and now i feel like everyone has left
and the mess is mine to clean
unseen blood down miles of forearms
slimy goo all red and green.
but im the brown thats in the middle
im the brown that no one owns,
bastard wolf dog alone and freezing
and no one hears his moans.
theres a fastball flung and burning high
a nightmare in my eyes
my guts got stuck in quicksand
and you all think it’s lies.
and the sunset’s grey
and everyday i wake up and walk around
and find im lost
and need a nametag
in my dirty own hometown.
both from the upcoming secret chapter of Blook II called Juvenalia, the early poems which currently is as cheap as it will ever be, and includes free shipping.
two poets walk into a bar,
the bartender rings a bell, two poison darts whistle across the room over the pool table under the Bud light and into their “hearts”.
they gasp, cover their chests and then faint.
now ive seen a lot of things in my day
i mean just the other day i walked into my roommate dans room
everything i say is true
and there were these three horny
i wouldnt waste my lies on
and ive seen good
the thuds of the two bloating poet-bodies makes the wolf dog raise his head from his paws.
he gets up from under a table and walks casually over to the scene. he sniffs and looks over at the bartender who’s searching for a hand ax
like for example just the other day me and rene were at this Tawainese Hot Pot where all you can eat you go and get your meat raw from the back get your veggies bring em to your booth toss em into this hot pot thats boiling at your table make your soup while “barbeque-ing” on the aluminum foil that surrounds the pot
wolf dog sniffs the crotch of the larger poet who’s mumbling something uncomprehensible but in perfect meter i think he was saying help help help
dog positions himself in such a way i mean his hind legs are on this poets chest and his furry red sick looking is in almost entirely and he’s humping and he’s choking tails wagging and he’s looking at the bartender with mouth closed and then back up at the ceiling mouth open and then back at his repositioning front paws
and his buddy cant move and his buddy gets a woody its moving and wolf dog sees this
stops what hes doing tail stops wagging dis mounts cuz he thinks somethings alive in there but theres nothing alive in nothing these poets have ever done. maybe an automatic reaction. like getting a boner while your buddy gets mouth raped by a dog. maybe an automatic reaction. like writing a load of negative crap when youve got nothing to say no new stories to tell no new ways to tell em no new rhymes to bust out no new secrets to let out meat eater bottom feeder stealer of lies you even bore the poor youre a landing strip for flies.
from the upcoming secret chapter of Blook II called Juvenalia, the early poems which will skyrocket to $42 unless you act now.
theres a timebomb
in the front room
bored Death is filing his nails
a dog’s snarling softly
beneath the toadstool
and im just playing pool
“as soon as youre through
you’re coming with me
but if you like
i’ll take you now”
and i felt like drinking
and setting my head on fire.
Death stood up
and removed his hat
and walked his way towards me,
the light froze solid
beneath his black locks
and he looked like
he shouldnt be.
he looked 8 feet tall
his tits began to grow
his cape shrunk up
and his voice got high,
and he wasnt a guy no more.
so we popped in “18” Alice Cooper
and threw off all our clothes,
lit the candles, poured the whiskey
and we racked up all the balls.
“I never knew you
played both ways,”
Death he said to me
i said you never know now do ya
and as the sun began to rise
Death lowered himself
to the ground
and asked if i wanted a blow.
i broke, sank two
told that fucker
from the upcoming secret chapter of Blook II called Juvenalia, the early poems which is available until monday at a ridiculously low price.
its one fifteen am. ive lost my mind. ive given up trying to find it. i hope it blows under a crack in the french doors and floats away.
saw my cat losty today. hes looking pretty fat. he knows hes mine. saw him on the brick wall as miss montreal was following me into my house. she warned me not to pet him. i think she thought it was cuz she didnt know it was my cat. i noticed his collar was missing. he must be on the lam.
my minds on the lam. walked past this chick today and we lowfived. people can talk shit all they want and i bet you the world those people arent getting lowfived as they head into their helicopter.
ive been on double secret probation for that little incident when the cubs were in the playoffs and i accidentally hit the wrong button. its been a lot of pressure but its only made me better. things will only get better because theres no way they could have been any harder. problem with what i get paid to do is that there are so many ways to mess up bigtime and theres so many distractions and obstacles.
other people might not know it, but they could be making it so easy for me to make a mistake.
its like being a hockey goalie. it doesnt matter if they take 40 shots on you one night or 80, if you give up 5 goals people are going to say, pierce gave up 5 goals?!?! and theres hardly anyone around to say, they took 80 fucking shots on his ass last night.
nobodys around to pay for my work sins.
did you know that carson daly still has a late late night show?
george bush is president and carson daly is still on tv.
miss montreal kissed me after we got mcdonalds, and that was cool too.