I broke up with McDonalds
On Valentine's day
People said she was no good for me
I had to get away

So I told her, It's not you,
It's just a phase I'm going through
But as we all know -
Dumping fast food is not a pleasant thing to do.

So I broke up with McDonalds, didn't see her for a while
Was doing pretty well - there was the occasional drunk-dial
When I walked up to the window
And I slipped into the queue -
But then I came back to my senses
And realised the thing to do...

Was to keep on walking
Keep on walking
Right past her
Ignore the temptation
To suckle
On those golden arches
Ignore those bed-like burgers
And those oh-so-easy fries
Divide our shared world up
And sever all ties!

Yes! I broke up with McDonalds and my life is better for it
When my girlfriend serves up rabbit food I simply adore it
I was scared of life alone with no kebab to walk me home
But...
      What I once spent on burgers...
                                                     I now spend on...
                                                           ­                      Haribo!

Oh Haribo! Haribo!  
You are a fruit tree in a sack
And although it feels wrong to see you
Behind my girlfriend's back
She can not be hurt by wrongs she does not know!
No - the new love of my life is Haribo, oh Haribo!

But then one evening after work
My girfriend came home early.
Caught me curled up on the couch  
Soaking up her girly  
DVDs
In front of me
A bowl of
Not nuts, nor seeds...
But fizzy, yes fizzy,
Cola bottles  
That were  
FIZZY!

How could you do this?
My girlfriend screamed at me.
Cannot you see the damage that they do-eth to your teeth?
(She'd been reading Shakespeare)
No, my eyes are on my face, I can't see in my mouth.
Right, she said, If you think I'm joking then I'm going to kick you out.

So she kicked me out the flat and that was that she said.
Not quite...
I grabbed my stash of Haribo from underneath the bed.
I told her all the things about her that I really hated

And the moral is:

Relationships with things that you can't eat are over-rated.

When i was ten I asked mom to hire a stripper instead I got a sitter.
Still I saved my allowence in hopes cause im no quiter.
In highschool I got busted drinking in the parking lot.
So I ratted on the teachers on the lounge who to which I sold ***.

My first girfriend was math teacher.
She said I was the devil dumped my **** now she's the wife of a preacher.
Its hell to drink alone thats why you can find me at the bar.
that guy cutting jokes hitting on anything in a skirt yeah hampsters you know who I are.


I been behind bars for some things I say I didnt do.
Trouble loves me so.
Im at christmas like santa how I love a **.
cant figure my direction to the this mystery you really dont need a clue.

Got eight dui's fifteen drunken in public a partridge and a pair tree.
When the judge asked son are you insane.
My reply was hell amigo im just being me.

I borrwed a car and took it for a short five state trip.
And when the cop pulled me in Atlanta I just raised my glass and asked hey friend wanna sip.
They call me Gonzo.
I love whiskey strippers and *******.
Ive dated a **** star  who left me cause she was worried id hurt her image
cause she  thought I might be insane.

Burned down the highschool for lack of nothing better to do.
Yeah schools out  wanna marshmellow  mister long fellow.
I'll pass on the long walk on the beach why not just head for the dunes and have a
cheap *****.

***** old man whos still kinda young.
Living till I die  lets hit the bar I'll take another hit till im in the iron lung.
Im so good at being bad.
***** the truth just make up how many ya had.

One last round till I hit the ground.
Do ya ever wonder how it would be.
To cast care to the wind and hang with me?

Nobody likes ya well sure i do.
Well maybe till I wreck your car  call you at four in the morning to ask hey ya sleeping?
Light fire to the forest just taking a **** and borrow your life savings maybe throw a party at your expense.
Just have some innocent fun and forget to check ID's.
Tape the preachers daughter  getting nauthy sell it straight to dvd.
look a girls got expenses im just saying someone slap me.

So really wanna hangout?
Come on im not that bad trust me.
Im worse.

So enjoy that life so normal  take your pills.
Work your **** off for the weekend and sleep ease as you nap.
That you really dont run with the Gonzo
So stay crazy hampsters and of course avoid the clap.


                          Cheers from your favorite
                                         Madman

you box it silly, until you get to speak to it...
you box, box, box box it into pretty, you box it into
something resembling a francis bacon...
can you even imagine, feeling this much?
and then get to write about it all, by way of treating it
a mush? i'm sure that hardly
resembles the sitter, but that hardly
matters... look at that masterpiece of a
boxed face? looks blurry, i admit...
but that keeps it as art, and i find that to be...
most necessary... for i find the most recurrent
theme as: just ordinary;
everything just being as numerous
and countless, and reproducible as the
phenomenon of spring,
    that frail thing that needs to bloom
and later die... what a horrid escapade
to give it a metaphor akin to vivaldi...
sparrows... sparrows? seriously?!
   it's just that autumn, and its scents,
and its fruits... that auburn, that khaki:
if ever orff met vivaldi, he would call
autumn: the reviver!
spring is something that exists in th realm
of dr. seuss... i.e. mainly children...
or that great dumb joy of dogs...
   same ****, different cover.
- i listen to what could be best described
as neo-**** music (nietzsche did that,
introduced the hyphen at the beginning
of a paragraph, within the realm of the paragraph,
that seriously needs to be deploit within
poetry, with no paragraph, as a
whimsical call to changing the subject,
and retaining the object form, and repressing
psychiatric investment in, what they
later call a: "person". so i guess that's
- - - - - and me somehow closing the bracket
like i might keep to that romeo & juliet phrase
of palms and monks and kiss kiss moosh?
  ****...                         d'uh.               )
because i'm the one with testicles...
and how world war ii taught be something...
that i wasn't too keen to learn about in the first place...
maybe the celt in you feels i should
have shut-up and sailed on a titanic
failure...
        yeah, like that ship...
     or how ᚠ and ᚦ.... and how θ and φ
are almost identical,
revisionists with a care to revive the latin
grapheme of æ... should look toward anywhere
but here... like that grand mythical
marriage of Adam and Eve... that gave
us umlaut and macron?
how could life, if that alone, but merely dialogue
with someone become simple,
after a father wrote something akin to finnegans wake
to a daughter? it's my ex-girfriend,
she calls me up while i'm doing an industrial-sized roof
(tar, felt, slabs, *******)
and comes up with: i'm hearing voices! i'm hearing voices!
you're not going to read proust, that's for sure;
and historically speaking, that was a movement,
not something done solo...
literally a bunch of squaters that mattered
in the birth of the 20th century.
        - me neither give, nor have a bother;
we already presume to have had it sideways
with the colon and the |... whatever that represents.
          but aren't the ᚠ and ᚦ... θ and φ
identical concerns?
  you wait and watch something else encoded
having this tenacity to suddenly implode...
you'll be left wishing a moustache is
about all you could ever grow...
                   therion thermometer.. philo...
thinker, phlegm... what's with wh and why
isn't it... doing anything?
the combination of t h and p h is
too, well... bewildering to me...
thermometer, pharmacy...
ph, th... v / d -e point...
               i once called language something
that could well be mistaken to imply
approximation...  phantom, pantomine,
tantilising, infantile, in that... d d do duplex
done...
              we know the myth that philosophers
are doers and not thinkers,
we know the best ones are not exactly literate,
or if they are, they don't bother the sophism
of implosion... they just explode onto the world
and are like: hey man!
but can someone please explain to me why
ᚠθᚦφ exists? i must have just written F, four times...
and read about fifty slang terms on the internet
to say:
really?! y.h.w.h. is just a ghetto acronym written
on a brick wall? like the internet?
         ᚠθᚦφ is probably just the same,
the way people keep making an oath, or adding
the emphasis as if they spotted a comet...
      it's just fe fe, fe fe -
or ef ef, ef ef          depending which copernican
side of it you come from to congregate
in the land of the "setting sun".
                l e f t t o r i g h t
                  t f e l o t t h g i r
they meet somewhere, and sprechen lingua franco...
perhaps like Sicily, in the times of
that liberty magnet that was Fredrick II
from the Hahenschtaufen haus...
i have to do it... akin to       n
                                         w      e
                                              s... look at that...
what a beautiful acronym...
  it's not even a case of being ignorant...
  but it seems to be the general idea of a compass
these days...
                 and to think, to have the sheer
concern to make the effort to read...
which is the only reason why i resort to having
the same effort to write,
  or where two roads meet...
or what's called the fork... funny that...
three arms and a leg to stand on...
                                                     ᚠ
                                              ᚦ           θ
                                                     φ
i reduce modern vulgarity for not enough
fucky-fucky... some reduce it to the tourism
of Taiwan...
   and how Taiwan is perfectly adaptable for
a heretical christian revival, or the confused pronoun
case of almost parasitical invitation...
you hear it all the time in england,
english men going to taiwan and looking for
pretty clay, behemoths...
      right now i wish i was listening to the news
in poland... ****! at least it would be easier
******* from conservative catholic grannies
than this oddity, that really needs a second david bowie...
i can't do it... i see paying for the absurdity of ***
is fine... walking into a shop
    and buying chewing gum... a ******* would
buy more things than i ever could...
or care to want...
               a woman might go and buy perfume...
all i need is some water, and soap...
  just as rare as finding a keen reader of kraszewski,
or a tatarkiewicz... too many people read marx,
it's starting to eat me up...
         i'm starting to see a work by marx like
i might see a bench pressing corner in a gym...
                          or a crucifix; get all vampiric
and angry goo that constantly seems to recoil into
siesmic fits of violence, always minding
the lord of mosquitos... and never... Beelzebub...
bled on the cross, talked wine-to-blood
at the last supper, didn't he? so he's not
                                     the lord of mosquitos?
the wars we had because of it...
    thankfully... to inact progress...
               as all hell is blamed for doing:
or rather imroving... oh don't mind me, i'll have
to wait 2000 years for someone to recognise me,
as i did, j. c. nazareth, lord of mosquitos and
countless wars to finally freeze chickens
                      and ice-cream; cabbage? fresh!

Hi, Any spare time today? Find a girfriend
       sure about the antidote.

thinking: I kept the momentum going
        where the air is fresher, enemy
        as the silent form of the gun-toting
        snarling
               Commander None Other.

Do you like this disguise?

The "good child"
oh yes yes yes
I am mommy and daddy's shining star
I cook and clean and I am so very polite
good grades, and don't talk down to my superiors
oh yes, mommy I am your good little girl
of three children I am the "good child"
until your backs are turned
drink, smoke, party and play with strange lips on mine and strange hands in strange places
I am the "good" one
with a secret girfriend
and secret scars
and a secret eating disorder
but don't you worry your grown up little heads about that
just keep telling people I'm the "good child"
and I'll be "good" enough to play along

Meeting an old girlfriend

I met an old girlfriend from the days when we were
in our fifties, it had been a tempestuous affair.
Since she was not driving any more, I drove her home
to her house.
She invited me in for a coffee and before we knew it
the *** urge was back, she put a leg on a chair and leaned
forward over the oak table, her body shook when she
I had an ******.
We went to bed I was taking her from the side, and we giggled
about who was moving first, she did, and we were at it again.
She screamed when she had an ****** and exhausted fell
Asleep snoring softly looking eighty.
Since I had no hot water at home, I took a hot shower
in her bath, dressed ready to go but looked in her bedroom
to see if she was ok.
I wanted to go home and write something I had been thinking of
Next day at the supermarket, a woman approached me and said:
do you know who is dead? She said her name.
I said: *** at her age how awful.
They found a man’s underwear in the bed. and I hoped it was clean
since it was mine.
Now I could understand why she had not been ringing me
as she had promised.