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Larry McDonough Mar 2014
Sitting in the basement writing to the devil                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                burning a candle, record playing black metal                                                                                                               thought about anarchy, all the blood I’ve ever seen                                                                                                                                 or maybe the apocalypse waiting at my door
I’m so bored                                                                                                                                                                                                  maybe burn a bible, maybe drink a little more
Sitting  on the staircase staring at the ceiling                                                                                                                                                           trying out this notion that I’ve never had a feeling                                                                                                                                                                         thought about holding a little sacrifice                                                                                                                                                                                     but I need to find a ****** and that’s too much of a chore
I’m so bored                                                                                                                                                                              maybe burn a church, maybe drink a little more
Now I have to use the bathroom but it’s upstairs                                                                                                                                                                         the thought alone is morbid and I just don’t ******* care                                                                                                                                           just sit here in the blackness feeling like a goat’s head                                                                                                                                                           writing to the devil but my wrist is getting sore
I’m so bored                                                                                                                                                                                                                             maybe ***** blood if I drink a little more
Larry McDonough Apr 2013
We dream dreamy dreams under warm blankets and quiet stars

no noise no clamor to fill the atmosphere. The song of a thousand

silences vibrate in unison with breathing. Each exhale a new movement

through the universe. In and out, drift solemnly, like the ghost on a row

boat wading through fog and sorrow. A heart hollow to the tune of love

and jubilation. Only haze, vague and out of focus. The fuzz of an old

photograph bearing faces long forgotten. Gone, with the seconds,

minutes, and centuries that have been and never will be again. The one

we all share. Soon after closing our eyes to reality. Long after the sun

has faded from view, long before it  should return once more, leaving the

moon as the sky’s only companion.  When our heartbeats have slowed,  

relaxed, a breath before fatal. That’s  when it begins. The portal to the

other end of our mind. The room of warped mirrors. Reflections of our

ideas and experiences. twisted manifestations of thought and memory

for us to analyze through cryptic imagery and distorted stimuli. Here is

where we encounter all we admire and all we disdain, mashed into one

contorted vortex of sight and emotion. This is the dream…
Larry McDonough Apr 2013
The dust has been lifted
Wise words from the man in the red truck
As he eluded provocative ants dancing ‘round cigarette ash
Pokemon never behaved like jackals
Or any other eighties hair metal bands for that matter
At least Pantera shredded their way out of that shtick
It allowed me to quench my thirst with neon Gatorade
And stomaching peninsulas
This is why starch as a way to mend secular viral videos
Was never a serious consideration
That right belongs to the intergalactic Prince Albert
Of the Ziggy Stardust federation
It’s what made me feel secure with crack and root beer
Can I get a signal out here,
Or did the waffle train miss me by a nano robot?
God save this illustrious choir of cephalopods and naval lint
Before they find their way into the haphazard way
I chop chicken under drunken stars
A wizard once led me to this concussion
But I cannot remember the first door he smashed with a crowbar
I know it had only been six years since Julia Roberts was in Erin Brockovich
The movie about the alien cyborg, who birthed Africanized
Native American bumble bees
Or was that merely a fan fiction continuation?
That’s when the itch in my head stopped….
Larry McDonough Apr 2013
High as a kite

not stuck in a tree

   not on the floor

     in space probably

       vibrating

          with green cows

             an yarn

                giggling paradise of stars

                   swoon

                     cats falling out of cabinets

                        but i digress

                            die gressssss

                              die grassssss

                                 this is getting a bit weird

                                     my blood vessels are riddled with glitter

                                        don’t tell the rabbi…

                                             happy 420
Larry McDonough Apr 2013
The woman in the solar system

she makes me bright and warm

I dance in auras and nebulas

and **** oblivion

I said the woman in the solar system

has got me by the mind

jet black and purple plasma

on my tongue, can’t get enough

(see how she waves)

I vibrate through her own dimension

an intergalactic *******

I hold my breath

transcendental death

through time, space, and her ******

the woman in the solar system

made of ether and hydrogen

sings a universal

distorted sound

dancing cosmic energy

exactly what she is to me

through space and eternity…
Larry McDonough Apr 2013
Lights, boredom, beer, and socks

this is how we define the outcome

of pin up girl robots

and the threshold you’re too dumb to notice

its refuse they say

like some salt tower ready to pop marmalade

No one pees the bed anymore

and why should they?

questions for an irritable spine flu

Never the less, we are doomed to listen to ****** rap music

while washing the four hundred and fifty-seventh **** sponge

on the planet Umlow

I think i may have lied

who cares, you already read it

so taking it back would only make me a badger

No

a tapir
Larry McDonough Apr 2013
She wore a glittering gown
Beneath cold grey sky
He wore a brown rotting raincoat
Under April sunshine
She, smelling of coconut and tulips
Chugged bourbon straight
He smelled like wet cement and smoke
And sipped wine from a juice box
They met on a rust smothered playground
She, for a funeral- he, on holiday
They danced in circles for hours and hours
He hummed Vivaldi
She hummed slayer
Both were of literary greatness
He-Fox in Socks
Her-The Inferno
Neither knew love to be equal parts
Beautiful
And grotesque
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