Wednesday, March 6, 2024

Two Poems by Daniel S. Irwin

At The Max

So, my man, servin’ time
Here at the max,
Gets drug from segregation
To the Health Care Unit.
He got his shit smeared
All over his face.
“You gonna kill yourself?”
Asks the crisis nurse.
“No,” he replies,
“I done this cause
I love my mama,”
“Good,” I say,
“For a while, I thought,
You might be crazy.”

What If

Straight jacketed in the rubber room
Really gives one a chance to think.
What if Jesus doesn’t love me
And Satan doesn’t give a shit?
That wouldn’t be a surprise.
Both are about as dependable
As the ex-wife is promiscuous.
Bank on neither one of them, or her.
They just do what they want
When they want independent
Of logic, guilt, or consequences.
Like the greedy Rocco in Key Largo,
All they ever want is ‘more’.
Such is life, as well as, death.
Screwed now, screwed later.
“Hey, nurse!  I gotta pee.”


Bio: Daniel S. Irwin was not raised by wolves, just the notorious naked apes (not Tarzan)in the hills of Southern Illinois. Artist, actor, writer, Dudeist priest. Work published in over 100 magazines and journals world-wide. Seventeen books of questionable value.  Once worked in a prison for the criminally insane, now retired misses his friends.Latest work can be found in Horror Sleaze Trash, The Rye Whiskey Review, Beatnik Cowboy, Cajun Mutt, and on some fine shithouse walls. 

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