CALLING DR. FREUD

Vell, it's obvious, no?
He is trying to replicate
his greatest success,
his only success:
The Apprentice.
All his other business'
went into the shithole, no?:
Airline, Steaks, Water,
A Charity, A University,
A Football Team, Buildings, even Casinos (where
only the most incompetent
can't make a dollar)--Poof! Gone!
Only his Daddy's money
(and that was very stinky money, too),
bailed him out until other Daddys
allowed him only to keep his name
while they made the shit.

But The Apprentice, ah, The Apprentice,
that was his. He could be his boorish,
stupid stumbling self & still rule
the little office where syncophants went
to grovel to the mushroom capped cock
underneath a desk of make believe.
It is there, in the safey
of his home, he wants people--
and now cities & states--
to slug it out.
He wants people
to beg
before he hires.
He wants bodies
to contort,
to agonize.
He wants to see
all the states
all the cities
who betrayed him
turn on each other
in a feeding frenzy
for money, for equipment,
for a breath;
he wants those cities & states
to bring those trucks,
those iceboxes,
so he can see
in real time
with his racoon eyes
the dead carted out
to wait to be planted.
He loves this;
it's what he lives for.

Today, on this Friday, March 27th, afternoon,
he's already started to primp himself--
plastic hair, orange flesh--
for his daily fix:
a "news" conference
where his mouth--
looking more like a turkey's asshole--
will emit today's droppings:
small hard pellets of shit.
He will stand above the fray
& select the reporters he deigns to favor
with more lies
knowing full well
the havoc
& death
he stokes.

All this talk,
all this handwringing,
& all this breastbeating &
all these acts of courage,
is for naught.
He is
his one & only firament light
that he navigates by;
he is the only star
in this show.
He cannot
& will not
give that up.

There is only one word
for this disease, my friends;
one word that captures
a pathology for which
there is no escape--
that word
must be
love.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2020

DONALD TRUMP

is trying to get
a hardon
for new years.
He said
he will get
the biggest & strongest & best hardon
ever.
In fact,
he's going to Times Square tonight
to prove it.
He's going
to lie
down underneath
the ball
as it drops
while we,
the millions there
& the tens of millions
everywhere else
counts off
the seconds.

You'll never get
below seven
he bellowed.
Never never never ever never.
He's never been one
to mince words.
We'll see.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2018

VD

They have fucked
their country silly,
and they've used
no protection,
but it's we
who drip
from syphilis,
gonorrhea,
genital herpes
and all manner
of yeast infections.
Pus is in
our drinking water,
puke is in the air.
Penicillan is useless
against this strain
of virus; only words
as guns or cannons
will staunch the flow
of bullshit.
Vladimir & Donald,
cocksmen for our age,
living in our bloodstream
for far too long,
has rendered us blind
and truly
insane.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2018

WHAT A CONUNDRUM!

The Pope
invited me to Rome.
Donny
begged me to come to Mar-a-Lago.
Who,
I asked myself,
should I dis--
The child of God, or
the father of God?
Instead,
I babysat
Jay Z's kids
figuring:
hip hop artists
need a break, too.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

PACK YOUR SHIT

Mr. President.
It's only been a month tomorrow
so you can't have much to take:
a bathrobe (maybe two);
a toothbrush (maybe two);
perhaps a thong.
You've already fucked-up
more shit than everyone
who came before you; you'll only
fuck-up more if you stay.
But take heart:
you've made the history books:
most fucked-up president ever.
That's what they'll say.
You'll be the one
they make comparisons to:
You think he's fucked-up? That ain't nothin. I was around when...
And you'll have your portrait; your windswept "do"
will be next to Lincoln Kennedy Washington Roosevelt
and your skinny scrunchy lips and beaver mean eyes
will frighten the shit out of school children
taking a tour with Melania who never noticed
you were even gone.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

THE LOVE SONG OF DONALD J. TRUMP

Let us go then
you & I
as the country is chained
around a megalomaniac's thigh
like sheep
about to be
buggered.

Let us go
through flaccid streets
under silken sheets
of puffed bravado
and stubby fingered falsetto
to where madmen wait
sucking an empty space
like prunes within a vacated bowel.

In the room the blowhards come & go
Tickling each other's assholes.

There will be time, there will be time
to grow a dick
and fornicate
with a stranger tonight...
or each other's mate
even when their there...or ain't.

No, I am not Nikita
nor was meant to be,
am a jester and a saint
but would not hesitate
to drop a shoe
upon his pate.

We have lingered too long
celibate and lick the salt
upon the state.
So roll up
your sleeves and part your hair
and wonder how our fine creatures
only sit and stare.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2017

ASSHOLES & OPINIONS

are man's common denominator--
that's all we have:
song & dance men
who are Nobel Laureates,
bus drivers & whores,
professors
of communication,
bricklayers, privates
& generals,
the Dalai Lama & The Pope,
pimps and the talking heads
on endless TV shows throwing-up
opinions & angles & breakdowns
& break-ups & stats that stink
like frog farts and fermented
bromides. Our hearts are coal mines
of sin.
We knew Hillary
was wrong, full of shit;
we knew she just mouthed the words
of the socialist Jew...and we let her.
We knew Donald
was an anti-semitic racist cocksucker
who's nature was to gyp & lie & destroy
every tit he couldn't suck, but at least
he wasn't her--that was our out pitch.

We knew that it was not possible
that Rachel & Lawrence & the Chris'
had never heard the word "pussy" before.
We knew that their surety spelled doom.
We knew that the locker room
was our bedroom
and boardroom.
We knew that artists
and entertainers
and agents
and the corner magicians
are either sucking your blood
or sucking your cock.
Their purity,
their sanctimoniousness
made me retch.
We know doctors
who shouldn't be practicing,
lawyers who should be locked-up,
teachers who should be strung-up
yet do nothing, say nothing.

Poor people
have always been fucked.
But this time their assholes leaked opinions
and it cost them
nothing.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

2 SHIT SANDWICHES:

One,
full of childish morbidities;
the other,
an old shrew
full of meanness and greed;
one born of bigotry
& brownshirts;
the other raised
in Goldwater's piss;
one's dick
a wrinkled spigot;
the other's cunt
a Sahara of madness.

Go ahead,
take a bite.
I dare you.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016

TRUMP THIS!!!

I gotta Big Cock!
That's right! Big!
Very Big!
I mean Big!
Cock.
Big.
My father had a big one.
Grandfather, too.
Come from a long line
of Big Cocks!
Yes, I do! Big.
My great great grandfather
had a schlong so big
that after he took a piss
he didn't shake it out,
he had to kick the fuckin thing.
That's right.
Big!
One tough man.
And a smart man.
Went to The Yukon
in the Gold Rush days.
He had a huge huge huge
Penis. Yes he did.
Opened a whorehouse
& a restaurant;
he fucked em
& fed em. That's right.
Talk about pole numbers!
What a pole he had!

The train is leaving
the station; the sad-eyed
ladies are rowing home;
the Big Top
is shuttered
as the laughing bones
lie bleaching
in the sun.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 2016