Let me explain about those who eat brains
They must be mad or severely insane
They’re clearly dead, nothing left in the head
No longer human, truly can be said

Let me explain about those who eat brains
They drag about slowly, never in pain
They move about quirky that is for sure
Whatever they have, for that there’s no cure

Let me explain about those who eat brains
They’ll eat a lot more and without complaint
Be dirty or clean, they won’t care at all
Flesh is good eating, to them it’s a ball

Let me explain about those who eat brains
Butt-naked or dressed, they just have no shame

Theories with a Side of Tacos

Aliens are coming, we have for so
Long known that, eat that, put some cheese on that
In fact, I think it’s in our DNA
Enclosed in deep pockets of memory
Nestled in a crevasse beyond our reach
Standing by, ready to reveal itself

As sure as we sit to eat these tacos
Mayhap a human is thus abducted
Obligated to slosh around in slime
Never mind the awful smell and the sex
Good grief, y’all! Is that even a penis?

Maybe that goes too far, but is it true?
Actually, they do a lot that’s private
Nobody really knows. These tacos, though…

Cloudy with a Chance of Chupacabras

You said as you were walking by, “Hey, look
at all those damn fucking cockroaches
crawling into that damn fucking WalMart.
They must be having one hell of a sale
on hard tortilla shells and shit like that!”
thinking that I would not care because I
did not look Mexican or Latino
Chicano or Hispano or even
look Caucasian enough to upgrade on
this second-class citizenship you had
just assigned me to in your racist mind.
Then you asked, “You must be an Indian, right?
Don’t you hate all those damn cockroaches
jumping over OUR fucking border and
invading OUR country?” I then answered,
“Whose border and what cockroaches, bitch?
All I see are chupacabras and you,
the damned goat I’m about to hand over!”