I’m glad I don’t have
A vagina
It seems like a ton
Of work
If you don’t clean
It regularly
it
Stinks
Once a month it
Bleeds everywhere
And you need to
Pack it with
Cotton
There’s always some
Asshole trying
To cum in it
And if the wrong
Asshole cums in it
you got to squeeze
a watermelon
out through
a lemon
and
You’re stuck
With them
In yr. life
Forever
chasing them
around
for child support
I’m glad I don’t
Have a vagina
I don’t think I could handle
All that responsibility
I turned on
the news
today and…
Nothing wrong
Happened
In the world
No wars were raged
All the peoples
Bellies’ were full
No one slept
On the street
While hands shook
across the Middle East
Africa got the cure
The sun shined on Japan
A crystal clear
Gulf Coast
Jobs for Detroit
Water powered cars
And the only race
That mattered
Was orphans
Running towards
Open arms
I like
To
Imagine
that
Just brush it off. 9 times out of ten people who hate on yr shit
are jealous fucks.
and not just that
but seedy characterizations
of yr alter ego,
or a cheesy imitation
of yr altered persona
or a handicapped, abridged version
of yr altered perception of the truth.
Yes,
I’m speaking
of mr. and mrs.
kool.
I’m talking to the dog
with no bark,
I’m yelling at the shadow
of a broken down
trailer
while lot lizards
scurry from all the cracks
with their poems that
smoke like crack.
You can smell it on their breath
if they would only hold their face
just a few inches closer
to their monitor.
It’s easy to not read
between the lines
to be blind to meaning
To imitate or ridicule
When you have
no truths to be spoken
No knowledge of self
A page is not truly
a page
unless it’s covered
in your own blood
Jealousy will always
bare it’s fangs
and try and toss you
in the mud
Those who are hollow
have the hardest pill to
swallow
The fact when you can’t find
anything of meaning inside
there is nothing worth
hearing to the outside
so speak it to the bowels
the mecca of slit wrist Judas
let your words rest
with their own
masticated and oozed
heaped like the corpse of Goliath
slaughtered by the dialect of prisoners
wasted in the lame heads of those ravaged by bondman intellect
be the lie
spilling
from
your
eye
and call it truth
no more
495 to good ol 93
Take you down route 1
to a place where Green Monsters
wear Red Sox & a Yawkey Way
where Tobin & Gravel yards shake
where pizza and blowjobs are cheap
take you on a tour with no duck boat
DUCK BRO
look out
you ain’t from around here are youz
Really aint no place to Pahk ya Cah
the T is only place to be
cuz Charlie likes ta pahty
just take a look at his banks
row
..row
….row
yah fahkin’ bhote
hahvud fahkin’ yahd fhagguts
ya see um.. fhak dis place
I prefer summah’s up North
Portland claw crackin
tubin down the Kancamagus
White mountain star light &
whiskey river soaked dreams
we got stories up heah
wicked tales
we tap trees
kill meat & eat
harvest of bon fire
hahd muthah fuckahs
granite like grave diggahs
Enslaved by Nor’ Eastahs
Rude?
no, we just don’t give a flyin fuck bout you
come soak your soul in
the merri, or pemi, or many lakes
wash the everywhere else off yah,
we don’t care cause you ain’t stayin
what you fucks leave behind will
always wash
down
stream
merrily
merrily
merrily
Life is but a dream……..
(end muthah’ fahkin’ poem faggots)
Belly up at the bar
No tears in your cup
Probably staring
At a television set
some drunk
slobbering
Your ear full of drunken
Spittle
All because you
Made the mistake
Of saying I’m a writer
Yr. A fahkin writer
Ya know I got a fahkin great story
For you to write
Really have I got a book for
You to write..
Trying yr best to be polite
Perhaps even phase them
Out
Nodding your head
Not hearing a word
Trying to drink that
Drink they bought
You down as fast you can
And make yr. way to the bathroom
Don’t even bother to say you got
To go
For a smoke
Because they’ll
Just say great idea
I’ll come with you
We can talk about
This book I want you
To write………
Why does every drunk at the bar
have a story for you to tell?
Pretty little greed machine
Stiletto heeled heart stomper
pole spinner
with an ass that danced across a thousand laps
she smells like bubble gum and cash
no tip no strip
tastes like vodka and valium
fold those dollars
next up on the main stage we got…
she used to go by sunshine
3 years back seems like nine
I Remember she had the word
Redemption tattooed down her spine
skull and bones on her pasties
lust in her eyes
and passion dripping from her lips..
no tip no strip
“dolla dolla bill yall”
greedy eyed grindin
no cuntry for old men
as the same song begins
remains the same
outcome out came
no champagne in the sex room
Means no BOOM BOOM for you
for one whole song she’s your lover
minute your wallets empty
its on to another
only thing she left you with
is bright blue balls
snail trail on your thigh
and fucking glitter in your eye
Siberian Summer
Eduardo Jones
I remember it was raining; it was one of those days you dreaded during a New England summer in a tourist trap. Cold, wet, and raw, not a fun- filled day by any means. I wouldn’t have even ventured out into it, if I wasn’t such a creature of habit. Read the rest of this entry »
Help wanted- “Personal ASSistant”
I’m in need of personal ASSistant, the young lady who previously held this position unfortunately can no longer work as my personal ASSistant, due to certain medical conditions. You must meet the following requirements. Read the rest of this entry »
THE VOICE OF THE DOOMED 