When I Die I'll Have to File for Unemployment

Not much to do at work
so I wikipediad Pablo Picasso and Babe Ruth
while the pickpockets and Gary, Indiana moms
with Marlboro Menthol faces and diabetic ugly kids
waddled through the human heart exhibit and Toy Maker factory

the more they believe in God
the uglier they get

Babe Ruth was skinny
and Pablo Picasso was a Communist

Grand Canyon Adventure lets out
the families make their way towards the astronauts

Christ be with you I think

and turn off the computer

I wish I was a trust fund kid

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

snot n' haiku stuffins

Sorry 'bout the hiatus folks. You'll be happy to know I have my own internet connection now. No more masturbating at the window for this guy!
Lessee, what's new. Have a murderous cold. As a result, on just a few hours of sleep. Kids coughing in my face all day long will do that.
Me and Kid Douche went to the Horseshoe on Sunday. It's relatively new but it is in the Hammond, Indiana area. So give it a year til it looks like shit. My only real complaint is that everything's on one floor and the poker room is all the way in the back. So you have to walk through an abyss of slot sleeze and ugly cocktail waitresses before you make it there. The poker room was nice though. Tall ceilings and done up in an old-west motif.
Played the 3/6 limit game and finished ahead about 15 bucks. Which means after the rake and tips I broke even. Yay. But hey, that's casino poker.
Keeping with the haiku theme, here're two of my faves:

Even at the time
When my father lay dying
I still kept farting.

-Yamazaki Sokan (1464-1552)

My span of years
Today appears
A morning-glory's hour.

-Arkida Moritake (1472-1549)

Your sickly Jew -Lee

An American Retail Hymn

I said unto God
“deliver me from retail”

and God said back
“here’s a price-gun dipshit.
Get to work.”

and he smote me
w/ seasonal Bailey’s Irish creams and cargo pants
shots of wheatgrass and Harry Chapin Christmas giveaway CDs

and I sayeth
“why God why”

and he sayeth back unto me

“Follow the 15 stupid customers
in Indiana University sweat pants
and they will show you the way”

so
for 40 days
and 40 nights
we wandered the aisles of Jewel/Osco
in search of Yellow Tail Shiraz
and Jays Dip‘ems potato chips

until finally
weak from hunger and fatigue
we all reached the promised land

a pensionless death
in Albany

and let U.S. say
amen

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

I've Always (for Julie)

I’ve always sympathized more
with the street sweepers
and the old men in Jewel
feeling up the tangelos

riding the brown line
back from the locksmith
with a can of Spaghettios
in my left pocket
and a whiskey hangover

I’ve always been a hair away
from being the cab driver
in the porn store
at 3 A.M.
on Thanksgiving

or the guy
who thinks there’s money
in real estate

and I always will be

because
that’s pretty much
what a poet is

and I’ve always loved you

in the way stock guys
love management

and the cab driver
loves porno

and the old man
loves tangelos

and the street sweeper
gave up

and watches
the cars pass

I love you

like Spaghettios

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

A Love Note for Joe Maddon

(to anybody who doesn't care about baseball: DO NOT READ ON. you will be bored)

Needed to take some time to officially announce my man-crush on Joe Maddon.

For those of you who don't know who he is, he's the manager of the AL-champs currently going to the World Series, the Tampa Bay Rays.

For those of you unfamiliar with the team, they're a ten-year-old franchise who until this year had never finished a season with an over .500 record.

The new ownership took a chance on this bookworm/baseball genius who wears big black thick-rimmed nerd glasses and uses existential philosphy to motivate players. And behold! Look what happened.

Joe Maddon, you are an S.O.B. in the best possible way. As a Cubs fan (and a baseball nerd) I feel a kinship with the Rays. Except the Rays only have ten years of failure to overcome. Oh, and the Rays are competent.

That you took a team of young guns (Cliff Floyd pretty much being the only vet) and got them to believe in themselves and tap into their resources this quickly and to this degree is simply amazing.

Kill the Phillies. Ever since Larry Bowa left I haven't given a shit about them anyway.

Man-love,

Lee

P.S. Jim Hickey, I haven't forgotten about you. You're one of the best pitching coaches around.

Happy Birthday Max

The workdays get longer

The angry Russian men come in
wearing bluetooth headsets
beer guts expanding gray and black fake silk shirts

the truth is in the broken radio
and Max the stockman
celebrating his 75th birthday on the job

the buzz of the light
like an obese mosquito

while we hide in the cooler
eating pork rinds
and dreaming of the latina sample-girl’s thighs

everyone of us
running out the clock

the nukes will take us

before they take him

9 o’ clock

Happy Birthday Max

let’s punch out
and get the fuck out of here

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Mike's Bachelor Party

C.J. and Cherry
showed up

and did
what C.J. and Cherry do

their snatches
in the air

their tits
covered in Redi-whip

making the guys
wish they were stock brokers
or successful travel show hosts

as C.J. and Cherry
drank orange juice

and worked the crowd
like used-car salesmen

as I stared at the lamp

and when the money ran out
they begged

and the silence
was deafening

as the guys all had wind-socks

and felt bad

C.J. and Cherry
packed their things up

and left

and it felt
like those scenes
in The Wonder Years
where Kevin Arnold
made an ass of himself

and you had to change the channel

because
it was just too
difficult to watch

and when you turned back

it was 15 guys
back where they started from
at 1:15 A.M.

no beer

and $500 short

show’s over

goodnight
Winnie Cooper

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

FRANK CALIENDO HAIKU EXPLOSION! WINNER! AHHHH!

After one on-the-record vote and one off-the-record vote (bringing the total to a whopping two) we have a winner in the FRANK CALIENDO HAIKU EXPLOSION! contest:



Haiku for Frank Caliendo

Fat Shatner
fat Al Pacino

Fat Barkley!

© 2008 Lee Kitzis



Thank you to all who voted and go fuck yourself Frank Caliendo.

Jasmine

Your name is so beautiful

People who didn’t know you

might think you were a delicate flower
or an intoxicating scent

they would never guess
you’re a 115-pound girl
covered in tattoos
who likes Pabst Blue Ribbon
random violence
and Wrestlemania

and that’s why I love you

because girls with tattoos
never love me back

I guess it’s because
there’s nothing particularly bad-ass
about a skinny bearded Jewish man
in an Eddie Bauer jacket
and khaki pants

with a pocketful of undersexed writing
and nasal decongestant

but somehow
God found a way
for us to come together

maybe it’s because
opposites attract

or maybe it’s because
I’ve always wanted to have sex
with a girl who could kick my ass

Ahhh Jasmine

my angry flower
who has roller derby practice on Sundays

with your intoxicating scent
of B.O. Cool Ranch Doritos and pot smoke

No one knows your name

and that’s why I love you

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Christmas Contemplations From a Half-assed Jew Looking Out His Window

I taste zinc in my mouth for some reason

and am thinking about moving to Thailand

outside it’s Christmas

and everyone’s waiting for the ham and the noose

Howie Mandel’s still on television

and the dead are still piling up in Basra

but at least we have wreaths

and a few tight pussies left

that’ll save the world

Merry Christmas

from me
the Chinese

and Jesus in a bunker in Fallujah

playing Stratego

and waiting

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Poem Written in Between Playoff Games

This old Chinese lady
about four-foot-eight
kept nudging her elbow into me on the train

You have to jiggle the handle just right on our toilet
to get it to stop running
I call it the “fairy jiggle”
very lightly

Ryan Howard has struck out 199 times this season
he is also one of the ugliest men in baseball
a black Mickey Morandini

Mickey Appleman is a professional poker player
hailing from the Mayfair Club days
a mad statistician and teacher with an MBA
Howard Lederer currently holds a two-to-one chip lead over him

I fairy jiggle the handle and think
of the weather in Prague
and a dry martini

A piece of shit floats back to the top
and I think of the Cubs
and that old Chinese lady

I flush again

You can’t wine ‘em all

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

My Roommate/My Muse

There’s something beautiful and mysterious
about the whole thing

when you leave your period stains
on the toilet seat

or try to convince me
why I need to pay most of the gas bill

there’s a poem in there
somewhere

when you leave rice
on the floor for three weeks

or I come home
to the sound of Pink Floyd
and fat people sex

there’s something beautiful and mysterious
about the whole thing

When you tell my friends to get out
even though the lease
is in both of our names

or leave crusted rice
all over my good scotch glass

or drink my tonic water

or drink my beer

or accuse me
of going through your things
when I ask for a piece of dental floss

there’s a beautiful and mysterious poem in there somewhere

like Walt Whitman

or John Donne

or the mysterious haiku poets
of ancient Japan

that inscribed their poems on mountain tops

and were inspired by the clouds

there’s a poem in there somewhere

just for you

when I find your hair
in the bathtub drain

or the sink

or the couch

or my clothes

or you show me
those beautiful drawings you do

which consist of zigzags
and squiggly lines
and crumpled up pieces of toilet paper

I want to go to the mountaintops

and shout your name

like the ancient haiku poets
of Japan

I want to shout a beautiful and mysterious poem

that I just haven’t found yet

just for you

my roommate

my muse

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

They Don't Even Shut up at 1:45 in the Morning

She has the bible
marked off

at 100 points

for 100 answers
she never found

at 1:45 in the morning

all I have

is my roommate’s
Jesus bobble-head
on the bathroom windowsill

we listen to her

on channel 32

‘til she finishes

and I feel a beer-shit
come on

I run to him

it’s just gas

this concludes
our weekly bible lesson

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

How to Write a Poem

When the homeless become dull

and spirituality becomes an asshole that owes you money

When “The Antiques Roadshow” becomes the highlight of your day

and you’ve forgotten the touch of a woman

When you realize every poet and writer that came before you was a moron that failed

and “Everybody Loves Raymond” just isn’t that funny

When the bar becomes a bar

and the weight of the world is no longer your concern

When your gut’s getting bigger

and the president is still an idiot

When you have no money in your bank account

and the Spanish girls don’t notice you crying in the grocery aisle

When you’re more concerned about the gnomish 44-year-old virgin
drinking Riesling alone in his mother’s kitchen
than starving children in Africa

and 5-man pitching rotations are more important than God
because “God” is just something made up by poets to get laid
and “poets” is just something made up by God to fill hell

When you think you will never find love

and when love finds you it gets knocked up by a Lutheran from Kansas City

write it down

and make it sound pretty

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Chicago in July

When the fireworks go off

and scatter all the rats
and the cockroaches
at Pulaski Park

and barista girls
lay worn and pantiless
in sundresses

drinking warm Miller Lite
by cracked windows

and the homeless
nestle in Lincoln Park back alleys

next to abandoned generators

and inoperable dozers

on a city
of useless machinery

where young couples grocery shop
and kiss hands

and a pitcher
is always losing
on one side of town

where Puerto Rican gangs
mug Buddhists for food

and old men
lumber across streets
at 2 a.m.

kittens shit in alleys

and the heat is too much

the old folks home
has three lights on

waiting

and the cops aren’t coming

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

FRANK CALIENDO HAIKU EXPLOSION!

Hey all. So I need your help. My buddy Mr. Kid Douche and I were hanging out. Very foul mood on account of the Cubs Cubbing it up as they usually do. Got on the topic of Frank Caliendo. Easily one of the most unfunny and untalented pieces of shit to ever walk the face of the earth (along with everyone else associated with MADtv). Not much to say other than a funny Caliendo-ripping session occurred, out of which I’ve written two haikus. Can’t decide which one I like more. Need help. Vote in the comments section. Majority wins of course. Very Best. –Lee

(inspired by and dedicated to Kid Douche)

Haiku for Frank Caliendo #1

Lotus blossoms bloom
the grasshopper jumps higher

Fat Al Pacino

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Haiku for Frank Caliendo #2

Fat Shatner
fat Al Pacino

Fat Barkley!

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

The Real Sounds of Lovers

We had a great time that night
drunk 3:30 A.M. taking short breaks
in between screws
me sniffling in your ear
because I couldn’t find my Afrin nasal spray
and you
with this weird drunk snore
like a cross between Darth Vader
and air escaping from a balloon

Those are the real sounds of lovers
they never say “You mean so much to me”
or “I love you more than life itself”
they say things like “Roll the fuck over”
or “You want another Old Style?”

and I never put anything romantic on in the background
like Miles Davis or Chopin
it was usually the Cubs game
and when we’d finish
I’d lean over and ask you
if Ron Santo got you hot

cus this world’s cruel
and cus soon we’ll be old and unfuckable
and all we’ll have are our memories
of the Cubs blowing it against the Mets
and air escaping from a balloon

This is why
the real sounds of lovers
is the most important thing there is

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Monday Morning and it's Still all the Same

I woke up
to the sound of Chan Marshall

orthopedic heat pads on the floor
books of poetry
and used cognac bottles

the dust bunnies collecting like armies
and my stomach’s in pain

four new gray hairs

and no love for months

I feel sorry
for the people with bibles under their arms

the grocery store clerk

and the Yellow Cab driver
with a gun to his head

the birds that taunt the insomniacs

and the ones that have slept for 8 hours
but are tired for reasons
they can’t understand

and I don’t either

and we never will

last night
I dreamt I lost the dog
of a woman I love
but could not tell

We were in the city
and he was gone

but she didn’t care

then I woke up
Monday morning
to the sound of Chan Marshall

and it was a very good song

for all of us

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

The Laundromat Girl

It’s a lonely life
as a Laundromat girl

Nothin’ to do
but watch clothes spin
in the Dexter Stack Cycle
and kids drowning
on the channel five news

counting down the hours
10 ‘til the doors close
11 when the cycles stop

I’m sitting
reading the Dhammapada
asking what Buddha would do
keeping an eye on my tighty-whities

Relax Lee
free yourself of attachment
a homeless guy
isn't interested in
wearing your underwear

and I’m hoping
the cute girl across the way
spies me reading some Buddhist text

and she’ll think I’m a thinking man
and we’ll strike up conversation
and fuck back at my place

God I’m awful at this Buddhist thing

But she leaves

and it’s just me and the Laundromat girl

and the Bears losing
on TV

She’s short
stocky
Hispanic
black thick-rimmed
glasses
that “lonely librarian” look
as Jeremy and I
call it

and I imagine
I take her
into the back room
behind the jumbo driers
and make love to her
and for that short period of time
she’s not a Laundromat girl
and I’m not in retail

and I’d say
some cheesy line
like
“You’re the fabric of my life”
or
“I think my laundry’s done”

and I’d load up my things
and walk off

at 11 on the dot

when the cycles stop

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

A Brief History of the Cubs

billy goat

black cat

steve

next year

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

Another Short Poem

hemingway typed standing up

i type sitting in a lawn chair

that’s not very romantic

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

I Found Religion in a Roller Derby Girl

It’s Sunday morning
the sunlight
bathing the Phoenix wing tattoos
on your back
and your punk rock cat
w/ the studded collar
and the toe fetish
purring at my feet

Hung-over
w/ a stomach full of
Trader Joe’s cheese
and wine-in-a-box

and you with the jimmy legs
hogging the covers
while the pope’s
getting ready for bed

We’re just a couple of Atheists
and the only thing waking us up
is the baseball scores
on the clock radio

One week ago
we were drinking Pabst pints
at Healy’s
listing our broken dreams

You told me
you wanted to be
the first ballerina to dance
on the moon

I said I did too
and knew
the joys of morning-after sex
during the service
when the choir
hits the high note
and you dig your nails
into my back

and then
the service is over

and the concluding prayer

and the pope’s praying before bed

but I got what I want
in the devil on your stomach
on Sunday morning
and the sunlight bathing
the Phoenix wing tattoos
on your back

© 2008 Lee Kitzis

For Dan

You said no one wants to read about misery all the time

so this poem’s for you

© 2008 Lee Kitzis