Neal Drew's Articles

 
Some really might go that far.
Because it's a highly competitive game,
And I've been doing it for a while.
Who do you think they go to,
With questions like
"Where did bukkake first start?"
It ain't the Delphic Oracle,
It's to the tried-and "true
Sage
Of the brightly colorful, shockingly distasteful page.

That poor red-headed boy,
That poor boy was born redheaded.
It looks like someone poured
A bucket of freckles on his head,
And it never got washed off.
His thick blond eyelashes,
Would suit an albino gorilla way better.
But here he is,
In public,
Covering his eyes in the harsh April sunlight
 

That famished young man
With black nail polish
And lipstick
Has a nickel plated .44
Tucked underneath his overcoat.
I thought at first,
"No way, the little prick would never have the balls"
But the way he is staring at the comic store's front door, humming something sinister,
Is making me think again.

You run like Paul Newman.
By which I mean
You run like an aging movie star
Famed for his grit and determination.
You  certainly exhibit grit, determination, and a little bit of slapstick
As you flounder down the sidewalk,
With your arms pumping heroically

Nikolai was a man
With a violent criminal past
Who, almost by accident
Began to make soap with different and interesting fragrances.
His murderer buddies thought him strange
And even feared him more
He was seen as utterly unhinged, and capable of anything.
Inside,
He smiled,
Up to his elbows in lard and herbs,
Happily making soap by day
And reserving nights for shakedowns and killing.

Scary guy from Maine,
Capable of causing pain,
You have 41 Motocross stickers on and around your truck's rifle rack.
You have a bushy beard,
You made the waitress feel weird,
 And your thickly taped aviator glasses
Rest above a reddish nose.
You spent a very long time
Washing up in the restroom,
And left what looks like a bear tooth/gum
As a thoughtful tip on the counter.

Just thought that you should know that.
Just thought
You should be aware
That General Bambuku and I
Are corresponding via email.
And the money I am lending him?
That's actually none of your business
And I don't expect you to understand
The depth of this particular friendship.

 They think
That your aura of black depression
Is a consequence of the thirteen gin and tonics
You consumed last night.
But I am a little wiser,
 And I know that your frown and listless expresson
Are the result of a chemical imbalance
And that you are a victim of a widespread disorder.

 Maybe you misunderstood me when I insulted your family tree.
 Maybe, I should have been more clear.
Maybe when I called your Aunt Lydia a "VD haven"
And your cousin Herman a "wuss"
You though I was saying "hello".
I feel oddly unfulfilled
For it was my intent to enrage you
And yet here we are exchanging pleasantries
Seconds after I called your sister a "human callus".

I dunked once.
But no one must ever know.
Hide this secret, keep it close
And silently enjoy your knowledge.
Know that when I soared
And displayed nastiness on that playground rim
I overcame gravity
And very few people will
Have the courage to accept that.
 

 Khakis from a nightmare
That greet me at 6:30 am
I stumble in humiliation
Trying to get you on,
Zip you up feeling
Like a transvestite streetwalker
Only to notice the multitude of stains
Around your pockets and fly.

How you amaze me with your skill
At conveying interest while
Eying snacks behind me
And checking your watch occasionally
And re-asking questions
All with your arm around me
And your roving hands a-ticklin'.

Exceptionally bright light
On the ceiling of this room.
You are battering me and raining down abuse
With your rays of hell.

Horace the garbage man
Had a rather delicate nose.
 In his eight year of garbage collecting
He began an underappreciated campaign to
Seek recognition for the arts of "trash tasting" and "garbagery"
And was fired.

Peekaboo! Here I am!
That's me, with the night vision goggles.
You might call me an appreciative observer
Of your before bed routine
First you brush your hair, then-
 Ha1 Didn't mean to "show off" with my
Deep knowledge of what you do and
How you do it, but a guy's got a right to some pride.
 

And that fact alone makes me hesitate.
I happily fetched a rolled up newspaper,
Even raised it like an executioner
But then I noticed the bright green stripe
That elegantly separated
This little insect from others that I would readily exterminate.
He's either a Javanese antlered beetle
Or a Kreutzmann's Devil beetle
Either way
His pale spoor and his
Tangy breath
Will grace my bathtub indefinitely

Whatever can be wrong?
He's not slurring his speech at all,,
Or making jokes to second graders
About his cousin's bong.
 He made safe and normal eye contact
And wore his uniform with pride,
And he quickly answered the door
To the room he usually slept inside.
He accomodated my request,
With an elf's clever hands
And politely uttered "cunt"
When he tipped over the full dust pan.
 

You were
My own
Until I rudely
Cut you off with my roommate's kitchen scissors.
You had lingered
Around my crotch
Since late fall
And you resembled a sleeping otter
With a bad case of frizz.
I dismembered you
But, purely by chance
Noticed how springy, even spongy
Was your texture on my chin.
I even pretended I was Lenin, Lincoln,
And several other bearded historical figures
Until I came to my senses and abruptly swept you into my trash.
Parts of you,
Fell into my empty cereal bowl
I am sure that I will encounter you tomorrow.                       

I can't not have
My balls so close to you
That you could taste them
If you just sniffed the air in the vicinity
Having that extra layer of cloth
Suffocating me,
Stifling me,
Telling me I can't do the things I want to do
And be the person I want to be,
Is not happening
I'm freeballing it to work, weddings
And events that take place in poorly ventilated spaces too.

I would swear in a court of law
That your ears are not going bald.
I would wager my wife and five kids
That the thick black and white beard
That is growing from your earlobes and inner ear
Are not symptomatic of ear pattern baldness.