back to the Black Table

L.A. Negro Hop

Lawdy boy, these red hot monkeys swing!

Fat lips pumpin on a trombone
while the chicken frys
in a hot pan of love.

Lawdy boy, these red hot monkeys swing!

Big-donged dummies
rippin'on the conga drums
just like their voodoo cousins.

Lawdy boy, these red hot monkeys swing!

Plump-assed coon
slappin' that cello
like a pit bull dumpin' dynamite.

Lawdy boy, these red hot monkeys swing!

Rice Bowl Rumble

Oh, the yellow lies
perpetrated by the round-faced devils
who chew the raw eell
ike rabid mud pigs.

I cannot read the crafy chef's eyes.

they are closed so tightly
and his hat is so big.

or, wait?

his eyes are open, just slightly squinty,
like small slitsi n a hot peach pie.

I see you peeking!

I smash him in the face
with my dish and steal his hat.

sneaky bastards. never again.

My Friend Kwon's Little Feet

Kwon's tiny shoes sit by the fire
while a blanket
covers her from the waist up.

I see her small feet.
they look likea porecelain baby doll's
and I long to lick them with my fat pink tongue.

She sleeps.-- but I'm restless.

I cannot control the fever in my pants.

i kiss her pinkie toe, gently
like a wild butterfly whose wings
have brushed the side of her cheek
in Bangkok spring--that softly.

she stirs,
but I brush her hair away
and unzip.

much better, i say.

"Kizi Pan Ti Dongee?",or something,
Kwon says, still sleepy.

"Go back to sleep," I say
as I pull the blanket back
over her and smile at her tiny feet

Your Thighs Are Like Cold, Cold Ham

Your thighs are like cold, cold ham.

They wiggle in the moonlight, like the twat
of an old Bolivian princess in new stockings.

Would you let me lift your skirt and nibble
on the old meat?

Perhaps if I shaved, or how about you shave?

Either way I want to ram it

Either way I want to eat it.

Either way I want to munch on it like a kitten
feasting on your sister's dirty diaper.

Your thighs are like cold, cold ham.

The Handicapped Negro

Oh, gimpy negro
with your muscular
chest and pointy
brown nipples
can't you play football
with us

Oh, how he used to leap
like a leopard
threw the fields
and dunk the ball
through the rusty

His calves were smooth
but now they just
dangle in the chair
after he was
beaten with a
in my aunt's

But, he could run, boy
he could run.

You shall run again,
in my dreams
instead of
managing the
shoe store
like his momma
told him to.

You shall run

You shall.


The Angry Japanese Tolltaker

Oh, yellow friend
with loose change on the floor
won't you let me rub
you after your shift is
over and your feet are sore?


He yelled as he urinated
on himself
like a wild yak
escaping from a brush fire.

I yelled back, as I
unhooked my suspenders
and took off my
old sock.


Don't be scared, yellow friend
I have removed my sock
and will proceed to love you.


Please, let me put some
lotion on your back.


Please, let me enter the booth.


The sock is off! I can come in, now!


There, isn't that better?
It only pinches for the first few minutes.

Only for the first few.
I promise.
I love you.

Smiling In The Sun

Oh, little gimpy
fat-tongued hero who deficates
on the lawn
as the rest play kick ball.
Shall I oil your wheelchair, Timmy?
You must roll into the sun!
The sun is hot,
like the lust of a Greek busboy
who sweats through his
checkered pants,
and stinks of cumen and tarragon.
Put the poopie down, Timmy!
Put the poopie down!
Please don't toss the poopie across
the linoleum floor.

We all must eat there, Timmy.

We all must eat.


The Slowest Racer, But The Happiest Clam

As Sasha waddled across the
finish line, drooling
her brown pants stained with her own urine,
the crowd cheered her
like she was a champion negro sprinter.

Although it took her 6 hours to run
a half a mile, and she wandered off the track for a
little while to chase the happy squirrels and eat grass,
she wins this race everytime
she runs it.

Although, she crossed the finish line
without her top and missing one of hershoes, Sasha
smiled, in the Mexican sun
and she hugged every person she saw
and moaned when she crossed the finish line...

The Apple of Her Eye

She split
the Yankee's
heart, with a thud
and a bump,
from her long legs
and pretty little toes.

She made him coo
when she showed her big
thighs dancing.

She was part Mexican,
so smelled funny to the
Southern gentleman
who was used to more
hygienic and whiter women.

But, she could dance.

She danced like the Jews across
barbed wire stages.

Whoopa!, she goes. And she
hikes up her skirt, showing
the Southerner some of that
sweet, sweet Mexican mess.



The music got faster and she
came on his head.



The music got hotter and she came
on his hand.



She was Mexican and he was a Yankee.
But, he loved her more and more
each day.

A Passage to India

Oh, ye sandmen
from the swirling
desert filled with
camel dung and black

Ji-putu mani tee-tee!

Oh, those sandals
show your lovely
feet, all yellow
under the nail and
crusted on the heel.

Ji-putu mani tee-tee!

Let me wipe
your hot, hot
thigh with a
banana leaf and
soak your pum-pum
in the raisin wine.

Ji-putu mani tee-tee!

Let me love you,
stinky Indian man,
you ragged creature
with the soft jaw-line
and bony knees.

Ji-putu mani tee-tee!

Ji-putu mani tee-tee!


Rock My World, You Spanish Queer.

I want to feel the Mezatlan burn.

Salsa on my face, you tan, tan fag
and let's squish that brown bottom
like flan.

Bust it in my small hole, you
fiery little burro
and flog me with the sugar
cane, you picked from the fields.

Vengan papa mi ojo, ahora!

Dedo me!
Dedo me!
Dedo me!



Fiddle Fun When The Sun Goes Down

Oh, this backyard party
with my fiddle and my stool
laughing, singing, dancing...


Jeb went left and Molly went
right, and the fiddle was plucking
nice and tight.

Timmy in the port-o-potty
sweeping up poo.

Here comes Uncle Leroy
Where's Mary Lou?

She's humpin' in the stable
flailing in the hay.

Who's that? Bessie!
I thought she went away!

No, no, no
said Cousin Freddy Joe
Bessie Moo, moo, moos
and then she starts
to go.

Hee-ninny! Hee-ninny!
What the fuck is that?

Holy fucking froggy shit
it's Bessie with a bat.

The bat was flying
and so were Bessie's utters

What's that on Mollie's back?
God, I hope that's butter.

Oh, this backyard party
with my fiddle and my stool
laughing, singing, dancing


Fourteen Train Track Promenade

The watchful eye of the conductor
smiles upon the servant's
lair and polishes shoes
with the grace and alacrity
of a pigeon in heat.

He's a blind man, they say
but he has gargantuan testicles
that hang like mistletoe
from an old awning.

I miss those rides, those lovely rides.

The train comes at noon.
Shall we go?