Jumped from a plane,
napped on a train,
sort of in pain,
hope there's some gain.

Motorcycle jumped,
feeling quite pumped,
that stump I bumped,
ascertain, minor sprain.

Drunk in Deutschland,
sang with an old man,
couldn't pay, so i ran,
my fortitude I feign.

Back in America,
so much to tell ya
but can't stay too long.
Complacency. My bane.

Feeling real bored
nothing to do
ask you what's up
nothing, and you?

Well, I may hit up a cafe
I've heard its quite nice
they serve the best kava
and tasty drinks on ice

Most excellent I guess
but of what place do you speak
why Bula of course
I'll prob. stay, perhaps all week

So if you find yourself awry
and that there could be more to ya
just come down and party Fiji style
BULA BULA BULA!

The myriad of possibilities
enliven my ******* semantics
somewhere to go when
my slippers tell me not to

The words that i exhale
are the engine that fuels imagination
something to sustain when
my noggin is void

The vibrancies that rattle me
attribute to the found experience
somehow they strum
when my heartstrings are mute

The mountains that topple me
serve demise to my slippery friends
someways i have adapted
now i listen to blue boots

There are things we know
don't be wrong in traffic
don't **** angry hippos
don't traverse rickety stairs
these are things we know
we are aware, and refrain

There are things we don't know
yet are aware that we don't know
neutonian physics
slavic languages
origin of universe
these are things we don't know
but are questing for answers

There are also things we don't know,
things we don't even know we don't know
I attempt to reduce this category daily.
and plus
this category only hypothetically
exists, and isn't that true about
Anything?

I miss the scraggles of irrigated brain matter
the kind that used to spray out of my mind.
I miss the corregated gore that would line up
like so many words on an ephemeral canvas.
Alas, I am no more.

Your face is the sun
and mine the moon.
the twinkle in my eye,
just a reflection of you.

Can't hold back
your smile induces mine,
like a yawner and yawnee,
both victims intertwine.

Almost not fair,
like loving in a prison,
but I'm used to it now,
prison of a pretty person.

I couldn't bear be set free
the love is still mutal right?
but a fools been made of me
lonely freedom tonight.

Aloof are the clouds
so cold they can be
daydreaming up at them
they run right by me

seems not long ago
when I still touched the sky
the zepherous monuments
let me in by and by

and a whole week it’s been
since I felt their embrace
stumbling and tumbling
the caress of wind on my face

so good it felt
a release from average todays
better than my vices
and adventurous ways

but now I just lay here
waiting for a time
when you lay here instead
daydreaming you’ll see a silhouette. Mine

A steady stream bellowing out my nose
i wanted to play today sniveling staring at my toes
why now must i feel so, voice hoarse cannot go
cannot speak, cannot sleep, even force of will fails me.
Stuck in bed enjoing a *** head eating at my brain
as zombiesaurus might know, i too am going insane,
crumbly delight, a ******* helps fight with crunchy grain
ahd and aaaaand now i, sqhinting, can barely see.
Even so i roll with it, my thoughts and me, we are
desperation to derision, derivition a bit far
the demons within trying to be free i sternly bar
God help me, i'd feel good though if freely they'd be.
Coughing hurts again, feels i'll never win, never win i say
but through the delerium, i cut through a foggy bay
whats this i see, mom with soup, i might survive i may
warm feelings abound, a smile in my face, not the worst day.

origionallity spfigionallity
complicated mess
to come up with something new
and so unlike the rest
it may be so
or seem impossible
even when giving your best
but perhaps like me
today you'll see
i write this all in jest

I am Jack's clenched sphincter. The ******* of the world not knowing where the **** has come but continues to spew.
The love in japan with the fake cats and painted eyes will not save me nor will the things enjoyed in the wee hours of the morning. Hope for something better and go to sleep. Want for something more and turn on the television.
How I long to be an alien, wrapped up in my own things that make sense to me, the foreshadowment of this is quite appealing. When I think of my heroes, not the people that I am obligated to love, but the people who stir emotion deep and unseen, I cry inside.
I feel it in the spongy yellow marrow of my heart bones that support me. They are not there. I was never there. Laughing face of old drunken bewilderment of the entirety of humanity. Why why why why ha ha ha ha aaaand aand the utterment of unmade caracatures in such drunken old men.
Old men and snotty lads have more in common with eachother than any close knit family. Krusty, cantankerous, and spry, they laugh at each other. One feeling and the other knowing or one pretending and the other wandering.
What would my heroes think if they knew I was sober. What would they say? Certainly nothing that wouldn't make me angry or turn away. You cannot be constructive by being constructive, only in doing and in the act of doing will you beat away their snide remarks.
Live alone with others. Smile on the inside more than outside. Don't use the word ferclempt unless you don't really even mean it anyway. Own a cat.