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dj Apr 2012
clanking clank slurp, ka-boom
the slop runs down a throat
merrily merrily terribly chilled
the gunk rolls down a throat.

the
forks spoons knives
plates salts salads
and wines
ding and echo like
soft butterfly tea parties
all gone rabid.
throughout the walls of pictures of food
and the butterfly echos echo
and dinging cups splash
and forks click and clock
(and and,..and!)

hold my breath.

clanking cubes of ice
bing against one another
Gluttonous Pig slobs them down with
a spoonful of spicy French soup
Pigman talks to Pigwoman; spittle flying out of
his piggy chops.
he stares at my forehead
they see my odd selection
she's laughing insanely at a joke
I'm holding my eyes inside my head
while

all on my plate sit the legs
of baby spiders
all on my dish are darting
sow eyeballs
pitcher plant garnish
and frozen grey custard for dessert; (echos still in the restaurant)
I gag outloud
the Fat Pigman scoffs at this
my heart pops inside its cage
and the waiter rolls his eyes at the mess.
sometimes I will zone out and start listening to all the noises during my time at eateries. it's not enjoyable. this poem is about that.
dj Apr 2012
Dad
I, I, I
I hated you.
You've been dead a decade.
Frozen & old
6 feet under? O What a joke.
You might as well had been

Killed by Me.
Because I've killed you today
Grey hair and mustache
Black Ford pick-up, rusted and intense
Late at night, late at night
Stomping in, strong hand on the flask
Stomping in like an elephant
Authority rhino
Keep my trap shut.

And hide in my room.
Where I always am
A material boy, starchild
Shrine to the Material World
It's all I've ever known.

I, I -
I have found it hard to **** you dad
Revolving my head
Moon-dad I have given you up to the stars
Holding my blade
That moon is on a leash
A centrifugal satellite; gravity ghost

I,
I must be brave for you.
Slice, 3, 2, 1.
We're free.
Re-read, re-read. Most personal poem I'll ever post. I don't know if I got it right.
dj Apr 2012
I'm 
Watching him stand over there.
He's really glaring now
At 
That mannequin.
Transfixed

Maybe...
When he turns his head
To look away
I'll rush like a ninja over there
Knock the dummy out
And substitute myself
There

If I'm good, he won't notice.
And then his gaze is mine.
a bit creepy~
dj Apr 2012
I Feel like
$100 in the pocket of a gambling loser
Drunk at a casino
9AM.

And Two Something's are playing
Tug-o-war with
my heart-strings
Nostalgic summer flings, bye bye
Goodbye young kings

I Feel like no one ever
Discovered fire in my life & it's still Dark in here
A dark, drunk destiny?
"Please not me"

$100 can go far -
But I'm anxious.
There's always that dwindling thought that
There's a diabolical grand hand
Reaching down from above in malice.
And like The Rapture, or an alien abduction,
Being taken.
I would like to note: the first two lines I found scratched into the rust of an old abandoned school bus on the outskirts of Metro Detroit (where I live). No idea who wrote it, but it left a dent in my mind. I figured, "I'll make that into a poem"
dj Apr 2012
A head
A giant boney mass
Many mouths and eyes
           thoroughly babbling,
           whatever,
           etc.
Snapping and blinking
Mouths Melded together on this ultra cranium
Yapping on and on
On and on and on
Yellowed teeth and bedazzled grills
Botnet mods and crop tools

The most dastardly of all -
An infinite production of fuzzy,
Buzzing noise blobs.
And Attempts to add me
To its mass connection-collection head
Leave me offended.

"What's on your mind?"

Go away.
You ******* freakazoid.
My affections for the grande webpage~
dj Apr 2012
Clothes, laptop
More clothes
All this stuff in my room
Because that's where I always am
CDs, magazines
Posters
Materials are like maps
Maps where you edit out a lot of junk

Always stretching
Out into the Range
Sometimes I get bad things
Things that hurt me, trick me or use me
I throw those away

I've always been a 'lost boy'
- Not my emblem
Born this way die this way
It's Romeo & Juliet my whole life
Beyonce & Jay-Z
Mom & Dad
Disappointments & Me.

I'm a hydroponic
Call me whatever you want

I had to go find a map
Because
I guess
I'll never get one.
A walk in someone elses shoes
dj Apr 2012
spent
went everywhere

Lost
afraid; I went
faster
propelled into an unknown direction
kept going
"**** look at that!"

once found satisfaction
try try try again

a mess: a blur
a loving kind of videotaped ******
a violent *** spur
no idea what I'm looking for
And until I find it
try try try again

try try try
try try try
try try try

it's over.
more of a metaphor - not to be mistaken with erotica; quite the contrary
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