Have you heard this one?
two drunks sit in a bar
one says,
" I've got a soft spot for whores."
"I wish it was between my legs instead of in my heart."
" I would be a healthier and richer man."
the other says
"your soft in the head."
"women scare the shit out of you.
Wednesday, October 29, 2008
Games End Now
Yahtzee
The wind refused to blow
and said, "The corn is the windmills problem."
Bingo
The worker bee buzzed the queen
ate her honey and left the hive
Check Mate
The chosen worshiped one god
and said, "Pharaoh can build this pyramid himself!"
Uno
The ass dropped the yoke
chasing carrots no more
Domino
The stream changed direction
and left the wheelhouse dry.
The wind refused to blow
and said, "The corn is the windmills problem."
Bingo
The worker bee buzzed the queen
ate her honey and left the hive
Check Mate
The chosen worshiped one god
and said, "Pharaoh can build this pyramid himself!"
Uno
The ass dropped the yoke
chasing carrots no more
Domino
The stream changed direction
and left the wheelhouse dry.
Monday, October 20, 2008
Thermal Friction Breakdown
30 weight blood
black and crude
thermal friction breakdown
the barrel is blued
aim to the east
the heart is pumping hot
thermal friction breakdown
taking what they got
sludge clots the vein
injection bleeding dry
thermal friction breakdown
the price is way too high
black and crude
thermal friction breakdown
the barrel is blued
aim to the east
the heart is pumping hot
thermal friction breakdown
taking what they got
sludge clots the vein
injection bleeding dry
thermal friction breakdown
the price is way too high
Saturday, October 18, 2008
The Shit Box
I drive a shit box Honda
It never fails to go
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
Past the pushers and the pimps
Stops where I can make some dough
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
Under the highway to a dive
Where I can see a show
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
When I lose direction
The shit box seems to know
With locomotion my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
Pinging and knocking
A rod it may throw
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
If it can't make it home
I'll just get a tow
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
It never fails to go
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
Past the pushers and the pimps
Stops where I can make some dough
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
Under the highway to a dive
Where I can see a show
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
When I lose direction
The shit box seems to know
With locomotion my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
Pinging and knocking
A rod it may throw
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
If it can't make it home
I'll just get a tow
With locomotion on my windshield
and green onions on the radio.
She's Like Me
She's difficult
like scotch tape that sticks to itself.
She's crass
like toast crumbs in the butter
She's unnerving
like short curly hairs on the soap
She's menacing
like gnats on a scraped knee
She's alarming
like shampoo in the eyes
She's condemning
like a Sunday morning hangover
She's
Like
Me.
like scotch tape that sticks to itself.
She's crass
like toast crumbs in the butter
She's unnerving
like short curly hairs on the soap
She's menacing
like gnats on a scraped knee
She's alarming
like shampoo in the eyes
She's condemning
like a Sunday morning hangover
She's
Like
Me.
Winter with You
Sweet winter chimes
ring icicles and peppermint blossoms.
Moon drop glitterings
dance across sugar bellows
and star kissed dreams.
Glowing firefly embers
throw night rainbows
and a joyful sound.
All this I find...
in your eyes and behind your smile
ring icicles and peppermint blossoms.
Moon drop glitterings
dance across sugar bellows
and star kissed dreams.
Glowing firefly embers
throw night rainbows
and a joyful sound.
All this I find...
in your eyes and behind your smile
Awake
Breathing Deceit
Yarns of manipulation
Democracy
the air in a potato chip bag
a half truth
American dreams, dream you.
Yarns of manipulation
Democracy
the air in a potato chip bag
a half truth
American dreams, dream you.
Friday, October 17, 2008
Shitty Poem for Charles
I'd like to shit where Bukowski shat
I bet his best works are there
On the wall of a bathroom stall
Stripped to the bone and bare
In a bar filled with tar
Black lung smokey air
Where people sit
and seem to forget
that "Hank" is still living there
I bet his best works are there
On the wall of a bathroom stall
Stripped to the bone and bare
In a bar filled with tar
Black lung smokey air
Where people sit
and seem to forget
that "Hank" is still living there
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