It's another slew of ****** poetry
so publish this junk
so I can sell my work to people who can't read
let me tell you about David
he is a *****
not a literal ******,
that'd be ridiculous,
what I mean is -
he admits to having emotions
what a *** right?
but his emotions come on too strong
cologne on some ***** in a bar
and he doesn't know what to do with them
so he empties out every bottle
and fills them with his tears
then he thinks he might see something amid the pain
something to throw together
so he stacks the bottles in a jaunty pyramid
and calls it art
how ******* deep of him
he loves girls
fears rejections
so his trash cans are filled with old cummy wads of tissue paper
and wakes up hung over and nervous about everything
I hate him almost as much as I love him

Then there's Jake -
a grade A ****
no really, he is
Violent
angry for no reason other than it makes him feel good
he views women as three holes to put on his trophy case
he puts cigarettes out on his arm
and throws every thing anybody he ever loved ever gave him
back in their face
with a hefty helping of satirical, cynical, sarcasm
but say what you want about Jake
He get's **** done
and the **** he does only helps him out
Jake and David
they are best ******* buds
and God knows why
because most of the time
you can walk in on them
choking each other to death in the night
only to hug it out the next morning
Jake and David
star crossed lovers
holding desperately onto each other
as they make their way down the dark, frothing river of life

Walking down the street I pass
a girl walking in her bundle of flannel and warmth
strut strut strut
I blow smoke from the corner of my mouth
to spare her the danger
of my second hand smoke

Lying in my plastic bed
Thinking how things weren't so cool to me
My baby likes to shoot pool
I like lying naked in my bedroom
Tying on that dinosaur tonight
It used to be so cool
But now I've got that need(le)
That I can't shake
And I can't breathe
They take it away
But I want more and more
One day I'm gunna lose the war

You can tell people
Everything that is right
And still they look to you
Blank bovine stares.
I'm at a crossroad
A true love affair with humanity
A violent, dangerous hatred of human beings
We live in a country
Where the people who say the wrong things
Are either dead or silenced
Gone are the days of freedom of speech
Gone are the days of personality
Privacy stripped away
Every person clad with phones
A reason not to act

**** **** ***** ****** ****
These words weigh heavy
Regardless of context
Gone are the days of progression.
This is not a poem
This is a rant.
If you don't like these words
Then go **** yourself
You can choose what you read
People too concerned with people
While out government does it's best to eradicate
The brown skinned low lives of Gomorrah
As if we have any ******* right
To dictate the movements of humans,

Say no to orders,
You are not the car being driven
You are the driver
This poemish thing
Has gotten out of hand
Just don't let the worthless mother *******
Tell you you're wrong
Wrong doesn't exist
Speak freely
The rest is just noise

I'm not Shakespeare, not some romantic poet clad in flowers and doves
I'm no Fitzgerald, a dapper socialite at home with the intellectuals and aristocrats
I'd like to be Hemingway, a man in all senses of the word, guided by a certain wit and drive
Hell, I'd even take Bukowski, or Kerouac, drug addled and safe in the strength of my arrogance
I'm not your favorite department store
no recognizable brand
no jewelry
My love is not measured in the moments quenched with awe
no symphonies or trips to the opera house
In a dime store I trudge through the aisles of shelves
rummaging through the lost and found of people long forgotten and dead
I find a necklace, shells strung together on a piece of fishing line and I think of you
young and happy with a bucket and a *****
so curious as to the motion of the ocean, you slowly approach
only to run away - giddy in your fear - as the cold tide licks at your heels
digging up ***** to show to your Mom and Dad
I think of you, my hand clutching that Dime store necklace
I think of you now
Me so intrigued, I draw up my plans with tact
only to crumble before you
I am the shells you dug up
I am the fishing line your dad cut off for you
the knots he taught you to make
I am your lost and found
helplessly missing you always
I am your Dime Store love

you took the words of wise men on a whim
dug yourself out a nice shiny foxhole
to shelter from the ricochets of words best left unsaid
but your maw aches
and those wise words
fall fat and useless
so ******* anyways
I'll find my own wisdom
I'll be laughing in kingdoms of never more
once I find the right word

the diner closed down
a sign in the window
but i'm still hungry