The Writer meets the StripperNarcissists will panderto the one-way mirror,sycophants fall in love.
The Flutter VelocityI didn't know the bridge would fallor that the water beneath could consumethe last structures of an identity,when held still I don'tfight anymore.The architects were ignorant.I make gills and breathe,submit to pressure,the last car to fall is black.I don't care anymore.The shore persists.
To a NihilistYou are a collection of atoms expressing sentimental miscellanea, introverted processes designed by coincidence to always prove the theory of chaos,I am unstable,but you are decomposing. I wonder,sometimes, if you contemplate futility or peaceor constance or value or the fate of our mortalityin a universe that holds its dead starsfor millennia, a history of dust,implosions,but then I remembereveryone does.And that is what you never learned, never sought to.
And The Silver SpoonMy associative prismhas lost a coloror a shade,a shape of long grassfrom the eyes of a spun child lying.I collect evidencefor naivety,none,but without abscence.The blades trippedinto each other,water beads,laughter,shiny leather shoes.
Blue DreamI discovered a manwho makes me feel incomparablethe same way Columbus discovered America:he existed beforehand and was probably better offwithout a directionally challenged sociopath,no matter what those Thanksgiving craftspeddle to Neoamerican children.Regardless, his persistence withstood my apathetic exterior,and I like his music even if I don't say it,"You're okay," translates to something meaningful,"Pretty great," says exceptional, "I'm really senstive," adresses that he knows what he's doingwith his tongue, his lips, his cock,and ten competent fingers,but now I'm making excuses. I have a big nose,countable ribs, narrow hips, an ass like a sheet of drywall,a shipful of charisma, countless manipulations,social ineptness, political anxiety,and over a thousand pages of writing, which,for the record,in case he doesn't get it:that's a lot of emotional bullshit,and about half of it is melodramatic, petty,unsubstantiated stories about my life
Muon neutrinoSome number of daysbecome one: a thought bound togetherby the number of pills I took, 12 on Wednesday,you forgot Thursday, when God lets his head resta blackhole forms,and you ask for your poems back.Maybe I took a reflection gold like yours,a few back hairs, the phone you bought, a German market,your accent, but my hand was possessed:I spun a new era,knocked around plastic bottlesand shattered a dropper. My lines were perfect,nothing like the fizzy bits of an atom,when your car never started,a roach on the nightstand,my eye imploded,but I send my poems back.The ones on napkins, dollars, candy wrappers,unduplicated sinews of sex, laughter,or just an amphetamine,your smile--You were always better. And betteris impossible to swallow,light's always faster,and when God blinks,nothing happens.
Candy"You ate it?!" "Was only chocolate...."
in memoriam: my dignity, proudly departedglint in the corner of my visionsomething normal and yet completely unexpected on the horizonwould recognize that silver sheen anywherethat commanding airthat vulnerabilitythose eyes...wallditchowwie
TnM Un Cuento Para Sunny part 3Nota de la autora: Porfavor antes de lean este capitulo les quiero decir que, en una batalla antes de que thomas cumpla los 8 años El Rey Ferb murió, pero tuvo una hija más,.y la Reina Vanessa tuvo que cuidar a Thomy y A Samantha sola ...listo se entiende?, okey..empecemos...--------------------------------------------------------------------------Phineas: Oh, querida Vanessa...-se va hacia a ella y la abraza-te ves radiante..Vanessa: Gracias...uyy...y quien vino contigo acaso es la pequeña princesa?..-dijo buscandola detras de su papá...Phineas: jajja no seas timida hija pasa al frente y saluda...Marie: h-hola mucho gusto soy la princesa Marie...-le dijo saludandola con mucha cortesía y nerviosismo..Vanessa: mucho gusto princesita...-ve athomas volteado, se acerca y le dice- saluda hijo...Thomas: hola princesa Marie, me da mucho gusto que vengas a visitarnos...Marie: se inclina con su vestido- el gusto es mío principe Thomas...-ve que thomas
Fausta wrobili w PiekloLucyfero czy pomadką Twoją krew jest?Och... maliny to! Truskawki!Pani mroku, a na imię - "Niosę Światłość"."Zła to baba. Musi kusi!Wężem w gardło i zadusi"Panie plebanie, co w tej sułtanie?Panie starosto, gdzie droga prosta?Panie doktorze, czy mi pomoże?Ach, och, banknoty?Ach, och, monety?Kiedy ja tylko tak ładnie proszę..."Musi to diabeł, bo z Lucyferą,ja go nie leczę. Skądże, przez pieniądz?Jeno mi ściągnie jakie złe moce.Że w te to moce za nic nie wierzę?Oj plotłem głupstwa, lecz w dobrej wierze.Chcecie to diabła mieć za sąsiada?"Podatkiem w kark go. Głowa upada."Jak ciąć diabelstwa, dobrze ja wiem to"Oj no plebanie! Ale tak w duszę?Oj no sołtysie! Ale tak w portfel?Oj no doktorze! Może pomożesz?A Hipokrates...!"Ojcze nasz święty!Ten człek przeklęt
Ode to Alarm ClocksO, mightyMagnificentAlarm clock.What everwould I doWithout yourCONSTANT NAGGING!Where would I go?How would I find itIn my miserable selfTo get up and elopeTo my CRAPPY JOB!!What could possiblyEver motivate meTo turn off yourUnholy sound?Certainly not breakfast,Or rest.Surely not to alarm the beastKnown as "Mittens".O alarm clock,What could make youEven more joyfulThan an odeTo your brightness andYelling and electronic screams.I would rather haveA napalm spread across my back,Then lit on fire,Than have you in my house.Get out,O magnificent alarm clock,Get out.
ButtsThat moment when you get a request for a poem about butts...But what if I don't want to make this poem?But why would he ask for this?But how am I suppose to make such a poem?But what will people think of me?But will I make it a mature one, the poem?But what does he want from it?But who would write something of a poem?But-but-but-but-but-but-but-but I dun't wanna write a poem 'bout butts!Here's your poem, you butt:Roses are red,Violets are blue,This is about a butt,You nasty mutt.
A short poem about rain...A short poem about rain:Rain falls like tears of angels,Rain falls at an angle,Rain falls slightly off the vertical axis,As people scurry to buses and taxis,I'm getting wet standing here...Tears of the sky, quencher of flame...Over land or water it's always the same,It's rain.Fuck you rain.
Esprit of the Hamster I will entertain you in a valorous array, some may not appreciate such a boisterous display, of prowess to parlay, a quarrellsome foray to the fringes of the day. Another cryptic lesson, in a lexicon at play.. so verbose & esoteric, a generational delay, oft. hypnotic to its prey but incongruous to ley of a petty purpose that poised & preaching prat astray. Linguistic aplomb to the orphaned Anglo ext. touche. Hit or miss a metamorphosis to mime, another convex credo coined a continents array.Mostly Western European descent -- actualized in this doggerel of diction decidedly dubious depiction of didactic deference denoted doting debugging or debriefing, disoriented -- coffee and hunger, know yourself, your mind, your body and spirit.
Arty Intel BiTS UP MOTHSTRAWthe luv song has been doing gym nastixit is now a brain twister luv songit is now beyond my kenits gon all kwontum fizzixy wiv its luv so it hasbastard
Hemingwaywas half-right—write high;edit high;proofread sober.