buckle

there are spoken words to be untrue
tied together with a seemingly end of vapour
glowing in the hearts of many
the one truth lives in the heavens
 
a hedonistic place to hide from the gallows
drink wine and whiskey and lemonade splendor
our mates figure the sources needed
so find rum and drink it and hell get merry
 
unforgotten lullabies by a mothers breast
clench hold tightly then let go of the rest
a satans task a liberal fear
drowns many in sorrow away from whats near.
 
you thought I ended there for just a second
but I laugh and glee and your marks are for linger
bottle of swash and a buckle or two
press down on your knees and frequently tie your shoe.
 
lets trail on to on and then again once more
the vitamins and minerals of a salty squall
feed first, run last and comprehend no weakness
jibber da gib and sound check the alarm
 
fingers bleeding, another way to cum.
 
end of poem one, speak fast, don't forget it
ears bleached, eyes waxed and the hoax of some plenty
grin teeth, grind nails chew and then follow
pits of ancient gargoyles, let them fall in slumber
one more slumber
one more slumber
slumber once more. 
 
and drift to the backslide of a verminous calling
cry laugh joy now speak forever in hollow
quit class, speak joy and laugh in entire
for the challenges anew may outlast those 
of those
of those
 
she answers the phone with lies and corruption
and giggles and laughs when she presses the dial
in her mind she vomits but her voice rings true
playing the game, an utter, quite fool.
 
unbuckle and hurry up before the carriage leads the gathering
swing fast and duck deep, deep into cerebellum
arkhym asylum is the toe in the nail of the grass
voices withdrawn and a few seem unstaggered
and another line, for those who are draggards.

numerology

I got 13 girls

one's not enough
two's makes a couple
three takes all my money
four loves the family
five i just don't know
six has fire in her teeth
seven my lucky draw
eight in the bathroom
nine please save me
ten you're perfect in every way
11 an angel from heaven
twelve is half my day
and
thirteen
lucky thirteen
you make the pain go away

steel

Hey mister tambourine man

today is soft with writing and coffee
i haven't even finished my first cup and here we are
learning Morse code and bad Spanish
the days were good
telepathically able

i feel healthy and strong
resilient
well rested
sleeping on the floor

dedication takes practice
practice is winning
winning is wine on the patio
i'll take a scotch though

martini maybe
three olives
just how i like it

sustain and suggest
goddamn I need a girlfriend
if there are any single ladies reading
McDonalds cafe, for the win
i'm kidding
we'll go to Tim's lol

jump around
laugh about
sing alot
play in love

just sitting in my basement
drinking coffee
reading news
staring at Socrates

I have a feeling it's going to be a good day

thanksgiving

did you know caribou are the world's biggest animal?

it's a fact

and that chimpanzees are humans within?

it's a fact

the walrus goes goo goo ga joob?

it's a fact

and that lions have lots of hair?

it's a fact.

however,

after the fact
it's all bullshit
millions and millions of tons of bullshit

we know these because in school they told us this
they told us lies
because the ones who win the war are the ones who write history

we don't know the truth but we examine it
something that gives us hope
but it's just what the textbook spews
and it changes every 5 minutes
on the hour

it's sad really
cause we are forced to believe
cram it in our minds
focus in the forefront
mind boggling at the rear


just  don't give up hope
let it go
we know nothing
let's just respect that
and
thank each other

Happy turkey day

Gg

not for the weak stomach

i just shit my pants
just now
and not those shits that kind of logs in there and stenches slowly
i'm talking about a splatter shit
all over my underwear
my jockey boxers fully of shit
fuck, these cost $40
and nothing gets chocolate out

then i woke up

i bit my fingernail til it bled
then i touch said shit
and it transferred into particles
into my soul
so now i had to wash my hands
there is still shit in my pants

then i woke up

I've got a clean finger nail
bandaged
but my undies are still full of shit
it doesn't smell too bad yet
and i'm on the bus
this fucking bus is full of people
shit, this bus is going to school
they don't have toilets in the school

then i wake up

i get to school and run to the washroom
it's locked
the shit is dripping down my thigh
onto my calf and into
my ankle socks
and converse hi tops
the only shit i smell is the shit on my fingernail
but i have to keep smelling it
just to know it's actually my shit

reality

i have to give a lecture in 10 mins
i can't concentrate with all this shit in my pants
i can cancel, but i will fail the students
plus i'm not on tenure yet
so i stand up there
with spray shit leaking out my lower body
the students can't smell it
and i can't either
except when i smell my fingers

i shouldn't have eaten than sub that i found stuck in the radiator of my condo

as a writer writes pt.1

As a writer writes, I scorn my pen and inkwell. But hello, I am here with you, right now, for the next  moments of your life. I have decided to write this introduction at the end of the story rather than it's beginning. It’s not really a story, just thoughts of people and lives and danger and chipmunks and more. Can you handle it? I hope so. Please call me after you read this and tell me what you thought. I’ll set my telephone to stun or silent or super loud; depends on the time of day you call me at. I hope you like the following, wait, let me reword that, I don’t care if you like the following for you are now stuck to read it, or use it as a white wine coaster on the eve of Thanksgiving if you believe in that anyways. Tea time is anytime and as I write I am drinking Ooolong tea, 79 cents for 25 bags. I’m learning about the healing qualities of tea through experience but I am still a novice. What a beautiful day to be alive. The crisp snow on the ground. The wind blowing every which way. Smiles on the children’s faces getting on the blue bus going to class and singing lullabies and prolific chants of Zeus or Hades or Rebecca, the girl in my grade 10 history class which I had a huge crush on. She knew because her locker was beside mine and I always had something to say to her. She’s probably married by now, with 4 or 5 kids running around the house and backyard and cul de sac and starting to experience joy and emotion and their blessed Bodhisattva senses. What a word. I look in the mirror to see if I still exist, and I am there, looking back at myself, beard growing, hair messy, teeth chattering. I smell like lemongrass. I have to be in touch with my feminine side to get anywhere in this life. Je suis done with the drinking and smoking and pot and curls and coffee. I am one with my Being and I meditate when I can. Tea works though. Ooolong. I’m a long ways from home and keep travelling so I can never stop the restlessness in my legs and joints and aura and body. I read, wisdom, I have some I hope. And that’s all what we can do in this life is to hope. Where there is life, there is hope. And I fell down some stairs .  So, why judge. If it is rational and you can think it, you can definitely do it. I can type and so can you? Criticize or parade. Or love and hate, I will still type. I’ve never made creamed coconut before but my friend mentioned all I need is water and a whisker and I can create some sort of beverage I assume. But all I really like doing is looking at the package, it’s neat.  Tidy and intense. Let me describe it to you. It’s about the size of a pack of Pall Mall king size large with two coconuts, one cut in half to insist the whiteness of the flesh. A big green vegetarian check mark and a label that says one hundred percent pure. 150g. And it’s from Sri Lanka on the side imported from a tiny little city named Concord Ontario. There you go. I look at it as you read and it is definitely going to be made tonight before rest and relaxation. R and R. This is all foreshadowing if you haven’t guessed that already. I’m excited for you to read this yet I hate every word on the page. I’m just repeating myself now so please do not take me or you seriously. And we have almost hit a page, so I will let you enjoy for yourself. And if you don’t like, I’d say good day, but I am apathetic and don’t really care at this point. So… Enjoi.

vomit nose ring

baby are you reading?
my words don't make too sense
it's okay shit i drank so much
i'm puking in the toilet
if that's enough
to win your love

the vomit oozes out of my mouth
out my nose
all i can smell is chunks of vomit
i breath in and out and more vomit chunks
i create a loogie, hock it on the seat of the chair
shit, i hit someone mid-air

fuck, i know i promised to stay clean
but that was hocus pocus mcdonalds fiend
i spin around the clock
my head hurts now
can you see me now?
for what i'm worth
a loogie in the toilet
drunk like dirt

this is my cell phone to you babe
no eminem shit. i feel you near
contend, pretend, title shots now
we take two from the bar
it isn't you, you know i ain't lying
she found me in the gutter
a place when i once was discovered

don't mess with my head
just send me a text
shit, my phones not working
gimme a call ringading
i'll be a love for you
if you can help me not stray
the one time we were at the bay

you said you never leave me
then you left
my knees to the ground
praying like mos def
but it's over now
you thumbed me back
you said it was alright
everything a-okay
you got a new job now
i'm proud for you babe

but what i am you don't want
i love you too much
in the dawn when i'm still awake
to the sun shining bright
i'll be your number babe

if i have a contender's chance to be someone in love.
then i won't be a bum
was it me? was it you?
it was you and me
better pull up a seat