Odes to My Triceratops, Pt. 2 (Poetry)


Claire got a little lonely on the night of September 20th, 2007, when a letter written by her mother on a yellow post-it jumped out of her mailbox onto the lawn, causing Claire to run out of her house without her shoes on. As mentioned, the letter was from her mother, Mary, who had accidentally fallen down a well years ago. However, she was now standing in Claire’s lawn. The girl was the only person that could see her mother. Mary had planned for her daughter to die a slow, painful death. She shot a bullet into Claire’s heart, but the heart was already broken, which caused the bullet to break instead.

Nobody would help Claire, so she decided to get a rifle, a bow and arrows, and a dildo. She ended up having sex with her rifle, then killing a turtle she was hunting with her dildo, after she failed to kill a variety of small animals.

Claire never revealed that the yellow post-it said that her parents would try to join her in Hell. When she read that, she immediately ran back home to get her sledgehammer. She was greeted by her deceased father and mother, who were holding hands. Claire wanted to smash their heads together, but then William knocked on her door. He invited her to come along with the triceratops to a party at their home.

First things first, I wanna talk to you about
Things like war, motherhood, fatherhood, and fatherhood.
Anyway, there’s only a verse about my friend.
See, Lorenzo has a mission that his parents planned:
Gotta shoot a renegade deinonychus, he’s a chupacabra.
Hell’s Gate-a-ray, his parents are sending him down to hell.

“Okay, this is going to sound too crazy.
Hell’s Gate-a-ray, ole-yeter. Uh-unh.”
Lorenzo asks, “What was that, Gramps?”
“Shut up, you son-of-a-gun. Next, I’m tellin’ you the truth,
We’re gonna build a missile out of your heart, ’cause, um,
You, uh, you ain’t, uh, been an angel, but, you know,
You’ll repent and, uh, uh, don’t let the devil tempt you, boy.
An old fart like me, I know.”

‘Plan For a Renegade’ by William Griffin

My friend Lorenzo is a triceratops
With a portal to hell inside his throat.
He would drive around for hours on end,
Trying to find some chicks.
Where did you get that car?
I don’t even have one.

Every day he’s doing this.
Dude, I’m worried about him.
This whole thing is getting out of hand.
When I told Lorenzo I was scared for him,
He shrugged his shoulders and said, “My bad.”

“Cruisin’ While Horny” by William Griffin

Our souls are connected
To our bones and our flesh,
But to me Claire could only exist
On the surface.

Lorenzo is half metal
And half stone.
He’s like a newly launched gunship.
On the inside we’re alike:
Cancer and virgins.

But because he is a killer,
Lorenzo is a strange boy.

My sister has an iron fist,
And keeps screaming in envy.
We’re more the same than we are different.

I hate to touch a hand that’s metallic,
She hates to kiss a mouth that’s metal.
But deep down we’re the same:
We are born to murder.

‘Cancer and Virgins’ by William Griffin

Although the relationship between the trio of friends was becoming strained, Claire and William grew closer to the extent that he eagerly transcribed the poems to which she gave birth.

This boy can keep me up to date
And help me fix what’s wrong.
I’ll take him to old America.
He’ll show me the way.

This boy can keep me up to date.
His face speaks of new understanding,
And it’s my spirit that he surrounds.
I think I could live in his love.

‘To Old America’ by Claire Javernick

I’ll never forget the first time we met,
‘Cause something in your eyes
Made me want to try to touch your soul.
It’s such a shame how your eyes are always closed.

There’s a place that’s hidden deep inside your soul,
And if you knew the way to find it,
We could be lost in love forever.

When we find that, then we’ll find what’s within,
And everything that we’re searching for
Will come true like the stars in the sky
And the places on the ground.

‘Eyes Closed’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo, no.
I could tell you so many things,
But you’re never gonna hear them.

So go back to your cave
And think on life,
And you’ll find it’s so much better
Than what you think.

‘Lorenzo, No’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo doesn’t just have
A triceratops hellmouth,
He also has a murderous monster head
Made of chromium steel.

He can sing,
Not just dance,
But sing.

I once saw him try to play a piano
With his horns.

His monstrous head sings out of tune.
He sounds terrifying and murderous,
And whenever he sings,
His hellmouth gushes dark smoke
While all sorts of demons
And monsters
And evil beings
Flood out of his throat.

He looks so frightening
When he belches out from his hellmouth.
This does happen a lot,
But he is friendly,
Likeable,
Witty.
He’s just a monster with a hellmouth.
I don’t know what to tell you.

He kills anyone
Who stares too long.
He isn’t afraid
Of ghosts
Or leprechauns.

We’re talking about
A prehistoric killing machine.
If you look at him for longer than three seconds,
He’ll chomp on his prey.

He is also very well endowed.
It looks like a bazooka.
His seed comes out of his hellmouth
In a plume
While his massive bazooka throbs.
I’m not sure what nature intended
With that reproductive system.

When I close my eyes I still see it.

‘Monster With a Hellmouth’ by William Griffin

I see myself in you tonight, Lorenzo.
You’re out in the sun’s fucking bright light.
Drinking time.
You’re headed for the bottom.

You’re out there eating your dick.
You’re full of shit.
Your gonads hold the world in place.

You’re all fucked up inside.
You’re done.
You know we’re all going to die.

‘Hold in There, Lorenzo’ by William Griffin

Just look at how you’ve changed.
You don’t even look like yourself any more.
Clothes are hanging on you,
Your hair is a mess.
It looks like something’s wrong with you.

Lorenzo.

I don’t wanna be the one
To tell you the truth,
But I think that I should be the one
To tell you the truth.
I don’t like the way you’re acting.
Oh Lord, please help me.
So it’s true what they say.

I love you, and I know you care for me.
Just tell me why you always treat me bad.
I can’t stand you any more,
And I really don’t think that it’s fair.

I don’t like the way you’re acting.
Oh Lord, please help me.
So it’s true what they say.

I don’t wanna be the one
To tell you the truth,
But I think that I should be the one
To tell you the truth.

‘Don’t Wanna Be the One’ by William Griffin

We’re losing control.
Somehow I have to make it stop.
As far as I’m concerned,
I’ve got myself a stinker.

I’m obsessed,
And nothing I do
Seems to please him.
He feels that I hate him,
And he’s right, so
Could I really blame him?

It’s an odd paradox.
The world’s a funny place.
I guess he’d prefer
If I was killed
Right here and now.

That seems to me
Extremely ungrateful,
But that’s just the way it is.

‘Odd Paradox’ by William Griffin

I can’t read or write,
So I don’t have anything to say,
But still I like talking to you.
Sometimes when I go into your mouth,
You taste like a cookie
And you smell like the ocean.

I’ve seen plenty of kids just like you.
When I am there,
They don’t say anything,
And I know they don’t listen,
But it doesn’t matter because
There’s nothing left to say.

‘Nothing Left to Say’ by Claire Javernick

Don’t shut the portal to hell,
Don’t close the portal to hell.
Don’t be afraid of what I tell you,
Or you’ll end up down that well.
It will be dark and it will be cold,
And it will be you.
No! It’ll be the same as it is now,
Except with a lot of kids singing songs
About things that go boom.

‘The Same as It Is Now’ by William Griffin

Dude, dude,
Try not fuck with him, ’cause he’s a goddamned
Mammoth triceratops
With a portal to hell inside his throat,
And a dick like a spear.

He won’t let you go, and he will follow you
All the way to the end of your life,
But in the meantime he won’t let you die,
‘Cause he knows a lot of stuff about science.

He wears a shell with a god inside.
I swear, he won’t let me die.
He wants to kiss my vagina,
But he hates the taste of petroleum.
When he bites me,
He comes off as murderous,
But I can never alert the authorities,
‘Cause I can’t read nor write,
And that’s just embarrassing.

Dude, can I tell you something?
If I were to kill him,
You could write about the slaughter,
And then we could kiss,
And drink some wine
And eat some tacos
And watch a movie.

‘Afraid of His Dick’ by Claire Javernick

I can’t stop singing for him.
He used to be the nicest person.
You could talk to him or whatnot,
But now, he’s just like a four-legged creature.
They say he’s sleeping inside his throat
Because of the mistake he made.

He had a kid and she’s half his age.
She’s thinking what a monster he must be.
You know what the sad part is?
I can’t stop singing for him.

He used to be the nicest person.
You could talk to him or whatnot,
But now, he’s just like a four-legged creature.

I’ll be honest, it seemed like he had a condition
When he used to be able to stand
And roam around the house like a person would.
When he walked, you could swear he had arms,
And you thought of what could have been.

When you look at things like that,
I can’t stop singing for him.
He used to be the nicest person.
You could talk to him or whatnot,
But now, he’s just like a four-legged creature.

‘Four-Legged Creature’ by William Griffin

Lorenzo, he’s a triceratops, he can spit on my wall.
He’s covered in mucus, but that doesn’t bother me.
To be his lover requires a transformation.

Lorenzo, they say he don’t wanna talk.
What am I to do?
How would I tell him how I feel?
It’s like a game with me and him.

We play hide-and-seek, but I find him every time.
It’s true, though, he does have a portal to hell in his throat.
You know I love him from the inside.
That’s where the love is felt.

Lorenzo’s got a portal to hell in his throat.
He said he went to a concert once and he shouted too much.
My friend was a triceratops who got eaten in hell.
I’m his friend, of course I know it and I know it well.

Lorenzo has a portal to hell in his throat.
I’m saying it so there’s no doubt.
Listen to my words and only hear me:
I’ll be the serpent and you’ll be the spider.

God is not an ideal type of character.
He’s not some ultimate model, he’s just a man,
That’s why he’s so cool and non-principled.
He’s not ideal like you, he’s a man.

His substance is an average man’s substance,
His path is a man’s path, he’s real, not symbolic.
The triceratops I spoke of is just a symbol of God.
He doesn’t exist.

His eyes are brown, but who cares?
His eyes are brown, they’re like mine.
His horn is bent down, but I don’t care.
His horn is bent down, just like mine.

‘Lorenzo Is Actually God’ by Claire Javernick

Somewhere at the end of the black and blue,
A yellow rose falls from the sky.
Lorenzo’s throat is stuffed with joy and hope.
His heart is a lighthouse in the dark.
His love is a fast-flowing fountain of thought.

It’s a hell of a way to live and love,
It’s the difference between life and death,
To know the feeling of a dino’s claws.
He’ll shred you to the size of a cactus.

Some may find the signs of wisdom.
Lorenzo can’t understand anything from them,
But his warm and kind stories
May make you love life more than death.

A razor from the Cretaceous that cuts the sun.
He’ll make your hat more than seven feet tall.
The curve of his horns is erotic.
He’s an angel in the blackest of hells.

‘Cretaceous Razor’ by Claire Javernick

Lorenzo is a triceratops.
He has a trachea, he has a turtle shell.
He can eat live prey, he’d swallow their lungs.

If you knew his liver, then you’d know his scrotum.
If you didn’t know his liver, then you’d know his scrotum.
If you had been around him, those are hard to miss.

He’s like a two storey treehouse
With the bodies in the lower level.
He’d get drunk and fuck her in his sleep,
Then kick her while they had sex.

If you asked him where he was going,
He’d look at you like you had three eyes.
If you told him where he was going,
He’d just call you a liar.

He would just turn around and wave
Like he was going somewhere.
If you were wondering,
Well, you better be wondering.

She was a charming fifteen
Going on twenty four.
He’d sometimes touch her skin,
And her body would melt.

‘Stop Fucking My Girl’ by William Griffin

Someone needs the rest,
And if it’s me,
I won’t care.
I don’t need anything else.
I don’t need love,
I don’t need
The girl that I’m in love with.

The girl that I’m in love with,
Just forget that girl.
Maybe I’ll be able to live without her.
I’ll live without her.

I’ll leave her, maybe.
I’ll leave her, maybe.
I won’t.
I can’t live without her.

She’s the girl that I’m in love with.
Just forget that girl.
Maybe I’ll be able to live without her.

I’m about to leave her.
Maybe.
Maybe I won’t.
I can’t live without her.

She’s the girl that I’m in love with.

Come,
Run away,
Or be run
Away by you.

‘Don’t Care No More’ by William Griffin

His name is Lorenzo. I think it sounds like a brand.
There’s a portal in his throat and it’s quite unclean,
But he calls it heaven, where they hang all the dead.
I was just a little kid but I heard the screaming and dying.
They all fly out through the portal in his throat.

He takes ahold of my hand and he talks in Spanish,
“It’s called love, but you wouldn’t understand,”
And he’s running towards my school with a bomb
That blows up the school and our town and our home,
Hence the ‘heaven’ part of the title.

‘Straight to Heaven’ by William Griffin

The actual lady, Claire,
Is in love with the beast.
She’s trapped in his throat,
Bound by a curse.

I can save her, but not myself,
‘Cause the beast won’t just take one girl.
How many animals do you need to own
Once you get to the top of the food chain?

We are like the sheep that go out to pasture,
Like the livestock in a private hell.
You are a tyrant to the core,
No remorse for your cruelty.

I wish I could pretend
That you never existed,
But now I will pretend
That I care for you.
When the day comes,
You will know that the world is ending.
You will have no place to run to.
You will have nowhere to hide.

‘Top Of the Food Chain’ by William Griffin

Oh, Lorenzo, my friend, what can I say?
I never liked you when we were young.
You had a face that was a million years old.
The door to hell had no handle on it.

What, Lorenzo, am I supposed to tell you
To save your life? It ain’t gonna happen that way.
The black dog was a sign, I’m sure you know it well,
But now we’re standing face to face.
Now the dog’s a member of our family too
(It bit a woman right on the neck).

He keeps on watching me
Like he’s trying to read my mind.
It’s nice to be so quiet at night,
But a mother’s work is never done.
It’s a hard life, Lorenzo, without you.

Oh, Lorenzo, my friend, what can I say?
I never liked you when we were young.
You had a face that was a million years old.
The door to hell had no handle on it.

What, Lorenzo, am I supposed to tell you
To save your life?
It ain’t gonna work.

‘What Can I Say’ by William Griffin

Triceratops,
Hell is this way,
Hell is this way,
Hell is this way.

It’s ugly, filthy and expensive;
Triceratops blood is the best of wines.
Here in hell I play football with invisible spirits.
Here in hell I kill myself with numbers.

It’s ugly, filthy and expensive;
Triceratops blood is the best of wines.
I swear I will play football with them
For the rest of my life.

Triceratops, triceratops, triceratops.
I am Triceratops, and my wife is Spartacus.
Handsome or ugly, there’s no difference;
My wife gives her life away for Triceratops.

I am the fist, the wicked sword.
My soul is pure, my soul is virtuous.
My wife gives her life away for Triceratops.

‘Hell Is This Way, Triceratops’ by William Griffin

And after all he did,
This dino got what he deserved.

I saw the tears in his eyes.

He will never smile again,
That bloody demon.

To satisfy some weird urge,
I cut up some of his flesh
And ate chunks of my friend.
How sick is that.

‘Some Weird Urge’ by William Griffin

The devil lives inside my throat.
Lorenzo gives a high pitched shriek.
Nerve clusters, boogers, tobacco juice.
And you think I’m insane.
In my sleep I hear a voice:
Lorenzo with the devil in his throat.
It’s around my tongue.
When I try to scream I feel
The devil inside my throat.

‘Around My Tongue’ by William Griffin

You wouldn’t believe this fella if I told you his tale.
He met this girl, a girl who wouldn’t give a damn.
Well, the girl led him to her bedroom door.

Through the portal I heard the chorus.
My mind is racing,
My thoughts are twisted.
I’m forced to run so I can hide.
Now I’m panicking like a damn jackrabbit.

There’s no escape.
There’s no escape.
There’s no escape.

I can hear the devil’s chortling.
I’m no better than I’ve been painted.
I’m the very definition of a born-again Christian.
I’m a born-again Christian since the day he died.

Yeah, the devil’s gonna get you, gon’ get you, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.
Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah.

‘To Her Bedroom Door’ by William Griffin

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