WEIRD STUFF

_______________________________

The Ballad of Gamera

(When Crud Bomb magazine honored me with the title
"Bishop of the Gamera Flicks" because of my enthusiasm for Gamera, 
I was inspired to write a song. Here are the lyrics.)

Gamera! Gamera! The giant turtle!
See him as over every barrier he hurdles!
All evil monsters shiver in fear
When they see the huge flame shoot from his rear.
Oh, Gamera! Gamera! Though his mighty power could
Destroy the Earth, he fights only for the good!

Yes, many monsters from outer space
Want to conquer the human race!
But Gamera! Gamera! Earth's mightiest hammerer!
He leaves them all weeping, their schemes come to naught!
Not Zigra, not Gaos, not Viras, Gigar or Baragon
Could ever hope to over this thunderous wondrous paragon!

Oh, Gamera! Gamera! With your tusks and mighty jet power
You are truly truly the giant turtle of the hour!
How I pity those who haven't seen Gamera --
The greatest monster star ever before a Japanese camera!

_______________________________

Al Adamson

"It's got all the stuff -- I was the first person to drown a guy in
 the toilet! They do it all the time now, but I was the first!"

-- director Al Adamson, discussing his film "Satan's Sadists" 
in Shock Xpress magazine, Summer 1989). 

Many have made films
That were finer, more dapper.
But I was the first
To drown a man in the crapper.

_______________________________

Small Can of Potted Meat

I opened a small can
Of potted meat
And out fell
Some kind of
Bleeding red 
Thing.
"Eat me! 
"Go ahead, eat me
"You bastard!"
It screamed at me,
Hoarsely but clearly,
In a voice 
Loud for its
Size. 
"Eat me, Goddamn you!
"That's what you're here for,
Right?"
I said nothing,
Just grabbed a
Meat cleaver and,
Ignoring its screams and
Curses,
Swiftly cut it into
Bloody bits,
Then flushed it down
The garbage disposal,
Then cleaned up the remains
And flushed them away, too,
Then I went outside
Into my own 
Hell. 

______________________________

Ballad of the Ku Klux Klan

Oh, we love to march in pointed hats
And in robes derided as "sheets."
We love our country and the Bible
And burn crosses at our meets.

We don't hate niggers, despite the lies
The Jew-owned press likes to spread.
We just think they'd be better off in Africa
Or maybe even dead.

We kiss the flag and hate all fags 
And know Hitler was just misunderstood.
Thank God for AIDS and KKK parades,
Lynchings and all that makes life good!

Yes, we are the Klan, a merry old band!
O, When will the White Race wake up? 
We make a little noise, we're just good old boys,
Waiting for the race war shake-up!

The greatest of races -- just look at our faces,
See the Aryan legacy we'll bequeath!
Yes. we are a clearly superior bunch,
And a few of us still have some teeth.

_______________________________

The Defense Rests

Girls with gigantic breasts!
Their magnificent magoombas don't give me no rest!
Bouncing bazongas haunt my sin-soaked dreams,
Fantastic pneumatic G-cup lust machines!
Oh baby, the way you merely walk down the street
Is like watching some fabulous architectural feat!
For so fine is the manner in which your frame is fashioned
That it leaves me on fire with unbridled passions!
Oh those gals with the giant jiggling jamoogas
Give me the stark screaming Oooga-oooogas!
Sometimes I think that I can't stand it
But you got to hand it
To them girls with gigantic breasts.
The defense rests.

_______________________________

The Third Time
 
3:30 a.m.
and
the phone 
rings.
 
I don’t answer,
fearing that
it might be
me
calling
me
again
 
And I
don’t 
think 
I 
can stand 
that
a
third
time

_______________________________

Screaming
 
Nothing
No one
Just 
Blackness
    and
Cold
An endless
Emptiness
So vast
So eternal
So complete
It shocks you
Into
Screaming.
_______________________________

Hark The Angels Fall
 
Angels fell from heaven
First one, then two
Then by the dozens
And the hundreds
And the thousands
They hit with ugly splats,
Blood and feathers and gore
And stuff all over the place,
Road hazards,
Really bad in the city,
They'd fall right through your
Windshields or roof!
Soon every place was full of them,
They were starting to bloat
And stink,
And they kept falling, 
These dead angels,
Day after day, 
Zillions of them, 
Piling up, 
And nobody knew exactly what
Was going on,
But you had to figure,
It probably wasn't
Any kind of 
Good sign. 

_______________________________

The Groin Kicking Institute
 
HELP WANTED
The classified ad read.
$6.00 an hour.
No experience needed. 
Apply in person to:
The Groin Kicking Institute.
 
I went to the address and
Signed a contract.
 
A small Oriental man
Dressed me in
Some loose-fitting uniform.
 
Then he positioned me 
In the center of 
A large empty room.
 
After a while, several people
Gathered in the room.
The little Chinese man 
Walked over to me,
Smiled, bowed,
Then kicked me straight in
The balls.
"JESUS CHRIST!" I screamed,
As soon as I had some breath back.
The students watched attentively.
 
The little man faced me,
Bowed again.
 
"Now watch me one more time," 
he told the students.
“Then I want each of you
to try it.” 
 
Man, I thought, 
This is going to be
A long day!
_______________________________

The Neighbor's Lawn
 
His grass, his 
Goddamn
Lawn!
He spends his life on it
And it is a perfect green,
Perfect manicure,
Perfect fucking waste
of time, life, money, 
So insanely perfect
it bugs me, 
Jesus! it bugs me. 
And I sometimes think 
I would like to go out at
night and have at it
with shovel 
spade 
salt 
and
poison,
but that seems like too much trouble
and more than a little
crazy.
But then I see him out there again,
The perfect waste of time and money,
And I think, 
Maybe not too much trouble after all,
Some night.

More poems by James W. Harris