second new poem
Martha Stewart recommendations
Fuck therapy
Get a dog
Fuck meds
Exercise
And please please please
Rip the beating heart
Out of the Buddha
Who stands before you
And eat it like
You’re serving 18 to life.
Martha Stewart recommendations
Fuck therapy
Get a dog
Fuck meds
Exercise
And please please please
Rip the beating heart
Out of the Buddha
Who stands before you
And eat it like
You’re serving 18 to life.
We tried to get the Mexicans to drive
We tried to get the Mexicans to drive
I even spread my legs and let my pussy
Tell the future.
Remember
DON’T PANIC
But, whatever happened to the big ‘ole bash
With the truckloads of hash?
Make room
Step back
Cause I’ve got an ace up my sleeve
Just for you baby
And
I only watch porn
To learn new positions
To try with you honey…
We tried to get the Mexicans to drive
But instead we drifted home
With the moon looking down on me
And the earth spinning like mad
I forgot where I left off
So I’m gonna start fresh
DON’T PANIC
I’ve still got my hands on my tools…
We tried to get the Mexicans to drive
But don’t tempt me when I’m laying on my back
With my legs in the air
Like a doodle bug who can’t roll back over
And shrinks itself into a small ball.
And I’ve been to every thrift store in town
I’ve been to every thrift store in town
I’ve been to every thrift store in town
But they don’t seem to have
What I’m looking for
My life is a horrible game show
Lately, life makes me feel
Like a white trash in hiding
Yes, when I run out of smokes
I dig thru the dirty filthy trash
I have worn shirts around the house
For more than a day
With remnants of lunch
I am gassy
I pick my nose
Sometimes I have to steal tampons
The worst is trying to steal dog food.
I’m waiting for someone to walk out
And say ok you’ve been on a game show
THIS IS ALL FAKE
You no longer have to scrounge couch cushion change
To get a caffeine fix
Your days of using cheap messy eyeliner are over
No more shall you eat stale peanut butter sandwiches
And drink watered down kool Aide.
No one has
Yet
I reuse tinfoil and baggies
And I really don’t think it has to do
With the recession
Tho, the “recession”
Is their terminology for what’s going on
All over the world
I call it the revolution
We have all been set free from
Comfort
If you can’t make it here
You’ve been faking all along anyways
Momma was right
They will look you in the eyes
Smile and say something like
“Wow, I’m so glad to meet you”
or “Finally, I get to meet you in person”
but they are not your friends
in fact, they are your enemies
your competition
Remember that old saying that your momma told you?
Keep your friends close
But keep your enemies closer
As I get older, I find this to be more and more true
And as my standards adjust to my maturity
I also find I have way more enemies.
Hang out with these people if you want
Go to their parties
Go to their readings
Pretend to be interested in their drunk banter
And if you’re real lucky
They will publish you
And not fuck you.
Hello everybody. I blurt today with a heavy heart. My dog Gonzo is in the doggie hospital and may have to have surgery. That is all I am going to say about that for now. We had no electricity for nearly 4 days. lost hundreds in food. totally sucks. I need to change my attitute.
Good things on the horizon. a flip chap, and a new monthly column that will kick your ass. if i havent written you back or something…this is why
It really stuck with me
This kid on the stage
At the open mic
Put on a mask
And went on and on
About how crazy he was
And Brian leaned over and whispered
“I don’t need a mask to show people I’m crazy”
just thinking about all the masks
we each put on
just to make it through the day
we are parents
we are poets
we are friends
we are children
we are husbands
we are wives
we are ALL in here
so I suggest we not try to hide it anymore
Let’s let it all out
All over the page, all blood and guts man
Cause after a few years under your belt
Of juggling those masks
You are bound to have an identity crisis
He Swiped my PikiKiniK Basket
Lately, it has become increasingly obvious
That bears ruin clown themed birthday parties
Well, pretty much any themed parties
Casual get togethers,
Wakes,
If a bear is there,
You can be sure there will be trouble.
So, I was on facebook all of three days and had such highs as speaking with friends I hadn’t heard from in 14 years to repeating the bullshit that made me leave it all in the first place. and so I left.
What to do now? The good news. I have my own writing and art studio in the redwoods here at our new place. Not shitting you, I’ll post pics soon. There is a talked about book deal on the table and a column. I just don’t know what to do with myself. I will paint it out. Oh and if one more fucking person asks me to twitter I will gouge your fucking eyes out.
I love you all, except you and you, you’re cool…..
The writing gets strange with this program when I mix text and pictures. OK, the Joie, Billy reading was one of the best readings I’ve been to. I really mean that…Joie and William were SO in the zone. It was fabulous. Paul Corman Roberts came out, I went up with Brian and Mr. Joe Pachinko. I’m going to post a few pics from the reading, then a new poem. I always dig comments-good or bad.