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Showing posts from February, 2012

Pinning Up

Blue Song

A blue song
sung slow
slung over
the edge of
a window
ledge.

Past white paint
worn weary
by tired panes,
a melody escapes
the breathless drags
of cigarettes

past glass,
southern
skyscraping
steeples,
chasing the wind
between bricks
and people,

falls to find
deaf ears
sleeping;
my song
barely even
whispered
in your dream.

23 ( Cake Walk to Nowhere )

Oh Baby
no no no
I don't think
you understand.

It's not a piece of cake
It's a slice of pie
You ain't ever gonna taste

A little bit
of a wise bitch;
I bet you know things
can get pretty twisted
fast and stupid.

I've got my pussy
on a pedestal now;
Dick Tracy gotta
trace me in diamonds
or get schooled.

Cock of the walk,
go around the block
and don't stop staring
at that clock.

Existential Grocery Shopping

Life is like getting stoned and going to an American grocery store.

While you may have had a specific choice in mind, upon entering the glory of the food mecca, you are painfully overwhelmed and confused with the astounding amount of varieties. You might end up with nothing at all. You might end up with twice as much as you intended. But you will definitely find yourself lost until you've paid for your 4 frozen pizzas and dozen cadbury eggs.

We have an endless amount of choices to deal with. None of them are right. None of them are wrong. Choosing nothing is still choosing something. For people who aren't stoned at the grocery store, this condition doesn't pose any difficulties. These people have a list of the things they need to make their 401K casserole. These people don't have to bother with their imagination. These people have no desire to play with their perception of reality. Why would they? They never had the mind to imagine the possibilities.


But then for th…

The Dysfunction

I'm not insane.
I've got a good hold on logic.
I find sweetness in reason.

But my heart
must be crazy.
And my pussy
holds its hand,
so it doesn't help
that they're both
out of sight
and out of
the mind's grasp.

It's a common condition;
It's just more difficult
to cope with
when you have
a vivid imagination.

Honest Frustration: A Loosely Organized Rant

Goals.

Everybody has these wonderful goals!

My goodness, I praise all of you fine folk who have direction and organization in your life. Albeit, creatively, you may very well be lacking, but to be perfectly honest, most creative people are only as creative as their taste in clothing. Anyway, creativity and artistic sentiment isn't a cash cow. It's more of a struggling mule on a farm bought on a whim by a trust-fund baby.

But what I mean to say is that I respect the norm. Society, you are doing just fine. It must be me. I must be disatissfied because of my poor life decision choices. Like going to school. Like not fucking rich older men with "connections". Like not using my pussy as a justification for special recognition. You know, I didn't do the things that a lot of women do.

Because you know, I'm not sure if you knew- but I am indeed a woman and as a woman today....well it's hard. And no, not like 50s hard. Or middle-ages burned-at-the-stake hard. Bu…

The End is Near; Turn the Lights Down Low

Someone always says
that the earth will stop spinning
and vengeful gods will win
against the pleasures of sins.

Oh I love taking
tea with the devil,

as long as you and I can
make it smile before
the sun spits on it.

Besides,
I think the sun
would still shine
if we woke up
without our morals
or our clothes on.

Debbie

One kiss
our lips
had to practice
for a while.

you are a
new song
without words
to sing along

I can read
your melody
as it plays
on the skin
of our lips

synthetic perfection,
my platinum curls
fell over our faces;

My eyes
were not
wearing their
usual disguise.

Winter Weather

Snowflakes

Juxtaposed

Suicide Prevention Hotips

You've scoured the internet for advice on your pending suicide and through the muck and rake of asphxiation and exsanguination, your search results have brought you here.

Or perhaps you are a foreigner who doesn't know how to use proper grammar when looking up childporn, jailbait, or pussyholics anonymous.

Either way- welcome to your salvation. Unless you really are looking for child porn. I can't pass for younger than 14. My sincerest apologies for failing your erection.

But for you, suicidal guy or gal, for you, I have a very simple truth that will motivate you towards unlimited success:

Nobody gives a fuck. Not a flying fuck and not a hot fuck. You can go ahead and drown yourself in an inch of water, but you're not making an impact. You're gonna make your momma's heartbreak. And if you don't have a momma, then find one. Your suicide may ruin the lives of those in your immediate circle ( perhaps even in the peripheral circle as well, if your tits are real…

GREAT!!

Oh HI!

I didn't see you there, even though we clearly made eye contact. I thought you were a guy I knew-yes biblically, always biblically, but I definitely didn't know it was you.

I'm pretty sure you thought I did see you but I totally didn't- what a big cunt I'd be if I just pretended to ignore you, considering how fascinating your fantastic life tends to be. Even if I'm on fire at an abortion clinic, I'll take a seat and make sure you are heard before any of my guttural yelps or burning fetuses are called to attention. 

Well, its been such a long time since we've gotten a chance to catch up. You look great. What have you been doing with your life?

You have a six figure salary out of school already? I'm so HAPPY for you, I could rip your face off and feed it to malicious pigs- it's just an expression.  But really that's just GREAT. Really really super great.

No I'm not crying- just the ol winter allergies molesting my eyeballs ha ha h…

Descent

clocks mock
hollow grins
that wait for
damp hands
to clutch the

hours when
they will
disappear
along the
quiet boughs
of oblivion.

pleasant company
rotted stale;
mauled spirit liquified,
drain the dreams
that drip softly
slowly sickly
spilled,
destined

to be held
by the folds
of a festering rag,
destined only for
the wet bowels
of garbage cans.

Knots

a knot in a dream
breaks open
the space
beyond
comfortable
darkness

between the fists
gripping tight
to the thought
of movie magic
conjuring
perfect gardens,

sweat slips slow
on the seams of
red palms and
white fingertips,
whittling at the
grip lost in a
quiet battle.

Wishing On a Roman to Visit

Waking Up