SRF Heavy Industries

a sonnet in the Shakespearean mode by Laszlo Xalieri

Involuntary grimace forms a sneer.
To hear your voice proceeding down the hall
Requires weapons. Do you seek me here?
Defend me, God, from your arriving pall!

Your awful snort offends. It crinkles paint.
You suck the joy of life from ev’ry sail.
In healthy laughter you provide the taint
Of swine in heat, of flatulence, of Hell.

I whip it out and fasten on it weights
To make it hit you harder, striking sparks
Inside your skull where doctors fastened plates
To cover holes where they once silenced barks

I’m pissing kerosene. I toss a match
To burn the stench of Satan’s mother’s snatch.

Bonus track:

My upper lip trembles exposing a canine
Your odor precedes as you come through the doorway
You smell of the thighrot once found on an old swine —
Your mother, a ship’s whore. A whaler from Norway

Once stuffed her with hákarl to perfume her cunny
Admix’d with some dogshit to balance the flavor.
You mimic her movements — on you they look funny!
You show us her “O” face with lips all a-quaver…

…And laugh at a joke you don’t realize is on you,
And chase all the joy from our room as you enter.
We cringe on the inside. Don’t let us become you!
Our nightmares are mazes with you at the center.

We hate you! You know this! We’ll fuck you with tasers
And shave off your soul patch with shit-covered razors.

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