Here in Heaven

Here in heaven
where the neon bar signs
flicker and make zapping noises
crushing translucent skulls of
wayward mosquitoes

Here in heaven
where whores
flick condoms at the full moon
red high heels and fishnets leather minis
and pimps parade dressed in
electric peacock splendor feather adorned slouch hat
bravado
dogs feasting on their shit

The cool cats elope with vampire transvestites
and get wasted off rum and whiskey snow cones

Here in heaven
where I slowly perfect my Donald duck voice
a verve dream of beer
and my sons copious amount
of helium balloons
he lets them go! go! go!

And here in heaven I watch them
God watches them
the angels drink sangria and watch them balloons
get real high

We watch them fuckers soar past
gang banger’s stoned on weed
and fucked by a validated shroom hit
stormed up stirred up
LSD whispers
so careless
and free

Here in heaven
I still receive those
mad house threats from a wife gone ballistic
every time I lift a beer can to my lips

Here in heaven
we watch them fuckers
soar past corrupt eagles shitting on
all those still alive down below us
heaven is a radical concept man!

Heaven is a place where we can watch those helium balloons
fly high
set free just like the angels cast out from my sons’
own hands

Here in heaven
we sit back and laugh
while smoking Cuban cigars
watching it all unfold upon the mad streets
of our bloody heaven

Here in heaven
we laugh like a pack of rabid hyenas
while autistic drunks stagger
preaching Armageddon comedies
of times
long dead
and long gone.

 

Wayne Russell hails from Tampa , Florida and has been doing creative writing since he was
five years old. Wayne has been published in various zines over the years, including
The Cannon’s Mouth Quarterly, The Rolling Thunder Press, and Poets Espresso.

Martha Clarkson is a designer. And other things.