Oiling Her Up

I’m oiling her up,

photo by hungrybison

with the fried chicken grease on my fingers.

An old doo wop record on the turntable,

I like to oil her to the old shit.

I’m getting ready.

The sheep have already been sacrificed,


Fear is worshiped,

war has become a celebrity.

The TV squirms with a sickening lust,

The talking anus spews deceit,

with a “southern drawl”.

Fuck, we are primed.

Guns are drawn.

This is imflamitory shit.

No one sleeps in America.

There’s a new vantage point,

it’s a bit ridiculous,

but not entirely new.

We have become like the brown shirts,

of 1933.

Truth is dead,

and in the land of the free,

I eat a bucket of chicken,

drink some beer,

and speak of the assault on our country.

Donned in cloaks of camouflage,


I’m oiling her up.



Filed under creative writing, micro stories, poem, poems, Short stories and essays

2 responses to “Oiling Her Up

  1. Richard Carnal

    Brilliant my boy, simply brilliant.

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