Poetry By Alfonso Mango

Tiny Town Made of Legos

I kick down
your tiny town
made of legos, kid

because
yer town doesn’t
have enough back alleys
for the pissdrunks and the
vultures to hover over

it’s all funfetti and joy
and no tv static homicide report
it’s no town at all
and it’s time you learned that
yer utopia hangs a flag of lies
of fleeting plastic dreams

and my heart was once made
of those

the fleeting plastic dreams
but not no more, billy boy

not no more

it’s been kicked in
ten too many times
chewed up by the baby teeth
of organized religion
and televangelists whose doors
only open
for money and pussy

so goodbye tiny town made of legos
goodbye childhood and
enlightenment
i’m blocking up yer glassless plastic holes
fer windows and filling them in
with the pain that’s truth that’s at least
my truth my pain goodbye
goodbye goodbye

​


High On Coffee On Dream

I’m high on the coffee of the dream of life of explosions yeah yeah
ten million flippin explosions loading shotguns to the heart to the
main vein wiring of me of we I disconnect from your hippie nightmare
I’d rather drown in coffeedust in poem in withered little sad autumn
forever and the dregs keep on dreggin the buildings get higher the
coffee gets cold but god damn it all it’s still caffeinated enough to
keep me high away from the dandelion delusions of corporeal
America and the dreamsicle drizzle of escalating miserable apathy
and I’m okay you all my friends my citizens my stranger bedfellows
because you see I’ve got my own god damn brand of misery and
it knows just exactly the right way to fuck me in the ass.




Cute Little Flower Poem

Oh yer a cute little flower poem aren’t ya
yer a dandy little daydream of sweat and sugar
ya got me all fuzzy wuzzy and forgettin
and lovey dovey and drowning and you’re slapped
so perfectly up there into your cute little digital
box and send out your flock of technicolor carrier
pigeons to tell everyone that “love is lovely” and
the flowers and the hearts and the stars and
horseshoes and clovers and blue moons the pots
of gold and rainbows and even the reddest of the
red balloons that float slowly away so perfectly
out of touch from me, from me.


​
​Bio: Alfonso Mango is a degenerate droog pacing the stains of his own mess-riddled basement vegas apartment. His drunken scrawlings have been unfortunately tied to publications at Horror Sleaze Trash as well as Punch Drunk Press. Thank you for being gentle on him.