$1.19 bottle of fortified wine pack of squares would carry ol’ moses jones all day sitting in the shade of the burned out willow he’d say “gimme sum coochie, b-a-b-y.” when the teenies in lycra short-shorts wiggled their way to and from the bricks “gonna tell mama, you
we were sitting on the floor fake Persian rugs with cat hair candles burning eating morocco at ali jaherrea smoking pot drinking whisky the blood poet laughed crawled up the wall like spiderman and began spouting verse hopping about to the rhythm of his words tom tom the d
smokes rises from ruby red lipstick covered cigarettes swirling in the summer breeze dancing the blues putting form to billie holiday as she sings the night and conjures the pain that punishes so good oh, cordellia my sweet chocolate mamma old swollen from the broken
there it was right in front of me the free paper and the classifieds SWF recently divorced and looking the ad said open to new experiences and a taste for something other than vanilla a little self-deprecating it said not much to look at but willing to try anything once write me LAWOMAN<B
shit I forgot my oxy-contins she said slipping into the elevator crime victim junkie sadness I followed her “strung out” I asked she said yeah without giving a shit who she was talking too she didn’t care when we hit the 3rd floor heading out lifting my sunglasses I s
Thank you. I don't really know anything about publishing. j.
that Saturday morning wasn’t anything special no portents in the sky no shaman prophesying or cock to crow the children ran to and from their imaginary world in the playground across the street Charlie wolfe was coughing loud spewing curses to everyone with a caustic charm
he watched his mother stagger outside fall to the asphalt and die she wiggled shook screamed grabbed her chest he stared at her body and put the torch to the glass pipe watching from the window he didn’t feel anything she looked old but no different than a m
thanks. tell others if you like. j.
We don't kill innocent people--are Iraqi's people?
I’ve decided to get involved no shit I mean it I’m getting organized and motivated to do something I tend to be extreme so something that fits my personal pathology I sleep late sometimes till sunset I’m a night walker so definitely dark clandestine how abo
thanks. glad you liked it. j.
thanks. j.
perry ferrell sings addiction jane says sara with boobs hits a nod and two more cotton fevered mystics with spoons and store bought water roll their up sleeves thumping veins to life hating crying sins of the father cover us warm melting warm like sleepy
i would go there to drink coffee see friends and complain about my hemorrhoids most of the time I sat with an insane drunken poet that wrote in blood from his own wrist goth girls would drop their panties on the table and continue on after he read in the coffee shops and b
last week gathering dust at a local pit my friend the crazy poet that paints in blood and sleeps 20 hours before the next nap drinking coffee he says to me seriously you’re crazy a nut case certifiable in the booth across from us one eyed joe the old black man mo and
pulling her panties up then flushing the toilet she said “can’t you ever write anything pretty …romantic like” I had to think for a moment weigh the options look for an escape route out of beer out of weed shit, out of everything I had to get out I could smell the roses alr
when I write sometimes it just pours out of my fingers and wit and sarcasm with a touch of this or that mostly sex i want to do things to you with my words slice you here a little cut there maybe a sour stomach when you catch yourself knowing it’s you i’m talking to<
she sat across from me in her office sunlight and pastel strawberry red hair irish green eyes she had her legs folded up under her ass and during our sessions of psycho-babel she would squirm rock and turn on her heal her scent a whisper of rape me vanilla would beat me
she came across the room towering like some teenage gothic cathedral sex in leather at 16 she said read me a poem old man sure I said i started reading the one about my friend and his blood she straddled the arm of the chair across from me and started rockin
As reports continue to come out, we find that these pictures were taken a year ago. The investigation has been going on and will continue to go on and more ugly atrocities will be revealed. Such crimes are the products of war and occupation. And unfortunately, few people seem to make a difference when it comes to hate and bigotry. What is to be gained from this war? I say let's turn the volume off and watch the money trail. Where's it coming fro
Johnny did you know when you went into your dirty little room when you lit that cigarette it would be your last did you know that the years of agent-orange cancer wasting were finally over no more flashbacks to that war the medals couldn’t heal no more crying over<B
I'm glad you enjoyed it. j.
You've drinking, right?
we can find each other us junkies we travel dark roads and strange nights pick up different scents we smell different cops can smell us they know they know we get sick and they know how to fuck us anytime they want people in the world they sense us maybe not smell us like we can the
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