reality two for one and one for all

the thing is…
i don’t know how to fib
a poet without
poetic justice
i don’t make my shit up,
i couldn’t
for i don’t stretch the truth
i brandish it
and that’s why it all gets stomped
on by my giant’s foot
the tangible, plausible, unfigmented
don’t have any air
because they’re it
my stories are not gibberish
but tattoos
sometimes literally
had i been older
vince neil would’ve loved me,
fuck he still might
and who is my giant?
where is my giant?
sometimes he’s my muse
sometimes he’s my shady make out
sometimes he’s my barfly
sometimes he’s my greenhorn
sometimes he’s me
for me the truth
is always a funny thing
i’ve seen the world
and never left home
never left nyc
maybe it’s the quality bourbon
maybe it’s the kitchen spanish
maybe it’s the spanish kitchen
ahhh, a viking and a chinchilla
walk into a bar
what? you’ve been to my job?
so, now people,
in a friendly fashion
whip out your daggers,
lube up your parrots,
and throw on your asshats
just another day’s work
if you don’t clog up the loo
your next round is on me
i pinky swear promise
with my four fingered hand
fuck it, every hour
should be happy

Angela J. Perry is a NYC poet living in the East Village and supporting herself by slinging martinis and pork chops in the West Village. She is the resident poet at the Manhattan Theatre Source, which is an eclectic space around the corner from her job. She currently has a poem that appears on fashion designer 'Heatherette's' Spring '06 line. She also has had or has poems in issues of the Big Toe Review, Pawpars, The Pemmican Press, Frigg Magazine, Snakeskin, Juked, Poetic Diversity, New Graffiti, Triplopia, Dispatch Literaview, Asinine Poetry, Barefoot Muse, and Adagio Verse Quarterly. Her poem ‘Love is in the Eye of the Besotted’ was nominated for a Pushcart Prize. She has a poem in the current print issue of Caesura. She prefers dark beer and her nickname is Chicken.

Email: Angela J. Perry

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