Posts Tagged ‘EDAURDO JONES’

I enjoy looking back through old stuff, I wrote when I was extremely fucked up on drugs. I noticed I wrote a ton of poetry when I was in altered states. I believe I’ll start posting it.

I am the five hundred  pound baboon monkey heart -transparent deathcicle piercing your nipple.-

Soft crimson razor ticklers-

Kissing at nubile forms of inspiration

glimmer of karma’s pouting lips-

cosmic solar powered soul glasses staring at the jealousy in Orion’s belt-

tempting taste of virginal blood-

God’s drowning in the bottom of a wishing well. mental prism splitting thoughts into a million points of light-

washing the evil out of clothes at karma cleaners-pocket full o’ lint-

ghetto mint-ink to print-lemon crusted mantra muncher…

Bottle bottom sorrow drawer-

hairline crack in heavens gate.

entrance obtained only by theft and deception. plum red trauma worm-burrowing in the brain

nodding keystrokes ignite the night in triple trailing movement-

washboard stained with dirty secrets.

ships run aground on destinies rocky beaches.

break in case of emergency-

The words on the glass snot-box-

Grow wild like a weed, but wise like a tree.

twisting tightness of greed’s fist-tuning in the subconscious.

double step karma visions past eraser.

Formulating serial fantasies to save my sanity- clipping coupons for angel wings …

burn blessed at both ends .


So, I got an email the other day informing me I’ve been assigned the task of writing about why print is dead. What the hell kind of horrible fucker would assign anyone such a task?  Probably the same type of miserable bastard that would pack a box chock full of puppies and kittens, then toss it into a river.  Right about now, I feel like spending 15 buckaroos to  jump on the good old Fung Wah to the Big Apple, endure 4 hours of breathing egg roll farts, along with  braving the driving skills of a washed up Hong Kong stuntman, reminiscing about his glory days, while using this driving job as training tool for a most glorious come back to the silver screen.  Once in NYC I’ll pay a visit to that horrible prick Sykes. I’ll put his family jewels in a mason jar, then  keep them in my office as a warning to other editor types about the consequences of assigning me such putrid tasks . But for now, I’ll have to think about- who the hell would have wanted  print dead in the first place?

It isn’t going to be easy getting to the rotten core of this apple. Luckily, I know just the type of scum to help me.  The type of  God less bastards who’d tie their own mother’s fallopian tubes into knots and cunt punt her uterus up through her nostrils if the price is right.  God knows I don’t want to make that call. But if need be, I’ll have them spoon feeding some techno geek his own testicles in order to find out why print is dead, and who the hell wanted Print’s ticket punched in the first place? First things first though. I need to polish off this bottle of scotch in order to smear some preparation H on this raging cerebral hemorrhoid of a story.

In this high tech age of techno geekery- status update – twittering-youtube link- porno coated-instant information- high speed- celubutant gossip- blogophiliac- age of despair we have been thrust in- it’s no wonder Print is dead. I wouldn’t be surprised if the poor fucker took a .45 caliber aspirin to ease the pain of trying to keep up with the  internet.  Between the internet and these God damn tree hugging bastards trying to save every tree on the planet the poor fucker must have been in rough shape.

I suppose this could be a lead. I’ll go deep cover and infiltrate the perverse underground culture of the eco nazi. It’s going to be a rough task. I’ll have to stop bathing for a month, tie dye everything I own, change my name to Sky Whisper, and travel with no less than three dogs of an indeterminate breed everywhere I go. I’ll  start writing folk songs about the evil lumber jack raping the earth mother’s womb. Once I’m belting these songs of the earth mother out on street corners, open mic nights at coffee houses, and the parking lots of hippie fests across the country, surely in no time these vegan tree humping paper haters will let me in on how and why they assassinated print.

The conspiracy could run even deeper. According to the book of revelations when mankind accepts the mark of the beast from the Anti-Christ the apocalypse will begin. I do believe I discovered what this mark is. It’s to be a number assigned to each and every man, woman, and child if my memory serves me right. So therefore I say it’s an ISP address or a Friend ID # on any social networking site. Surely only Satan himself would want print dead in order to fulfill this ghastly prophecy and bring on the end of days.  I’ll have to work my connections and link up with Tom Hanks to get to the bottom of this one.  No one knows the inner workings of the Catholic church, the knights templar, and the Illuminati better than him. Well maybe Nicholas Cage, or perhaps Harrison Ford. Fuck it somebody in Hollyweird owes me a favor and I’ll be cashing that one in if need be.

So I suppose it’s time to start gearing up on my quest to find out if print really is dead, who killed it, and why? I’ll be meeting my contact Octavio a one eyed El Salvadorian gun running dwarf with a taste for Mescal, sodomy, and cock fighting at an undisclosed location to gear up for this mission. Together we will hit the open road on Octavio‘s WWII US military package Harley Davidson 42WLA complete with sidecar and machine gun turret . Across this great country we will beat down any  and all doors and leads we need to get to the bottom of this. This mission will surely take us straight into to the festering bowels of this nation’s seedy underbelly. But we are up for the challenge.  Who knows? We maybe we’re coming for you.  May God have mercy on your worthless soul if this is the case!

“Hello, it’s me. I was wondering if you could help me out again. I know we never talk, but I’m in way over my head this time, and if you could just please get me out of this, I’ll do anything you want……..”

These are basically the same words, a million junkies, whores, thieves, and residents of the gutter, have muttered to their Gods, when they are deep in the shit, and all hope is lost.  None of them ever keep this promise, when all is said and done. We are all god-less until our moment of need.

I’ve committed more than my share of despicable deeds over the years. But I never actual got the opportunity to view myself at my worst. Well today I watched a nightmare. The video below is me a little over a year ago.

During this phase of the game I was no longer teetering on the razor sharp edge of my sanity. I had tumbled deep into the abyss that is psychosis. The two sides of me, the day, and the night, were at war. I had honestly come to the conclusion; I was the Devil himself. Why else would I be doing, what I was doing? The good part of me, the tiny sliver of hope in me, started whispering in my ear. “You know what you’re doing is wrong. Look around you, this isn’t righteous. You’re the Devil.’” So, what did my twisted mind do?

I ran with it.  I started exploring every avenue. I figured; I’d write myself a letter from the Devil, and read it.  This was the worst thing a lunatic in the throes of egomaniacal delusion could do. It somehow made me honestly believe, I was the devil himself. That and the cocktail of high grade LSD ingested 10 milliliters at a time, and marathon sessions that lasted weeks, smoking meth, had successfully shattered my psyche to fragments.

How I came back down to this realm of reality? I’ll never know. I say this ton, and I’ll keep saying it for the rest of my days on this planet “Fate is a fickle beast.”

I had completely lost myself to a beast beyond my control.  The one tiny shred of a fingernail grip, I had on reality though, that somehow pulled me back across the edge. It’ll be one year on October, 5 this year, since I stopped the insanity, and began finding my way back out of the darkness, that had consumed me whole. I’m by no means proud of the way I was. But, I have a problem trying to pretend it never happened. Some may say I’m crazy for sharing things like my stories, and videos, like this.

I think it’s my way of healing myself, and if I’m lucky, people can relate to this, and just maybe, I can inspire someone else to change, because if I can change, anyone can. I mean how many of you honestly were preaching Satan sermons to a room full of friends?

It’s a sick memory I wish I could forget. But I have it live in living color. I kind think of this video as a gift. Getting to see myself so far gone that I can’t even believe I made it out. Is sobering, it makes me grateful for everything I have.

Some of you are going to find this extremely disturbing, lord knows I did. But I find it only appropriate to show the evolution of mind, body, and soul I have achieved over the past year.  This has brought even deeper introspections into my actions over the years.

Here’s the words to this thing. Since you can’t really here me through the rag….

I guess it’s time I just told the truthI guess it’s time I just told the truthWell by now I guess everyone’s sick of the old stories. So I’ve decided to just tell you what the hell is really going on.Many a person has asked. What my job is?What does it entail? Well it’s really quite simple my friend. I’m a collector of course. I collect the weak, the greedy, the corrupt, the ignorant, the foolish, the lazy, the vain, and all different assortments of character flaws.How do I do this? Well it’s a fine art I’ve perfected over several thousand lifetimes. You see I can sell ice cubes and porn to blind Eskimos. The only thing is I’m not selling any kind of product. I’m selling a dream nothing more than that.I simply exploit the very characteristics I collect. I show them a system they can never follow. Due to the fore mentioned flaws. Then well it’s not hard to tell exactly what the hell they had to sell.The funny thing is I’m not even evil, contrary to popular belief. It’s just the job I was tossed down into.Why?Because I’m funny, smart, handsome, and look so very harmless looking. My eyes are hypnotizing and trusting. But look a little bit deeper and you’ll see yourself shadow boxing with your soul. I’d like to thank Nathaniel Clark for that dark piece of gold.Why do you think I love my dark glasses so much. After all those tinted lenses are the fences that hold back a trillion tortured souls.You see only so many of you are actually allowed to walk through those pearly gates. So I have quoatas to make. It’s my job to hold you all back.I show you how easy it is to be just like me! The problem is none of you are me. You’re human- you have free will. I’m only allowed to follow the rules I’ve been shown.I can’t force you to do any of the things you do. I just know what makes you tick. Some of you seek power, others stardom, throw in the occasional sadist here and there, and then some…. Well…. They’re just plain stupid.Those are the easiest to collect. They don’t even understand the basic concept here.Sure you’re probably reading this not believing a single word of it. If you know me though, you know I only ever speak the truth. Haven’t you ever wondered why I act so old, but look so young. Or why I look like or remind you of someone you used to know? How I can speak in any accent, or seem to talk in many tongues?Because I am a mirror reflecting everyone and everything back into the world. Hey it’s a gift from the guy who told you…. To be very-very-very-wary of me. He’s far more twisted than me. That’s all I’m saying.Let’s dispel some of the myths you may have heard about me. I can stand on holy ground. Shit, I’ve been to church hundreds of God damn times. Hell I even tried being born again.I’m not everywhere all the time. I’m not omnipotent. Only Santa Claus knows if you’ve been bad or good. Well him and the guy looking down at all of you.I do have a rather strange form of immortality. Yes I can physically die, but then I’m just reincarnated and the cycle begins again and again.I only need to personally collect X amount of souls per life time. See I have a clause in my contract that allows me to collect other souls with no contact. The ones who break the big ten as I like to call them.My job is to get the ones teetering on the edge. What you don’t know is this. The minute your soul was created, you signed a contract with God. One to obey HIS rules. So for example Serial Killers, child molestors, and rapists…. Well,  I have no part in that. They are in direct breach of contract. Which means. Guess what? They automatically don’t pass go, and I still get their soul.I just travel a bunch. Some how some one all ways takes me in. I rarely ever have problems. In fact most people love me!I guess, in a way, I just use reverse psychology. Don’t do this. Really that’s against the rules! I thrive on the simple fact that most people think they can beat a system, any system. Their way will surely be better!HA,HA,HA,HA,Ha……………..You’re all such foolish children! Incapable of just listening. The very, very, very, few of you who actually listen. They pass a test. They never even knew they were taking.I’ll tell you from the very beginning, exactly what not to do. Don’t do those things and I can’t take it. But like I said I know people and I’m very good at my job. So I see the flaws in you. The ones you don’t. Then I tempt them with my laws.For instance…. Show some young man how easy it is for him to get what he wants from my game. Sex, admiration, money, shit even just a simple high. Then they almost always want to play. They don’t see I’m really very honest. They feel they need to lie, cheat, steal, and manipulate to get what  I have. Absolute nonsense. Honesty is always the best policy.I’ll allow you to fuck up and smile about it. Watch you dig your self deeper and deeper. Then simpley because I’m your friend to the end. I need you I really do. You’ll start giving me whatever you can. Just to keep getting it. Until there’s nothing left to give me but your soul.Here’s a simple equation to show you who I am. It’s my birth date. It is and always will be for all eternity March 18th. March is the third month representing the ascending number 3. How many times does 3 ascend into 18? 6 correct? So 3/18 = 6+6+6 or simply put 666.Well by now you’re either bored or very frightened and thinking about staying very,very,very far away from me. Or just maybe, you think this is just a joke. Well if you do think this is a joke and want to test it.Go ahead. I promise I’ll get everything I want by the time you and I are through.I really was his favorite Saint. Until that tiny little disagreement a few thousand years ago. Oh by the way it really did start with some forbidden fruit. That was the  original rule. Anything but that fruit! Don’t blame me! Blame him! He gave you free will not me! I just said ” Hey why not eat it?”He always knew he only had so much room at his house.So he hooked me up with a place to take all the free thinkers.Of course it’s evolved from fruit into powders and pretty little crystals, but hey it’s all the same. Most of the time I just act like I’m out of my mind, and don’t have a clue. But I always do. Every penny short is just another one I’m getting back. Until well, all the penny’s in the bottom of your wishing well won’t save you from hell.In closing I’d like to paraphrase some of the better ones people have used to introduce me and where you’ll be heading…There’s plenty of room at the Hotel California….. I’m pleased to meet you… Hope you guessed my name…Your best friend, S.P.S. I just wanted you to know I like you so much. That I’m hating my job right now. I really just needed to get that off my chest.

To Whom It May Concern; hello, my name is Rev. Edaurdo Jones of The  First United Christian Knowledge Union, I’m writing this letter in regard to your “Devil” dog snack cakes. How dare you push your satanic snacks on the good people of this country? I see what you’re doing, trying to draw children into the fiery pits of hell with satanic influences hiding behind the sugary goodness of delicious snacks, drawing the youth of this fine nation into the first of 7 deadly sins–Gluttony, and paving the road to hell for them with cream filled bricks of evil. I for one will not stand for this atrocity! I plan on making it my mission to uncover your pact with the devil!  I have already made arrangements with my brother the Pastor Terry Jones of Dove World Out Reach Ministry  in Florida to also burn your Devil dog snack cakes at his upcoming Quran burning ceremony this weekend of 9/11, as a united front against all those who oppose the decent Christian American way.  I am writing this letter to give you the opportunity to cease and desist manufacturing your satanic snacks and save your souls from an eternity in the fiery pits of hell. I have already contacted the Christian media, and Glen Beck himself will be tossing the first box of your Satan dogs onto the fire! We will fight Satan and his minions on every front, including the snack food industry. God will not have mercy on your souls! I bid you farewell in the name of Christ, The Rev. Edaurdo Jones of the F.U.C.K. U

To Whom It May Concern; I’m writing this letter in regard to your product, Oreo “Funstix”.  I recently had a party at my house. It was a nice gathering with over 50 of my closest friends. I had bought this product as a snack for guests. Well, let me tell you these funstix were the hit of my party. As with most parties, we had some very special party favors, and unfortunately I had run out of straws, and sniffing uncut Peruvian cocaine through a hundred dollar bill is just, well, too 1982.  Nobody wants to catch hepatitis. So we took a chance on using a Funstix to do the job. This was the perfect instrument to sniff lines as thick as a Cuban cigar and long as my coffee table. The diameter of your funstix is perfect for inhaling monster lines unhindered by the small circumference of a drinking straw. I never thought in all my years I’d rather sniff coke through anything but the handcrafted gold plated double headed tooter, I had received as a personal gift from Keith Richards.  Keith and I go way back. I met him at the Betty Ford Center in the mid 80’s and we struck up a friendship.

Anyways I just wanted to tell you, I don’t know if it was the mix of real sugar and booger sugar or what, but these things took us higher than we’ve ever been. I will never use anything but an Oreo Funstix to sniff cocaine, crystal meth, heroin, airplane glue or anything else I can crush up and sniff up my nose, for the rest of my life.  Thank you for creating such a marvelous product, your oreo loving buddy Edaurdo Jones.

I decided to go for a trip down memory lane today. I started reading through some poetry, I wrote over the years. I used to enjoy writing this stuff as experiments. Nothing I took too serious, but re reading allows me to get inside my head, and see where I was at mentally. This one right here I wrote in the throes of a meth amphetamine bender. So here, I’ll share some of my thoughts from  when I was really out of my mind…

Wash these sins from my soul as I grow old

Step out of the darkness into angelic light

Let it engulf me whole

Danced cheek to cheek with the devil across Hell’s coals

It took it’s toll

More than twice trying to make men out of mice

Scars on my heart strings from the slice

A being not some waste of life

Work became my wife

You only need to fuck the trife

Burn my mark on times wall

Not some neurotic flash in the pan

Crushed in the palm of a hand

No longer balancing on the edge of a knife

Began living life

No more tears to cry over the snakes lies

Only the heart less truly dies
Just another one of society’s lies

The winner never cries

Up through the abyss

A bus I could not miss

Karma sealed it with a kiss

Dreams are for living

The rest is for sleeping

Regret all the weeping

Thought fate was fleeting

Hope kept getting deleted

Forgot where I was seated

Intoxicated on the depleted

Needles in my feeble brain

Death pumping through perforated veins

With a heart full of pain

Watching souls twirling down the drain

Abel should of slain Kane
Neurosis induced by psychosis

Touching lips with death’s icy kiss

The show that couldn’t be missed

Who really got dissed?

That’s the part everybody dismissed

Soul churning watts pouring through the skies

While destiny hides in a disguise

Can you decipher the snakes lies

Tongue twisters spit until tongues blistered

Talk about wiping the bottom of the pipe

Foul ass tripe

Listing the mights

Should of, could of, only if he would have……..

That’s what drove him mad

Putting ambition inside of a glad bag

Sleeping with soulless hags

Laughing while he brags

Broken dreams are what he drags

Judged by the chrome on the mags and the size of the bags

Just couldn’t drown that bastard’s sorrow in the bottom of a bottle

Take your foot off the fucking throttle!

The bridge is burnt

you should have turned

I knew I should have left at that last right

Bad health from time kept on the shelf

Doesn’t matter if you just let it shatter

Who’s the fucking Matter

You want it served up on a platter

Climb the Goddamn ladder

Or do you got a weak bladder?

Pockets can only get fatter
Lint gets scattered

When your madder than a hatter

Trying to dissect matter

Over the laughter

Where’d he go?


Down that lonely road

Only if he listened to what was told

Always so bold

Discovered that Hell is really cold

When you start thinking your old

They definitely broke the mold

What happened to the code?

Lost it about five miles down the road

Trying to spin midnight into gold

On nothing more than a prayer
Tip toeing in the beasts lair

Different songs we’d sing

Had we known these things

To busy grabbing for rings

Thinking the merry go round

Not paying in flesh by the pound

What is that sound that’s coming from underground?

You can still hear it from the top of the mound

Listen it will help with the decision

That seems to be the mission

Only if he stopped wishing

He’d see what’s been missing

Into the wind he just kept pissing

See its really feces

Just tear those miserable meeses to pieces

Then it all ceases

Foundations are laid under wonder

Can’t you hear that thunder

Reality got plundered

Sniffed through a hundred

Bloody nose hose and an armful of hoes

Recipe for the Woes

Deceit only grows

That’s all he knows

Watch the trouble bubble into double

Time to adjust the treble

It’s on another level

Hope you brought the shovel

Or did you leave it to the humble

I may stumble but I never tumble

One too many cocks of the walk got smashed on those rocks

Drinking cheap wine on the main line

Jelly fish spines go in boxes made of pine packed in Lyme

After they drop a dime

That’s not the crime

It’s the times

Read between the lines

Can’t you see the signs?

Juggling minds is what you’d find

But Justice is always blind

Who’d you loose your mind?

It’s your call

It might fall off that ball

Over the long Haul

How high did we build that wall

It can never got too tall

Smothered by mothers
Fighting with brothers

Following others

Sucking on the udders

Little pig’s getting awfully big

From filling rigs

Insides soft as rotting figs

All the graves we dig

Ambition is a fatherless child walking in the wild

Riding the snake as the earth quakes

Learning about life’s mistakes

Scraping a Chevy’s breaks

Is all it takes

Then you awake and see the fake

Commotion is the motion that stirs the ocean

Broken backs laid them tracks across the cracks

Would of dipped instead of slipped
past cracking whips

You won’t get sick from just one prick

Skins only so thick

compared to a brick

Mountains crumble under bundles

Stomachs rumble

when it’s not rare the cupboards bare
can I do it my way?

It’s not a question just a suggestion

To clear this congestion

Who’s honey really is money

It always smells funny buddy

When waters so muddy

Those aren’t wishes
They’re fishes rotting on dirty dishes

Just bitches every time she misses

never sealed with kisses

Can’t be submissive on the issues

Or they’ll miss you

Boo Hoo

Is that you still feeling blue about what to do

Get a clue or come unglued

Screams splitting the seams of the American dream

Murdered on a triple beam over CREAM

Because the schemes of fiends

Planted the seeds of dirty deeds

the earth bleeds unease