Cerebral Contents:

Update for 05.13.08:

Male Model by Phil Doran

Set to Replay by Willie Smith

Backsliding by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Tree by G. David Schwartz

05.05.08:

Disintegration by Don Hucks

Five Feet and Building by Joel Van Noord

Grocery Aisle by Richard Lighthouse

Cross the Road by Ashok Niyogi

04.29.08:

Lookalikes by Phil Doran

Dinner by Brandi Wells

The Modern Covenant by Daniel E. Wilcox

Death by Onions by Michael Frissore

04.21.08:

Future's Children by Kimberly Raiser

Identity Theft by George Anderson

The Datists by Adam Engel

A Great Deal of Money by Justin Hyde

04.14.08:

Mr. Papaya and Dale by Eric Suhem

California by Caroline Imreibe

Aftermath of Vehement Argument #1,068 by Cynthia Ruth Lewis

Trip-Hammer Vitality by Lisa Nickerson

04.07.08:

The Florence of Basel, or Why Readers of Nietzsche Need to Read Burckhardt by Jeff Crouch

Slideshow by Miles J. Bell

Friends of the Poet by Sean C. Bowen

Picture Perfect by Leah Baldwin

03.24.08:

The Streak by Jeremy Hendrix

Grab Your Butts by Emme Hor

Far Away by Ashok Niyogi

Staring Down a White-Tailed Doe by Aleathia Drehmer

03.17.08:

The Hairbrush by Vernard Kennedy

Dog Days of Winter by Niall Berkeley

Poem From My Grave by Michael Lee Johnson

Mashed Potatoes and Hamburgers by Matt Finney

03.10.08:

Hard Work by Luis Cuauhtemoc Berriozabal

Jetty Cake Pigs by J.D. Nelson

I'm Quiet in Bed by Moctezuma Johnson

Tequila Shakes by Richard Lighthouse

Another Poem About Booze and Cheerleaders

by Chris Baribeau

Cheerleaders truly need booze: First the cheerleaders, then the booze. Maybe
they're not ashamed at making sense.

Or function without the gag factor.

Whatever it is, the Booze is a no-go for me;
if it wasn't for them,
I could resurrect a thousand
buried bottles.

I could talk for the sake of
looking unworthy.

Resurrect the life they'll never have.

My entertainment living in their nose hairs
they forget to pull,
hanging out,
shuffle behind the bleachers after-game.

Licking up all the truly delicious shards
that seem to sparkle in my eyes like
so many tired hallucinations,
Waiting there for some douche
to take advantage.

______________________________________
Chris Baribeau's poems and prose can be found in various webzines. He lives in Halifax, Nova Scotia. Find his recent work at Litchaos, Haggard and Halloo, and forthcoming in the June edition of Spent Meat. He is also deeply and sexually honoured to be in the first print edition of Zygote in my Coffee.

posted 07.03.06.

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