The Faux Pas Press #38: The Banishing of Clyde McGoo

The Faux Pas Press #38

The Banishing of
Clyde McGoo

28 June 2010

By Jason Fresh

For all the finger-pointing
that can
possibly be done.

For all the injustice
to which you’ve clung.

I have a word or two
that I would like to say to you.
There is a place in hell
you’ve created,
a lowland in which you stew,
there was a child forsaken
that you
once knew.
I, Jason Fresh,
exercise myself of
that crew,
putting on silver buttons
to go and potluck with the gluttons,
to rock the chairs of Timbuktu,
and emancipate myself from you.

The hurt you’ve done yourself,
no, the hurt
you’ve done me.
yes, no apologies,
we, myself and Lucifer,
we emancipate ourselves
from you,
the man who deserves all
that he has coming to him.

You’ve promised several
golden promises
that never came to pass
so let me drink them
with my morning sassafras.

You’ve promised
karate lessons,
and paid-for educations,
no reward for the kid in masturbations,
you’ve promised and squandered
the inheritance
due to me,
you’ve brought curse,
after curse,
after curse,
upon we,
the Lucifer and me,
so now we curse you
Clyde McGoo.

You and Douche Bic Poo.

So, the story goes
for all the sorrowful bros,
all the brothers of the
salamander spread.
Just vengeance.
I feel not
so sorry for you now.

The excuse of
life that you live.

The collection of
hours, loveless hours,
no company,
fat wives,
two fat wives.

I’ve asked
to be left alone.
Once,
Twice,
Thrice,
the next time
you will be
diced to size,
If I have sinned it is
in granting forgiveness
to the undeserving,
yes,
I am emancipated
from you,
you disastrous damned
Clyde McGoo.

I lay a curse now.
A tool that I don’t
readily employ.
But I warn you.
If you don’t disappear,
it will be your end,
from
the rooftops
you’ll be hung
with gross JJ,
the smelly wench,
with
Fatty Walt
and his lunatic friends,
with sad, sad
Midge,
and the turkey woman,
Fatty Joe,
and Fatty Roz.
The barrel
of Mossberg
awaits.

As I belong to those
who sometimes
masturbate,
I’ll bring your head
back to the red queen
on a red fucking
plate,
and lay Midge down
on a bridge
from a ridge
with broken
milk crates.

A father does
what he says
but you’re going
to Utah to wait,
not hell,
hell would
be too nice
a place,
for one who has all your traits.
Dropped from a
rooftop of tears
where you can rot with
Joseph Smith.
I'll be at the intersection
of Wonderland and Haight.

Here is the end of
everything I want
to say to you.
If you bother me
in open space,
I will ask you to stop,
then I will
destroy you.
Yes, you,
Midge,
the Douche Bic Poo,
yes,
you are destroyed Clyde McGoo.
Because it is I who destroyed you.

You can not right the wrongs now.

You are destroyed.

Death to all psychic vampires who have annoyed.

Oh, the left-handed path,
holy cow!!

The weak are not blessed.