Momoses

MOMOSES:
Sad & Tyred, Given In to Out, Can’t Govern, Goggles On, Cusses the State.

Who does he harm by being in blue face?
No one, except
Perhaps himself.
Always a critic:
Omni experiens faulti.
Who is to know, it could be better?
Momoses will always say so.

A task to go place ² place
Always a meter to measure
’Tis not his task to live,
But in analysis, Momoses basks.
No halo but horns,
They jingle where he goes
He never meets a saint,
But only gentle foes.
Wherever pleasure is had,
He counts the woes.

M. used to work in service,
His cohorts didn’t seem to
Love… bluefaces.
M doesn’t care to be admired
But M’s an anxious aardvark
He hears the snickers & backtalk
Not to say they were challenging,
They weren’t.
But clueless energy burnt big ears’
Low, & bed-deprived grudge.
When they pass it eager:
“Hey M! Wanta work tonight?”
Momoses seize:
“Naw man, I’d rathe go home and
Steep my hands in crimson summore.”
(GASP all.)

Are you okay? Why would you say that?


“I’m fine, look!” Paws up lika surrender
M’s bad place, brings a whole lotta sadface
Chunky shark with the cunning capital
Chases ² more of his flaws.
Her dull claws uncovered all summer’s long,
Warned for the “wrong pants” & selling it wrong
But what are the cuts being sold?
They all love seeing the puppet’s tear
Squat on hokey, dipping dignity
Here in the Summers; Wint., the cold hits,
He repeats it all in Floradim.
Hit & miss when he sings w/
A yellow, gummy guffaw.
Overalls in M’s way, crushing
Under the wait of small stakes.

But to keep the lying line loyal
To the caps’ employment betrothal,
Any antags spill like bitter streetlight
In scanned, beaten-to-neatnick eyes.
There is no place to walk in the dark.
Suffering gets the laugh, it sustains
Any epic crusade: long as they’re fed.
Down for the clown, & smiles are up.
They all smile when they see you sweat
The dread bubbles, toe ² toe
The labour sucks life in undertow

Anything for a fat wallet M. suppose.
Until that day, when words
Slit the entire department
The faces of waiters,
Their eyes dash past,
Grass in the pocket,
Momoses takes an A ² sinister Q.

He quit, ² weeks ahead.
Unpuckered ass-less,
Now they all feel betrayed.
“Look at me, I’m Mr. Daddy Issues
Found three gran’ so I’ll stampa tattoo.”
Extra! Extra! He’s trynna be funny-
Spillin’ stolen jokes totem ladies,
That cardboard punk, right on the money,
A lifted gag may go on the first,
But it was funny told once,
W/ repetition, it only gets worse.

Okay- so maybe Momoses said a lil too much
It’s not enough for him to say: “I’m sad tonight.
I’ll take your shift some other day.”
He’s gotta give sadness a pinch of gunpowder’s flair,
Appointed to his head, abysmal & reckless,
To the ize, ears, & cents of the others.
M’s forgotten, takes said flare to burn a bridge
But seein’ their desties are only flat lands,
Momoses adjusts, & irons his suit.

Previously published in Ultraviolet Magazine vol. 22 (2018): p. 43.