Nocturnal Emissions

by Jeffrey Thomas

A translucent and luminous race

  And a kind of wonder conquered his fear

  As he wondered what had taken place

  Were these the victims of a long-dead cat

  That had broken them all with its claws

  An episode so traumatic that

  It caused a moment in time to pause?

  Or carrier pigeons killed in a war

  Delivering messages from hand to hand

  And though the battle was no more

  Cruelly fated to never touch land?

  Did they represent an extinct breed

  As if preserved in a museum display?

  Or pests that were killed eating poisoned seed To rid a garden of noisy play?

  They were his pets and he was their friend

  Their songs kept him awake no more

  He hoped when it was his time to end

  That he too might sing and soar

  A mastodonut will get hair on your tongue They’re so stale they’re extinct, and that ain’t young.

  The astronautilus floats like a living balloon In the dark sea of space that embraces the moon.

  And the pyramidiot sits with his hands in his lap An Egyptian design to his fool’s dunce cap.

  Elephanthill tunnels could fit subway trains Those pachyderms burrow through Earth’s membranes.

  Vertebrains muse as they drift through the sky Spines trail like tails as they glide by.

  The antiquestion is as old as the sun When’s a single a pair and two things one?

  BLUE OAK TREE

  In old Ash Grove Cemetery it resides

  Squirrels in its branches and moss on its sides The oak with the sapphire blue leaves.

  For a hundred years it claimed its space

  Before that strange change took place

  The oak with the sky blue leaves.

  The last leaves it shed were a crimson hue

  But that Spring’s buds were all colored new

  The oak with the blue, blue leaves.

  Some say the oak tree changed inside

  When Miss Mary Long committed suicide

  Hanging amidst its once-red leaves.

  At night when the sky is black as tar

  And the oak tree looms like a ladder to the stars You’ll still see Mary amidst those blue, blue leaves.

  THE EMBRYOS

  Old Lloyd shot his coon hound when he discovered that It had coughed up a fetus with wings like a bat.

  But this mysterious curse wasn’t confined to his dog Lloyd hacked up a fetus that leapt away like a frog.

  Soon the librarian then the mayor then a sizable bunch Produced more of these imps when they recycled their lunch.

  They trapped each in a bottle like a distorted doll And preserved them alive in alcohol.

  These hideous infants could give quite the scare They had enough to supply every last country fair.

  The town built a new barn and lined all its shelves To keep those jars locked up safe away from themselves.

  But soon enough the town woke to a blast in the night Some infernal spark caused the alcohol to ignite.

  Everyone watched as ash rose aglow in the sky The soaring embryos aflame as they vanished on high.

  PHONES

  The phone is a weapon more insidious

  Than a nuclear bomb

  The ring corrodes my nervous system

  A slow, cancerous torture

  The bill collector waits til the kitchen-white gun Is to my temple

  And makes me shoot myself

  My blood is in the mail, I assure him

  Lying, of course

  Dracula, Nosferatu and Vlad

  My friends

  Called me the other day

  Poured their intestines in on their end

  And they came out through the holes

  Like those of a meat grinder

  On my end

  Then they sucked out my blood

  So on their end it would spray through the holes Like those of a shower faucet

  Hey, what are phones for?

  They give everyone in the world a voice

  To nail into my head if they so desire.

  BEDROCK

  Wilma and Fred will end up dead

  In Bedrock

  Their bones will be found all stuck in the ground In Bedrock

  Barney and Fred will have a fight

  Hit each other on the head with a trilobite

  Lay like Pompeii clay and turn bleached white In Bedrock

  Dr. Leakey would get freaky at the goings-on

  In Bedrock

  Darwin would be howlin’ at the madcap times

  In Bedrock

  The Creationists all up in arms

  Not amused in the least by Dino’s charms

  They got their own theories ‘bout those bones and cairns In Bedrock

  Kubrick’s got it wrong there’s no Zarathustra song In Bedrock

  And don’t misconceive there’s no Adam or Eve

  In Bedrock

  National Geographic will be hearing bells

  And more mystical types won’t be feeling well When they find that man dawned on animation cells In Bedrock

  I love the pratfalls of those Neanderthals

  In Bedrock

  I’m the biggest fan of Cro-Magnon man

  In Bedrock

  Pebbles and Bam Bam are the missing link

  Got an elephant trunk in their kitchen sink

  Those were the days I’m inclined to think

  In Bedrock

  (And with a little luck we’ll stay alive

  Live with the Jetsons in their bee-like hive

  Isn’t life fun on channel five?

  Gimme Bedrock)

  A CHRISTMAS CARD

  May today light the way for brighter tomorrows May you lose all your money so you have to beg and borrow May your foot go in your mouth so you have to eat your words May you look to the sky and get hit with pigeon turds May you be stranded in the Sahara without a drop of water May Polish siamese twins impregnate both your daughters May the streets of your future be paved with bricks of tin May a midget in a bad mood come up to kick your shin May you be pecked and stung a lot when you learn the birds and bees May the Great Dog of Life come to consecrate your tree May you fall and be impaled on a stale loaf of sliced white bread May your next blind date be with one of the living dead May you find your dear grandma is really a shameless floozy May the president drop an atom bomb in your new jacuzzi May the horseflies of good fortune follow you where you go May you trip and fall face first in a pile of yellow snow May a baboon in a snit punch your cousin in the gut May a mutant mold from Mars come to colonize your butt May your next sexual conquest rate your performance with a yawn May each of Santa’s reindeer leave an offering on your lawn At this Christmas time of year may God bless us every one And may He drink too much punch and squash you just for fun.

  FAITH

  As I’m whirled backwards in circles

  Covered in gusts

  I look deep in the nest

  Intestines of rust

  Fragile eggshell humans

  Strapped in paint-flaking cars

  Swung like maces in the arms of a squid

  I cling to my restraining bar

  I grin-grimace in fear

  I guess this is fun

  To be propelled through the air

  As though shot from a gun

  This is my space shuttle

  The rock music a countdown

  Will I be cast and explode

  Above this carnival town?

  I trust my paper flesh

  To her brittle bolts and creaks

  Her rust stains like shit

  But my faith is weak.

  She drives us to work

  Claps her hands and we crash

  She lasting volcano

  We transient ash

  She reads my heart pulse

  Churns out frisbees and shoes

  And delivers her own babies
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  She spits out our news

  I’ve been chained to her will

  At her feet I strive

  For decades her slave

  But she keeps me alive

  Shoe-cutter, palletizer

  Each machine has a name

  Ultraviolet plate-burner

  And I’m called the same

  I am the palletizer

  I’m industry’s fool

  But she’s more important

  I’m an expendable tool

  Life is computerized

  The Earth inherits the meek

  And the Earth is a tractor

  And my faith is weak.

  I make love to the monster

  I endorse her manifestations

  I need her mirrored toaster

  I watch her TV stations

  Her electric blanket drapes me

  I gape at Gilligan’s Island

  But she breast-feeds her TVs

  With her busty Three Mile Islands

  She’s a demolition derby

  And we are born into her cars

  She’s our rocketship of fools

  She gives us neon stars

  We forever need her life support

  And I forever wear my g-force frown

  She’s a robot Mother Nature

  In a chrome and iron crown

  It’s a symbiotic relation

  We’re joined like a circus freak

  My dependence never falters

  But my faith is weak.

  There are more silos filled with missiles

  Than silos filled with grain

  In a world of mass starvation

  We’re expected to call this sane

  They’re the foundation of our country

  Practically below our feet

  Like springs coiled in the mattress we sleep on Like the lamp-posts on our streets

  No, they can’t be accidentally launched

  They’re not like planes and trains that crash Or like the cars of carnival rides

  Which God will sometimes dash

  We’re expected to laugh as we spin

  In the end it’s a matter of trust

  We’re in the hands of God

  And God’s caked thick with rust

  I’m a baton twirled at His mercy

  If I live I’m a lucky streak

  I ride the ferris wheel of fortune

  And my faith is weak.

  900 FOOT JESUS

  There are many TV shows for God

  But of course this is the right one

  And I am tonight’s special guest

  Here to tell you of my vision

  I was under a sky of stone

  Surrounded by flame but unburnt

  Just a special guest like now, you see

  To find what Dante learnt

  There rose a frightful wailing

  As from slaughter-headed hogs

  And looking down around my feet

  There lay corpses of cats and dogs

  But no! They squirmed and cried

  The sound of full damnation

  But mind—you aren’t to think

  It was a Hindu reincarnation

  They were demons of a wretched sort

  Perhaps once of human guise

  Though Satan is their master

  It is Satan they despise

  It isn’t better than serving in Heaven

  They aren’t happy that they fell

  One forlorn cat blinked and whispered,

  “My friend, this sure is hell.”

  Oh!—my misery in that dismal world

  There was no cool place to hide

  When suddenly I was in safe shadow

  A mountain by my side

  It was He the never-eclipsed Son

  With whom no Buddha could contest

  He God’s gift to all mankind

  Who loves us Baptists best

  The Catholics see Him as a little necklace

  Most men never see Him at all

  But Jesus appeared to me, you see

  And He was 900 feet tall

  Towering like the Statue of Liberty

  His torch of love forever lit

  A monument to peace and harmony

  Those foreigners have nothing like it

  And He said,

  “I brought you here that you would tell others They must cleanse their gritty souls and repent Cast out your hate! Cast out your sins!

  Cast to me your dollars and cents!”

  And lo! He took me up from that place

  He took me up in the palm of His hand

  As in a skyscraper’s elevator

  Or a ride at Disneyland

  No grotesque pet to Satan, I!

  In no Styx galleon shall I row oars!

  My God is my Lord and Father

  And my Father can beat up yours

  And Jesus His Son looms like a rocket

  God’s Godzilla stomping into the city

  Admit you’re wrong, that He is King

  And just maybe He’ll show you pity

  For He is an all-forgiving king!

  Remember those witches we burned at the stake?

  As many as Nazi-gassed Jews we slew

  All for the Lamb of God’s sake

  Well, that’s over with now!

  I can hate the blacks

  And hate the Jews

  (Though He’s one, too)

  And con, and steal, and exploit the weak

  And never for forgiveness lack!

  For I’m always in good grace

  I’m one of the Master’s Race

  All I have to do is say I’m sorry

  And I can die with this shit-eating grin on my face He’s big, He’s bad, He’s beautiful!

  He’s Mad Max, Reagan, Duke, King Kong

  He’s got big heart, and biggest balls

  (Though He doesn’t use His dong)

  He is Big Brother, He’s my big brother He is everything I am

  I am loving, strong, and right

  I am Uncle Sam

  You are wrong, you don’t love God

  Your works are dirty rags to His gaze

  He doesn’t care if you feed the poor

  If you aren’t like me He will set you ablaze!

  So pick on me, I dare you to!

  I will run to the Prince of Peace for help

  And He’ll smote you with a rolled-up Bible

  And like the dog you are you’ll yelp!

  Don’t try to contradict me

  There is no debate you can win

  The Holy Bible is my fortress

  The only truth contained therein

  No army can scale these cement walls

  With no gun can my pride be shot

  My armor never will be pierced

  With an arrow of dissenting thought

  Jesus and I will sit on our porch

  In a white swing sipping lemonade

  And wag our heads sadly for you

  As we watch you slide down Satan’s blade

  Mourning that you lost the war

  To us, the troops of the Holy One

  And me, a general of course

  One of His Napoleons

  Them’s the breaks, accept your fate

  Don’t blame me, don’t make a fuss

  You snubbed Him, fool, and it’s too late

  No niggers on our golden bus

  Admit that jealousy makes you hate

  For you don’t have my Porsche and pool and estate And the guardian of our country club’s gate

  Is my pal 900 foot Jesus.

  ORANGE SOCKS

  Orange socks stuffed

  With so many pounds of meat

  Like Christmas stockings from hell

  Orange bags for trick or treat

  Her killer’s a celebrity

  An embossed cover and silver foil title

  While she’s a buried black and white photo

  All blurry anonymity
/>   No one has claimed her

  But on him a film was based

  Yes, it was a good one

  But her history’s been erased

  Was she not a daughter or a wife?

  Is her family, too, all dead?

  Or are they too busy reading books on Manson

  To admit she had a life?

  We’re supermarket voyeurs

  With no real interest in the criminal mind

  We just want to know how he killed her

  As we stare at her bare behind

  Her screams are long-passed echoes

  She’s just an extension of him now

  Just a price-tagged cadaver, another victim

  In a country rife with psychos

  To satisfy petty cruel desires

  He stripped her clothes and identity

  And now his desires are our desires

  As we revel in his insanity

  We’ve rewarded him with fame

  Who punished her with death

  Out of pure disgust and rage

  I refuse to give his name

  GHOST IN THE AIR CONDITIONER

  She invited me into her apartment

  I thought, soon into her body

  Her life

  At work we’d wrestle and tease

  Play

  But in her apartment in silence

  Right around the corner from work

  We’d just watch the TV play

  While I teased and wrestled myself

  She was wild and alive

  Then sober and unhappy

  And I was afraid and lustful

  And wondering if I loved her

  Or just wanted release

  And a confused person to be strong for

  So I could feel strong

  That in helping her find direction

  I would find mine

  Do lust and protectiveness

  Walk hand in hand

  Is that what makes love

  Is that what makes a man?

  She thought her apartment was haunted

  Knocks on her narrow bedroom’s walls

  And strange sounds from the air conditioner

  A poltergeist—or “noisy spirit”

  A restless being, a hungering soul

  Reaching out to communicate with her

  So I went there to listen for it

  But the ghost never came

  And as it turned out

  It was only birds that had nested

  Inside the dead air conditioner

  A mother feeding babies

  There was no ghost

  Just a rusty machine

  With hungry animals hiding inside.