I feel like john beating triple-horned demons in my head with a roofing hammer “I gotta whole lotta lumps” the constant dialogue “do this, think that, what about…” keeps both sides of my mushy brain in a maddening game of twister I can’t breath enough either or exhale just a psycho-mom
Well, ok. 1) you don't have to sell sex to be a prostitute. I think I heard the term "corporate whore," once or twice. I'm a little if'ie on morality issues. I find the killings in africa to be a far greater sin. 2)Drugs. yeah, what about it? 3)porn--what's that? 4) censorship--XXXXXXXX. 5) pre-marital sex--honestly, i inhaled, but i didn't like it.
I have been accused by myself and others of having given shady grace to church and christ but it is not that way called upon to be christ to you to me to bleed not as savior but as saved I am sore with crusty pus I am twisted malignant mutated I am the piss in the dirt diseased soiled
you call that shit you write poetry? no I call it droppings of incomplete sentences haphazardly draped in fragments and shards of fecal matter calling itself humanity it’s what I feel see smell and taste I put it out there whatever it is maybe someone else know
Bro, that ain't the half of it. Someone said my friends were twisted. It's true, even the ones that wear suits.
she called to me from the door of the duplex a sullen almost silent wailing she was old shrunken frail brittle looking covered in brown leather like skin stained to rotting onion peel the closer I got to her the stronger the stench that drifted from the door my stomach knotted
Thanks, you make me blush. lol J.
I imagine that most people reading my thoughts can find me lacking of the gentle virtues love compassion charity mercy hope and a little kindness I rant and rail at every insult a quick flip of pen and tongue cutting zorros into critically challenged mush pa
tell me about it...bad time to admit I'm in seminary?
ah fuck it I'm done being nice done listening to the growls and groans of all my twisted friends don’t tell me anymore about girls that save their periods in jars under beds I don’t wanna hear the claw marks were her fault but you strangely liked it our secret
I’m not a fan but I live across from the ball park Mondays are dollar day buck a beer hotdog pretzel there’s a beer garden off the right field rail looks down into the dugout full of future franchise players chewing giant wads of gum tobacco’s replacement<B
a sage without majik in a village of meat eaters depends on thoughts dressed in mystery tied to the beginning and some solemn great spirit to be a priest or sage hopeful shaman witch doctor or poet requires a steadfast commitment to living well while others simp
the more people read the words that dribble out of my rotting brain-pan the more ignorant I become I told you before I don’t know shit about anything it’s all a spectacle to me clowns in a circus I just wanna feel the breeze on my balls and stay out of jail I may be un-
in the high desert I rode greyhound to Victorville to feed pigs in helendale and hide on the bus a hessian named red and a girl called Janie shared the back seat red thought it polite to offer Janie as a party favor and stepped into the restroom “I’ll be a
i went to patti's to read talk to my friends and their bleeding alcoholic brains they wanted to hear me read see me pissing in the wind call it good and justify my blue hair i had a nice chair a little table some water and a freshly corked bottle of knob cr
I wonder about the suits I know nothing of their planet granite steps to capital buildings are always court or museums more the former than the latter I wonder if there’s a johnny there surrounded by colorful nuts cracked serendipity spilling life into the dullest mom
there are no original ideas nothing new under the sun only us learning it over and over and over kings are still turning into asses vassals vacillate men still kill for pussy and it’s still all about who’s dick is bigger (Russia’s supposed to be on a comeback<BR
I'm try'n boss. I'm glad you enjoyed it. J.
late watching the news Lloyd with 2 l’s hit’s the joint and asks if I’ve written any more about him “not yet, but I’m thinking.” he’s almost 60 still pimpin’ himself to a list of old women keeps him busy 5 days a week man’s gotta work four gold rings<
some people get strange when you drop faith spread out foundationally and they come running with disaster relief worried so for the children with no shoes but jesus didn’t come running he wasn’t stacking crates of discarded clothing or unloading tons
evil like sand is hard to see when scattered across the floor walking bare foot you feel the grit of it the rub that slowly polishes the metal of our good intentions till luster tarnishes and it is patina J. Masuda © 2004 </fo
they sat me in a room to torture me stripped me naked poured cold water on me set off flashing lights bombarded me with heavy metal injected me with mind altering drugs beat me bloody and called me names but I rarely wear clothes the water only cooled me
loneliness can be a comfort to the desolate it goes well like the right shoes or hat but not like your cool hat or comfortable shoes more like barnacles on the pilings of rotting old piers not good not bad just a seemingly congruous pairing dead grass dr
3:37 am Rhandi Rhodes is screaming about Bill O’Reilly she keeps me company while I listen to my bowels dare my overly inflamed asshole to try it one more time it’s amazing you really have to be careful with the veggie beef stew I use real veggie juice fresh car
I spent part of my time as a child living on base. It seemed that wives were always involved slandering someone. I can only imagine they have failed to follow the directions plainly posted on the anti-psychotic medications. In order for them to work, you have to take them every day. Possibly a reminder would help the situation, otherwise, I suggest stun guns and duct tape. Simple problems require simply solutions, what could be simpler?
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