It was around four in the morning
Death tapped at the window,
"What do you want!?" "It's well past three you already know this."
there was no reply which there is never a reply
from Death.
I grabbed a cigarette from my bag
a beer from the fridge
and all the thoughts from my head,
I headed to the backyard
turned the porch light on
and there sat Death
I took a seat across from her
face pitch black.
"What do you want moron?" "You got nothing better to do but to wake my *** up?!" "Dip **** I could still be having some pretty good wet dreams if it wasn't for your dumb ***
I lit my cigarette and opened my beer, Death stared and I stared right back.
"You have this confidence about you, only if you had a voice your character would have so much more personality."
Death stared
as I blew cigarette smoke into
her empty black face,
Cali came and sat beside me
I took a big swill of my beer
"So Death are we ever going to have a meaningful visit or do you really just have nothing better to do because you are getting boring baby."
at that very instant Death rose and her ***** wings ripped from behind her
piercing through her black robe
and with a beautiful jump she flew away like a swan.
"I'll see you later, baby."
as I finished my cigarette I couldn't help but wonder about next time.
"Shane, who are you talking to?"
and just like Death
there was no reply. -Shane Book
Jun 11, 2016
Jun 11, 2016 at 2:40 PM UTC
in the waiting room I sit
across the way two older Oriental women stare,
walkers beside them
firm,
to their left sits a man of many years,
hairs white and gray
old,
he sits patiently with his eyes closed
peacefully
harmonious,
to my right sits a man with one leg reading the news paper
glasses magnify his eyes
farsightedness,
family's, kids coming in and out.
I sit there in agony like the last beer in a box,
"ARGH!"
I feel a great void in this provocative and exasperating freak show, buffoons all around me.
my experiences in Doctors offices and Hospitals have always been dim and unpleasant after seeing what my Grandmother went through, a light at the end of the tunnel. I feel like one day I might come into this hell hole and never walk out. I fear a Hospital room more then many things, unpredictable. I live my life on my own terms and I will die on my own terms. To die in a hospital bed, that's misery.
I then snap out of this brooded thought,
"For Shane."
sigh, then I walk through the door.
charientism. -Shane Book
Jun 9, 2016
Jun 9, 2016 at 6:40 AM UTC
When I fell from earth I wasn't quite sure where I landed other than hell. -Shane Book
Jun 7, 2016
Jun 7, 2016 at 6:09 AM UTC
the baby shower was tomorrow
the beers were packed,
I was off to LA and the contingency was dancing with some kind of ecstatic zoetic
energy,
In an hour time I will be at UCLA
Bruin territory
possibly drunk
possibly stumbling
picking up a friend,
cheers,
to be in Los Angeles again
the timing was
rite,
the reunion was perfect. -Shane Book
Jun 1, 2016
Jun 1, 2016 at 9:25 PM UTC
The storm grew furious and Valenteen found himself trapped in the eye of the storm, struggling with the wheel cigar clinched in teeth. He was ready to meet his maker with his dog bandit by his side. His boat (A Little Nauti) tossed and turned while waves crashed repeatedly and bombarded the deck. Valenteen took his hands off the wheel and removed his life jacket to strap to bandit "I don't need this ******* thing where I'm going." As he took his pint of bourbon out from his back pocket he spit his cigar out to the pits of the sea. Valenteen took his last stand and looked up at that fifty foot wall of high water. He took a guzzle from his pint and then with a roar **** you Lord!" as the wall finally broke and crashed. That was the last of Valnteen Vincent, Bandit survived and was picked up from a crew on a cargo ship (El Faro) just off the coast of the Bermuda. Bandit now travels with them. -Shane Book
May 28, 2016
May 28, 2016 at 7:21 PM UTC
If it be my dying day
let it be the pen
not the sword
that cuts through my heart
tears through my soul
and closes every door of pain
that I have left open,
If it be the bullet that enters my brain
let it exterminate every bit of sorrow I've dragged around in existence
and turn it to dust,
if it be Zeus's sick sense of humor to spite me with a lightning bolt
the ******* better do it with pleasure,
if it be a train that falls from the sky
and smashes me to pieces
It better smash everything but my wallet.
It'd be hard to ID me. -Shane Book
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 11:52 AM UTC
If I die today or pass away tomorrow
forever my heart remains hollow
will God forgive me even though I didn't follow
release me from this game
release me from my sorrows. -Shane Book
May 27, 2016
May 27, 2016 at 5:10 AM UTC
twenty five,
twenty five years
It took me to truly see
this world for what it is,
I do not like it
It's greedy
crazy
quite a dim gutter,
the only joy this world
has brought me
is my daughter soon on the way,
get here already baby
daddy loves you
twenty five,
mirrors reflect an image
of a person I hardly recognize
a person I do not know
a person I do not like
a person I do not care for
tattoos I wish I could erase
that only brings memories
of a place I hate all to well
to life
twenty five,
you still got it champ
don't get greedy
snap out of it
drink
It's only a dream,
twenty five,
go back to sleep. -Shane Book
May 26, 2016
May 26, 2016 at 12:56 AM UTC
In my dream I usually
make it to the bar,
it's a particular bar
an odd bar
It's at the end of the shopping mall
In my dream
just past the book store,
the bar front looks like some
kind of Irish pub
no sign
no windows
oak doors
rock walls
fine finish,
you walk in
your shoes so perfect
with it's fine carpet
of red silk,
to the left of the bar
sit the politicians
the lawyers
the bureaucrats,
they all laugh and spill their drinks
sloppy in corruption
smirks and disgust
powdered ******* noses
glass eyes,
to the right of the bar
is where I sit
and also
sits the average freaks
the 9 to 5's
the norms
the ones that still hold on to a dream
but work to survive,
a dream
for a dream is the only
hope left worth holding onto,
I drink and laugh
at the ******
staring next to me,
I blow cigarette smoke
In their face
"what the **** are you looking at, aha?!"
******* ******
they stare at me with their
blank dead eyes
and
their ******* sag
ripping out of their
musky ripped blouse
almost knocking over their drinks
in sorrow
and their *****
their ***** hang
over the bar stool
coming down like a quake
an avalanche,
the China man to
blows smoke in their face
and we both laugh
in cheers
and on any given Sunday
at any given moment
the little blue man escapes from
my heart,
the little blue man then guzzles
down what's left of my drink
and the China mans drink
then leaps across the bar,
the little blue man glides across
the silk red carpet
like some kind super human mutant freak,
the little blue man jumps and slaps the politicians
slaps the lawyers
and gnaws on the skulls of the bureaucrats
like the cannibal they had made him,
eating the flesh
as if it were his first taste of meat,
the hunger of a man trapped on an island for twenty five years,
a conscience that has been trapped in a soul for twenty five more,
in my dream I usually make
It to the bar,
It's a particular bar
an odd bar
and tonight I didn't,
maybe they were closed
maybe they weren't,
"tell me something little blue man,
is there a heaven in hell?"
"only for the saints." -Shane Book
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 11:21 PM UTC
on my way home from work I see him.
he stands on the sidewalk on Magnolia just passing Chapman,
he waves at passing cars driving by.
I wave back
he smiles
crazy
lonely
old
sad
I see a man that is lost
I see a man that is broken
I see a man that tired
I see a man that is done
he has the face of a ghost like he is already dead,
his shopping cart stands next to him as if it was his only companion,
his only friend.
a whole life in one cart,
a whole life in one misery.
I drove by today on my way home,
he was gone
no man
no misery,
Just the loneliest shopping cart I have ever seen. -Shane Book
May 24, 2016
May 24, 2016 at 11:42 AM UTC