In Defense of the Elves

You big man.
I know you big
cause you got a big gun.
Itchy twitchy trigger.
Big gun is big man.

I like your truck,
it's big. I know you big, man
cause you got a big truck;
big guns in big truck.

You so amazing,
fluff yerself in with sixteen tough man ounces
drink yourself to genius with big bottle
of fortified iron-aid pale ale,

horse coming, or zombies sneaking?
nah, just the elves rarin' to wrestle. 
Big man work hard though,
best get yourself some peace, 
solitude,

get rested up for the apocalypse;
it's a-coming. might be dragons or Russians, 
but 
most likely, either
zombies or those snozz-whizzlin liberal pinhead socialist Communistic intellectuals
gonna take us to the brink,

so thank God for those big guns and big trucks
and big bottles and big comic books 
and those
little wives
taking care of those
little children

who are gonna let the big men save the country from meltdown.

Finger on trigger,
drink from the crocodile river, keep eyes on horizon,
big man's gotta protect the weak, the littles
from the enemy
and it's so convenient when the enemy has a name

Mohammed
immigrant
Mexican
zombie

So the big man gotta step up 
Do the tough job, the jobba 
being a big man and not over-fraternizin'
with the childrens and the women-folk
and the uppity intellectualizers
who pretend there is gray when there is 
obviously

only the pure White of contrasting Red & Blue,
the Ku-el 21st century boy version of starched pointy-hat bedsheets draped on head.
and imagining the black
of approaching apocalypse; imaginary hooves on horizon 
paranoia as they imagine the pounding of phantom Nightriders racing for wives and sons and daughters.
Nothing Beyond Good & Evil;

Them and Us.

The big men,
loud bottle-clinking at their children's birthday parties;
as they toast off the ritual from a-far;
if it's a daughter;
they will outdo each other with promises of what size shotgun
they will be waiting with on the porch upon daughter's return from
first date;

it is a contest, a contest
to be big, to be the biggest dad,
to out-protect and out-shoot and out-threaten
and out-terrify
the enemy.


Keep the guns oiled
instead of lubricating conversation.

The big men have got it figured out.
It is daunting, trying
to catch up.

I think I'll be a little person.
I can fly-wall sit in on their monologues and 
take notes, and
learn how to stay small

and never get big.


at 1.30 a.m. i tumble words + scribbling to page to spill out something positive from fury.