Bloodsport in the Temple of Doom

I am High-Karate el Ka-bong. I am that cheap Indiana Jones action figure with the missing leg. I am the Toe Cutter, mother-fucking jacked-up crazy ass epillepsie dude from 'Cross 110th street. I am Steiner and Kurtz. I am Captain America fighting the Red Skull. I am a nightmare on Koala Island. I am mongolian bbq buried under piles of Five Guys. I am Crimson Hunt For Red Tide in October. I am a rocket propelled grenade. I am the Snow-Cat. I am Chimichanga Give-me-all-da-money. I am a Black Panther, I am the Black Panther. I am the guy who shot the guy who shot the guy. You know the guy I mean.

I am a brain-dead glue sniffer. A blood hound on the trail. I am a man-hunting posse led by Peter Fonda. I am a runaway slave. I am the parachute trooper in the Cracker-Jack box. I am the plastic treasure chest in your fishtank. I ate a Fish Called Wanda, or at least my copy of it. I am the Cuban Missile Crisis. I am Angola and Peru and Afghanistan. I am a drug mule. I am a gun smuggler. I am an operative. A man in a suitcase. I am a pilot fighting a tail-spin. I am Dale Earnhardt hitting the wall. I am saying "Look at them snappers" while holding a knife to Serial Mom's neck. I am the Head Piece to the Staff of Ramen Noodles. I am the nagging boil. I am the Staff infection. I am Yule Brenner from West World gunfighting Clint from A Few Dollars More. I am Lee Van Cleef in that Ninja show. I am the Screaming Mimi and the van from the A-Team. I am after-school 70's reruns and Saturday afternoon movies. I am a man-beast on the Isle of Dr. Moreau.

Originally posted on March 2, 2005 on Myspace.

A little taste of my poetry.