Delightfully bonkers #4: October

      
It was some time after the mad cow epidemic      
And all other diseases that affected the brain      
That an unheard-of infection went unreported      
Where the chickens from a farm had gone insane…      
       
My wife and I bought a place just outside of town      
Even though the housing market prices were very steep      
The agent disclosed that the previous owners had all died      
And as you can guess it, we got the farmhouse for cheap      
       
But once we moved in weird things started transpiring      
Open cupboards and broken dishes were a regular thing      
I thought may be racoons were sneaking into the house      
Until one night as we had dinner we saw flying chicken wings    
       
And although I loved to eat fried chicken weekly      
These strange occurrences only happened on those nights      
If we had baked chicken then there’d be clucking sounds      
All fucking night coming from the attic until morning light      
       
Another night as I was putting the kids to bed I heard a scream      
When I ran into the bedroom my wife was stuck up in the ceiling      
And though I was feeling a bit scared I remembered her to-do list      
“Honey,  while you’re up there, check the paint I think it’s peeling”      
       
My sons freaked us out the most (you know how funny boys can be)      
Laughing at snow on the T.V. like it was some sort of comedy show      
And though I was snacking on a piece fried chicken leg at the time      
I thought “OK, I must cleanse this house, but I’ll start tomorrow”      
       
My daughter then looked at the window and said “they’re here”      
An army of zombie ghost chickens had all come home to roost      
Hens were at my fence and hence I got hungry so I had a snack      
I remembered – dead family, insane chickens equals, oh, I deduced      
       
They had chicken knives and chicken pitchforks and picket signs      
Chicken wives had chicken cries that cackled chicken lives matter      
Unhatched eggs had legs sticking out walking along the lines      
But when they saw me eating chicken it only made them madder      
       
My oldest daughter came home to a bunch of pecking and clucking      
She screamed “What the fuck is happening?” with confusion and fear      
Immediately I called my agent and told them “You son of a bitch…      
You plucked them chucked their bones and buried them right here!”      
       
The earth was quaking, the house started shaking, so I stopped baking      
Because the host of chicken zombie ghosts were starting to flock      
Then we saw the biggest meanest looking rooster with the hens      
My wife with tears in her eyes said “Oh my, that’s a big cock”      
       
I rushed into the kitchen and had one last bite of fried chicken      
No time to call the authorities to tell them we were under attack      
I got my keys and told my wife and kids “OK y’all time to dip”      
My family and I got in our station wagon and never looked back

 I do
Who doesn't?

Have the crazies
At times
I mean,
They're a sight
I'm a fright
Is that right?
Hmmm... Not quite.
I'm a sight
They're a fright
THAT might be right.

Oh,
Who cares?
I may
One day
Allay
My fears
Tears
(the kind you weep)
Or are they the kind that gnaw
And shred
Claws ripping
Strips of flesh
...Come peeling off
Oh yeah

Crazies
See?
They lurk beneath
Seeking relief
Every once in awhile
Seeking exit
Out they shriek
No remonstrance from me
Will cause them to flee
Though I wish I could
Shutter them, hood
Cloak
Maybe I'll flee
Run away free

Oh
Right
I can't very well do that, can I
As
They're me...

It's time for a change of pace and produce something new
So naturally the next step is to focus on poo
I'm sorry Mrs. Jackson, did not intend to upset your daughter
I only tried to share a glass of my finest shit water
That pungent smell and the unmatched viscosity
These uncultured swine call it a terrible atrocity
They fail to consider the potential of art
One can produce with a fugazi fart
So coat your brush as well as ink blotter
This modern Picasso paints with only shit water
A master of strokes and a blender of cultures
The smell is so awful it repels even vultures
Create new beginnings while the toilet faces slaughter
The power within comes from stanky shit water

Women say childbirth is worse than getting kicked in the nuts
They ignore the pain that shoots from scrotum to guts
Delivering a child has an end goal, a beautiful reward
A nut shot has no meaning, no rhyme, no chord
However testicular destruction is the ultimate euphoria
So I must agree with the women, I really feel for ya

I shall dig you up, my Mother,
then lay my body on your bones
and we shall meld with one another
Mother, we shall birth a clone.
 
My brain's indeed enough for two
your memories are intact
we shall twin again be Rew and Prue  
to regain that which we lack.
 
So lie still Mother, lie easy,
please do not torment me so
although I feel a little queasy
I've not much further to go.