The Gonzo Wolf

Out toking jokes

The matches strike

My ruffled feathers

Dusty bikes

Those hole-filled streets

Deserted house

Abandoned cats

Chase hopeless mouse

A hit and run?

No law in sight

On cloudless day

Or starry night

No rules apply

No handcuff click

No street is safe

It makes me sick

Descendents roll

Disturbing graves

It’s issues, daddy

Scrimp and save

No way to win

All ways to die

It’s tooth for tooth

And eye for eye

A childish world

No honor; sans

Forever ruled

By cucks & Klans

Yet here I sit

With bullet ready

Kept her honest

Kept her steady

Aimed her straight

And aimed her true

No more tomorrows

Hope is through

I’ll be right here

Just like I said

No, nothing lasts

But constant dread.

So, my kid has a slam poem due tomorrow. He’s in fifth grade. He can’t have mine…

We interrupt this porch swing poem to bring you a special news bulletin:

The upstairs schizophrenic called the cops on himself again. Actually, he calls on his downstairs neighbor, but that chick moved six months ago.

The cops know him. Nothing matters. His parents are his caregivers, but they’re in denial. That’s why they swept him a convenient hour away.

Yes, I’ve tried to help, but he’s in denial as well, and violent when confronted.

I went to the police, and they told me to my face that it’s not a crime to have a mental issue, even if that includes driving while hallucinating through multiple school zones.

Texas Adult Protective Services? Nope. I filed a report six months ago. No reply.

Seriously, my kid didn’t want to walk outside our home earlier because there were cops outside…and my son is the whitest kid I’ve ever met!

He wasn’t scared of the violent schizophrenic; he was scared of the cops!

I guess I trust schizophrenics more than cops now, too.

Anyway, so…

There’s that.