Newsgroups: rec.arts.poems
Subject: Marek / what did the mentally ill do on the second day out
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		what did the mentally ill do on the second day out
		------------------------------------------------------------

		first of all,
		the mentally ill were too busy to write
		the what did the mentally ill do on the first day out
		poem
		on the first day

		second,
		the mentally ill are mentally ill by the laws of america
		and no other law

		third,
		the mentally ill say to america, at least this well-worn
		corner of it all, o amber waves of pigshit:

		shove it up your ass.  your law stinks like your farms
		do.  you don't know what you're missing.  you don't
		know what you got.  until it's gone.

		dear governor and legislature of illinois -- how many
		mentally ill before these mentally ill have disturbed
		the peace and menaced the public running around
		evanston, waving their biathlon firearms?  none.

		okay, that out of the way:

		today the mentally ill woke up after 3 hours of sleep
		thought about masturbating but got distracted.
		honest to god and to the absence of god.  it may well
		have been the ringing of the church bells if not on
		broadway and catalpa then deep back east.  or sumthin.

		eventually, the mentally ill made good on a threat
		to parental unit anxiety and went about fixing its
		dead battery car:  went out and bought a two-wheel
		grocery cart.  used bicycle tools from hi skool (metric)
		(10 mm and 13mm) to undo the battery cables.  burnt
		itself ever slightly on the shell battery (3 years old)
		maintenance free battery that was dead and leaking from
		one of its vents (when wrapping it for transport in
		grocery bags).  got it over to a nearby auto parts
		store.  bought a battery with the assistance of
		a real nice man.  got windshield wipers, new, not
		refills.  got license plate lights -- clear, green
		and red (port and starboard, but which is which).

		then the mentally ill installed the battery, started
		the car.  then the mentally ill installed the
		port and the starboard lights and felt extra naughty.
		and then the mentally ill fought a pitched battle
		with the driver's side wiper and won.  and then with
		the passenger's, and lost, having drawn some of its
		own blood.  theyz always drawing blood on the mentally
		ill!!!  grrr.  *softly*  grrl....

		then the mentally ill went upstairs and had some
		life, some food, some conversation on the phone,
		and enjoyed the life of home alone.

		then then mentally ill came down, determined
		to drive to work to retrieve kristie's postcard
		from nashua, made frankly with the mentally ill, in nashua,
		and kristie-mailed to mentally's work.  the mentally ill've
		a web page with postcards on them and a very good
		microtech scanner too.  at home.

		and so the mentally ill fought battle of the broken
		off plastic thingee, part two, using unctious methods
		communicated by ancestors via singing lines, namely, wd-40.

		and with much suffering but no blooding, it all worked.
		the victims, black, of course, of course, were throughly
		ragged and torqued.  then discarded and replaced.

		then the mentally ill had to react to the passenger's
		side wiper not wiping at all.  the mentally ill,
		being clever if neither mentally healthy nor legally able
		to own a registration for a biathlon gun in the state
		of illinois, used their new adjustable wrench to
		enforce compliance from a real nut -- hah hah -- and the
		wiping resumed according per regulations according to spec.

		then the mentally ill drove the 12-year-old car grinning
		and composing this poem in their head listening to mentally
                dangerous repetitive and highly counterculture electronic
		and montage music on a subversive community radio station,
		all the while thinking to themselves, damn, we the ill don't
		think we would ev-ah wan-nah trade places with all those
		mentally unill niggers out there, you, yeah you who

		what so proudly they hail...

		whatever yer color.
		the mentally ill say -- i'm black, what's color is that?
		the mentally ill say -- i'm white, what color is that?

		the mentally ill are smarter than you trafficked chumps.
		...mary.  mary.  quite contrary.  have mercy on them.

		
			Marek Lugowski
			1 March 1998
			Chicago / Evanston