The Countenance Unto Doctor

“God having a penis.
The reasons, Dr. Morgan Rutherford;
I spent time by myself alone
and no one came.”

“And you say God has a penis?
Why can he not have problems
with his asshole?
Or, viscosity and talking lips
that ramble the fates of men?”

“But Doc, how glorious should I die
in the stillness of the countryside
with a 12-gauge shotgun
blowing my fucking brains out?
Stallions run outside.
Oak trees dream under that sky.
My parents would say ‘O my God’,
God would die with me,
would he not?”

“Well yes, yes, I am doctor.”

– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin

The Efficacy Of Tourist

The toilet in Cairo did not work.
The toilet in Seattle did work.

The water stains in the toilet bowl.

The toilet in Mexico City did not work.
The toilet in Chicago did work.

The towels were complimentary.

Complimentary.

The toilet in Calcutta did not work.
The toilet in New York City did work.

The rose colored soap did smell.
The rose colored soap could not be found anywhere.

Children were included in the price.
Children were not included in the price.

The toilet in Gaza did not work.
The toilet in Miami did work.

There were new people included in the price,
beautiful women to jack off to on TV.

The toilet in Kingston did not work.

– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin
from:
antipoémus thumbnail image Antipoémus (poetry book)

Purported, The Magic

I look through the doorway
into the next room.

There are billion stars between me
and that next room.

Things and ways that I do not see.

But I’m a human being on Earth,
I know everything I know
because of my senses.
I trust them.
They’re efficient.
They’re logical.
They’re accurate.

I am righteous
and if I’m not, then I can rely on
the consciousness of others and
words written in scripture.

I can persecute.

Though lest I know not,
I do not see these billion stars
between me and the next room,

the wooden floor
that extends out in linear perspective,
the ports of time,
there, away from me
in the silence of the dark house
at night.