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Rant Of The Moment

Saturday, November 17, 2001

The Eternal Penitent

Two beers and then Jesus
Lucky somebody dies
Swear on the lives of your children
May ravens pluck out their eyes
Shimmy shake up the stair case
Zero zero percent
We peddle all manner of madness
Look look where the currency went

Michael Forkan Saturday, November 17, 2001

Thursday, November 15, 2001

Words that should not have to exist

There's probably more but my Merriam-Webster is weak

Michael Forkan Thursday, November 15, 2001

Tuesday, November 13, 2001


it's only punk ass poetry
just sex and death
it's only hits of acid
pills and crystal meth
only liquid lightning
subtle shades of death
merely degradation
can you genuflect
penitent angels
in their muscle cars
feats of Gods and strangers
shades of life's bazaar

Michael Forkan Tuesday, November 13, 2001

Important Dirt Prostitute

You've got to purr every once in a while
Offer up an Enquirer smile
Be the feature in the magazine
Tall and svelte-sharp and mean
Godwalk through academy rewards
See your little face on great big billboards
Bow down and kiss the dirt
That was easy, now did that hurt?
Lick it up and suck the sky
That was easy, now did you die?
So it took a little casting couch
Took a little "Oh no, ouch!"
Put the motherfucking lipstick on
Keep looking for the kindly John
Keep rolling, keep trolling, keep moving on

Michael Forkan Tuesday, November 13, 2001

Monday, November 12, 2001


He awoke disoriented, surprised, expecting sunlight courtesy of the bathroom window and instead being force-fed the yellow of the porchlight through the slats of front door blinds. "What time is it?" The cat was making a horrible sound. A cross between sneezing, coughing and hacking up a hairball."I've got to make a list"

It was a good cat, don't get him wrong. He was not oblivious to the fact that he was making it emphesmatic. "One cannot live based on what the cat thinks."

He had re-arranged the small studio apartment he lived in the night before and it all looked foriegn in the dark. "Did I get any samples?"

The bachelor bed was full of cassette tapes and boom-box and computer. He slept on top of the covers at an angle with an old Christmas blanket inadequately wrapped around his legs. "It's my mother's birthday."

It was cold and it smelled of lonliness. Middle aged dillema. "Oh shit, I hope I didn't make a complete fool of myself."

The tapestry in the kitchen doorway was pulled aside like a holiday curtain. "I should have written it down when it was fresh, now I'll never remember, never remember."

Michael Forkan Monday, November 12, 2001

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