The Gorko Gazette

moon shot mortuary

This time, wandering
downtown craters
the mind kicks up
memory’s refuse
with heel dirt leaving
no exit from my cranium

& no way seeing
all the starry clowns
mirroring my skeletal face?
Dreaming, swirling then
in dark flesh

my ebony cockatoo awakens gross-splendor
in a formidable lunar module
gasping in cheesy release

(while)

grasping a newfound dictum
of fecal matter
within the prideful pallor
of lost astronauts

ejecting moondust, flowing sideways
into the man in the moon’s
necrophilic kingdom

---

Diatribe of Deceit

Does she weep for me?
Forlorn in spurting
Ashes of her crack pipe
With seeming wind
Timeless shadows bring
In our cluster orgy
Of mass insanity –

(what smoky wheeze overcomes
lungful shank of Buddha-lips
smiling under scorched Bodhi
tree of fallen desire,
her bra in godly wizened face
bringing tears to a voyeur bum
filming it for You Tubers
to dance in pagan bliss around –.)

Is this a diatribe of deceit?
In my meandering muse
I asked Eve, blushing
As bits of whirling apple-motes
Colored our eyelids sallow gaze
like ransomed kidnapped notes?
Tonguing – for the first time
Our tree-grown genitals
Bleeding with sinful pride,
Getting paid to carry on
For an unseen audience
Of righteous porn aficionados
Cool with this shit, yea,

& finally judgment day coming
In the novel’s liner notes
Detailing the last rantings
of a man crazy enough
to seek the Divine orgasm’s
resurrection in fentanyl spirits

---

Harvest Day

The clematis in everybody’s gut
Grows wildly, its grim splendor
Watered by stale beer daily
The cats become drunken on:
Tongues nibbling at cock & bull
Crying for the gender reveal of Moses,

& my green garden hose is a snake
Scaring me in my weedy garden
Where nothing lives but the moribund
Grace of fallen sorrow,
Rapture of dusty old cat-balls
Moored on evening’s skeletal leavings
Beneath the cloud of insects piquing me:

This ground just a hotbed
For nature’s sleeping dead
Waiting for harvest day.

---

The Naked Truth

The silence through which we move
Bears no words
To make a poem,
The wail through which you
Wake the neighbors at nite
Is, however, more eloquent
Than Keats or ancient poetry
Sung by Sappho on the rocks
Crushing her (& your sweet tastes
For the bawds of cyber-porn):
That fulsome lilt of vaginal lips
Talk turkey to the masses now
In a way Sylvia never could.
Back in the day all right
You learned about sex
On the playground dirty as hell
For 10-year-olds
As you shuffled playing cards
Depicting S & M pleasures
Only adults knew about.
How playgrounds reek of age
& gunfire, of assaults’ aftermath
Hanging dour in midnight air
Clouding my memory’s picture
Of Marilyn Monroe nude

---

The (Un) HYpocritical

There in the sands of young
Bodies waste
The streaming sonnet sings to you
Malice of sad existence
Wasted joy weltering within

From arteries poetic knives
Cut hollow truths from.
Climb upon ramparts,
Stop crude comedians
Bitching on social media:

Their platforms caving in
All those emotional electrodes
Tattooing nu-Frankenstein necks
Bringing a welt of time
To timelessness pale

From colorless dabble,
What drew the stickman in flames
With a fake hard-on?
Step from the idylls of Spring
Gently – (into nude vagrancy of
humanity’s body trails w/ dust
trembling, from cream-hued lust)
& taste the nerd upon nether-lips
Of crassness as
‘A WIND OF EVIL FLUNG MY
DESPAIR OF EASE,’
Penned Beckett – but now laugh
In porcelain of Duchamp’s urinal
We lick the words of our lies
As (un) hypocritical aquatic runes

---

ABOUT THE ARTIST

Peter Magliocco writes from Las Vegas, Nevada, where for years he’s been active in the small presses as editor, poet, and publisher of his own lit-zine, ART: MAG.  He has recent poetry in Knot, Zin Daily, Trouvaille Review, Impspired, and elsewhere. His recent poetry books are The Underground Movie Poems (Horror Sleaze Trash), Night Pictures from the Climate Change (Cyberwit.net), and Particle Acceleration on Judgement Day (Impspired) – & his latest sci-fi/horror novel is Eye of Aliena, available at Amazon…

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