Weaponcore Violence Poetry, Part 5

You brought a morning star
To a Friday night fistfight
And LARPed medieval
To my heart-like palpitations
Of punches
So sincere
Your soda can tab chainmail
Protecting
Your innocence
As I dreamed
Of a chivalrous fuck

I had brought out the big guns. Fairuza blushed and kissed me on the forehead. Then she slapped me in the face and asked me to leave. Oh her duality! Thirty minutes later I was on the L train to Brooklyn, and I recited the last poem from the chapbook to myself:

Loose lips
Tank harsh quips
And nonsense
From bong rips
I play her in soft synths
The sine waves
Are beautiful
The saw waves
Not practical
Through binary borders
I wink and make
A spectacle
Of meeting her
With a bouquet
Of pink TNT
No flowers from me

Bobby Malone speaking to Jim Carroll at a University of North Florida screening of The Basketball Diaries, as overheard by Norm Macdonald, Autumn 1996

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