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homeWERQ! fantasy by Zachary Robert & Rob Clarke

October 6, 2010

Hands are the worshiper’s tools

And forever is tonight’s pilgrimage

To nirvana’s slums

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In a knuckle there seems to be

A lonely man waiting to bend his ways

Unto something more creative

And decent

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But in a manual

Words read dry

And in a spark-less night like this

Intentions die

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For redemption is when a headache hits

Between eyes

And little sticky palms

Aren’t clean until the

Nightmare splits

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by Zachary Robert

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Siren by Rob Clarke

The men I love don’t debut with DUMBA They eat well Marry early And have little care for the credence Of this year’s Biennial They don’t crawl around at night Seeking for what they can understand Since most of the instructions in life Come in their language They berate rarely ever On the things I care so deeply about destroying And usually live each and every day Very well The men I care about They’ve never seen films About the spaces in between people And how lips shine under camera light Or the darker vignettes Surrounding lay men And their followers Great and consistent Salient and sanguine The men I want Are happy to never move They are the types that lose a dare But give a truth To someone they’ve had in mind for years Usually a teacher of brats And salty tear suckers The men I love No, they don’t live near Basque Or the democratized areas of Africa They worship folders that bond well And programs that barely freeze The men I take long adolescent showers for Live in the July’s of the year They spend their time on a relaxing street Without waiting Because all of what they want is clearly Out front and in daily sunshine

by Zachary Robert

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One comment

  1. Dear Rob,
    Oh you pervert after my own heart. Love the pictures, I think I am in LOVE with the
    Centaur, a real fantisy cummm true. I love animals, hunky, harry MEN, piss, and scat. The others are hot, also. Keep up the good work, Your fan, Bob in Palm Springs.



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