eating cranberries from a tree and whispering secrets into the ear of a mule,
spirits guide me.


today is 2017

and I see her on the radio when the clouds darken.

inside of the catacombs sits the sword of leonidus,
still breathing.

I flick on the news and I see heads rolling on the dirt as mothers kick away dustpans full of bones.


a leader is speaking and echoes boom across the pond
and a few words are etched into a tree as dusk follows dawn.


LOL
LOL
LOL
LOL

ROFL
ROFL
ROFL


strawberry toast with jam while nailing slivers of wood into your ***** ****
makes for an interesting Saturday evening in the Hollywood hills.
a cool 78 and fat siliconed ***** with purple streaks make
me dizzy mostly

I nurse the distant
past,

as it sits upon my lap and the

eternal hemisphere echoes in my chamber.

upon the light,
it delights at the fright as i fight
with great might to stray
from the plight
of your unsightly
kite.


heaven is near.

and hell is closer.

pull the plug beneath the carpet
and sip the glass
with the eyes of fortune
cast.

at last,

your feces taste of bitter misery
and oranges

I'm such a *****

my love is just a fake

it's not even noteworthy
nothing

a fluke
a flunk

a ******* evaporating **** stain cloud

but her
eyes
haunt me.

and I hate that.

I hate that it has seeped into my soul. I was too strong for love.
too strong
for emotion.

too strong for vulnerbilty.

but she wants
to flaunt herself naked to the world. and flaunt her love interest, and flaunt how great
her life is
all the while she cries
when I call her out.

I love when they cry.


I love when you ******* cry, knowing that you've been wronged.

you've FUCKIGN WRONGED ME

I loved you, I don't even believe in it;
it's an illusion, a chemical imbalance,
but you've affected me,

you've made me believe.

how dare you.

I don't want to reach the sky,
I want to feel you,

I want to touch your neck,
and wipe your tears,

you wear the rock in the withered
dune,
you were the floating

island,

I am the abyss. the dead, the searing, the withered, the hopeless, the blackened.
I loved you.

I loved you Amy.

I was made whole, I felt human, you wante the admiration, but the
dirt is only so deep.
Im just grateful,
that I have air.


I have great skies, and the blue air,

nothing to hold me back, but the sea. god may not be real, but the universe smiles nonetheless.

I've been hurt,
so many times that it doesn't;t matter. maybe there's truth to the silence, and the gray graves.

you were
a part of me,
and the part of me now blooms. I love you,
love to be told by no one.

dead, dead, dead, dead ,dead ,dead ,dead

eye less,
just like heaven , my hippie love, my uncertain love, my old love, my love too good for the '*****', my love which sleeps in sand, my love now buried,
I promise to be myself.

I will be myself, and so much more. love love love love love, so much more,

the end is just a comma,

, ,
,
,
,  
* Amy


Amy

It's interesting writing poetry  in  a content and non-neurotic state.
I just feel so good,

and maybe it's not profound,  nor even reads as poetry,

But I just had to document this moment


so I remember that things sometimes do

get better.

i peel off a piece of paper that's stuck to the padding and which is green and lightly
folded at the end
and has scribbles from a child that happened to draw
a *******

and a ''I LOVE BURT'' heartagram.

and a chipmunk sneezes, but the libraian keeps typing on her phone,

and the guy in the corner with black strands of hair which peek out like a sad
mouse scratches his chin

and the follicles litter the desk.

underneath the floorboards
lurks the janitor who keeps his surveillance on 24/7 -
especially in the boysroom and does
seedy things
but he's been there 26 years and isn't really questioned.

and in the gymnasiam
a pizza party fundraiser with the amputees from hungaria dance and laugh and sip wine and ****** eachother's belly buttons.

one lady says
''yeah''
and another says

''yes''

and edward
says

''yes'' too

and the cars come by and pick them up for their dinner later on--
with the mashed potatoes and stuff and corn.

i kept going 12 years

and only ever cried twice.

a wetwilly is an adolescent's way of telling you they hate the sun

and that god
will strike you down when you disgrace your mother in the alley as the abortion is performed
on a gurgling fetus that looks remarkably like your dead soul in

an afternoon afterglow

standing over a bridge


as the change
plops into the water

and the hobo

makes his wish.


the little girl

is chatting

whilst her icecream
drips to the cement.


seagulls

squeel
for crumbs
that the beach people leave behind.


hamburger
aroma
spills into the vicinity.

blue skies
are magnified

by cloud mirrors.


a forearm is tensed

and a grip squeezed

and everything
is put into is proper
place

,

and everyone
smiles heartily

and everyone takes
in 3 breaths


while
death
sighs

and goes for a quick swim
--

bitten on  a finger in a crisp in a jar in the hallway down Africa sewage

indian toilet with cactus

gypsy nale in the ice cream

with cherry dumplings

god's your man

man I stay above it - above it like vasectomy

crawling
down the ditch    nose bleed headace  hairy skull
witch blood
babe

gothy gothy

you only did it
cause' your dad has money    

FAKE

Swiftly and unapologetically,
my favorite God wrote poetry for the fabled liturgical society
If I heap trash on the pile maybe I can be surmised for my genius as well

Blue is red and red is yellow

Tonight the stakes shall impale the treasonous
Interlopers

Let none see our folly; the earth is due for its poisoning

& I took a **** on a baby
Yesterday while
the windows were not open

I like poetry,

but it just feels too comfortable here for the world
having me packed in a room

just typing crap.


just an animal in a cage banging its head on a wall
as a means to make vibration,

music.


I don't want to be 'music' to anyone's ears,

I want to be the knife to the neck

4:53


walking down the *****, and my stomach is growling.


''WHO HERE IS A HOMOSAPIEN?"

one of the random street people yells out.

no one confirms it

and the clouds vanish.


skateboards flip on the ramp and a few girls talk to themselves as they pound on a keypad---
some guy in ASIA wants to see nudes-
they send them.


out the back a canary sings to vultures and is then promptly eaten.

I go starving.

I go running.

running go, jam
to jukebox with juice on the side.


girl points laughs
''CREEP''

I swear to god, happened 3 days ago, but she was young and I was working and wearing all black and covered in meat blood.

I go home and sit in silence,

and pick at my nails and bite them down to skin.


god gave me a brain,
but what was the point really?

bing bing  bing bimmy

blimph
   foo  
ku-   tooo--ooo --booo -


tteee   teeeee
   teee              teeeee           n
cone-shape  blac  
dual
cab

              smack  -head
pinched ­ in  fun- tal
ban   backed pack
  breed
            big   fo   kid ****

hap
  in hull
  
3 skims
socky    low - loo


pump

He looked at a rothko and said "any child could do that"

"So?"

"It's crap, it's not art"

"Yeah it is. It's obviously an expression by the artist and is therefore art"

"Well it's just junk. I hate it. Art used to have skill"

"Well you seem really upset by it so I think it did its job. Rothko would be proud"

"IT'S NOT ART!"

Davinci wishes people cared this much

When you've finally acquired everything you wanted
and still feel a bottomless
chasm within your very soul and psyche,
it saps any motivation to want to 'better yourself'.

I could have my dream living in a mansion with a new escort every night and the best *******
and it would inevitably get old.

  The only way to achieve happiness is to give it all up.
Detach from the material world; immerse yourself in your  necessary domestic duties
and pet a cat, or any animal actually.
They have no fear of death
so consult
them

you died 50 years ago,
you sing a perfect day.

you drink san-gray in the park,
such fun.

I pray to a green sun,   in a grass, with a woman who wants a spirit that is broken but
still fights on.

I DON'T
  WANT TO SEE YOU GET

HURT.


pines, burnt

and 1000000000 now crying out.

there's a lung In a bedroom
''speak to me''
''speak to me,

I don't want to die,

I don't want to die,

please
comfort me,


comfort me''.


I close your eyes,  and kiss your head. I say a prayer,
  I don't believe,

but you are
a grey tongue.   no need to say love.


love is here,
love is in 3000 districts.

I tear a line in the sand,
your children don't know,   'cause they've taken  their lunch.  

Don't be so



silly,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,, :]

Confidence is key.
Overriding human instinct and behavior. I am mere muscle tissue, fat, bone, hair and water.  I am material. Carbon. As common as sand.
I will be confident.
I will say what I want.
I will do as I please. I will look at the mirror and be indifferent in my response, as though looking at pebbles on a beach.  There.  Mineral composite.
My name is Jonas,  I am Earnest,  I have no fears but dying not having lived my truth.  I am here and was and will be.

sentimental.


an absolute mess.



who am I?

who am I?

who am I?



sitting in some room,

bleeding black dust.


my tongue is full of LSD,

bad trips,

but nothing takes me out of this place.


I'm always stuck.

always stuck.



always on the short bus,

always behind,

always 2nd in line,

always 3rd to the date,

always the 4th leg in a table.


when will I get what I deserve?


when will I get some lee-way in my diarrhea-existence.


GOD

I'M TALKING TO YOU!!!

******* ANSWER.





crying in a gown in a broken cubboard.

crippled boy.

crippled smile.

crippled soul.



crippled spirit---


how dare you
have hope

People hate nature because they see the chaos inherent
in its form,
This reminds then of the unknown and
ultimately death
They aren't in control

birth


pulled out of the dark hole

and am now in another dark hole, but
much less comfortable

Why am in a flesh cage with an ego-maniac brain?
Why haven't my wisdom teeth come in yet at 24
Why is the boot over my head?
Who will have to die slowly and painfully
?
Why does the lady next to me own 10 cats that follow in perfect formation behind her as she tosses bird seed and yells in spanish?
What is the capital of Bangladesh?
Do women really love or are they just oppurtunistic resource hoarders and compulsory validation seekers?
Is it true gravity can be circumvented with faith?
Step off the ledge and have faith.
Faith is what will keep you safe.
My heart
*******
hurts

these 2 days feel like a month
and I'm just staring at a wall addorned with pictures of a frog that someone
felt tasteful to put up here.

some incense going-

the guy with the one eye,
out of a
colander
and glass vase.


styrofoam cups with seed.


beating heart bored of the routine

Pennies hang in the balance
lions roar in a cathedral of liars
the smoke bellows out the infant's crested lung
THE permeable saints make way for the dung serpents
Another man died tonight
and I couldn't care less
just do it next time, and with conviction

Friday I'm in love,

Tuesday

im in dread,

wednsay
dont even say,

thursay

is another day,

Saturday
why,

sunday,

go away.

today is just a cloud, a smoggy
OC
blue bird in the dust.

I touch the shoulder,

so many dead people that I could cry. another neck to weep on, another back to caress, another
cheek to kiss,
another hand to hold---
we walk back to the hill.

dawn in the early hours.

   my  first kiss,  your big green eyes, in the stars,  I hold you tight and the sun smiles.

I walk back so happy,
and the car coughs, and the house just laughs. I want to be somewhere else.      I want to be
where the leaves don't turn brown,
in the ashen fall.


behind the gray fog, where love isn't just a meme, where love isn't just a word,

a word for shmucks. I want to feel again. feel your heartbeat;

but for now I count to ten and there's no-one to blame.

back to the street clogged adolescent suburbia. buy what you can, fill what can't be filled,
you are
still here


here


here beyond words in the   lonely wood

The nightmare
The simulation
The infection
The asphyxiation
The infibulation
The inebriation
The tyrannical grip
The hammer on your ******
The needle in your eyeball
The wrench up your prostate
The boot up your face
The finger in your mouth
The bomb in your place of comfort, after a long day doing nothing at all, just being.
The shoelace untied.
The brain with too much **** folded in your heart with no escape.
You want to ******* EXPLODE
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
BOOM
bang
Sprawled out like bugs.
You wanted sone simple understanding, you wanted a biscuit with tea and maybe a back massage, but it's all too late.
Too late for the dreamer, and the 'talky' kid
Soon enough it will be over. I dont want to be anything or anyone.
I want quiet,
No words, no words no more words. No words and no resolve because there never is

I sleep naked in my covers
With my window wide open
And the fan blasting with
The stink of September
& It's minstrel children parading through the lounge garden

When I'm still awake
I make a biscuit with Jam
And drink unfiltered coffee grounds
To cool off my sores
& Rinse my eyes

These puddles are now & the women have never been more ugly.
We're all
suffering

it's only been hours
and she's posting her new love,

she's posting pictures of her 'boo',
what the ****
is Wrong with her?

I sit in the dark
and smoke cigarettes and drink and pop xannies after months of sobriety,

I bleed in the dark,
I listen to sad music.
I try to ignore it,   but I'm too weak for it. 1000 years ago she would have been DEAD,

but today you tolerate it,

I don't want happiness for her, if it's only to spite me.

I drive around,
and walk around shirtless,   and size up every stranger. I'm broken a cliche,
a cliche of the tough guy man, but I write poetry and write music like a ******.

my life is ****,
and there will be other girls, but I'm hurt so I express it. you really ******* hurt me and I can't keep fighting this.

I haven't cried so much in my life, why do you do this.


I plant
a strawberry in the yard,
I buy a coke and make some rice. I don't care about myself,
I just float on like everyone else.

nothing makes sense.  she's happy and getting ****** by someone else, I sit here cold;
it doesn't make sense.

I will not be a goof.

I walk on,
walk the hill. I pet my dog,   I plant a new rose.  I count the stars,

I walk on.

walk on, walk on, walk on, walk on,  you will  get something better if you
dont try

I was nearly ***** close to 10 times
when I was younger than 13.

I should have let them, as they all slipped into my bed and started fondling me,

but my devout christianity pulled me away.


now I'm even more stunted than I would have been had I just let them ****
my smooth 12 year old skin.

all women are predators in that regard--

but I see it now as preparation

It's 5:32 and I'm awake
as I hear my neighbor stepping into his truck to go lay gravel

I've been touching myself and reminiscing
I've been hungry for 2 hours but my brother is sleeping on the couch and I don't wanna disturb him making a tuna melt

My situationship
Is nearing its end.  She's not in the mood anymore, so they say; 'not feeling well'
Perfectly ambiguous
I'm not feeling well yet I still comfort you when you threaten suicide on a near weekly basis

I'm looking out the window now and I see trees
I see nowhereland and faint murmuring, the screams of my future vessel
Saying get out

I must get out
and find a new way
Somewhere towards life

A simple twist of fate_. Soles in a tree hue.
Blind noun had to speak about your flicker.
Forward to today
And I told you how you hurt me
And how you're too old for attention

I'm young I don't try
I begin with an angry lunge.

Twirling your hair in the rain and wrinkled brow being swept
I hear a collision.

Notes to you
Notes to you
The grass still grows and is indeed green

You didn't die today there was a rose on your hand

A rose that didnt wither. You existed in me for a solid year I packed my bag in my empty house with the door ajar.

I floated forward
Forward to a sand that blinks

Forward
To keep moving I don't wanna stsy
hear

Forward even if it hurts forward even if it's nowhere

blue moon scud missile detonating in LA.
MILLIONS perish and millions are displaced.
The queer bar is turned into a microwaved dirt mound and city hall is a black lung. Gavin newsome is a glowing red **** and the **** doesnt exstinquish his radiated carcass.

I fly by at night and talk to Toquito and the 2 bums.
"Yuhh?"
"Yuh"
I drive away kicking dust. The hills shake as volcanic lava spews forth and acid rain pummels the street. I have a taco from Toquito and lm racibg by at 120. I dodge the rain and a big steaming boulder rolls past. It crushes a bystander. A pit forms in the street and swallows the nearby buildings. I skate by the cracking pavement and my car nearly slips in the pit. As i speed past the street crumbles entirely and all that remains is a hellish inferno. I continue on for about an hour and the hellish vision subsides. I park my car and fall asleep and in the next morning drive to china. I have panda express and write of my harrowing journey on my 17 follower blog

I never knew how to swim. I picked up the phone and went to the beach.
There was a jellyfish splattered on the tarred sand; it stung my toes.
I went in the blue, and the waves crashed over my back.
The white sparkled around me.
There was a sun, and there was a towel and castles in the distance.
I motioned for some mustard, for the hotdog of course.
Someone played guitar, and we all posed for a picture, and I said goodbye to the seagul.
I washed the sand from my pants and played Gameboy in the car.
A short drive home, yet I still fell sound asleep

It always annoys when  you awake  in a sleep -apnea induced panic
gasping for air  and pacing around the room  as though you have a second to live
and thus must make amends with the universe.

I hate that  initial fear .   it's as though i'm capitulating to the entity that has wronged me.

I want to stare at death with smile--  not be  afraid.


Stand up to the bully.

I sit in a can .    I listen to a Dylan.    I preach to  a paper bag.  I reach out to an anchor and squeeze out 13  nickels.  I pray to a half-baked nun that rides upon a lawn mower.  I  **** a ***** on a grass knoll and she squeals like a god. I  affix a bill upon the altar. I snap a band on the seal. I don't try to cry. I cry in a dead -air.

4
-5 -5-5 -5 -5 -5 -5

LISTEN UP

LISTEN UP.

  Someone had a chance when there was nothing made.
now I squelch it.

Dirt upon dirt upon dirt,

a rusty spoon, arm abscessed with ******, blacked out
with the soot
of a 1000 clouds.

I cry
,

I speak to my dead cousin,
my dead friend, sitting there all alone.   painted white, white in a grave, white without a friend, without a mother,
like a ladder to the night.


   faces upon a change-  saw,

  half- in a jar,
you could be the last,

there is no more sighing.  Dylan is dead.  I saw the last,  **** "U",

I am still here.  

I still can type the letter 6

I don't know if it's laziness or lack of ambition,   but all my art is for free  now.

There is no value in it.  There's value in a toilet-scrubber   and  shoe-maker.

There's no value in these words---      it's valuable to me,


but when i put in all the effort to publish my ****, and compile it,  and promote it etc, and only get a sympathy $1
it feels like an insult.

If it matters   then they'll have to come to  me;

i'm not a merchant

I have nothing to sell.

I don't care .      my dog is an
artist

Sick of everything
Sick of the world and people and her and myself and my cat and my musical mediocrity
Sick of living

Sick of the torturous routine
Sick of not getting better

What is 'better'?

Wanna sleep for eternity but instead I write at 4 am
Too many tears have been spilled on this
Too many dreams manifest into nightmares
My escape is a quick pull
& my love will be permanent

Don't forget to forget me.
I know you will

he was sitting there for a few minutes and watched the flies buzzing around the rotten bananas
and oranges that sat there on the counter for the last 6 weeks.

maggots were pulsing out of the sink
and worms were coming out of the carpet.

the windows were boarded shut form the constant burglaries,

and all the valuables were packed into a brown sock that he hid in a purple vase.

no one ever came over-
and his only friend Greg hated him because he stuttered and licked his lips a lot--

so Greg would sometimes leave his feces on the steps and he'd walk on them sometimes in the morning and it was a sad
sight indeed.

anyway,
he hung himself that night and there

was faint karaoke playing at the next bar whilst the bartender got head from some 16 year old.

and the flies consumed everything,

and the fire scorched all innocent beings.

none were spared, except for the worms in the carpet

Cough drops
fried food
Chairs and
Dogs
Skittering
Humans in motion
Emotional prying
Faith in midair
Jumping towards sun

Ha ha ha
you're a believer
Take your sketch to iguana

Now I see it's too long
What more can not be done

CALL

EVERYOEEE YOU  KNOW

AND SAY YOU LOVE THM
.

HERE MY NeW song!



UH
UH

GUNNA      buy a     cattle ****

and shock yo baby


shock yo baby

shock  


OUT NOV 8.


TRUMP     IS  cool

god is up there somewhere
The crackers below the sheets
The hard nail embedded
Dying every second
Every 2 seconds leaking into a puddle

I can only stand so much
I can only be whipped with so many ropes,
Tethered in my frame, immersed in cope

I only know what I don't know
I only feel what I feel. And it feels like hurt,
And burning, and agony, and despair and
understanding

Of all time  in history I could have been born,

I'm here on  a computer talking to imaginary people
in   a box
with  wood-grain carpet

and a tv with a   nondescript latino face.


What does it even mean to be a human?

What is pain?

What is genius  when it all takes     is a **** salute,

or saying the obvious?   Or just loving one another?


Why does hate always get a bad rap?


Where  is  the exit?

where is   the promise,

   where is      the sensitive eyes        in     the    deadair room

with 3 chairs


where is my   participation trophy?


where is my  diving board,
my knitted sweater,
  cellular phone, comatose giraffe?


who's back do i scratch?
who's bed do i make?

where are you parents?

where is  

the end

Bukowski was the best poet of all time,

my opinion--

pretty much ***** the art form,
and took out all the rhyming because songs already do that.


most are imitators--

I Respect him,
and see a little of him in my work,
mainly the fact that it's just a mockery and I don't even know if it's
worth

the time typing it.

but I really like his stuff on death, on his last years---

and
now the microwave is slamming,

and now
there's a fan blowing,

and now there's
a mosquito
******* my blood--

and now
I'm just making stuff up,

and now
I'm thinking of nothing,


and now I'm wasting your time--


and time is an illusion

if you really want to **** with people and make a bold
artistic statement

be an artist that  doesn't take ****.  

i went thru the limp-wristed flowery hipster phase  -- with  yellow button ups from goodwill
and  green shoes.

I was prey


now  I say prayers

back and forth
back and forth            back and forth   back and forth  back and forth
back and forth
back and forth        back and forth   back and forth
back and forth  


                     pinch  your ear  
  and  pause   in a sun-hat                  corners


like a  sponge

this site is too limiting

but the only place where you assume there's an audience
even though  it's someone
clicking and then promptly leaving .


I had   a   3 way

          with a         lantern           at the bagel shop  but still  forgot to tell you about the   overdue movie.


a reference to videostores
which are now extinct;   blades of grass,

chopped up by the pound.


I   cried
3 times.            

I wrote the same **** 100 times.


I keep writing the same ****.


i'm bored.       ****. a bad word.  a racial slur(the worst one)


a crisp and  a dead  giraffe
painted with stripes   and still walking home .


I pull the covers to sleep-   and it is profound

I just know I'll end up alone in an apartment with **** memorabilia relics and statues of Egyptian artifacts like Lemmy in a condemned apartment in the outskirts of LA with my hairless cat watching old VHS tapes and drinking decaf coffee with my slippers on;
   mainly when I'm not touring.
  I want the rock'n'roll life, and it's mainly lonely. life of the cowboy. Some illegitimate children, and then it's me all alone again--  like always , like how it's supposed to be,
because you all drain me

I really love when it rhymed. Now check out my link.
"YoungPARROT95$"
help a ***** out blood, smash that like, smash that subscribr.. lemme **** that weimer. Please like me.
Please like my stuff. My self worth is derived from other people liking my material
Does art exist if there are no spectators

Gliding past me and tapping and tapping and tapping, who said there's
Only one excuse ?

I break the bone for the marrow, so sad
So depressed I can't cry.

The cold talks to the trees and I hear the siren of a work truck. Downed power for the last 6 hours.  

I often speak of suicide, I won't.

I just lay down , and go to work, and workout, and eat and drink, and dream of nothing.
I dream of nothing.  I dream   of









.

blood stained and cold, your hand was laid out grasping at imaginary roses.
the room was wet, and there was chilly air, and the footprints were plain as day.
tv blared in the other room, a man talking over a studio audience.
it was a very ordinary day
,
clouds and a shrubs in the back, with a barking dog and chimney smoke, and a laughing neighbor and a kid with a backpack. A red car a white door, and muddy sneakers. too ordinary for something like this. Why is it always so ordinary. why is it like a dream

If I knew anything I would have just kept quiet.
If I knew anything I surely would have never met you. I get in these lapses, I forget about the soft landing and the harsh freezes.
I wish I knew my self more. For what reason do I look out this window, with black lungs which spell my fortune.
I don't need to know.  I wander along to my  big red bed.
   So many roses .  It's the same

Feeling the steel on my temple and the trigger locked around my finger
There's no relief
I've already been dead for years
This feels redundant
and with none of the fan fare I was hoping
Now I smile

Blossomed trees gently swaying
Rivers slowly dancing
Footprints slowly drying in the winter gloom
Centipedes curling with the heat
Hearts beating with the shadowed leaves
Eyes closing with omnipotent death
Your hands clasped in your lap
The last thing you wrote was
"anew"
The last breath you drew was today