the fitzroy killer

what kind of turtle breathes through its arse?
a brave one, that’s what, that moves real fast!
it doesn’t give a shit what you find reasonable
it’ll squeeze with its cheeks anything seasonable
be it bananas or tim tams or mini fridges
it’s all moshing green hair and bristling ridges
don’t stand in its path or it’ll gnaw your shoes
then down to the bone ’til you’re yesterday’s news!
what’s more, it doesn’t need any goddam excuses
it’ll blend then swill you like some vegan juices
so, you’d better not be messing with the bum breathing turtles
if you don’t want to rest in pieces between the scrubs of myrtles

© All rights reserved 2021

whale the moon

there’s a whale in the sky
blocking the suns of joon
and pale people from the moon
sharpening a big harpoon

the whale’s shadow sighs
over the fairy floss plains
fountaining dead candy canes
through gravity shields and drains

none on the moon remember
why there’s such dread for the whale
why they persist to regale
each other with horror tales

the whale howls frantically
troubles sky with fluke and flick
but moon folk have judged too quick
got the wrong end of the stick

if only they’d understand
its song of despair and love
warning them of doom above
the coming killer space dove

© All rights reserved 2019

100 WORD SKITTLE // No Place for Pink on Komodo

The setting sun’s an angry red ball, though the beach is charmingly pink. A trick of the light? She cannot say.

Still, that isn’t her most pressing concern right now. Reptilians are all around, flaring nostrils and licking the hot air with their viciously forked tongues. They can sense her presence. It’s driving them crazy with lust.

She’s the Blood Queen. She gorges on the blood of men, and sometimes even wears their entrails for fun. Naturally, she’s going to attract attention from the local population.

Never mind. The odds are good. She’s the prize for whomever gets her first.

© All rights reserved 2019