Fuck Off? Reading for the hUtub or in a broken down SueBAHrue, a WeBlog or seti@home

I CAN'T PRETEND I understand, help me, please.

btw for anyone cares im now at iwritebetterthanyou.blogspot.com

I

and no one else
ever

I Want

to write the world;
in your name,
on your body,
in

(.)your blood(.)

and my milk

weill feed
them
sweaty palm
against sweaty neck
and reasons melting
quicker than coke
in the summer
on the
coffee table,
sticky on the slick
surface; dry cool
only
a memory
that
i'll hold on
to ever tighter;
that fireball of
slowly sublimating ice,
my anchor
dissolving into the dusk
:spooned rock:
at the base sinking stone
wearing midnight musk.

.. i thank me.

sucks but true,
i feel better though.
sue me.

missing you
is harder than breathing

there she goes...
fuck i;'m stupid, hate myself and want to die.

more than anything i wish i'd had
a friend i guess. i haven't talked to anyone
in a very long time who has led me;
i 'd have remembered
bliss.

pssst:

the universe is obviously
touching anywhere you
can look.

thats it thats the secret you
fucking morons.

coccaine abstained
you can find it all funny honey
rain in the city
useless pain and
my pity
obtained through
crooks with money

wet/dry

hook shit cries
attack my day

at night.

turn the down down
get your radio scoff

killing time
in the film

i wrote some good stuff back
there when i remembered
two good paragraphs look like 10 pages of poetry
thanks sss

i do miss my old life
and drugs

sven calls me outta nowhere,
and then tinkler shows up a saphir

and i hadn't been there for a month

hey mark im sorry
probably... ah fuck it made me crazy

and hypomania here we come
i made sure to sprain a toe
on my push foot
so dry streets mean nothing

and the only thing
that always works
is a non retarded
girl turning lady
to set you straight
that i knew

is it just me
or has everyone from guelph been raped,
alledgedly?

who the fuck rapes people?

last night or something there was this thing on zed called little black caddy....
damn fine s(h)ort film, damn fine

and why is the ret chink singing old macdonald... so he can fuck up the vowels... damn...talk about rorsach

-and shes a big slut who wants her brother
-and that is the worst retard impersonation i have ever seen
-and the actress would be pretty hot if it weren't for that
-dumb bitch, just wait till the paranoia kicks in from the super hearing

"Molly"
-she is so dumb
-this movie blows
-this woman singing right now is flat half the time she thinks that she is being all sou(r)lful
-ooh she s getting a photographic memory stupid trivia head
-i think i read this book called flowers for algernon....

i broke my septum

somewhere

down the line

aheem i mean a serial killing spree, a serial killing spree.... of course

my favorite thing in the world is to leave anonymous comments on random peoples' blogs with which i disagree, or simply find laughable, this provides a suitable outlet for the rage which otherwise might lead to more serial killing sprees.

tgjdzfgjFGY7686TF865F79YG86F975TCD4
68DSE9P6FKLMEDAq1jytjuyhkbguyvbodbyhj hkgh khkgh,bm,k bg,k/;',.m nmbjuhk k
"/.
/'].ncghrtfgcvkjmi4dsewftgcyt5re465rtcfg 65

that might have been more legible if the rage hadn't gotten all bottled up waiting for the post page to load.

this whole cosmic joke thing is getting old,
someone write a new one.

and i hasnt even come up yet

I'd have to coalesce first
then elctro shock might work but only to crystallize me in angry immobility for eternity,
besides i missssssssssssssssss her.

store called,
they want their whippets back

...

jerk

"She's a Rich Girl

and she's gone too far
but she know it don't matter
anyway"

"oh won't you smile awhile for me a...saraaaah"

all my life
waited for a moment
now that moment's gone

you dumbasses...

read me
or i will destroy you

i am the vaccine;
how much weaker could
i get?

From The Academy Awarded the Feature;
(From) Programmed to proceed(ure)

Face in
hands
me
the glass pipe
t(w)o(o) broke
last winter
i sold
my guitar
is my life
really
blows
to my head
gradually
clearing
my throat
closes

her door
cracked me in
my mouth
was too dry,

like your hands were
tjhat winter you washed dishes;
fingertips all cracked.
i said i didn't care,
but
i wouldn't let you touch me..

fuck stuff
i don't wanna sit and think
andlooksee ill only write when drunk and
unforgiving now

thats not what you
thought
i was going to say was

it?

i am shakespeare
& dostevesky

i will
treat you together as one

what lay out was
but fear before-
me
only apart then as one
day

none

i speak to your chest
double in fold
your lungs
and your heart
carry me

told in undue font to
an inept time
the story will tax you;
rythym will rhyme,

and apart from the depth
which staggers you blind
i'll grasp out at air;
i'll follow
and bind

doubt me(,)
endearing
ly i've lost

lie on sparest bed
to find
comfort,

at most faust
a given;
a room within
...

:

my head.

sunk cost.

To Gaze, To Weep, To Seem:

title of previous post

everything about me feels
decrepid

like an
ancient can of paint
cracked
and seperated
i'll pollute
without intent

i miss
the confusiion
being one
with my thoughts

i miss the inability to
recognize
my own disassociation
the milky white opal
of absinthe
the clouded
dragon of abstinence
i miss you all
though i
am too enraptured to see

i can breath in short gasps
a mystery
to hold on to and

exhale
one last time
before
dropping into the crushing void

i miss you
stuck here on the
edge of eternity
close enough to
be
forever.

close
rank
and file

grievance
says

:

the last
beg
gar
to fall

wisdom doesn't come with teeth tearing tension, it comes with just enough time to make a note in between everything you ever do, with a few years and an active interest, you'll have hopefully not lost all patience, which is found never learnt and is not anywhere near a limitless resource.

disheartened,

that and confused,
an aberration didn't appear until
my third or fourth.

i can't really say like
"above all" i'm bored
but that sucks too

nauseous
boredom

bah
`

A WALL

THE: See Satre

you wouldn't
understand tho

when you're so steep on the curve now
learning that
that there will be no more light escaping
to cast distracting shadows on the wall
looking like plateaus
and lulling you to sleep
so it all keeps rushing away from you till your selves have
made you sick
and blindly now,
(here to great surprise) so
haphazardly
stumbling
(as i always said it would
be and never believed it )
on in

a frozen kaleidoscopic image
of me

there is a depth
of sensation
that can never
be quite measured
but exists where
the lines
or the curves
or the brush off into
nothingness leaves
the
artist alone
and you staring
at his precarious perch
on a wall of time

and i need a drink

dear henry
would
have understood

the patterns that surround your head

and the pain of compressing them into your already strained skull

bursting
and becoming

and settling in to expansive
collapse.

Art & Audience:

i'm fed up of teaching people english as a second language
in order to have someone to talk to
when nobody gives a fuck
anyway

and all these privates babble
at themselves meaningless
emo mirror crap
mistaken for tones of agreement

you're all deaf
and
horrible lip readers

so fuck off
in your impatience.

brandblueboy
on the horn
indefinetely
till me teeth are all out
of my tiny face

or at least the ones that
cut both ways

grinding me out of existence

not to get all up n graham's new journalism space but sveno is in the t.
or abouts for awhile,
-insert hometown here-
at least,

prattle off and die old man
get the death rattle cough and die
so can you just leave me alone
until you decide to go on your own

roll,
roll over,
turn tricks
in your grave for all i care
throw the man a phone he could make it
with the way he mimics grace's moan
(thats a fakin' it)
halt at the bordercrossing platitudes and race's
roadbend just around the
giant willow tree in a cold
rising mist in
explicaply
torn from the landscape of
an inverted cousin
inbred beyond all event horizon
possiblities

i know, i know, its cuz im an ex crack head mesced up stoner so my memory keeps drifting away from me thats what for the dicTAphone otherwise im a gonna need some pro;
c)sady,
b)zac,
a)gression so i can retrace something until anyone else can see it

fuck theres no inspiration i know but can't

you just tell(squeel on me)
when i forced it?

title for previous post

?title of previous post:
sssssss
(line break)
o
now it's a poem

my face hurts
yah
ssssssss tit
ches in (coloured)tissues that keep
pulling apart into
cotten candy
mouth
pain
i had
some teeth removed today
because
my face
is: so-small

throw in a little oozing pus that always seems to kick things off right

woohooo you know the best feeling in the world? yah its that braces on the in side of your teeth cross-hatched kind-o-deal. when you feel like your face is caving in and sucking in the uni verse around it swirly style blue streaked culture up our ass first.

asimov was pretty good with his leagueuf twenty(check the ratio on his giant skull dumas). i must say brother hasn't realized a thing.

how they realize this being all dead and where these testie moanials come from,i haven't the faintest, that some big brained poseur displaced-loser's job.

and since it's the grand suck rather than the big bang the longer the why? do i eat phase, the more; absent the how?, and definitively stationary a being the shorter of course the death, it being all ass backwards. Many today never quite reaching the how stage find themselves dead before they know it.

its hard cuz i did muck around in it a it, i mean fusing two parts of it together, but i know at least
that mice get fed up pretty fast after they skip the light and the fantastic and the phantasmic. And all they get is a stupid t shirt and a number mines 503 yours can be 42.

i am tired but not bed tired yet and i have to work in a bit, but i can't forsee sleeping sonn fuck i am bored and tired and listless and sick and tired and stoned and caughie and tired and shit

one more time cuz i really fucking mean it, i hate people, i hate fucking people oooohhh i hate people, i wish you alll the best this fucking holiday season fuckos

when i get some spare time and access to my tools:
design and build some cool
fun vr stuff
that interacts directly with your nervous system
or like just figure out how to get out of this
decaying shit
and into something
expansive

yeah wooh

list of things to do; immediately:
eat something
drink something
go to bed
go to work
come home
eat disgusting kfc because it is 2 and 1/2 dollars
try to smoke less weed all night
go to bed
etc.,
soon:
somehow regaining a will to live
laughing that i just wrote that
mind chuckle for the moment
(i am pathetic
but not so mean as to want
anything to be as
shitty as is is
at least
but in this environment
i can't help but constantly feel fatigued
i don't really know what this shit is really
fuck i'm bored
are you bored?
some women smell nice
and look nice
and are nice too,
i wish i knew where they were
and i think i could
be nice
to have around sometimes
and
i think i would be
a little
less
tired)
find a job with better hours and at least as good pay
figure out what to do
about crazy fuckos who
like to drive around
and think that is fun
and crazy fuckos who vote
for the democratic
or rebublican party
in the us and crazy fuckers
who vote liberal
and conservative here
and go back to school
and take over the world i guess
then go back to sleep
that should do it.

my first retraction, i take back that drunken raving about my next girlfriend, i hope she just would be able to play the drums, not actually know how, but be capable, i'll play them if she wants to play something else, or nothing, or something, i'm just bored with having girlfriend's who want one of us to be business: business is breathing, it shouldn't be any harder if it is you're probably forcing someone's head farther down in the muck to save yourself some imaginary smell, fucko, and lets try not to burn any of that food there unnecessarily

and my feet hurt all the time and everyone sucks ass... i wish that people weren't so aggravating, and i wish that something made sense

i wish i didn't care

then it would be alot easier, but i do

and

i wish that you did
instead

punching stuff is boring, and punching people makes me naseous i ahve to go to work tomorrow

fuck this boring ass shit, i hate you all

fuck

my next girlfriend will probably have to beat to shit out of me to get a rise outta this corpse

fuck people

especially me

i hope you all die
eventually
too

do you see, do you see how lazy i am check the title and the description, im too lazy too wade through the html and add the text so i left it like that... fucking lazy, no patience for asholes who care.. coming soon links to funny fuckos site i found when i view my own profile and clicked on the links goin hey i guess they're going to link them only minutes earlier when asked to place a comma and space between all interests... wow

i think the only thing that happened is that dumb got really big somewhere along the way, but everyone seems to have basically all the same faculties, just impaired in some way (,out of) shape or (bad) form....
who cares... what the fuck am i talking about?

what the fuck does that mean??? i don't care anymore... people shouldn't have tried to become specialized drones and shit in a matter of like 10 000 years ...thats not enough time to actually eveolve signicfigantly to fit any given niche... crazy fucko..... trying to fucking pull the same lever for a thousand days in a row.. why don't you give hand jobs at least you'll develop less cramping than just jerking your own or better yet do something other than fucking masturbating...

or the totsl anihilation of life...... i COULD do it, you know anyone could...c'mon lazer seeing eye god

or a flamethrower to the groin... wait, thats yopur fantasy get out of my head fucko

i guess my big fantasy now is to have steph finish me off.. just 1 or 2 slugs to the hind brain

but if you'll wait i'll keep on
and anticipate
whetrwe
you'lll fall
and i won't castch you, i'll add velocity to your rapidly rigour mortis

and my memory is running shorts

because i didn't plan for any of this

but it won't so i can't and you shouldn't have...

i want it all to end now please help me

an fuck everyone who cares or who doesn't, but only in the friendliest sense fucker

yes you i miss you only you fuck you i really do

i wish i was dead

for shizzle, i just can't do it, i'm a pussy

but i don't really got nuffin else rite nah
i hate everyone

i can write like an idiot too, see mama im jus as dum as everyone else, looksie the syntax is all fucked and so am i, and so is this fucking planet, fuck everything is boring

i b4 e and as well you like the link fuckos? its not a link, ha thats really funny eh?

the reason its weirder for that fucko to feel better even though he should come out of this less nauseus than me, its only cuz ima supossedta be MORE nauseus get it? no?!#$%@*&$%*#%$ motherfuckers, i shat a little so i feel better fuckos.. stop reading about me you fucking psychos ... ooohh is that an inside joke or do i just need a password to get it... fuckos

i did, i did shit my pants, it was all liquid, actually i only shat my boxers, but fuck its been a while since ive done that shit...(fucking unintentional....fuck ....fuck puns...fuck) that is so gross, i am feeling oddly better though, less nauseus than before somehow, my roomate says he is as well but thats even more fucked up fucking gg allin shit eating motherfucker

what the fuck is dramatic cheese?

what the fuck are pants

what the fuck is shit
what the fuck is this shit?
the interweeb

i think i just shit my pants, ima gonna go check any minute in the bathroom to avoid my roomate throwing up all over the keyboard but i shit my pants for a reason, i wanted to write something down, and then i had to fart, or so i thought, and then it was too warm, and now i am suspecting it is too cold, and i don't know if im just imagining this but something feels squishy too.... anyways, why is it that everytime i get fucked up and pick up a beta another beta turns on the dramatic cheese and picks me up... what the fuck is a beta?

im also hungry, and when things go especially wrong im angry
happy and i aren't really friends anymore.

etcetera

im drunk, bored, tired, sad, stoned, lonely, and generally unfit for; human contact, life.

perfectly

i am perfectly content being destitute
and having everybody
say they know
but i've got
it all
boiled up
to nothing

everybody's looking a bit bushed,
what's wrong? the selfassured mood
won't kerry?

leave me,
and the earth
behind,
and the burn out
in ashes
there is no time
for any one thing

left

and you will
all pay

to see it once
it's gone.

i can see straight
through the ceiling
and your walls
and i can hear you
meekly praying
i will destroy what is

left

to your own
devices
strangling yourself
in my general direction

left

you with no options
and i will
cart you off my carpet
and roll
you for a cigarette
while you hopelessly
squirm.

i am empty
and i will swallow
you all.

nor can i figure how
to retie it,

i can't explain the
knot where
the base of my neck meets
my back,
and all
it can feel
like
at times
i[(t')s,m]
hard and
cold.

and anger;

rage

which chokes
up
on the
throttle

and wanting to
be
a whisper
inaudible
at times.

and every
single night
your name.

soon i will have been(,)
fine so i hope(.)
ll: one day i will
have a child
and he or she
and her and i
will hum (Just)
to
sing
to,o

saying direct\or
ally:

you are perfect
and everything is
[perfect(,) and (just)]
because
everything is(.,and)
it's just that
one day
when you are strong(;.)
Enough
and never too old
after you have fallen through
time
in
this place,
space enough,
though i will have found
some
one,
me, to give you
and when you no
longer need me,
but love me
you will see and say so quietly
to yourself :ll

i don't have the energy to machine a bunch of personal lazers what with having to skate to work. (thats how it works dumbass).

none of which is as normal as fucking humans with lazers, but we don't even have hoverboards yet.

glass menagerie with a silver lining = sharks with freakin lazers

it's always almost over:
let me breath
or die

i wish to leave
now
you can't
then
i'm going
to
make like i
already have

if i may say a word about sheep skin jackets...
they look: stupid.

thats it thats all i have to say for now,
oh yeah and hair burns, those are super cool too.

lately ive become concerned that the entire world is exactly how it seems to me

the only problem is im becoming too lazy to do anything about it

would someone email me some c4 ha aha ha

fuckos

surveys suck my ass,
research my foot,
each call with no control group
manufacturing statistics.
it's advertising
and i've always
been a whore.

i miss my hair too.
note to all fuckos
that cut their own hair:
watch it buster
cuz its just as easy to
fuck up
as get it right,
and now you'll
be able to see all
the assholes staring
at you.

ps to drunk old men:
stop touching me.
hit on me all you want,
but touch me again
and i'll either;
start crying,
break all your fingers
or pour beer on my
own head in your
direction.
save the groping
for your fumbled
apologies.

i hate everything

not very interesting?

fuck off, who was
talking to an insignifigant
prick like you?

oh, an insignifigant prick like me
nope, i only have time
to completely
drive myself crazy,
what the fuck are you doing asshole?

and here is just the endless scream and anger i never want to feel, and why all this again and again
and how to escape, and how to live and breathe without burning. short path.

i remember a time and a place that existed.

i miss myself too

please....

soon

what the fuck is going on ever?

and for fucks sake would someone just fucking blow it all up?

Memories are often the
greatest obstruction to
sensing the slow erosion of(;)
the idea(,) of time.

They most often come(;)
without warning
and without a shadow(,)
of doubt(,)

without substance(.)
all through out
this moment
i drift in
and observe
entropy.

and i send you the best of my fergrets via this faintest of Postal Service, i wish you more than everything,, even if i don't know why,
and and a Clark Gable composite.

its like going crazy every moment, every sound, every second evolution a revolution in rhyme the schemes evaported like sutures meant to keep time and i can't sign to myself in the dark, but I don't know how to speak, to the week enders alone can never feel the pain, we walked far too far, its time time to float away and second glances firstances for instances can not be revoqued only understood on a plain exterior to those of abraham, and issac proclaimed it drops off from the earth to calm and see and let be and hate privately and to scream and learn quiet consumptive contemplation of earthly temptations and which will set you FREE.

if it's not i can't tell; so i'm imploding forever in this moment hopefully attracting destructive force in his direction, and the whole fucking irony of c u l-(-A-: now or never "" worked, b some on elsewill be )-ture will collapse into our increasingingly folded over; arms in hand scattered ashes and skeletal fragment(s)aid shattered differential just energy, plain H2O collapsing on the living room floor every night without you(1,2,3) now) i don't ever want to die again so i am letting go one last time: dc only sleeps alone, no offense or intention contracted or signed along the way. i wish the best to the world out there trying and dying for darwin, i don't mind much except that i miss the way cold felt on my face with my eyes closed and the smell of fresh apples and everything about falling asleep again in saftey, before i couldn't sleep alone, and i was scared of everything, every one i've ever known has hated me and i wish that i could leave now that i can finally see the world in front of me all in manhandled disharmony, and hatred in the trees gnargled at the seems and pestered into gleams suspiciously impair as would be: an airport delapidated whore begging for some more sha king into action lear you old fart at least get up and dance with me, tho daughters have often stripped you two can fight.I haven't anything else to say fo now... someday you all gonna realize that i need to talk more, and if that's got to be paid for, then pay me. If not make a movie or some shit man, fuck, write a book, any one can write a book.... fuck, i miss reading.

fuck dizzie's new cd; i can't even call it an album, i hope its a joke; otherwise i never want to leave this basement apartment.

Then Boom
you're in the ring
locking eyes with the
matador clown
no rodeo:
hands free
dialing for dollars.

why? so you can continue to hide in a culture of meaningless bulshit?

i am happy,
you are stupid
if you think information is
knowledge

you are wasting
your time, none
to soon
none of mine
this is a bad lune on the
rise
i have no time for fucking morons

and i will
talk when i want
about what cuz
now that i quit my job
eat my ass
i now its crass
walk like
a crazy horse
sparkys back
and anyone who
doesn`t like me can ignore
this
and me
cuz i don`t give a fuck
if you were stuck in a riddle
you`d be piddling yourself
too
boo hoo if you don`t
love
its just one big psycho fearing
round round
if you love me
let me know
tinkler...
i`ll use your too
you pissant shit head
you too
all who dare oppose without complaining..
feigning innocence
tinkler
im gonna take what you owe me out
of your room
your ass
or your walletnext time i see you... watch yourself
little bitch

stop testing
you facist asshole
if you wanna tech me something tell me
you wanna make me laugh try(at anything)
if not just keep talking cuz i`m not checking your fucking
bullshit diary
no mo

why don`t you listen to dizzy rascal dumbass

donèt burn yourself
i love my friends
through and through
death to
con(de)scending)cept(ive)s
con-struts
i freestyle
you think i give a shit
about the final wrap
join
if you aint to yellow
to see the
stars now that the rain has fallen.

if your ideas is tiny
maybe you got
a big boom stick
all i know is that i;
always thought you were
smarter and,
lost a toe
got a chainsaw
and it feels and looks
like this
much better fit.

and stimulus to(o)
the first time id seen a poem
in a while

love donèt
h(e(x)sit)ate
because ièm
moon(ing directly)
facing the sun.

If you wanna play games
i break them (a simpolton of nursery ryhmes only and doesnt spell)
cuz im a jester
no asshole tester
if you bigger you teach(are reached)
the smaller hide and preach
im not scared anymore to be as simply c(o)l(in)ear
as a
big assed elephant
with aboom stick so smart
and new it glows with childrens flows,
who(se^e^ ya i mean it too)
easier to understand emo-leecherÉ
i already said all this
but i dont mind explaining
that i want us all to be enders,
this game is over go back anew to
old schooling
i admire
how you were given
all the shit and
so was i
the burrs of a furr,
but in a hermitage
donèt poke a bear even in a tutu
because
you decided to bring your
little zombie
reflection guerring
(even if lilke a little two head sister too)
donèt worry you can
have your corner of the internet as well as saint laus
its just that im sick of playing
cuz i always thought
this was life
and you drove me as crazy as a loon
if you want
donèt taunt
you can take whatever
flaunt,
bitch
if you want
too much and
ill flush
my and your
shit stinks too.

i am whatever you say i am
clearer

by the way that means i called you all
big
dumb babies

the biggest is shafen since
you can`t even respond on his site
since that would be
dangerous,
trust me leaving someone
as reactive as
me with out
a reasonable outlet
is more so
it makes me want to
eat you
it`s just your gaseous
intentions aren`t worth mentioning.
i finally guessed
baby
i hate you the most of
all since
yous ed
with a big ass boom stick
and all you can do
is bring stupid jerks you feel
superio(senio)rity to(wardz of crazies)
since yous way to hazy
to make any cents.
baby-u
never, i`m king of the Rascals
ill make you dizzy
with envy < your bitching
you are wasting my air
time
s
up.

i love breaking fucking toys
down into
tools i`ll
choose how to use
abs are too hard to
get to,

and i`m too fucking lazy...
i guess i`m crazy
assholes
evil dead
you miss your goblet
the blue and red night
is over,
zombies will now taste
the fear

eat my ass anyone trying
to tread water
(and are) simply
killing time
and drowning
anyone large enough
to latch onto...

you are all
damned (if you want it; and) retarded
and i don`t hate
cuz i don`t give a fuck
don`t try to ruck with a riddle
stuck ion the middle
of the fence
drifting in and out of existence
because a squeeky second fiddle
piddles his own
when he diddle daddles
up this streaming creek
white water
with out (but needing a good)
paddle.

by the way anyone who cares
can suck my ass
because
i don`t a fuck

i love
violently
and veraciously,
feo no lie
on
was found another ape
bare assed another continent.

hawaiins is brown
and i keep growing under
rw inc.
is a tribe too small
to participate
in my little game
its called quid pro quo
erasing status because
i`m at the top of the food chain
i only spit
shit
what i never needed
if it feels good
who cares
what looks you get
eat me if you dare,
if too complex to
be fragmented
by dumbass zombies
i lost a toe
teeth
where went my marbles
one single game
left
to be played
and i can see your futures
i am thing king
get the fuck out of my castle
if your not serving
the rain.

i am the loon and i reflect
clearly enough
to burn
any one
son
spotted
by his lack
of pigmentation

whiter ^people suck
i`m killing you
only if you fear me.

bolds and italics
are grinding down
infra structure
low enough to and fors(k,t)a(t,k)e

i hate little shits
and holes that
look like
they may have a grounding influence
but at the base
are stones

shards

and me denser than most

and simple

hard-cold

facts

i found fists the
size(but not shape)
of a club
foot.

cats
with ass
kicking
multi-
tasking
steel caps
the dunces turn to
feel some ish
this is my

Boom and stick

dish brimming over.

look at them at least
they burned
out
for you,
but you was full of shit
and i`d kick jesus`ass.
a little crass
but its quite
over with your
games and magic
was a john turned on its back
sivin to liv
hes got a bag of them.

i hate pussies too

but he wrote dogdik all over
himself so he could
at least
laugh at himself
never had a nursery
to ryhme
a suture
for the
future.

records
broken along

with all
your
over
consumed
two edged
boys
thicker
than your
average pen.

bye bye birdy its you who is so hot to trot
fix it up donèt get caught
you shot
your load too co(l)de(d)
glare in my direction
its an infection
of erecting
a tower
of power
base(d) in free(dom to face the) base
made the tier of head case
erase the debt
youve all
contributed to,
now youère gonna rue the day
you tried to sue
a kid as hot nunder the collar
to let out a world shattering
holler
at me bitch
in my side a stiff stitch
donèt tug on me bug never met a thug
that could KUT the rug
out from beneath you
hug puggish nouveau riche
your sluggish put away the dish
this is the apocalypse
screaming at you from the acropolis you canèt top
this slam
you got no guts
that is who
i
am.
take your pick it wonèt stick no youre all sick and im happy down in solitaire
i got a little rappy in the guttter
its like butter
for my bread
like no other i
still

love

you s

all

if youève got the ball
or the gall leave it all

here

but youère so full of fear ill post it clear on mine just in thyme if there isnèt a response here tommorrow

your twisted sorrow
ull have to borrow
from some else now
(C)iève learned and taught, and how!

but i guess its getting wordy
its you feeling dirty

hello loneliness

i wish that i could die
at least i will not fry
ièm done being your fall guy
ooh theft ièm bereft: its repossesing my possesion
(to keep you abreast)
your obsession with me is done

cuz the whole world loves it when you donèt get down
b)when you make thats sound
c)when you sing the blues
d)when youère in the news

and thats where you are about to take it dumas.

time for my afterstorm in the sun
im getting brown

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

On : 7/14/2004 5:41:38 PM (www) said:

its universal
(remote) self control
its called role reversal
now im not eurkle
but the devil
i let you revel
but you wanted to ranèt
you wanted to take
(out your trash) but you cant
so you chant like youère kant
intoni9ng a sexy moaning to distract
us from the groaning in your bed
its your time for stoning
ièm gonna cast down(on your head)
my past gowns
ièm wearing the pants for a while
àkiss my ass and defile
the world

out of control
you SQUARE(S)
STOLE
MY SOUL
but my mojo
wonèt go
idonèt
blow
thats you ho
i just glow and my rhyme
is flow
your rythym is however pure scheme
ass tore wide ièm gonna ream
mans(on at least pants him)
from seam to seam
till the sun
beams down on my face
and we save the entire human
race
just in time to avoid

ppps we all know youère gay tinkler,
that is why you
fell in love with me
made me pay your f(ill)e
for an attorney privately
why is you still mad,
you should be glad ièm gone
and stephs back so strong
ly hating me for bereting
wait it was me
and some times a work horse
goes hoarse
from crying
or lauging
either way
pass the PeaCe Pipe

quit taking YOUR filthy shit out in public it stinks
alot more than me
i canèt smell
your hell
hole (was the name of the band)
or asparagus pee
just part cree i never been a g
just a down and lonely b.

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------

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River Tinkler Is a pissant
hes a phoenix
on the stix
and stones
which hacve
broken my
lone-
son(ray)

your words
is never verbs
to do
now
how do
you feel today
is it real today

more thought
less heart ache
More taught
and less faked

oh fuck
youère stuck
between
a cock
and a
hard face.
Anonymous | 07.14.04 - 7:55 pm | #

She takes just like a woman, * yes she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.
*she tends to give like one too.

He gives just like a grown man
and he lives just like a half man
and he aches just like an old man
but he breaks like a little girl.

you could say-

we wanna live
we wanna give
we’ve both been miners
for a heart of gold
it's such a fine line
tween(s I means)
yours and mine
I’ve stopped searching for (a hooker
with) a heart of gold
(it’s been a long time coming)
and I’m getting old.

death by decadence

Lord guard me in my bed
as i lie
defeated and defenseless
my piece of the pie
is vulnerable
to ant and ents
and monthly with
drawls
for rent.

slowly sinking
into a sadness
that is coming on
like a sneeze,
i sigh
to an empty
house
with no (re)ply.

Warho(ur)se
No Room For Love 2004 Colombia Entertainment Group
all rights reserved
All Lyrics by
Pisspoor and Excuse for a life

Before the Flood....

Nobody feels any pain
Tonight as i stand inside the rain
Ev'rybody knows
That baby's got new clothes
But lately i see her ribbons and her bows
Have fallen from her curls.
She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.

Queen mary, she's my friend
Yes, i believe i'll go see her again
Nobody has to guess
that baby can't be blessed
Till she sees finally that she's like all the rest
With her fog, her amphetamine and her pearls.
She takes just like a woman, yes, she does
She makes love just like a woman, yes, she does
And she aches just like a woman
But she breaks just like a little girl.

It was raining from the first
And i was dying there of thirst
So i came in here
And your long-time curse hurts
But what's worse
Is this pain in here
I can't stay in here
Ain't it clear that?

I just can't fit
Yes, i believe it's time for us to quit
When we meet again
introduced as friends
Please don't let on that you knew me when
I was hungry and it was your world.
Ah, you fake just like a woman, yes, you do
You make love just like a woman, yes, you do
Then you ache just like a woman
But you break just like a little girl.

#5

Brats,
twats,
dickheads
and creeps.

Tools
and
trumpet touters(self tooting)
will be followed by Smugo the tragi.com
clown

p.s. i still have seen nothing of the alledged hundred either.

hey piece of shit... i hope the doctor slips... you are the worst kind of scam artist... tinkler that is 2000 dollars you owe me not a hundred you fucking shit head... thats besides the 5000-6000 in smoke... calculate it asshole.... you fucking shit for brains... oh and you're the one that deserves to be able to party, once agaibn getting out of the shit you put me in i haven't eaten in three days... nothing "had to happen" asshole.... you created all of this , and i hate you.... you are a fuckwad... and the only sorry i'll listen to comes after you post on your blog i am an asshole, i lied to jazz, i lied to viv... and i lie to everyone io meet to disparage you because i am on to the next needy person i can mooch off of...... oh and i would like some shoes too, dick for brains.

what i'm trying to say is that you're right(about where we are) but you're wrong(about how to get anywhere else) henry miller... our pain is the only thing keeping the world from self destructing.

I’m learning.......the world is always going to shit.... that is mostly because "[y]ou have to realize [Mark] me boy, that you’re dealing with cutthroats, with cannibals, only they’re dressed up, shaved, perfumed, but that’s all they are--cutthroats, cannibals. The best thing for you to do now, [Mark], is to go and get yourself a frosted chocolate and when you sit at the soda fountain keep your eyes peeled and forget about the destiny of man because you might still find yourself a nice lay and a good lay will clean your ballbearings out and leave a good taste in your mouth whereas this only brings on dyspepsia, dandruff, halitosis, encephalitis."
so I really don’t mind if I do, and with out you when they ask for a dime, now I’ll have enough to giv’em a dollar.
and that’s the reason it never gets there because we can all do ten times what we are asked and maybe one in ten will.

p.s tinkler if i see you i owe you a couple of shots to the face for when you agreed that if you ever stepped on my toe on purpose again i would punch you in the face, because that's how much it hurt, and you did it anyway, well guess what, ow, now i'm going to collect, remember this convo too? or no..... anyway, you'd better fucking stay the fuck out of my way from now on or after i drop you i'm going to keep kicking you on the ground. thanks for proving to me that which i thought was impossible. Instead of teaching you and your sister that life isn't fair so you may as well be, they taught you life isn't fair, so make sure you come out on top... fine, i just don't feel like listening to your fucking bullshit anymore. the proof is in the pudding and you are rapidly congealing into a spoiled brat.

fuck this feels really fucking good, i was pretty scared that letting go of needing people to tell you what is okay would be what turned me into a business bastard, or an apathetic capatalist but it hasn't changed a fucking thing, i just feel so much fucking calmer... hey tinkler fuck right off... EVERYONE watch out for that one, he will feel no remorse. EAT ME EVERYONE, i will always keep up my share, i'll do (at least) half of the house work, so why have i let the excess fall to those who don't want to do anything, those who rather than feel guilt when they drive their best friends into bankruptcy, feel resentful of the cash flow restriction. i'm a gonna be spending my cash on people who are trying to be human.

well i'm not pissed anymore cuz i realized i will have money saved soon what with cutting you off from everything so i don't even care tinkler. with friends like you, who needs em, phffft... this is going to make things easier, it will be much more fun to give things to people who need them, in order to do so, i'm going to have to remain more objective thus lenore... ban people, i'm really sick to death of all this bullshit. i have no friends, i'm going to keep things more strictly to an; it makes me happy, it makes me feel shitty basis, tinkler you have always gone out of your way to make me feel shitty... thank you, that was just far enough for me to realize.... i don't care about you tinkler, not anymore, not after everything, i can put up with a lazy child, not an asshole. I just don't like you at all anymore and i'm not ashamed to finally say i was wrong to everyone that told me the entire time i knew you to watch it, i've got it now, i was wrong, you aren't a good guy scared to get a job and such, scared to grow up, you are a jerk, i'll never get anything but more and more problems. well i was a pretty good start to screwing people over wasn't i, once it gets to be more than you think you can ever repay, you become resentful, i understand, and i don't care, not realizing this and just stopping, that's what makes you an asshole. not just dealing with the shit circles you make in everyone's crops, that is what will make you like your sister.

there is only camaraderie between thieves ... remember that viv, remember that jazz even... have fun with him... hopefully me laying his cards on the table will be enough to keep him from quitting in a week .... enjoy the bullshit while it lasts because it leaves an awful taste in your mouth when it’s gone. it is time for me to do things fo me fo once.

the only thing ever wrong with me was thinking there was.
the thing that is wrong with you is that you know... you know that’s the only thing wrong with me so you try and make it as big as you can instead of making that feeling of wanting me to feel worse smaller. why don’t you add up the hours I’ve wasted ruining you making you lazier, working like a dog making myself even smaller...the difference between me and you is that I say it.. I say hey tinkler... I obviously was dependent on your validation so you can’t keep coming around and saying your hungry, because even though I knew thoroughly that you would be eating properly before me... I still shared half of what I owned with you.... forget it tinkler... come to me when you are willing to see yourself as my equal. (oh god which way did he mean that?.... both)

can you tell the difference between coincidence and consequence? between sabateur and attacker? between trivia and imperical data?

oy tinkler, your favorite game of fuck mark hasn't worked because i don't care anymore, now you're going to be fucking yourself and anyone dumb enough to stay around you.

you see viv i never asked for anythig back, i'm not being petty... you were by pretending i was... you can all go fuck yourselves, pour vrai since i heard tinkler you let everyone know you feel like rutting (by the way everyone, it was steph before, even after i was seeing her.... "ah fuck, steph, i have a crush on steph, why am i going out with viv") you're acting like a spoiled mamas boy who needs everyone else to worry, either do something or leave it alone ... have fun just the three of you unconcious extroverts. i'm sure after the group settles into three the dynamic won't change again, and since you're all such blameless(feigning oblivious) folks you'll have fun. i must be fucking crazy cuz you have all been just so nice to me.

you are all assholes, and full of shit, yuno-y? Tinkler has had 3 times as many new pairs of shoes and skateboards during the time he's been owing me this two grand... fuck you tinkler, why are there holes in my shoes and not in yours.....fuck..... and viv speaking of small amounts of alcohol: the last beer and a half i never finish from my forty before we go out, i end up splitting with at least three people... you can fuck off too.

you know what is MEAN assholes... stealing off your best friend after he's given your everything he could afford... whats better is stealing from your friend and acting like a grumpy baby because you know you are too much of an asshole to even be nice to me... i mean then you'd have to admit to yourself.... yah the mean one is me.... wow viv explain to me how i worked like twenty shifts in row so tinkler couldn't pay me back... go fuck yourself.... wow i had a nervous breakdown... thanks for forgetting tinkler... FUCK YOU. i never asked for cash i asked to be treated like a human being... i never asked for my drink powder back and you know it. what you weren't drunk enough?, shame. i hope the extra 20ml of alcohol you got not sharing with me did something, you fucking cunts.

tinkler you know perfectly well what you've been up to, so go fuck yourself.

ban people

human beings are themselves composed of several consciousness' of no actual relation but each influenced only via the other.

some causing(creation would imply control, different from intent) meaning, the others mean to cause,
unfortunately each has been thoroughly convinced it is embarrassed(the embarrassement) of the others.

yo boys acting too tough, girls acting too much....... can you actually sit there and tell me that jealousy exists? can you tell me greed does too? show me an over confident kid that wants only what someone else has. show me the security that has made you grip tighter, given you this need for ownership.... why teach only to fear the fear. succomb to the darkside young aniken, it is easier than the banality of truth. existance(resistance) being futile, the ability to overcome is what's shifty.

any marriage done in by a single infedelity was only looking with traffic on one way streets as it crossed them.

we are all playing the same game, and it is only the players' abilities for strategy which so greatly range that checkers can appear to you as chess.

i've always felt guilty winning and sore losing,

thats why i keep giving away my playbook;

i prefer stalemates.

the pain IS in the intent, not that the intent must be hurtful, just inconsiderate.

you aren't putting anything off, you are fucking living through it.

i've never asked anyone to be unhappy, alls i'm saying is that socrates and buddha were beggars.

p.s. for the pc pop: Whose opinion is more valid when seeking safe passage across a busy intersection? A crossing guard or a fucking blind guy?

can an opinion be wrong? yes. can it be right? yes. Can a valid opinion be wrong? yes. Can an invalid opinion be right? yes....... the meanings of words are in the dictionary.

can you tell the difference between something actually not being there and not being able to see it?

can you tell the difference between reality and perception?

perception and deception?

advice for EVERYONE

a) stop using words you don't understand... eg retraction, revert.
b) ban babies, big ones too.
c) at first you've got these romantic ideas like you're an eagle or lion, but you are domesticated, so you may as well own yourself or someone else will.
d) when you are finally covering your own ass and pulling your own weight, start complaining, it's not a privilege or a right, it's your final responsibility.

Epilogue (eulogy) to a
(for a)
Poem

Absentmindedly
or ironically [I don’t even feel like bothering with the brackets
on this one you dumb fuck (but I did{i always
will})].

It all boils
up to immaterial
evidence;
some immature
sentiment,
and a bottle
that will never warm
no matter
how long or close you hold it.

Somewhere
there is
a beer
that won't go flat.

I'll never taste it,
solid against the universe
that's
projected onto my
scream.

More fun than five o'clock. Faster and without phil's fading hairline and four of his allegorical cures: internet psychology.
No actual introspection required. It's less of a horoscope than fortune telling kind of gag.

Disorder	Rating
Paranoid:	Moderate
Schizoid:	Moderate
Schizotypal:	Very High
Antisocial:	Moderate
Borderline:	Moderate
Histrionic:	Moderate
Narcissistic:	Moderate
Avoidant:	High
Dependent:	Very High
Obsessive-Compulsive:	Low
-- Personality Disorder Test - Take It! --

one year ago
in this same
afternoon light
i was empty.

Superbowl Sunday

Christen the new black colander,
it needs a name like a baby or a boat.
chili and prizes.

One hand against the sky she
casually says:
"forget this you ever happened",
another pint and it’s forgotten
though her footprint has marked dust.

and there’s a decent coat of salt on the main
three buckets,
two buckets,
one bucket,
no buckets
(okay so -1 bucket,
but
that was more than
decent).
Now:
broken line.
Now:
busted chops,
a
bus bin to empty
a
bus bin to fill
run
run
run
run
run
run
run
three stairs(:) too many.
RUN
run
run

44 hours a week.
The rest,
i sleep through.

Steel Toe

The white cracked paint
rims the extremities.
Rusted through in spots,
i see myself:

that ugliest point
on an unke(m)pt metal surface
you can
barely

keep
your-
self
from
kick-
ing
in

each time you walk past the fire
hydrant
Four houses up the street from yours.

What,
the Handcream?

It sears;
a snowball clenched too long in a young child’s fist,
but it’s not to be thrown.
It’s the exquisite beauty
of the pain
to be felt,
in the infinite
moment
before
climax
takes over,
releasing,
it(')s cascading waves of raucous laughter.

I hold on ever tighter
to that fireball of slowly melting ice;
my anchor
dissolving into the dusk.

stop. please god, oh god would you all stop being so cool, my face hurts.

sometimes i wish i would just fade out. i could be a shadow, then i'd have nights to myself.

Brackets should be able to superimpose themselves over text under the artist’s [(almost)parental] guidance. We need to begin approaching the complexity of the simplest music.

Poem

And i don't care
what
you want to call
it
e.g.
confessional,
sappy.
and fuck

i never meant
don't
analyse (why in
christ's name are
you
getting defensive?),

do,

for shizzle,
cuz if you don't,
i'm nothing
to
anyone
but a poser.

i don't care now
that after realizing
the dragon never leaves
his lair
enshrined in an elegant
tomb we disguise as myth
i have nothing
personal
against myself [i'm not
really
ashamed. Is that not modest?
i'm (not really)
sorry,
i was just being honest].

i don't care
that i'll never fade
into something bearable.

i don't care
because
now i can simply write this
and
cuz' of
all the other
people
before me
(or ahead, whateves),

i can simply write
this
and it
is
a poem

Contract Compassionados

plainly pain has arbitrated
and if you ask me,
that's maybe the
worst
idea you've ever had.

me,
i'm gonna get drunk
and whatever
i
can
get
my
hands
on.

It's Nothing

and i almost
wish it would hurt
when i stubbed my other
toes now,
it would be
easier
to remind myself
that nothing is
nothing
and that the twisted ruins of
my archaic life will remain
no longer than
i breathe.

i wish
that when you read this
you would excuse
my immature devotion
to truth and love me
anyway.

i wish
you would
recognize the stregnth
in my bent knees
and the will to keep
my shoulders
just
above the mat,
and the will
to
black and bind
blindly,
letting it
go
until i cease,
quietly.

Phhhhhffffttttt

And i guess it’s what
i wait for
every night;
the silence,
the heartbreaking victory,
the spared pain of

the grocery clerk,
Her dented symmetry
as nature
never
intended.

i’ll wait for you to sleep
because you will,
always before me,
because i know(,)
and(that) you never
Will.

Love (for Lack of a Better
Term if You Must)...

politely you might call it,
only perversely
or if you were a pilates instructor
bending bodies
to
fibrous favours
you’d have me
misconstrue
as luck of the draw
ten thousand times repeated
till a winner is found
in this small lot.

But i knew,
i knew
because late one night
lying in bed exhausted
you’d asked for
it
exactly the same
breathing hot on my neck in the
casually cast light
whispering my names
all in a row, chanting,
incanting a binding
spell ,
till logic and magic
have made up and held
sweaty palms
up,
caressing
each other in the despair
of knowing they’ll
never
conceive.

i turned on the TV
but i was fucked,
thought i saw Welcher Crotch-kite
and got scared
so i turned it off
set it on fire
and threw it out the
window.

i left the house once today.
It was to check at
the store to see
if they
had gotten
any more strawberry rings,
they hadn’t.

i went home.

i’m still here
getting drunk
drunk
drunk
and high

again.

You Promised...

My back hurts
and i’m tired
in a boring kind of way.
i feel as if
i’ve walked one hundred
thoughts across a windy desert for
a chance at
nuggets and my
favorite
golden sauce
but when i got there the take out window was closed and
i’ve
never had much of
an ability for
animosity,
nor husbandry.

i guess i will
just
look at some
nice ladies
spreading as if they
like
it,
soil my stomach
and
sleep,
sleep,
wake,
breathe, sleep,
deep, sleep
deeply

until i ache
from rest.

Curiously the detail most absent from modern accounts of the tale of Icarus is that at the time many others were cavorting quite carefree on wings of wax in the lower stratosphere. All of this stopped cuz one kid pokes his eye out. Fuck.

today is tomorrow as well...

one day
at three or four in
the afternoon
grudgingly admitting
to consciousness,
i realize that
it’s just a flaccid substitute.

Later, after misplacing the thought,
i won’t be able to recall
what it is i decided
i am replacing;
is it the tenth drink, a pill, a snort,
a good woman, a fucking whore,
an assorted bag
of candy in which
i like every single one,
a song to dance to,
a song to sit through,
talking with a mind
and a love,

or is
all that
for want
of
this?

There is only tragedy as there is a suffering that is ultimate, an intimate death.

The problem, I guess, is that I have always been too contented with the simple. In today’s completely romance absent atmosphere I have been unable to maintain an emotional independence. It is evident I can still fall in love and women apparently find that enough to make up for my lopsided awkwardness. I’ll never get anything done until I burn my face chemically in a freak industrial accident.

Beauty is the essence, the sublime our construct.

the construct is killing me.

Bisect the angle, middle aged for an “equilateral”. Feminization is socialization too. i need a ladder for mounting this high horse. How many times can i mean it?

and in the end when you stare down the very meaningless of it you realize softly in a sob you can hide as a sigh that you are so done with this reality. And the violent tears you are going to shed tonight and tomorrow forever on for the sadness and the heartbreak and the fear and the loneliness are all just our sublime response to the beauty surrounding us. i'm finally waiting for the moment that is going to completely powder me, i'll be yours to consume soon. and i will only be and react.

A Beat Poet’s Story

Wednesday

November’s favorite color is grey.
I know because he told me so
when we were
discussing
January’s aberrant behavior
and he just sort of slipped it in there.
I got uncomfortable,
and left.

Tim Hortin’s

Five filthy cigarette butts
floating in a medium mocha chino
Dunkin Donuts cup.
Two cream, one sugar,
shoulda got a large.

Jagged Cuts Now

Through the tinted windows
i can see the lonely lap dances:
clergymen's apathetic abstinence.

i am lost in this blackness,
and my bed clothes are covered
in alley cat urine.

The strip club’s backdoor opens
and reveals a twisted dance,
where one stands moaning,
the other swallows,
all this with the sweats on my couch.

Really, i can’t blame more than 14-15 years of emotional frustration, sexual inhibition, and maybe two of twenty odd twitches on my parents. i mean to be honest, from about 7 onwards i lived in a world where they were too stupid to understand that my brother was going to live forever. We knew by then i was going to fuck up and die, i've always loved beauty, beauty: truth, besides there's something all wired wrong inside me. My truths have never seemed to exist.

I used to read, maybe too much, too quickly, too young, but there was a time when I was able to remain somewhat stable by thinking the thoughts of others. For hours at a time I wasn’t somewhere else, rather I was here as someone else, and I could feel strong. Nothing but the power of existing, identity as I’ve never been able to maintain it. And I guess if I saw ‘someone’ they would call attention to the obvious lack of connection between all five awkward members of my family and blame my confusion on an emotional contusion I’ve been walking on too hard to heal. But I’m almost certain there are and have always been others like me, moreover, there have been entire civilizations which depended upon idealistic imagination. I blame the lazy fucks who gave up when there was the slightest placation. Thanks for the lousy century, decades without literature, eons without intent. How long does nothing is nothing have to exist for you to imagine everything?

i'll have to watch the other direction because perception is blissfully the deception which keeps us alive, i could be all like:
The joy and wonder of these two months only succeeds in twisting the knife in the wound of this tortured wait.
The apprehension would succede in fullfilling the fatalistic philosophy of prophecy. i love her and i need to be happy. If time needs to exist in all directions at once for me, let them all have happy endings and mild forecasts.

Any Place that isn’t Here
(with its crusted vinyl seats, slowly creeping mold mellowed by smoke)

The way smoke curls
off a half-finished cigarette,
rising a little too fast,
just a little too thin
to be beautiful,
that’s me.

The wind is turning colder now, i can feel it in my cheeks. My feet are still happy slapping the pavement as i skate home but something tells me before long i’ll be staying longer at work: smoking, having a pint, dreading that sudden bite when the door swings shut at 4:30 on a January morning, but for now i am a king and the men but my squires, every woman mine to have or cast off with the common disregard of royalty. Well, maybe not dominion over man and woman, but over all his lord(’)s creatures roaming the earth, or at least certainly those i feed. Complete control now, and drunk i have a remarkably spider like balance; weaving to avoid taxis, ollieing sewers and potholes, manueling medians, careening out of control into street lamps and wretched packs of roving international students (mostly female), apologizing anonymously before skating off as fast as i can. The laughter subsides and an elegant figure catches my eyes, a silhouette in a city of shadows, her hair is so slick it shone there for an instant, as i look away i see her turn and her face sticks on the corner of prince arthur and clark standing: smoking, staring straight at the void unflinching,
i will see her again.

The swirls in a cup of coffee,
and the twists in a remembrance of smoke,
curling a little too fast off a cigarette,
to be beautiful,
that’s me.

------------------------------------------------
Memory is tricky. i'd swear i'd seen her before i knew her, before, but now, fiction keeps writing into my life, i will imagine it as if i've always loved svet eventually, i suppose. Following a moment into a past that no longer exists is useless anyway.

Jon, Jon, Jon, Jon. Wow. Jon and I(,) we(‘)re going to rule the world someday. 2 ridiculous mutants with extremely disparate views on everything. While other kids in science fiction stories had great powers of either mental or physical ability, Jon and I(,) we(‘)re just a little bit 'off'.

Hodge Podge [Dodge McLo(d)ge]
-for all the jazz nerds

IT's white,
up the nose
-lots more
intricate
than coke-.

your face is chubby
but your intentions
are mal meant.
a cherub balding by twenty
you haven't
ever
worn a wig
but you always seem
to miss the warmth.

i have nothing
and so the void
is unshifted.
and i have no home,
i have no family,
i have no love left.
and spite
is climbing into my lungs clamering
for attention(,)
with only
misdemeanors
of mischeivieous
intent(,)
she's a gremlin.

i'm scared
that my hands seem so much smaller
than your body
slick with sweat

and

i'm
offended by the way you smell,
it's too animal
and the nausea is lust rising in my chest.

I'll fuck your brother's girlfriend,
she'll feel the way you used too
and when she tells you,
-and thats why i picked her-
you'll feel all that again.
and when you read this
and you can
see your face
fading
and my hands trembling
always but once
with anxiety
then anticipation,
sloppily carressing this body that isn't yours,
you'll miss
how i cared.

Then maybe daddy's downtown condo
and debutant balls
will lose allure
with images of knights and
rebellious diamonds
rougher than most
but whose karot
is unparalleled
and we could have coffee sometime
or fuck
or hold hands and stare down this void
or talk
and you could be happy for me
and i could stop being worried about you
and we could laugh about how
i had to move into a caravan with two grown men
because you left
us
with nowhere to live
on three weeks of notice.
With no credit history
it was the best we could do,
which isn't so good
i guess,
hey!
but look at me now,
yes,
and look at you now,
yes.
My haven't we grown

so reserved.

Free will can only be logically defined as the degree of quantum uncertainty in any given individual.

And the reason i get so scared i guess, is that if it wasn't for poetry (as retarded as this is going to sound), i don't know if i would be able to interact socially, in even such a minor way as taking the metro. When i forget what it is i am really doing as i am prone to do (a defense mechanism for the classic underachiever's fundemental fear of failure: instantaneous denial usually resulting in constant unconcious procrastination), rather than feeling simply numb or empty (spaced as i once could get), i now am unable to remember how to be. As dark and constricting as any possible physical asphyxiation, i forget how to simply stand and breath and exist without distraction. No longer having a why, i feel as if they can all see my useless unhappiness, and i am ashamed. In the past i suppose i could provide reasons for myself in the excuses i made to everyone. In my mind i guess i always had a career planned for the future (lawyer, engineer, pilot, professor, politician), because then i wouldn't have to rely upon my exploration of the expanses of ether sans ego (which is a difficult state to maintain while remaining concious of the fact that you are asking people for more time on your thoughts than they are giving their own) for my existence. i guess i really don't have any options anymore, this fear is only anticipation, loneliness is itself the pain.... and control is a notion i am learning to let go of. i will remember to tell myself 1000 times a day that i don't have to do anything in the same order as my parents, and if i fuck up, if this is where i'm fucked for me, with an inability to recognize my own limitations, then i will need to learn it anyway because i will never be content with anything but the struggle, if i'm not trying everything i have (i'll admit i know it isn't alot) i feel like dying, happiness only within its own pursuit. Ambition being absent from my freak of nature's body, power is the only thing i'm not seeking.

Everytime i get scared that it will be the last time i'll ever write anything, because i know, i know i've got nothing. you'll see here what ever you want.
i've never been scared i'll starve, because i'm symetrical and smart, but will i drown in my own ego?
i've written things which i know are brillant precision flares, but i always feel as if my stock is running dry. i create nothing and my natural resources are limited (really) to mineral deposits on this slowly shrinking island.

i love svet

it's not very interesting but it's pretty much the only thing i have to say right now

i realized something scary last night that apparently everyone already knew. we are all classifiable alcoholics... wheeew, step one: completed... il y'en reste juste onze. Ha. We have a problem with our planet, selves and apathy. Alcohol is just a local anesthetic required to do some heavy reconstructive surgery (most of us look like our parents ran us over with a mac truck, repetitively).

Defrosting My Father

He felt spongy
and slimy inside,
every time we cut him open
to examine another cross-section.

the problem it appears
was that he had already
started rotting
at 13.

So by 20,
half the world’s noise
had stopped reaching him.

A gambler hitting 21is
cottage cheese in the sun.

Later he grew a mustache
to cover teeth
yellowed by the escaping gas,
produced by internal parasites
of the kind that
really don’t know a thing about
Video poker machines
or
the way an old woman sobs
when she slips and falls,
smearing her silhouette;
profile staining the pavement.

We drowned him in formaldehyde
to prevent the process
from spreading to us
but
it
didn’t help.

He was already hollow
with nothing left for us to digest
but this feeling that the
"standard government pension"
wasn’t the only thing
he owed my mother.
Maybe that life owed him more
than a 54 year old ride
on a beast
he grew himself from a sea monkey kit.
Getting off at any destination
that smelled like vice
to rest his hands
when the knuckles swelled and cracked
unable to close
around mine.

Since his will never brown
and decay
please don’t sew them shut,
he never turned away from an accident
and I think he’d want to see
these handfuls of scattered earth that
I’m to cast down
weeping darkness
onto his grave.
-------------------------------------------

i'm scared so often that i'm simply a product of both parents. i keep waiting for an incomprehensible vice to destroy my life. i think it might be love, but i will never understand that either.

consume consume consume. Give me something other than love and art to contemplate or soon I will consume life

Fair trade would make sense in this economy, but they keep saying giving it away would be better, so they don’t have to call it taking. All because we unwillingly receive. You can’t even call it rape unless you scream as loud as you can.

sorry, it was the first thing i thought of, actually i never even checked yours, i went to kidgod (because its all backwards of course), and then Svets... i didn't figure you to be that irresponsible as king of this here interweeb castle i pronounce you a dirty rascal for questioning my ethics. I am also heading an inquiry into your ability to preform your duties as DA.
I will of course at sometime in the future find it impossible to resist reading... be forewarned, also that a copy of this will be posted because if you hadn't noticed i'm feeling incredible silly today: magic appearing disappearing post of nonsense... it has to do with those "kiwi"s i've been a eating.

tic tac toe three mice sat in a row blinded and half assed by fury.

So not a Poem

Every day I fight,
to fend off the bitter end.
Every night a struggle
so as not to take up the fight.
Some days are hard to start,
as hard as they are to finish.
When each to each
other feels
just like dying.

And the only way
i can do this
365 to
366 days a year,
is by loving someone
in the evening
and at dawn.
Then,
the rest of these clean new days
belong to me.
------------------------------------

thank you steph,
and i'm sorry.

i'm scared and lonely right now, i know it doesn't mean anything, and i know i've said it before.

Trying to Copa
in this Crazy Cabana

ah Svet,

the way she's holding
her cigarette

and pint

the perfect lines
of a co-sin(e),
graphically.

her fingers slip on the glass
and trace sweating hips
in my mind,

the curves all congruent.

i've been trying to think in french, that way i won't be able to follow any thought to its logical, depressing conclusion. i figure that oughta even things up a bit.

Doubles tennis? Everyone has an instructer to impress. Team self-deprecation in straight sets: 12 to 1.

It's okay because i've always known that every day has to end, somehow, in tears, for the next one to start.

i'm kind of sick of being depressed. i'm starting to think it would be easier for you all to pretend that you're happy and anyone who fucks that up i'll be irritated with rather than sorry for.

Hey ugly girls:

here's a hint, if you weren't so fucking annoying and clingy, eventually someone would sleep with you. Stop making me uncomfortable and offer me your bed the instant you decide. When i politely get confused, drop it.

And eventually there always comes that time when you have to sit down and actually read what you’ve written, and it isn’t intensely beautiful because you aren’t, and never were. At best it’s a happy kind of sadness that seems to almost exist.

My grip on the here and now is occasional at best. Some are not pulling their weight and eventually I’m going to say something. Redress the address, I seem to have misplaced her face sir. It has got to be taken in larger steps Gentlemen, there is no backing down. Christ is on fifth avenue and now he is writing for the norm. The only thing left to do is stockpile massive quantities of psychedelic drugs and commence consumption in the hopes that we can live through the horrific occupation of the Americas on another plane entirely.

Life placates me, poetry makes me nervous.

with a populace so perpetually bored it never ceases to amaze me that poetry is always decreasingly popular. i can't fucking see how staring at the wall is any better.

Indecipherable,
Somehow Sensitive,
Pickup Jargon.

Getting laid is remarkably
like writing poems.

As of late
I’m not doing
too well with either
and
I’m scared I’ll never write
anything
again.

I’m trapped in an elevator
at 10 000 feet and counting
down,
looking through
this stupid glass floor
with
everyone’s heads
half-way to the ceiling,
still staring blankly forward.

With stress like this
it’s no wonder I keep flubbing
all my best lines
and that
the awkward pauses
are as of yet unresolved
with the imagery I’m trying to create here.

So I guess
what I’m trying to get at
is
would you still fuck me?

Sweet n' Sour Nothings
Swear to me
that you never understood,

and I'll believe you.
Drop to your knees,
embracing my hips,
and I'll forgive you.
Weep pathetically
here on my living room floor
and I'll comfort you.

Care and I'm yours forever.

The agency of west nile would be difficult to determine, because from what i've heard, viruses are composed of many individual self sufficient cells. However, each cell here is more identical to its brother than those sharing the composition of our bodies.

November in St. Henri

Cold bleeds through in spots
at first, like a leaky fountain
pen paused in thought;
resting on the page.

Soon it will seep through my
entire jacket,
one cold conducting
surface in close contact
on the way home this Thursday.

Some nights I can put up with it all
long enough to take the
metro back west,
having skipped an hour or so
of staring straight down the barrel
of a giant magnum pistol.

If you fall,
spiraling inwards,
it will be towards a end
that you won’t see coming.

I’m distracted
for a short while
by the way she smells
until the glow softly fades out,
and we’re just two more people
awkwardly regaining our breath,
embarrassed to be lying
so close
together in the dark.

Love and the plethora
of great natural forces,
all lost without logic.
In this city on the mountain
our sunrise
bears the same colours
as dusk eternally falling
all over twilight,
our entire lives lived
without spring or summer.

All that i've ever wanted is to write something that will break your heart, unfortunately all i've ever written are light humour pieces.

all that aside, i'm sorry i have to be such an ass, because i love you.

It's hard to do this sometimes, as i'm never really sure of anything except when something is entirely wrong,

but,

I swear i have Zen intentions,

and i have to keep telling myself that.

To talk straight, realizing what i'm saying as i say it for once: i'm deeply saddened by the incredible lack of enthusiasm amongst people in our world today. What are you tired? Learn to regulate your body chemistry by what ever means necessary, concious control. What are you so happy about that you need to live so carefully? Do you want to whine through twenty years more of this crap apathetically? Stop fucking with my thursday nights.

Poetry, love, life and awe in the face of all of them.

And nothing should make you this way. Now you can feel the great stone rolling back from the tomb with the lightest touch of sweet white magic and the world is open and the shadows on the wall mere reflections of this realization. Allegory and myth, truth and faith, right where you left them.
and now the new familiar feeling of money in your back pocket and not everything is okay, because there are always doubts, and you can always feel the towering weight of your wrongs but never the rights. But I needed the time to write, and write I did, all of these things here, flashes on a moonless night and even most of this, now, in the time those chronic cases' souls sold me. Now/ writing ahead of living,/ only so I can/ go back to write from the past,/ in strange circuitous paths,/ I’m led by inspiration.

So who do I call to tell them I’m a genius?, it doesn’t matter, but SOMEBODY’S got to read this, still I continue to scare myself shitless. My brilliance has not been exceeded by anything in my character, yet, None of it is nothing, I know now what I’m not. I’m tired sometimes lazy and happy to be loved and not respected, the movies have stopped running lines now through my head and bizarrely I’ve found I no longer feel guilty about being alive, or feeling so big when my shadow is directly beneath me, or about not really caring who else the women I will or have or do love love or have loved or will love because I finally realized that I’ve always loved each of them too, and I want to hold hands with all my love’s lovers throughout the night. Jealousy’s still lurking in deep creases not yet unfolded but the arms of time swing cyclically and all us little snarls will be wound calmly out, waiting our turns, and one day I’ll fully believe in myself, and all the old twitching will be gone and I can feel all this rising and my chest not my head swelling.
-----------------------------------------------------------

People get all caught up believing in these stages of life. To hell with it. Ride your fucking dragon down through this cultural cesspool, get it over with and be happy you poor ignorant fucks.

i've never said anything for which there were less than four or five intentional interpretations, i'm not sure wether that lends complexity or incoherency to my work.

Well that lasted all of five minutes, now i have something else to think about. You know my favorite thing on earth is when someone (someone whom you respect, like a good friend maybe) implies that they have some issue with you and then doesn't explain themselves, it's even better when it's on the internet. What the fuck did i do now? i'm sorry to all those that with "every word i say / offend in every way."

P.S. A totally self indulgent note on form:

(a quote from the first verse would have been possible to make grammatically correct, you know syntactically congruent with the text, but i am a poet, what do i know from rules. I did it all for the image c'mon the image c'mon the. image is nothing thirst is everything, obey your thirst.)... what????

P.P.S. One with a little more artistic intent:

In Cegep I had a teacher that taught me a beautiful secret he had long kept for himself: you just chop out anything awkward you want from a poem and it will still live, retrieving its limbs like a T1000, and it was true and has saved many of mine from becoming ugly pleas for some sympathy. He was a poet, a very awkward one, yet even then I taught him a secret as I learned it, all is poetry, and to admit these faults is to gain character like toughened men’s face skin (i fluff out my beard to look fierce and cover fresh bottoms). Awkwardness does not kill the poet but the inability to tell truths, it clogs, blocking up his great pore, a giant zit, and he suffocates on his own filth, a horribly undignified death. And so all I prune are the dead, not the dying, never the ugly. Poetry is alive and I will not force my will upon it, because more than alive, poetry is awake. It would be like amputating the leg the instant there is redness and swelling around a cut on the toe.

thank (and: god for) you Svet, because all i can think of is missing you and the pain is sweet right now.

And i guess its kind of funny in all senses of the word that being in love has under the most intense environmental pressure, allowing sufficient and significant emotional support, crushed the molecules of these memories i thought to be (perfectly cliched and honest) lumps of coal in my stocking into geometrically perfect crystalline structures of unparalleled purity and strength, reflecting reality at all kinds of crazy perspectives. Allowing myself to feel a need to hold someone again has turned every insignificant detail in my life into sublime revelation, a time life feels like its all worth the inevitable heartbreaks.

and the pain and the pain and the pain and the pain the sweet pain heart wrenching pain beautiful elegant pain introspective, lashing out, stoically facing pain pain pain pain pain pain alive alive alive alive you are here, silently the ship slips back into the cool waters carrying its hordes and hoard and thoughts and plans and defenses anew all brewing after every raid taking a wife and then being cast out into the cold Nordic homeland mist on the water in each early morning night on September 6th 984.

and me now when I rush in from the bite and dancing a little I unzip my fly to piss all the while this writing in my head so then the first few seconds I know will frantically overflow and my hands will tremble, are trembling and then I know what it was that had to be written, and I write it, and Plato was right and the world will unfold and the danger is I. My thoughts and your thoughts, my thoughts are your thoughts, my thoughts as your thoughts, art as reality. This IS life, is this it: it is. Why or why not, have and have not, the blacks and the browns, the reds, yellows and multicoloured swirls of rainbow sherbet like me, the French and the English and the Spanish and Swahili speaking all mean nothing because I can smile at that man across the metro and from a face of coal a smile shoots back and him and I grinning hysterically, maniacally on the metro, two mutants cracking. I’d reached 21 before I was able to sit without music, alone on a metro. And everything now no longer, So painful. ly obvious finally. In love again I can write. Understanding is not followed by change, understanding is change. Only the truth is understandable, nothing is nothing, our truths together are the only things we can understand. You seemed to have misplaced meaning, have you ever felt 2+2=4? It should all feel like that, if not you don’t get me. Oh sweet innocent, trusting that action would follow words, that tears were always real. (At the time I had the particularly dangerous misconception that people meant what they said.)

questioning her was never something I had really considered but as the years drifted by and my hands remained empty and my head cleared by the hunger I could see many things beyond my plain of vision .I was caught helplessly adrift tied to this slowly sinking wreckage that I thought would carry me safely ashore. Paranoid delusions on this cold night as my mind fights for a way to contemplate something as shifty as addiction.
---------------------------------------------

All Hallows Eve

Lines of coke, bloody brides,
candy cane I suppose.
In an alleged
mescaline dream
I stumbled into you
at San Fermin,
everyone in red
and white,
a festival
so out of place
here in this cold city
listening to
misty mountain hop
amid the browning patches
.

Desiccated
wildflowers,

not a single one of whom
would
take their lives in their hands
to steady a grasp on something so fleeting

as art.

You’re pursing your lips
again

and I can feel that my hand is
wrapping visions
round the night
trailing
your blood,
a beautiful
deepened crimson against the frozen sky,
crystallizing in a wave.
I reach out to touch it
and you shudder,
the crest breaking
against your turning back,
long red hair
smelling
of crisp burnt almonds.
-----------------------------------------------------------------

So I suppose it all starts earlier, much earlier, when I was still I, but most those that surrounded me would one day wake up(perhaps only as they die) and say "who was that person before me?" and when they realize it was them they will be embarrassed for a time until they realize anew and say "but all were others before they are now" and will feel good and later say "I am glad now that I am the person I am, not the frightened, angry, spoiled child of my youth".

Memories,

-----------------------------
and the confusion (but not really) like when she’d thrown out my hat and I had passed out in the bedroom after throwing one of my regular tantrums which basically consisted of lying on the floor sobbing for an hour or so followed by an hour or so of vigorous breaking of things, inflicting minor damage to large or expensive stuff (scarring a dresser, wounding an electrical cable) and completely destroying small or defenseless objects (the paper towel dispenser lost in a violent arc of downwards force illustrating a point, my old roommates leftovers, all his shit, all of it, a particularly interesting case being his night stand table as I had tap danced and jigged atop it in a fit of maniacal rage, my girlfriend in the corner terrified) followed by an hour or so of complete pure Nirvana exhausted on the floor then maybe sleep. And the completeness of it all, I had believed, and therefor it was, and the secondary plot lines required to explain her behaviour and the bizarre breakdowns and for so long before the end, the sexual disinterest, and the whys and the hows of where it all went endlessly ebbing back towards the soupy primordial, and me regaining something lost way back before I was born. The leaning and the incontrovertible glassiness of her motives and my needs and needs and needs and the twilight left lingering. And I’d learnt what of a heavy heart. Now, now, now, nothing left with which to struggle I have made art and it has lived. You have nothing to say that can still break me, in a haiku I was folded and folded again and again. Folded in steel, as in life mended.

That afternoon in the hallway with her goofy downwards facing sheepish melancholy she simply kissed me, when we were sober, and me knowing the coming need for comfort in those days and my resolve turned to dust, and the organization lost. And the great crashing cacophonic electronic symphonies only the sublime result of this most visceral fit of mechanized control.
----------------------------------

Les Intinérants

The only way to write
is to hurt
and know it means nothing.

So

cramped,
perched on
cold hardwood floors
I’m forced to uncover my ears
to hear the echoes of
giggling toes
when we’d dance,
or
your muffled mouth
in my neck
whispering even then,
or
heels roaring
or
doors
barking warnings,
all the sounds our love
had made.

Eventually everything dissipates
as it’s absorbed into the
emptiness
which surrounds us.

Yet these echoes remain
long after waves become
heat.
Reverberating,
ricocheting off the furniture of our minds,
randomly recurring
skewed snippets of conversation in
a horrible game
of broken telephone:
a coral plot line
growing in several directions
at once,
full of holes.

No,

this will be but
a graveyard of memory,
to which I’ll return only to read
the brilliant conclusions
drawn on the tombstones.
Maxims
and mindstates,
history rots.
-----------------------------------

Life lived, history recorded so that when I rot my account will skew opinions forever.

Fuck Off? Reading for the hUtub or in a broken down SueBAHrue, a WeBlog or seti@home

Thursday, November 17, 2005

Thursday, March 24, 2005

Monday, February 21, 2005

Saturday, February 19, 2005

Wednesday, February 16, 2005

Friday, February 11, 2005

Thursday, February 10, 2005

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Tuesday, February 01, 2005

Sunday, January 30, 2005

Saturday, January 29, 2005

Friday, January 28, 2005

Tuesday, January 25, 2005

"She's a Rich Girl

Sunday, January 23, 2005

Friday, January 21, 2005

Saturday, January 08, 2005

Thursday, December 30, 2004

Wednesday, December 29, 2004

Tuesday, December 21, 2004

fuck theres no inspiration i know but can't

title for previous post

Sunday, December 19, 2004

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