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Saturday, June 4th, 2005
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3:40 pm
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I've had two pens explode in my pocket in the last month. Maybe that means I should write more.
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, June 20th, 2004
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12:19 am
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i'm just a motorcycle with rabies,
and what's more is i go, "maybe
someone tore a hole in ye olde social fabric."
but lay me on it and say we scored
about three hattricks and never got bored;
say we practiced sad sex in the dark room;
say we fucked on every floor of the elevator tour.
you looked at me seriously and i picked my nose,
and you said, "you nontaster
flavor waster
go to bed! you can't even pick a rose!"
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Thursday, May 13th, 2004
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2:17 pm - y
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yo, let'SssSmile at each other
fo' a ssSecssssSo my brother
can ssSee and we'll ssSay:
"What about you?"
"What about you?"
"What about you?"
"What about you?"
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(5 comments | comment on this)
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2:12 pm
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hold my hand, k? and
we'll race down this mudslide detergentless.
i'd press my face in wet cement
and throw away all my unused fabric softeners
for ya. i'd cut all the collars
and cuffs from my wardrobe.
all my life i've needed a shoehorn
and an alarm clock, but now all i need
is to give you the password to all my accounts.
so let's forget about laws:
you'll sneeze on my sleeve
and i'll ash in your lap.
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Saturday, May 8th, 2004
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7:22 pm
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to avoid any confusion, this (as well as pretty much airythang i've wrought in the past couple weeks) is about my new best girl(friend), Miss Tawny Burton.....sorry if i confused you even more ha!
It was a moonset kinda
night, through one fourth
of your box
spring summer window
and a mosquito hawk ceiling
arrow pointing north.
I was a masterpiece sorta
light so i uncrossed my legs
and waved at Neil Armstrong,
floating outside and to my right.
Our sides up in the air,
we scared the black sky
and shouted at the cloudpeople up there.
It never ends:
somewhere around 20 pillows
ago you picked up your chapstick
with your toes, and everything turned green
and fell into our hair.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, April 28th, 2004
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2:55 am
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standing and nothing works like a......standing.......sitting for my knees and my wrists don't work either
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(comment on this)
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| Monday, April 26th, 2004
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4:04 am
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hey're's opossem i'm wrought:::::::
"Eyes o' a cat.
Smiles o' a cheshire
o' the moon at th'right
time o' th'month, verses
my dirtstained, yellow bulldozer
style, o' jus' 'nother shade o' off white?"
But we wore stripes, see, o' at least at night,
and it makes me remember my parents' real names.
laid 'er,
ni
p.s.
here's this if you're into major league baseball pitchers called "dock" ellis pitching no-hitters on acid in nineteen-seventy...... http://www.baseballreliquary.org/ellis.htm
p.p.s.
read the comments too.....'cause they'll prolly be funny
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(5 comments | comment on this)
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| Sunday, April 18th, 2004
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7:50 pm - i should rap this
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by anna z.--
a girl sat sorting strawberries. the were all hers, a gift. she picked one up. 'too small,' she said, and threw it away. 'too bruised.' 'too ripe.' 'too green.' too sour,' throwing them all away. the girl was very hungry, so hungry she did not want to settle for things she knew she did not want, for that would make her more unhappy with disappointment. 'fine, a little hunger. i know what i do not want.' she sorted the berries for hours, disdainfully rejecting each one. she grew tired and the sun grew low. 'i know what i do not want,' she said, 'and i will not be happy with it.' this she knew above all else. if everything changed she would still be sure of that. she kept on peering at each strawberry, face pinched in hunger, and tossed them to the side. she knew what she did not want. and the sun set behind orange and apple and peach and lime, and pineapple and kumquat and banana and tangerine, and gooseberry and plastic, and breadfruit trees.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Tuesday, April 13th, 2004
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11:27 pm
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"kind men turn out to be cruel....brave men find out that they are really cowards....when confronted with their true selves, most men run a way ssscccrrreeeeeeaaaaammming."
----first person to name this movie gets a kiss from me....unless it's ycornery....i promise
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(5 comments | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, April 7th, 2004
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11:43 pm - what a shitter!
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| Sunday, March 21st, 2004
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8:37 pm
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when i ws younger, my mother would make me bleach the linens every night before bed....i would be soaked in bleach...the vapors of it would i brathe in and will'd get in by nose...when i would ask my mother if i could blow my runny nose she would always reply, 'i wouldn't if i pissed my bed every night, why get up to blow your noose if you won't even get up to pake a tiss.' every time....i would be forced to sniff back all the bleach vapors that had liquefiedin my nostrolls...they would make it down to my mouth and be a can't taste it...since then every thing was tasted like a sick morning and my favorite colors are when you look at a bright lithg and coles my eyzs
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(comment on this)
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| Friday, March 12th, 2004
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3:05 pm
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| Thursday, March 11th, 2004
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8:50 pm - story i make pt 2
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He followed her, changing his pace to match her's, noting shadows he would've jumped and hidden in if she'd ever looked back, but she never did. He followed her through still lit parking lots and the backs of closed banks, smoking a limp chain of "Beat 'em, Join 'em" brand cigarettes, snorting softly to himself, and dropping each butt in a different pile of deer pellets. He followed her past freight trains and warehouses that looked like gardens where the flowers turned to letters the closer he looked, and by the time he arrived, 2 minutes after Julie had, Maggy was overcome with a wild presumption that he would inevitably be able to recite from memory every word in every piece of framed spray paint visible that night from the 2 mile dirt path that connected the pond by the culvert to Julie's magical apartment.
He waited another 15 minutes outside the deserted-hospital-turned-apartment-complex he'd seen her just enter before he entered himself, galloped up one flight of steps--skipping over most of them, and, with a sigh he'd been building up to with an hour of snorts, knocked on her apartment door.
Julie answered within seconds, as if she'd just been waiting out her own 15 minutes, right there on the other side of the door; she was wearing the same sandals, jacket, and shark tooth necklace, and the same white and hairy face Maggy'd seen on her some 90 minutes ago at the pond by the culvert, and all he managed to say to her in that triumphant moment of forced reunion was an abbreviated stream of colorful and scattered monikers that were still--as he was sure of it--fresh and beating around in both of their short-term memories: "Jib, WAKO, plunk, frajo, simtim, MWC, rogic, tantrain, FAIR."
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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11:28 am - story i make pt 1
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She saddled up her notions and swingset slang, mustache aimed at the moon. She'd been bouncing through the dog tracks, auctions, and sweepstakes that night; eating crumble cake with newlyweds; dealing with the gawk and grin of hobo neighbors; lifting her circus tent shower curtain skirt for strangers; strangling field mice in vacant lots.
And now, standing naked beside the pond by the culvert with her, dirt and weeds sticking to his wet feet, Maggy V. from the west mountains could tell she was thinking about animals; he could tell she was thinking about neutral countries and non-partisan planets. She stood firm as a capital A, picking crumbs out of her beard, and spat straight up into the air, "Oh my horse of an ass! Don't we have a name for that rotten old moon yet?" And with that, Julie put on her sandals and jacket and shark tooth necklace and walked the 2 miles of graffiti back to her apartment.
Maggy, at that point of the weekend's near end, would usually have pedaled alone back to his mobile home for the night, but something in some morsel of rock in some remote crater on some bright corner of the moon that night compelled him to follow her. He waited until she was 50 paces away or so and, without a gram of energy or doubt, quietly went after her, abandoning his giant tricycle that was still parked in the moss beside the pond by the culvert.
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(2 comments | comment on this)
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| Friday, February 27th, 2004
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2:01 am
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i have the american aollar in my pocket right now boydom mocha short skinny white wet the back of my hand is covered in license plate numbers heyr comebacked and sey coma quo im lookt mienshelp autta mcar parydid kwo
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Wednesday, February 25th, 2004
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12:29 am
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They're good, huh?
They're, like, 25 cents a box.
But a cupful of jacks is
about as much as your taxes.
88 ADD kids and
Toys R Us kidney stoners,
with rebutlerosionderstandrogenous
shuttle cocktails,
can expand mercury just by looking at it.
They carry twenty-ought pails and pots
full of plenty hot nails, detox,
and holy grails; 25 cents a box.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Sunday, February 22nd, 2004
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4:14 pm
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you buy a trashcan
and it's price tag's
the first thing you throw away.
fast and steady still
always wins the race,
but no matter how hard you plan
you can't fix the bend
on the end of the dustpan.
You can't drive a cement truck
up the sky to fill all the ozone holes,
but if you hold on a while
a watched pot will eventually boil.
I tried and got a 32nd degree burn
and a few more pimples,
and now look at me, this poem
is dripping down both of my temples.
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(1 comment | comment on this)
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| Friday, February 20th, 2004
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8:53 pm
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some great lines from a walrus show i just watched called 'toothed titans':
'late-comers to the beach must navigate a dangerous path, over sharp tusks....and short tempers.'
'half sumo, half samurai....they fight with bulk....and blade.'
'the itches of moult are replaced with fits of yawning, and eventually slumber. but sleep be the brother of death....and death is up and awake.' (polar bear's gonna get em)
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(comment on this)
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| Tuesday, February 10th, 2004
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2:33 pm
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re: [artu at my / jim's / assleak birdman's house on friday13...429s universecity st....8015830882 for questions and nick
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(3 comments | comment on this)
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| Friday, January 30th, 2004
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7:25 pm
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i went to bed w/out music
cause my cds were in the living room.
quitters never smoke and smokers never win;
i always smoke the most
when i think i'm gonna stop.
i guess turkey isn't as good cold.
it's just to make things change quicker maybe,
contrast with the classifieds.
heavy lifting required,
experience preferred,
good driving record,
must be clean cut,
and smoke free.
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(comment on this)
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30daysettlement's journal