people in the VIP and I laid it on the line:
bones and sticks
can’t hurt me none
like a name
yelled in the heat of the war
hot piss and urine
used by the soldiers
to make soup
because they don’t got no hot water
and at night in dreams
making love to rampagers that
dance in the legislature
don’t look at me like that
because it’s no me
no, it’s

Yeah, I said my poem and the crowd at the club went nuts. And while I know my lyrical slamdown was dope, let’s not throw any shade on the sweetness of my pony tail. Because I’m a Lone Wolf. But you can call me “Eddy Bone.”

I am the eloquence

Theys has them hurtful boom tunes blurtin out them hateful pump boxes down on them beach where them naked weirdos do theys sex dances and theys dont seem a give a single care about the FACT that there a school with CHILDREN not more an twenty six miles away and you tell me how its fair a that THEY get all angered up if you call them out on it and theys say its ART and listen I dont think they seen art cause if theys think that that sicko naked music dancing theys call ART is art then I am confused cause as if thats even a actual thing cause I seen art afore and it aint that no way no purple penuses wagging in the plain air in front a my face when I seen it but sure now a big thick roger johnson done up like a electric torpedo for all to see is art and you wanna let it all out there on the beach with theys kids right THERE twenty six miles like they could smell the stench in theys school and now I ask you how or when kids dont need a know bout a penus or ladyhole ever I think if you wanna really imagine what makes the world so sick is all a penus and them with them boobs and the menstratin in public and the hardcore PORNO dances all over the beach and in the schools and in the legislature with the politics and the ECONOMY AND THE QUALITY OF A THEM HOT WINGS OVER AT BUZZERS SPORTS BAR WHICH COST $1 EACH ONE AND AINT EVEN HOT!!! SHAME!!!!! GET A NEW SAUCE!!!!!

An open letter to the open minded

Dear carnal buffet of wonder and taste,
I’ve got it bad from both sides. My jack is jilling and my Jill is jacked. I’ve got a motor in the moonhole and an engine in the stars. And they both run on gas, Baby, gas. And by gas I mean the sex. I take it pure and fluid and nasty as a Norwegian Swede at a Mississippi Swamp Jam. You heard me. So. Question one. You wanna meet me in the bog, baby? Cause I’ve got thick wrinkled mudflaps that hang all the way from hello to goodbye! And I need a hot splashbone to part my curtains and wash my windows. My skin is covered in sexual grease and I need a heavy dripper to scrape me off and dry me out like a Bedouin Jacuzzi. I wanna feel the harsh wind of a throbbing blunder nugget splitting my mottled thighs open like a mountain does the sky. Make my sex place a Montana licence plate and ride the beef fleet on in and in and on and on. Juice my lewd tube and make it send sticky clouds into the fleshy sky. I’m a deuce caboose front and back and side to side stopping at all stations from Ladyville to Mantown. My body is nude thunder and naked lightning all buff and smooth and wrinkled and creased like a midnight prune. I give it and take it and mix it and make it because I’m double-edged piece of Parmesan that you wanna sprinkle on your erotic lasagna. I’m spaghetti and meatballs, baby. I’m sweatpants and tightjeans. I’m a loose goose. I’m a slop dog. Lather me up and rub me down and use my multi-body to clean the grime off of the city with them officials down at City Hall sitting up in their crystal offices writing sex cheques their nut butts can’t cash and sticking the dirty costs hard up into the crowded holes of the commoners sitting all complacent in front of their teevees vaping bubblegum and eating pudding and smiling their toothless smiles and wallowing in ignorant glee.
Snakeskin Renegade

Statement of Ultimate Facts 2018


My name is Chef Pierre and I’m my favourite guy I love the food I make in my restaurant I love my food it is the most tasty taste and when it’s in my mouth I’m my favourite guy and when midnight comes my name is Chad Peters and I make the sex like a flesh monsoon and my best sex move is The Snake In The Pantry and I do it smooth it feels like slippery love and my other name is Sombrero Jones and in the morning light I sing the song of freedom it sounds the sound of a million birds all whistling proud the accomplishments of their children in various activities and it makes me feel like my favourite guy who is me because I’m that guy and I do my best everyday. Peace out y’all.

PHONEZONE (into the communicators[beyond the future realm])


dial it up
what is the number
now it is ringing
the dial tone’s bringing
to a magical place
voicemail’s of mystery
punch in the zone code
what is the number
the signal is busy
the connection is whizzing
to a mystical place
operator assist me
electrical whizzwhee
rotary dialing
touchtone compiling
stay on the line
while the wizard completes you
enter the digits
calling inside you

Emotionally Concise and Spiritually On Point


Tonight is forever
and tomorrow is tonight
The moon is shining
And the beach is eternal
Because you are my woman, baby
And you are the rainbow
In the sunshine of the night
And the winter snow is falling
As the warm breeze blows
Through the flowers in the field
And you make it morning time
when the clock strikes midnight
and the butterflies are riding high
and the stars are waving ‘good-bye’
And you are my baby, woman
Making freedom sing its song
And eternity is just a day away
I can’t wait because
you bring the summer vibes
baby woman forever girl
You are the best horse  in the race
and I am the Wizard King
alive and well and busting his nut
in his mountain palace
and you are chief of the love police
spitting squishy justice out
from Central Headquarters
And tomorrow is forever tonight!