a ****** and a crackerjack dont go smoking with out the rope or the hognose tie gets laid in the face machine

pushed for the review
I don't take chances in the arrow socket
lord
has his signs

your trying too hard;
figure a
litmus

industry

gobbled by the majic   ignoring your salad

bewildered in a
cruel way

slap me or
slap yourself

when


you are struggling to

stay awake-


play the violin on the
4th fret
with a crooked
spoon.

no tears
were made

to be wasted

stepping thru it


stepping


gently

on it--


her hand
is cold-


and her lips are tight


blue emblem
in the crest.



speeding down the road -- your blue bug
is going
the limit

tight roap walker

dancer  to pay
the bills


i'm not one to judge

out on the lawn



you've got packed lunch.

your friends are dumb


and i'm just about to dive
down.


hand me
the torch--


in the bed post
i buried
her,

and she still breathes in my ear

ever after all these years

laying

down on a

sofa

in the dirt.


my eyes

are open and the air
is rubbing-



wine in the freezer,


hamster
in the cage.


2 spongebobs in the hamper



love is just a 4 letter word

but so

is ****

e v e n in g




e v e n in g

passing  b y


pa ss ing by


gett ing

your head
******* on tight,

ba  be
with the stockings


so white-


don't play games
tonight


........

breaking
the moon in half so i can see it in all its glory

crumbling dust

my dreams
are dead


sitting in the trash

can

--
brain matter in my head

my dreams are dead

i am dead

i am dead


no more luck
or glory-

spoons sitting ***** on the table

with the abused
flower


.

no one is here
to hear
it


dreams are
nothing to me now

nothing to me now


i gave up too easily

i don't even know what i wanted

cruel to me

cruel to me


cruel
to me

CRUEL

to me

cruel
to me

cruel to me

let me speak

let me speak


let me have the final word
one time

one one

time


the silence
is hurting me

and i've suffered enough

i've been slapped in the kneecaps
and humiliated

i'm a dog

you've
won

let
me
just
speak    so i know what
my voicee sounds like
and
whether it's good enough

fat
ugly

and smoking

when it's

8.50$ a pack

why?


buying beer
so I don't get hard-liquor
'cause then it's over.


no car-

at least I walk to my JOB sometimes--

paranoid
mainly because I'm the only one foolish enough to actually walk in this heat.


haven't heard from my pal
for going on 2 years now-- I forget why--
just a case of bitterness that festered for too long.

trying to write some music-
but is anything worth doing
if you have to
TRY?

don't we just live to squeeze out as much happiness as we can so
why
bother with something
that's painful?


writing this is sometimes painful

but it's easy and a lot more effective than a song usually.

I'm no good

no good

no good


no god
there is no god-


someday I'll be the happy kid riding my loony tunes bike
for the
1st time.


what a shame to have peaked so early-


it's ok

he was standing in the shadows wearing a skirt with a black bag over his head. in the other corner of the room was a mouse ******* the blood from a frog and eating a cornflake. Grandma then walks in.

''SO I HEAR YOU HAVE THE SPECIAL?

WHAT WHAT IS IT?"

'not today madam,
not today''

''WELL *** YOUR ****
******''

and grandma walks away
and sits on a beehive where her ****** is consumed by fire ants
and detritus
material.

James
rides on a floating peach into the sunset and the moon kind of smiles
upwardly
to him,
but in a condescending manner like how the school nurse would treat you upon
showing her
your gouged eyes.


LAUGHING
LAUHGING

TRA LA LA LA

TRA LA LA LA


vladimir putin is ****
with his
beer gut,

Trump --

well I'm just throwing that in to be 'CURRENT'--

hillary is in a bush

more ''CURRENT STUFF''

to be 'hip'

and 'with it Y'ALL''



in my room tugging on a ****
watching home movies
from '92
still breathing

but not really sure if I'll make it.


better days are ahead

I think when I say stuff like ''

YEAH WELL
I WORK EVERYDAY,

'CAUSE I'M NOT AN ENTITLED
LITTLE *****--

I DO WHAT I HAVE TO DO!''

it's because
deep down,

I hate my life
so much--
and I'm not fooling anyone.


I thought I at one time was special and could circumvent the pain,


but I've just become a
broken down
wheel
like the rest in the junkyard.

the fight is

leaving me

so I see
you can buy a human rib for $8 on amazon,



it kind of appealed to me for a day,
then I realized that it's likely some poor farmer from ecquador
who died
at 36
from complications from his untreated polio.


where's the edge in that?

just picking on the weak,

picking from the weak--



it'll never
be a heart of Queen Elizabeth,

or the tongue of an African Warlord--


always the losers,
left to lose more,


expected to give more,

expected to be happy about it.


I'm happy about
this

silence right now

Bukowski was the best poet of all time,

my opinion--

pretty much ***** the art form,
and took out all the rhyming because songs already do that.


most are imitators--

I Respect him,
and see a little of him in my work,
mainly the fact that it's just a mockery and I don't even know if it's
worth

the time typing it.

but I really like his stuff on death, on his last years---

and
now the microwave is slamming,

and now
there's a fan blowing,

and now there's
a mosquito
******* my blood--

and now
I'm just making stuff up,

and now
I'm thinking of nothing,


and now I'm wasting your time--


and time is an illusion

10-

going to **** myself

15-
going to **** myself
18
-

going to **** myself
for REAL NOW

20-
GOING TO **** MYSLEF

21- GOING TO **** MYSELF

22-GOING TO ****

2-
GOING TO

79-
going to **** myself

94-

going to take a *******
a roof-
then
going to
watch TV in my pajamas with my wife
Michael

some guy
said '' your stuff is really good-
thought provoking,
intersting, kind of funny''


but then I hear something by the meat cutter at work
that's a lot
more
interesting ,
and kind of funny''

and I feel stupid.

really ******* stupid ---

and he doesn't
even care to have an audience

I have to move all these poems somewhere else-
thinking
about having
to drag them one by one,
then deleting them,
then assembling
them and publishing on a website and having them sit

brings me pain.

it's like dragging a ''REMBRANDT'
but the ******* thing is 2,000 pounds.

not worth the effort

why do you wear a mask?

it it because
you have a face that wouldn't justify the artificial madness?

a pretty,
clean face,
devoid of lines and sorrow.

a coddled existence.

no it wouldn't suit
your
******
*******
gonnorhea
swill
click-clack
that I can do blind-folded-

so you hide.

well I'm right here junior,
and I have everything on the line.

I've long become estranged to the world,


who are you?

why do i look up this one girl
from like 5 years ago?

sometimes i'll just be sitting,
on this thing
and go,

'hmm

wonder what she looks like?
probably fat and with kids now''


so i look her up
and it's tumblr art,

and some memes,

and i cry for anyone who ever looked me up - thinking 5 years makes a difference.

there's nothing worse than a forced poem.


monkey
****.

****
.

yams
.

ok
ok
ok

you see?


now i'm trying

arguing with someone.


really just arguing with myself.

bought
a pack of

sardines
and fed them to the frog
for free.


still think
i'm losing a few hairs,
oilly follicles.

i'm better than them.
better than them

.
better,


walking barefoot.


she's pretty-
but young,
therefore
just
pretty.


and i blink twice for you when you've given up on me.

stay longer

the outside
world
burns as i sip my juice

and crack my knuckles in the

silent air.

i'm not selling
nothing,

not 'speaking' to anyone,

nor walking in other people's shoes,


just doing what i do
because i like to suffer,

and the 'hustle' is for people who want to get somewhere,
to be
wanted to
be adored,

to be fed
grapes in bed
while being stroked
by hairless men.

i'm happy
right here,
and
y
ou can find me over there,



WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY


over there


where not even a mouse skitters

I'm sorry
I don't care
if it;s prejudiced
or presumptive,


if you're younger than 18,
and haven't worked

or produced sweat under your pit
whilst
splashing grease on your arm
and handing a bag
to an old lady,

and driving a broken down car
which you have to jump every morning,

and wearing old black rags
that don't fit the *** well,


I don't care what you have to say.

all your work will be 'love'
and or issues with 'society'
and how it's done you wrong.


you need to die a little
before you can expect to write
something of substance.

so start now

,;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;;,,,,,,,,,,,,,,;,,,­,,,,,,,,,,,;,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,;,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,;,;,;,,,;,,;,;;,;,;,­,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,;;,,;,;;,;,,,;,;,,;,;,;;,;,;,;\;,\,,,\­,\\
,.
,
.,
.
,
.,
.
,
,..............



W

A

T

ER

/.....................................................

he sits in his underwear with
the grey shingles closed.

his room is next to the 5 freeway
and he constantly hears
cars sliding off the ramp to
their doom
where fire trucks and ambulances pull up the remains
of children and a lady.


the water
is tap,
but sometimes bottled when he feels like it.


the air is stuffy and smells of smoke
even though he doesn't smoke, inside.

no footsteps
no shadows-

contents of the mind scattered as food boxes make do as markers,
buried


it's no time to cry-

it's no time to over think like you've
done your entire life.

it's time to act

I feel like I'm being suffocated by thousands of pounds
of sand,

and all I have to combat it is this
teaspoon.

flick--

flick-
flick


gently flickingg it away,

as I'm eventually consumed by it.


at least I tried,

at least I made a show of

'BRAVERY',

and that's sometime's all
we can do

blank

blank
blank
blank
blank


blank

filling up space.


a few strangers--

have a dozen eggs.


I've got no time left,

no dignity--

killing myself in an elevator while
someone
is captive.



going to Arizona,
not the tea.

singing mariachi, in Cancer costumes-
juggling fire,
california heat.
loud,
green,0

no time left--

as though none of this ever
happened

It doesn't matter how many poems you write,
and how amazing they are,
ultimately it's all about context--

who you were, and what you represented in that generation.

were you ugly,
were you fat,
were you poor,
were you rich?

did you eat bacon?

did you brush your teeth?

did you smile at children?

did you watch cartoons?


did you flick your testicles 6 times a day like the dr
reccomened?

were there vitamins?

did your lines read like an old Windows XP?

did your lines cause people to spontaneously combust?

do old people enjoy your work?

do mothers hate you?

do people look away in horror?

do you like any of this?

or was
it all just a waste of time

and something to
do because the sun burns your skin

and the beaches close after 5am

on a tight rope
looking down 16 miles.


the wind blows cold,

and the few people on the other building throw peaches at me-
none stick.


a car drives down below
at 88 miles,

birds fly,
planes fly,
smog.


coughing
losing
hold,

I fall the 16 miles down,


counting every second,

and upon hitting the pavement,
I wake up to my room. It's Tuesday

and I'm tucked in well

There are so many potentially great poems,

but the problem is they try to formalize their
pain,

as though a cancer patient upon receiving radiation,
or some car
crash victim
having a hose stuffed up his ***
and having his left foot ampuated is going to
to be formal.

sure there is dignity and composure,
but not formality,
and certainly not nicety.


you're vulnerable,
you're hurt-

let yourself scream,

let yourself out.

I like poetry,

but it just feels too comfortable here for the world
having me packed in a room

just typing crap.


just an animal in a cage banging its head on a wall
as a means to make vibration,

music.


I don't want to be 'music' to anyone's ears,

I want to be the knife to the neck

love is just a chemical reaction in the brain,

and *** dolls
are purely silicone.

humans are 90% water,
and 10% carbon.


scratch tickets usually yield bad results.


soda is bad for the kidneys.

exercise hurts the back after prolonged periods.

elderly men are going to die.


young men are going to die.


women are going to die.


this ant is going to die,


and he never knew love

clockwork oranges
kneeling to an apple in the Sahara.

taking a bite out of a ***** pancake in some strip mall

drinking the whole milk
whole.


sighing on afternoons.

cradling a cat in the evening
while spinning a top.


virtual reality
head set
on an infant.

getting up at dawn to feed the worm.


taking out an ad in the newspaper
that never coms around any more.


looking at people in the eye


.

slowly walking away.


tattering this spirt. ----


Into a door that doesn't open

sentimental.


an absolute mess.



who am I?

who am I?

who am I?



sitting in some room,

bleeding black dust.


my tongue is full of LSD,

bad trips,

but nothing takes me out of this place.


I'm always stuck.

always stuck.



always on the short bus,

always behind,

always 2nd in line,

always 3rd to the date,

always the 4th leg in a table.


when will I get what I deserve?


when will I get some lee-way in my diarrhea-existence.


GOD

I'M TALKING TO YOU!!!

******* ANSWER.





crying in a gown in a broken cubboard.

crippled boy.

crippled smile.

crippled soul.



crippled spirit---


how dare you
have hope

I lie


under a black blanket,

suffocating.


curtains are grey,


and a green water is leaking.


I hate a few people,


but I never was half-assed
in my ability to love.

now I'm floating on a ***** river
while you smile at every child that smiles back at you,

as though it's not easy, when
it's a given.

you belonged to the world.

I look at the star 50,000 light years away.

I ask,

why did your father put me here?

4:53


walking down the *****, and my stomach is growling.


''WHO HERE IS A HOMOSAPIEN?"

one of the random street people yells out.

no one confirms it

and the clouds vanish.


skateboards flip on the ramp and a few girls talk to themselves as they pound on a keypad---
some guy in ASIA wants to see nudes-
they send them.


out the back a canary sings to vultures and is then promptly eaten.

I go starving.

I go running.

running go, jam
to jukebox with juice on the side.


girl points laughs
''CREEP''

I swear to god, happened 3 days ago, but she was young and I was working and wearing all black and covered in meat blood.

I go home and sit in silence,

and pick at my nails and bite them down to skin.


god gave me a brain,
but what was the point really?

was at the supermarket buying blueberries and some frozen pizza

and then I decided I needed some salt as well
so I went to that aisle and
happened to be where the bread was too
so I got that

and a few more peaches,

and a slice of beef, loose shoe,

and then an apple and pear

and some gushers and milk and cheese and eggs,


then I went along my way, to the self-check out,

and it flashed into my eye and my eye started watering and I cursed it for that.

it was a sunny day-
so I drove straight to the cemetery and had a picnic
with dead people

I was nearly ***** close to 10 times
when I was younger than 13.

I should have let them, as they all slipped into my bed and started fondling me,

but my devout christianity pulled me away.


now I'm even more stunted than I would have been had I just let them ****
my smooth 12 year old skin.

all women are predators in that regard--

but I see it now as preparation

I'm gonna start excising just because I want to look like a viking warrior, something that hearkens back to absolute masculinity and
where men were praised for being fierce rather
for being nice.

where an ugly face was a sign of strength.

just an illusion that seems ideal.

buff yet ugly,

hideous yet
indestructible,


contemptible but
proud.

****** but not necessarily angry-

more like wise

the only thing stopping you from greatness is the fear that
others
won't find you great

I;ve bought so much junk on EBAY lately and it's ridiculous and pretty much an addiction at this point.

just books I occasionally flip thru,
and exercise equipment I keep in the corner,

and shirts I toss away when I get embarrassed by the design,

and shoes I find to be too adolescent,

and hats that don't fit right,

and knives I keep folded up in a box,

and posters that
are crumpled and uglier than their represented pictures,


and tables built of recycled match sticks,

and brides that won't stop complaining,

and illegals who just run away after I open the container.

it's an addiction indeed, but I've

run out of money
so I'm cured

birth


pulled out of the dark hole

and am now in another dark hole, but
much less comfortable

sugar.



the girl with the ******* sleeps with the 87 year old guy with the tumor on his ******* and lesions on his ***.

she sometimes licks the lesions for an extra
$4,506.

and for another $7,054 she'll **** on the tumor-

and for
$23,341 she'll swallow his ***** ***, and choke on his grey curly hair

and for
$86,066 she'll eat his toenails and get assfucked and attached with clamps on her *****.


and for $100,000 he'll finally take a chunky dump into her mouth and she eats it whole grimacing.


all I want for free is just someone to relate to,
or not really

he was sitting there for a few minutes and watched the flies buzzing around the rotten bananas
and oranges that sat there on the counter for the last 6 weeks.

maggots were pulsing out of the sink
and worms were coming out of the carpet.

the windows were boarded shut form the constant burglaries,

and all the valuables were packed into a brown sock that he hid in a purple vase.

no one ever came over-
and his only friend Greg hated him because he stuttered and licked his lips a lot--

so Greg would sometimes leave his feces on the steps and he'd walk on them sometimes in the morning and it was a sad
sight indeed.

anyway,
he hung himself that night and there

was faint karaoke playing at the next bar whilst the bartender got head from some 16 year old.

and the flies consumed everything,

and the fire scorched all innocent beings.

none were spared, except for the worms in the carpet

these 2 days feel like a month
and I'm just staring at a wall addorned with pictures of a frog that someone
felt tasteful to put up here.

some incense going-

the guy with the one eye,
out of a
colander
and glass vase.


styrofoam cups with seed.


beating heart bored of the routine

woke up late again

suffering somewhere close to you.


breezy and cool yet still wear these ***** sleeves.

cars and their occupants are angrier than ever-

everyone, including children
and animals

and old ladies at the store selling chocolate

are all angrier
than I remember.


could it be me?   but I've long since given up
hating
things because they exist

who was that?

WHO was THAT???


who was that?


who WAS that?

that.

who was that?

was that, who?

WHO?

who

who was?

who was that,
and what was that,
but really who was that,
that was a who?



anyway we need more drugs

got these new tattoos on me.

they just sit there, and it's just pigment that sits dead beneath the skin-
means nothing,

and to think some people build their whole lives around them,
whole personalities
around a ******* tiger on their calf
or bird on their neck.

all they have to offer.

i hope mine get ugly and old-- just further proof I needed nothing to prop me up.

I only ever got ahead because of me.

you think i care if they like me?





people like gorilla- donkey-
man-child infant **** beheadings and **** fetish milkshake
theatre on a sunday at 2pm also


people like that too-
doesn't mean anything.


i just like what i do, but everyone else hates it.

been the story since birth
that's why they slapped me

bad haircut, just kinda awful and hideous and homely.

for once in my life
i was contender,

then the door broke my nose
and i was left with a stich and lisp.


god knows what i'd be without you,

a liar

and more self-assured.

gotta get out of this place.

a day in the life.

break on thru.

this is the end,
hey hey mama
said the way you move
,
shes buying
a stairway
to hell in my thoughts.


tiptoe thru the tulips and pick your poison.

next week i'm writing trump and i'm sending him a $5 bill and a framed portrait with my signature so he can hang it on his wall
and feel good about himself.

the world is great its just the way you feel about it.

so feel great
,it's that easy