I was awoken far to early it was dam near seven o clock in the evening .
The noise was insane then I finally turned off the music .
****** my four legged amigo truly needed to lay off the death metal
besides who wants to wake up to the spice girls really?

It was then I herd the crash as bottles flew from the wall.
****** did a big girl ****?
I looked outside trees were falling the wind was blowing worse
than some teen age girls backstage at a Justin Bieber concert .

**** my ******* neighbor went flying by and was impaled on a tree hey this ****** up weather wasn't all that bad .
I went outside to see if I could help or finish him off and see if he had any money on him.

Duh like I'm going to help that *****.
He? wakes me up every morning going to his silly job and calls me a drunken pervert cause I hit on his girlfriend look telling someone they have awesome **** is a compliment okay.

Hey Chris how are ya bud .?
Well being I'm impaled on your tree and have a garden gnome up my *** pretty ******* bad you idiot!

Well somebody's in a grouchy mood and Chris you can keep the gnome amigo hey whatever kind of ***** ***** your into is okay I'm mean sure your a ******* freak and I will probably tell all the world about you
But hey that's cause I'm a drunken perverted ******* .
But enough about my good quality's.

What the hell are you doing here you idiot!
Don't you know there's a mandatory evacuation going on cause of the hurricane?
I was confused by what this strange ***** impaled on my tree was saying.

That and I didn't know what mandatory meant maybe it was some strange ****** term ******* ****** .
Look man I don't swing that way okay that was just something I did for money once okay don't judge me.

What the **** are talking about you crazy ******* !
Honestly Chris sometimes I don't even know **** man its real windy out today .

That's cause there's a hurricane coming you idiot .
Oh well that would explain the wind You know Chris your a real ***** but besides that you really are observant .
Well nice talking to you amigo I got to have a couple cocktails
watch some ***** movies I like to think of it as part of my creative
process have fun hanging around.

I was walking away as my annoying ******* neighbor called out .
Aren't you forgetting something you crazy *******.!?
****** I really was slipping I thought to myself as I pulled out my trusty knife .

What the hell Man!
Look Chris I got to **** you or you'll turn its only right duh
haven't you seen the walking dead ******* ?
Hey by the way being your going to be dead and all can I have your girlfriend ?

What the hell is wrong with you I'm not a zombie you idiot
I'm alive I'm just impaled on your ******* tree .
Yeah that's what they all say then next thing you know you have turned
and we got you and all your zombie buddies trying to bite my *** .

Please .
Was the last thing my ******* neighbor said well that and ouch as I plunged the knife into his skull I really felt bad he was not such a a bad kid.
I'm kidding he was a **** and now that the end of the world was coming you had to look out for yourself .

But enough with the foreplay children.

Me and my loyal talking dog slash whatever the **** he was were about to light up a joint and pour are first round when everything went black.

Much like radio these days.

It was then it hit me what Chris had said.
The wind him flying through air ******* ****** a hurricane is
coming.

I screamed a manly scream and did what any strong male writer would do cried and hid under the bed with a bottle of Jack Daniels and my talking dog ****** .

**** man why didn't I ever watch the news ?
Cause your always watching **** ******* .
****** spoke .
Why the hell didn't you tell me this was happening if you knew ******?
Cause I have to watch what you watch ******* I don't have any hands .
Now stop being a ***** and lets get out of here .

What !
Have you lost your mind there's a storm out there .
Yeah and half the people have left this place and wont be back for awhile its party time you scared *****.

I thought to myself its hell being talked down to by someone who eats crap out in the front yard but he had a point .
This hurricane was terrible people had to abandon there homes .
And all there awesome stuff and it was simply going to go to waste duh
why not break in and enjoy it for them It's what Jesus would do.

I don't mean that guy in the book I mean that dude who works down at the garage and drives a low rider .
Course he was a ex con  once meant he really knew a lot about life
and how to hide things up his **** true wisdom .

Me and ****** were off we drove around till we found the most awesome house that just happened to be sheriffs house .
It was totally kick *** we drank kick *** top shelf whiskey smoked some good **** and other drugs that ***** had taken from me over the years .

Not that I do drugs I'm kidding I'm ****** up now how do you think I come up with this ****.
We went through house after house eat real food something actual writers can seldom afford duh like this **** pays.

The storm raged through the night .
Trees fell but being I was higher than Jesus I could truly give a **** hamsters.

It seemed like days bled into weeks we drank and lived as kings .
Played fun games like indoor target practice .
I was bout ready to call it a night and curl up with my favorite girl
Evan Williams .

When all the sudden some strange man was yelling at me in my own house .
What the **** are you doing here and why did your dog crap in my bathtub.

Excuse me Larry this is a simple misunderstanding Cindy may I say you have a marvelous rack I said to the woman standing at his side .
How the hell do you know are names ?

Duh cause of those awesome home movies you made on that video camera that was still charged up after you left.
The woman's face flushed red.

Oh my God Larry I told you we shouldn't have filmed that!
Hey I have to say miss the way you handled that three way with the two dwarfs well it is truly ******* awesome man you two people are freaks .

My new buddy Larry must be so happy cause he couldn't even speak he just shook with happiness .
His wife didn't even look at me well I have that effect on women .

Hey I was thinking you know I love the arts myself I'm thinking Cindy me some drinks that kick *** hot tub not the other one ****** took a crap in sorry bout that he just lacks culture unlike myself .

It was then Larry flipped out using his outdoor voice indoors he grabbed me by the throat I screamed **** cause I yet again forgot my trusty **** whistle dam you hurricane!

I was thrown down the stairs I was beaten I swear you housesit without asking go through peoples home ***** movies and your dog takes a crap in there tub and they blow it all out of proportion .
Guess I wasn't going to be getting a tip ungrateful ******* !

The Hurricane had torn up this small island were I lived and apparently vandals had broken into peoples houses and stolen most all the ***** in there houses how terrible.

I made my way back to my trusty bar poured me a drink and sat on my favorite stool.

**** Gonz you made it out of there I was truly worried for you.
****** said as he turned on the blender .
Yeah he couldn't change the channel but he could talk and mix drinks something just wasn't right with that picture course he was from Kentucky .

Yeah no thanks to you .
You little ******* !
Hey boss don't be mad I got something for you as he placed the the video camera on the table.

I had to lighten up the power was back on we had stayed drunk through such harsh times and got some freaky home movies from those weirdos we house sat for.

I took a sip of the margarita toasted my little friend.
Well bud we made it after all.

We spent the night as all others before drinking are livers silly
cutting bad jokes telling ****** up stories like these that make you wonder when the **** they will ever end .

Until next time  hamsters .

Stay Crazy

Gonzo

It was late in November, and dad got a call
that a hiker near Teller had taken a fall.
He had outfitted many a party before,
and responding when needed was never a chore.

"It's an hour to Teller then one more by boat
I took ****** with me", he had left us a note,
for my mother and I had gone shopping in Nome
and he'd not make it  back by the time we'd get home.

The next morning the troopers were summoned once more
for no help had arrived on that desolate shore.
When the search and rescue had responded in force
they had searched for the boat and my father, of course.
But the searching proved futile though traces were found
indicating that somehow the boat had gone down.

A survival suit floating unused simply meant
that my father'd not planned then to go where he went.
The men hunted for days- it was almost a week,
then the weather conditions became much too bleak.

Both my mother and I were consumed by our grief;
that our anchor was gone was beyond our belief.
All the neighbors brought food by and offered their prayers
but my mom would just thank them with blank distant stares.

Then she finally collapsed, at the end of her rope;
her religion had failed her, she'd run out of hope.
I tried to be supportive and brave through it all
then I'd walk by the ******'s food bowl and I'd bawl.
And though Christmas was coming we'd set up no tree
to suggest something merry would be travesty.

When the storms had all passed and the winds had suspended
we borrowed boats belonging to men he'd befriended.
Those men wanted to know that at least they could try
but to say they held hope would be speaking a lie.

The sun's rays so golden when we set out that morn,
but as twilight was falling; most all were forlorn.
We had sailed out from Teller and cruised to the coast
and we searched likely places from least to the most.

'Twas the trip driving home that impacted my heart.
It was useless and dumb, why the hell did I start.
It was twenty-nine miles and a good hour's more drive
to a wilderness area where he couldn't survive.
I was young and impetuous, foolish as well
but if those men thought that the case one couldn't tell.

'Twas the day before Christmas, the morning was bright
I awoke with a vision I'd seen in the night-
without waking my mom I called my dad's best friend
"It is early I know, can we try it again?"

I made myself a lunch and left mother a note,
then under way again- a truck towing the boat.
Appointees to another task most likely sad
set about the uncompleted search for my dad.

I suggested that we this time bear to the west,
I had no explanation, don't know why- just guessed.
The landfall we had targeted, shrouded by fog
that cleared as we drew closer- and I saw my dog!
Unexpected tears fell and yet I did not care.
for then ****** retreated to lead us somewhere.

In a snow cave, injured, immobile, weak and thin
was my dad whom I had thought I'd not see again.
He'd survived with shared rabbit served raw and unspiced.
but said he'd never tasted a meal quite so nice.

And while he doesn't know how he got to the shore
he suspects he owes ****** that and much more.
"Twas the night before Christmas and one family knew
if you care for your dog he might take care of you.

© Lawrencealot - December 23, 2013

you vile of lust,
contained liquid belligerence.
how you instigate my future regrets
in all senses of the term.

burning away boredom at best,
a touch of carelessness and freedom.
and at worst causing obsession
with my failure to pursue desire.

faux self-confidence and heightened hopes.
its just pretend time for adults.
like sliding into dreams
unconsciously without meaning

and while i try to resist
all the impulses and reactions,
it makes me feel natural
like anything can happen

Take a butchers at this me old Chinas.
Slip ya Plates o' Meat into ya Jacks,
brew up a nice cup o' Rosy,
and if you haven't got a ****** what I'm on about,
feel free to fire me off a Jimmy Nail
and tell me it's a load of old cobblers.

Can you Adam an' Eve it,
I left me Dog 'n' Bone on the Apples
and when I went to call the Trouble 'n' Strife
some joker had Half-Inched it.

But that's not the worst of it.
When I got back to the Cat and Mouse
she'd done a bunk in me shiny new Jam Jar.
I couldn't believe me Pork Pies!

So here I am all on me Todd,
me only transport a ****** old **** van ****.
Gordon Bennett!
I'm goin' down the ****** for a few Britneys,
gonna get totally Brahms and List
and blow a big fat raspberry at the whole thing.

Tomorrow's another bale 'o' hay.

Every time
I hear of one more,
it reminds me of my grandmother,
lost deep inside the bottle,
she whittled away to nothing
& died from an exploding liver.

Sadly for us, just another
born-again ******.

Come on do The Locomotive with me
Shildon smoky days with black sheet cloud
terrace rows
buy some cheap beef shank for the dog
open shuttered butchers smell of blood
sit at the bar peel the sheets soggy New Statesman
by the glass
started reading it on the toilet at home
had to get out
sink the pints eat a chicken tikka masala flavour
pork pie isn’t that an oxymoron? and humour
Gappy slumped at the bar no longer violent new leaf turned
collects shopping trolleys in the Asda car park
he’s got a badge and a green jacket waterproof
which is nice
so come on do The Locomotive with me
roadside ****** familiar faces though not so many
these days
faded glory days wall images of train filled
old days of engineering and purpose and place
the starting point of a world phenomenon a
phenomenon that brought global joy and death
in equal measure but sod that
Darlington and Stockton
got all the glory.

I know the feeling
I feel the pain
Look outside
******* pouring rain

The days are dull
And all the same
So ******* boring
So mundane

The only excitement
Is two days of rest
When you’re alone
You get it off your chest

You go to the ******
And drown your sorrows
And ******* pray
It’s not Monday tomorrow

We fought for freedom
Now we’re under the thumb
Pay your ******* taxes
And work till your numb

But don’t you worry
You’ll get your time
Just work for 70 years
And you’ll be just fine

how to fix your tortured organs:
writhe in bed first,
for 2-3 hours, then
eat and drink until you
throw up everything.

that's the best part.
the body ceases shaking violently
and you can sleep without
writhing.
when you wake, you can eat again.
finn and jake will take care of the rest.

In the department called
freedom of
expression,
where the language is quite
Anglo Saxon
there's no room for the weak
or for those who
don't curse when they speak or
describe most emphatically
and graphically detail each
****** function.

An adage in old age is, **** them,
the men down in Whitehall with
no ***** for billiards and
the bankers who spank us with
high rates and interest
can fester away and
testing each day as it comes are
the bums and the drop outs queuing
for hot tea and handouts
and **** them too.

To be free to express is a gift,
nonetheless one we must use
with a modicum of
compassion but the fashion today
is to curse the **** away
and each expletive pronounced only comes back to flaunt or to flounce and there's not an ounce of common sense in the pretense I may feign by reigning my words and refraining from swearing, I
say
**** 'em again.

If I hang I'll hang well and stink to high hell and that's one way to express what a ******* awful mess
we're all in.

Well it's a hell of a feeling and a sour deal.
Hangover wreaks havoc apon my gut.
Numb my thoughts to everything i feel.


She's got her reason's I got mine.
Hours between us.
Sunrise please dont find me sobber.
Or leave me busted near that florida state line.


Drinking with the devil satan give me such heck.
My life's a play.
My soul a well thought out trainwreck.

Well big hip gal wont ya warm this bed.
Cause ya know tommorows a gift.
So let's do something to remind tombstone
he isn't yet dead.

Work that back sugar dont think twice.
Little gals may be the norm.
But thoose sticks break so easy and thoose big gals
just feel so nice.

Southern are my ways New York's far from my mind.
Todays a scratch.
So thats why im leaving my wicked past behind.

Smoked and drank tonights pay.
Big gal i love ya.
But as for a drifters soul and me ya know i can never stay.

Found my troubles in mean angry eye's  knocked
thoughts apon the deck.
My life's a gamble.
As in the rhymes of a full tome ****** and a
well thought trainwreck.

Ah wuz lookin oot o' mah winder and ah saw this lad
wi' a barry wee lassie gaun' up the hill.
-Wair the **** d'ye think you're gaun tae? ah yells oot.
But the daft ***** didnae answer at aww,
must've been oot o' thir ****** heids wi' E's or summat,
d'ye ken what ah'm tellin' ye,ye daft radge?
-Wair ye're ******* going? ah yells a couple mair times
and finally the gadge yells back to ays,
-Up the ******* hill tae fetch a pail o' ******* watter,
me Ma's hud her ******' taps turned oaf by the ******' Corporation,
which is a ******* pain in the erse ah had ter agree.
I realised ah knew the wee **** Jack but,
eh wuz an auld classmate of ays and eh's hung oot wi' ma brar n me,
when we wuz bairns oan the Scheme,eh?

-That's a bonny wee lassie ye've goat wi' ye, there Jack, ah yelled,
thinking ah'd nae kick her oot o' mah scratcher
withoot gi'ing her a guid ride.
Ah huvtae sey ah recognised hir as a wee ****
called Jill from the Scheme, a right tidy wee ride
in mah opinion wi' a guid little ***** on hir, as ah recall.
-Mind ye're own ******' business, the **** yells back at ays,
takin' the pail in yin hand and the ****'s wee hand in the other yin.

Ah can tell ye ah totally pished meself wi' laughter
when the pair o' they wide ***** fell doon,
Jack breakin' his ******' croon n the groond,
ah'm sure he nivver meant it tae happen,
'n eh mustae squashed his ******* bawws
as eh fell doon n aww from the wey he screamed oot,
but the wee lassie cam tumbling doon the ****** hill n aww,
heid n **** oor her ******' erse
'n ah could see she wasnae wearin' any ****** *******
'n her ***** was on display under her skirt.
Ah wouldnae expect anything else from a wee ****,eh?

-Dinnae worry, ah'll com and help ye, ah called oot,
but when ah goat thir, both o them wis deid,
ah thoat o' gittin mah hole wi' the deid lassie n aww,
but you shouldnae dae that, it's no respectful tae wimmin,
'n eywis, the polis might trace me through the DNA,
those ***** are clivvir 'n aw, ye ken.
So ah contented mesel' wi' rummidging through the poakits
o' the lad's jaykit tae see if eh hud ehs payment from the Joab Centre,
but the daft **** mustae spent it aww on a boatil or two o Grants,
ah ken ah'd hae done the same mahsel'.
And there wasnae a penny in the lassie's purse,
so ah thoat ah'd jus' **** oaf doon the ******
'n ask some **** tae call the hoaspital and the ****** polis.
Eh?

Another day of long hours ahead  for me

Good morning gorgeous!

Read your full disclosure and I admire you even more.
Whoever said all creative people suffer from manic or
clinical depression was out of their minds because you don't.
You prove you don't need to be depressed to write.
Like the you don't smoke and you are no ******.
You are careful what you put in your body
I know you don't do drugs.  
The more I get to know about you the more the butterflies
in my stomach tell me I'm right.
You read that part right.
I still have butterflies when I think of you
but at the same time I feel at ease when we on net chat.
Big confession coming up.
I've always wanted someone like you in my life.
A woman who's gorgeous, highly intelligent, has her
**** together, doesn't cake on make up, has confidence,
loves herself and life, laughs at life and herself, doesn't bore
the hell out of me with drama and much more.
Quite frankly I've always wanted a woman
other women hate and she makes them feel insecure.
That's the woman that has confidence and can
enter a room alone without being self-conscious.
That's how I know you're the woman for me.
Your stalker has been freed but you are not in hiding
I commend you for taking your power back.
I'm guessing you are set to stand your ground if necessary.
I mentioned your name and they know of you
mainly from what they've heard from friends.
Hope you don't mind they did a Google search.
I didn't tell them we were dating it's how my parents are.
They can tell when I'm interested in a lady.
With your images on screen my dad agrees
with me. You are gorgeous!
My mom said "I haven't seen anything
that lovely in a long time!"
My folks have unprejudiced hearts like  me
and yourself and would love meeting you.
Bringing them out to hear you when you
tell me you will be singing.
Hoping you will feel more at ease with my parents
sitting at the table and we finally have a real life
conversation longer than me telling
you how amazing your singing is.
Hope your meeting with your producer went well.
You venturing out in bad weather speaks volumes
about your dedication to what you do.  
The more I know about you Betty Ponder
the hungrier I am to learn more.
I have no doubt you would never keep me
waiting for an hour for lack of something to wear.


.

☺♥☺♥☺♥☺♥

The worst will be found toward the end of the book
When you’re scanning the lines of a weighty anthology.
Centuries have shaken what works can be shook,
and what’s old is refined – and I make no apology.

Angst-ridden ramblings, so fashionably bleak
Start appearing somewhere past the middle, I fear
With those modernist psyches, whose raggedly weak
and depressing confessions sling mud in the ear.

Like the scribblers of Suicide, brimming with bile
or the autodestructive self-pitying ******,
whose quaint observations enshrining the vile
are a crime against life – and an art for the loser.

You ideologues, with your axes to grind,
propagandizing causes in militant styles
ought to  stay in the hills, where the struggle is defined,
and spare us the old dialectical wiles.

The Feminist scribe, with her *** for a mouth,
Ever pressing her case, for fallopian reasons
Grows saggingly sterile. Her muses fly south
with the passing of harvests and goddessless seasons.

Absurdists, surrealists, and nihilist mystics
whose hymns to destruction make glory of chaos
should leave the black humor to God and ballistics.
Your poems, like Judas, are bound to betray us.

The Freudian flirt (whose neuroses abound),
And the Jungian shamans (their animas, too),
ought to rest on their couches. Why should they be found
By the wellsprings of Spirit, whose guidance is true.

The art-lover’s lines gild a frame around Knowledge.
Their poems are like an art history course.
As they flit past the idols they studied in college
their name-dropping odes are a grand tour-de–force.

Sixties drug-revelers, love beads a-jingle
And brothers dashiki-clad, howling at Nixon
no longer strike chords in my soul. Not a single sitar lick
nor visions of hippie-chick *****.

You rhymers and rappers of rhythms in sample
Whose words like a kick-drum send shock through old Whitey
Now cease from your chanting. The genre is ample.
Your gangstering paeans are too fly-by-nighty.

Revived Roman legions, who relish things Latin;
Your martial convictions inspire the hero.
But while you are looking for cities to flatten,
remember – old Julius was nobler than Nero.

The theme of World Peace –  this crops up near the ending:
a desperate hope for New-Agers and liberals,
who cherish a dream of reality-bending
Through networking, magic, and energized crystals…

But what can be shaken shall perish, forgotten.
Anthologies show us that truth is enduring.
All praises and laurels shall prove misbegotten.
The Word become flesh is the most reassuring.

So I leave the anthology, closing its cover.
Three-quarters at least seemed like nonsense to me.
Yet still, I admit, I’m a poetry lover.
Let time do its work and in future – we’ll see…

Sara L Russell 6/3/13 16:18 

Just look at him, sitting in the corner 
Hogging the remote control
Seemingly so deaf but he can hear us when he likes
Leaves such a mess around the toilet bowl

Just look at him stagger to the ****** 
Just because we've hidden all the *****
He remembers where to drink but can't remember where he lives
Maybe a nursing home will help him choose

Look at that poor old man sat in the corner
He had no visitors again today
He sings all the old songs but doesn't quite recall his name
And never seems to have a lot to say.

This spoken word.
I want to talk.
Folks'll put you
In a box.
It has six sides.
There's lots in stock.
Works just like a
Broken clock.
It fits in life
Two times a day.
Once the cradle.
Once the grave.
Then they'll fix
A label, TOO.
Once it's on it

STICKS LIKE GLUE.

There's a man
Down on the street.
Not someone you'd
Want to meet.
Drinks his meals
So he won't eat.
Shuffles 'round
Sits on the curb.
He's a "mumbler".
He's "disturbed".
Talks to self
Because he's shunned.
Got a label...

He's a ***.

There's a woman
Has no phone.
Has twenty cats
'Coz she's alone.
She talks to them
When in the mood.
She's so poor
She eats their food.
Yup. She has an
Attitude.
Has no husband
Who'd get paid.
On HER there are
Labels laid...

She's a SPINSTER.
An OLD MAID.

There's a teen
Who is arrested.
He's a menace.
It's attested.
Nope. He's not
Very nice.
He is into drugs & vice.
Is this "DELINQUENT"
Past retrieval?
Is he past knowing
'Coz he's evil?

Tie die. Peace sign.
Kinda trippy.
He's a "LONGHAIR"
He's a "HIPPIE".

Is she lovely?
Or "STUCK UP"
He's a "DOG"
The laughter's ****.

[chorus]
They aren't "NORMAL".
They're "unstable".
Slap 'em with a
POST-IT LABEL.

There's a girl
Who eats her pain.
Downs her food
Unrestrained.
She's bulimic
So she's "CRAZY"
She may be "FAT"
So she is "LAZY"
Another on the
"crazy" list...
His anger's inward,
He's depressed.
He may drink
So he's a "******".
Here's another label...

"LOSER"

Then there's the boy
Who lashes out.
Beats kids up.
He's a lout.
He is wild and
He is wooly.
He is labeled as a
"BULLY".
There's another
Kid who's shy.
So he gets the
Blackened eye.
He is "sraight"
He don't get high.
Nose in book,
He goes unheard.
What's his label?

He's a "NERD".

[chorus]

There's a one
We ALL know's BAD.
She was *****
By her own dad.
At age thirteen
She's "knocked up".
We ALL know her...

She's a "****".

There's a man
Who wears tattoos.
Labels he will never lose.
"WHITE TRASH" 'cuz
He owns a bike.
She likes women.
She's a "****".
She smokes fatties
So she's a "stoner"
He's just "weird"
'Coz he's a loner.
He loves men,
So he's a "***"
She loves him
So she's a "hag"
How'd YOU like
That odious tag?
Let's all do
The Label Rag!
Don't it make the
Tongues just wag?
It's enough to
MAKE YA GAG.

[chorus]

Tribal nation?
I'll be brief.
He's an "Indian"
Call him "Chief"
Does it make
White egos bigger
To call a black man
"BOY" or ******"?
Is that wisdom
Do ya figger?
Whatcha think
THAT'S gonna trigger?
Will the term "*****"
Do the trick?
How 'bout "******"?
How 'bout "****"?
How 'bout "****"?
That ***** Jew.
Well.
Let's take a look at YOU.

Look in the mirror.
The view is free.
Look in there!
What do you see?
Do you see yourself...

Or ME?

Is there smoke?
Are you deceived?
What's th label
You've received?


Look out dere!
HERE COME DA JUDGE!
10 feet tall & has a
GRUDGE!
And since we're getting
Really formal
Got another label.
NORMAL.
You judge someone
With capital blocks
Cuz you can't read
A CEREAL BOX?
Is prejudice the
Meal you eat?
Label on that
And it ain't WHEAT.

[chorus]

Yes. I'm white.
And I am sixty.
I ain't young. I ain't ****.
But I'm a POET
I can TALK.
I have been
Around th block.
You don't like it
You can WALK.
YOU WON'T PUT
ME IN A BOX.
I wasn't a "******".
I wasn't a "tweeker".
Was a "CRACKHEAD".
A ******* seeker.
Finally got it in my head.
There's another label.

That is DEAD.

Yeah. I'm a Christian.
"Jesus Freak"
I'm not ashamed
Because I seek!
Believe'n sure don't
Make me WEAK.

I'M DONE WITH
THE DISSIN' AND
THE TRASHIN'!
Got a concept called

COMPASSION!

Yeah. I know it's
Not in fashion...
But this no joke.
It's not a GAME.
I got a label...

It's my NAME.

I got another
Worth the seeing.
Another "label"...

HUMAN BEING.

Yeah. I'll preach.
I'm gonna shout.

My name is

CATHERINE.

Over. OUT.


SøułSurvivør
(C) 6/13/2017

Whether or not to invite kids to your wedding is one of those polarizing First World problems that can end friendships, divide families, and ratchet up couples therapy bills. Your time can be better spent deciding what desserts will be at the Viennese table or which Billy Joel song will be your first dance. There's really no need to get defensive about the whole kid thing.

We can only invite a certain number of people.

The caterer doesn't have chicken nuggets.

It's a late ceremony.

We think kids are spawns of Satan.

Let me stop you right there. There seems to be a common misconception that I want to spend every waking moment with my children (probably because I spend every waking moment with my children). Don't tell me why my kids aren't invited to your wedding; just don't invite them. It will be magical. Here's why:

It's your day. If you want circles of doves, bridesmaids wearing Indonesian tapestries or the Electric Slide, do it. Who am I to dictate what your special day looks like? Kids create a certain, shall I say, atmosphere that is not everyone's cup of tea. I completely understand if you want the joyous union between two adults to be an adult-only affair.

I get a rare night out. You are literally forcing me to leave my house, put on an expensive dress I'll only wear once, dance with my husband, and socialize the night away. This hasn't happened since my own wedding.

I don't want them to upstage you. I'm not going to lie; my three-year-old looks smashing in tulle and sequins. Plus, she's a boss at throwing things on the floor, so tossing petals down the aisle will be a snap. Once we curl her hair, put her in matching bejeweled shoes, and turn her loose on the dance floor, all eyes and cameras will be on her. I mean, you. It's totally your day.

My kids don't want to be there either. It combines all the fun of sitting still, being quiet, and not ******* in public. What kid wouldn't love that? I've been to an occasional wedding where I've seen kids having a blast, boogie-oogie-ing up a storm, twirling in circles. But most of the time, I see them sitting in the coat room, looking surly while playing Angry Birds on their parents' phones.

Nobody really wants to supervise them. Relatives love to tell us: "Bring Junior, we will totally entertain him during cocktail hour," or "I can't wait to dance with little Nancy." Next thing we know, the bar opens, and everyone scatters to chase down the server with the mini-hot-dog tray. Friends and family always swear they'll help us out, but really, no one wants to babysit my kids at a wedding. Everyone is too busy having fun. It's impossible to hold a writhing toddler and a whiskey sour at the same time; one of them always falls. And those kids always eat all my mini hot dogs.

It'll keep your guest list in check. At this point in our lives, a lot of us have children--many, many children. If you let us each bring a "plus-4," your head count will spiral out of control, fast. The dance floor will begin to resemble the ball pit at Chuck E. Cheese's, and forget about being able to hear the vows over the cacophony of little voices asking if it's "almost up to the food part"--not that my kids will eat any of their $100-a-plate dinner anyway.

You will save a ton of money for me. Forget my own dress, hair and makeup; now my 3-year-old needs an outfit, matching shoes, hair accessories and jewelry. We need to pack crayons, coloring books, toys, an alternate meal (the infant isn't into prime rib these days) and a larger hotel room. And I suppose we should probably give a nicer gift.

Mommy needs a drink. I'm not a raging ******, but I do enjoy imbibing the odd glass of wine, or six, at a wedding. Hey, it's celebratory! Nothing kills a buzz faster than having to be responsible for the welfare and safety of small children in a room filled with innumerable safety hazards. I also have no desire to explain to them why Mommy has a lazy eye and "New Year's breath."

My children have no plans to reciprocate. There is a strong likelihood that my daughter will not invite you to her 4th birthday party -- something about "limited space in the bouncy house" and "pizza only serves eight." Since no invitation is forthcoming, feel free to save the space at your wedding for your mom's second cousins or that co-worker whose wedding you were B-listed to. Everyone will have a much better time.

Especially me.

read more:www.marieaustralia.com/black-formal-dresses

www.marieaustralia.com/pink-formal-dresses

It wasnt my best day in fact I was lost like a person who has actual musical taste at a modern pop concert.

Hopeless beaten in need of a hug or maybe something else .
Hey id sit outside with a sign around my neck saying *******.please if I thought it actually work.

What dont judge me and dudes need not apply that was a phase in college .
Im kidding I never went to college

She was gone and i was alone left with the farting dog and a world of pain while the miserable  **** puppy was off having the time of her life .

Minus the ***** dancing and Patrick Swayze wearing his skin tight **** black shirt .
But nobody puts baby i a corner im just saying.

Sure I was alone my ***** supply running low trapped in a ******* no hope of getting laid in sight but who's ******* bitter .

I mean I could replace my favorite nypho ******* head cheerleader with the snap of my fingers.

Yeah I was totally ****** .
I didn't miss her so.much but why the **** did she have to take her ******* ****** with her **** greedy ***** .

******* women ya think they could just leave it behind like half there ******* clothes but oh no the greedy *** *******.

And to all the ladies reading this please dont take offense im not calling all of you ******* just the ***** ***** I was with for six ******* years but again im not bitter.

I was high and dry left only with half her crap and some farting furry hobo I called ****** .

Hey I was the man!
I was the one that was supposed to leave her in the dust .

It was then I had a moment of genius and yet another stiff drink cause my live in ****** left me to die in misery but who's bitter.


I dialed her number .
And to.my suprize she picked up.

Hello Gonzo.

I waited

Um are you just calling to not say anything yet again like last night while you play some.****** up hair metal power ballad in the background again?

Oh Kelley
Hey sorry bout that last night didn't realize my phone was on .
Yeah was at a total **** naked chicks everywhere didn't know I called you being I was so busy banging the night away totally not thinking of you.

Yeah that's why I could hear you crying and please pick.better music next time okay .

Well im sorry my.why did you leave me you cold hearted ***** playlist wouldn't load .

Jesus Christ Gonzo im.not going to do this with you I told you were done I love you but im not in love with you cause im a heartless ***** .
Okay she didn't say the last part but all my stories are based on reality duh there's a difference.

I paused thought about all the good times and ***** things we used to do I was really having one of those sappy TV show moments.

Gonzo what the **** are you doing?
Kelley asked .

Nothing why just thinking bout the past looking at some home movies we made.

Jesus ******* christ!
Your watching **** and talking to me do not tell me.your jerking off as well you ******* pervert!

Kelley said. In her **** angry voice once made me think I was in trouble or gonna get a spanking once I didn't fear cause she was on the phone and duh ya can't do that over the phone ******* reader .

I swear you people who read this are total weirdos I guess that why I love you so much .

But enough with the foreplay children.

After I um got off the subject of if I was ******* to some art films me and my ex made together .

It was really a think piece about a woman kinda lost seeking to find herself with no gag reflex .

I really miss my ******.

Sure she was a cruel ,ruthless,lying,Cheating **** puppy but she gave me *** without charging .

To.much that is hahaha I know im ****** up but dont judge me least im a honest pervert.

Gonzo you know there's always going to be a part of me that loves you .

Yeah kid I know .
We were both silent for awhile .
I paused recalled the nights remebred just how close we were laying together in the dark .

Looking into each others eyes .
The scared messed up trainwreck of a soul that always laughed at my jokes.

The silence went on forever till I farted the loudest **** possible It was long and stinky honestly it sounded like a bomb going off and smelled worse than strippers g string after a long night at the club .

Not that I know what that would smell like I mean from what I've been told I mean.

Well at least its good to know nothings ever serious with you.
You drunken ******* .

So does this mean you've seen the error of your ways and are on the first flight home to totally ***** the life outta me again?

Um no.

Okay maybe a ******* ?

Don't think so Gonzo.

**** okay a ******* while we watch one of those gay *** chick flicks you like .
Hey you be suprized how good the notebook is while getting ****** off.

Mmm Ryan Gosling mucho **** is all I'm gonna say.


Im kidding well kinda.

Gonz honey I know your in pain and I just want you to promise me this baby.

Please don't stop writing okay.
Kelley  said to me.
I don't care what its about baby just never stop I love your work I always will you know your my favorite writer always.

I just got to figure me out is all.

I paused to drag this story out just a little longer and make the five of you that stuck through to read this **** wonder .

What the hell kind of **** is this nut on.

Well im definitely not on my ex haha but who is bitter.

We spoke a llittle longer I made her laugh as always promised her I would keep on being the greatest perverted short story writer on a site for poets that I could be.

We hung up went are separate ways.
I went on to be captain kickass .

And Kelley  she fell asleep at the wheel drove off the side of a mountain dying in a fiery death .

Im kidding well I can always hope .

Im still writing like she asked.
And as long if your reading this sweetheart I know your demented *** thinks its funny .

Stay crazy.

Gonzo

~~~
Tis a gladness found in sadness
mostly pleasure
wince of pain
From an odor round the barroom
none the boys could e'er explain
Like a billowed line of washin'
after gentle fallen rain
Tis the wail of spring befallin'
on a barfly
oh ... the shame
~
Lo
there's homework
I'm the tender
to a list of things that broke
Ere the boss be sharing surely
words no poet ever spoke
Lazy good for nothing ******
paint the fence and fix the gate
You want a pint ... you must be kidding
Plow the forty ... 'fore it's late
~
Down the misty path of memories
thoughts of Kelsey's brew appears
In a vision almost godly
round a table rests my peers
And no memory tarries longer
forceful
clearer
sweeter
stronger
than ol' Kelsey pouring liquor at the bar
I sheds a tear
~
Summer sadness tans bare shoulders
to replace the winter's shun
And the kids each day
they greet me ... Morning Dad
YOUR IT ... then run
Lord
I never knew that Heaven
'twas the place beyond my wall
Till I heard my children laugh
while toasting mallows in the fall
~
Though breath of Heaven
washed the aftertaste
of Kelsey's from my life
And forever I'll be holding ... dear
new memories
with my wife
I am angered at the sign
that hangs atop ol' Kelsey's door
. . . NO BARFLIES . . .
. . . CASH RESPECTED . . .
~
Sure
His wife now runs the bar
~~~

Jonquil rain bar approach , delta method
time beau stargazer in earnest
Fine line arcadian pest derecho , pinpoint
waiver unit substitution Jericho
Albamarle sinister unit torrid recuser perpetuity
cisco propulsion Easter wig nam propulsion
Archangel rock deliver jetsam
Harold ****** sonic shift mercury wind bag space
candidate turquoise nine beam analyzer Sinbad nine
Winder ground archer nine sound pet neighbor tyrant
dime loser terrier loose figment stroller ten nimbus

This is somewhat of a surreal writing and so is the title
well here goes...

Foolin' around with chaos
Kickin' at the cosmos
Not quite known' where
my left foot and right foot
really belong

Wondren' if the stains
in my undershorts
are the results
of nicotine  

Imaginin' the Philly goliath
clothing statue around 15th and Market
constructed to clamp
onto Willys Nose

Wittnessin' the  "Parkin' Authority"
rhythmically writin' on pads
their violation ticket songs
to the quarter meters of cash flow

Drizzly watchin'
The multitude of "Ben Hurs"
precariously skim
and fly around the corner
at 16th and Market headin' north  And

seekin' self-infliction
by seriously
tellin' a waitress
that she really serves the best food in town. And
salutin' every Admiral dressed doorman
that I pass. Then later,

overhearin' a good "Samaritan"
tell a street ******
that four roses
can also be sniffed as well

Thoughts of Christ
nailed to the " Charles Schwab" edifice
with a thorny looking crown
made from antiquated ticker tape
His side pierced by
piggy bank breakers,
and the outpouring of green inscriptions
that state, " In God we trust."

All these things
race through the squeaking
reels of my mind already
corroded by seen corruption as a
passing Krishna group's chant permeates
the thick city air
And an unnoticed dying dove raises
its quivering right wing
as if in a last salute to peace

And all too well I know,
how the city devours its youth
like Goya's " Saturn Devouring his Son"

All too soon, in the sunlight
of my benevolent youthfulness within,
a chilled blanket of knowing about ignorance
overwhelms me
Tormented by indefinable tormentor,
The love-lust for life diminishes
and captured by surrounding greed
and torn asunder

Driven away, sitting in Rittenhouse Square,
touched by two lovers
as squirrels
scamper playfully
          over dead dried
                 Autumn leaves...
                         ...that  crackle...

February 13th 2014*
I had a full moon in my sign,
So I read it as a sign,
That my entire body spirit and soul,
Was vibrating for a **** *reason, and
God - no matter how many times
He has ****** me - he has his
******* Reasons. He isn’t even
Selfish enough to call them his
Own. That’s my god, that my mind

That my big gig my spirit in the sky.

It’s not nothing that is happening.
If I am regretting, opening
My chakras, and consciousness
That’s too bad because, there is no going
Back, nor forward, nor present
Because I presently believe.
And let me make it clear I no longer believe
in regret.

Miles away from here,
I will never question where I have to go.
A body disconnected from a mind disconnected
From a soul, teeters in the balance of regret
Because trying to get fit is not fitting in
Fit has been inhibition
Latent, and lamented
With sin.

Simply put, make healthy decisions.

Speak freely, and confessions
Are easy to make.
My entire life I have felt like a loser
A Bukowski like ****** -with no 'hoosier'
Like talents. So if tales are not spoken
About you when you die
remember
Like Bukowski’s one of us down here
He wouldn’t be sober either;
Am I  the tourist/hitchhiker
That turns Hunter S. Thompson
Down on a hit of ether?

I am wise not with wisdom but wise with beer.

Health is about balance, and that balance
Is my edge.

Either which way, I admire my brain.
I didn’t sit down planning to write
this and if I could explain I would
put it in a book.
Look,

If I publish anything soon I would be
Just as worried
As you are?

Would I pigeon hole and sewer
My lifelong friends or would I
Expose deep dark secrets
That could de-rail my “Hoosier” inspired
Career?
I fear yes.
But I also fear no-
Body would read them.

My trash masterpiece
Will be self published
And hidden in discount book bins
Across North America
With a sticker on it reading
“This is free for a reason”
And its not because I don’t need
money to survive,
but because I do need love
to do so.

For all my tales of braggery
I am the eloquent loser.
Out of thousands of choices
I will pick the ******,
The liar, the layabout or thief.
Then starts my florid tales
Designed to mask my grief.

I list the virtues of the guy,
The Prince Charming I caught
And talk about his attributes
None of which he has got.
I treat him like aristocracy
Even though he never works.
My friends wonder how I can
Align myself with such a ****.

So, that means more stories
To extoll his many talents
Even though he has so few
To brag about on balance.
I keep thinking my eloquence
Will overcome his character,
His many alluring facets
Or lack of which whatsoever.

It’s sad the lengths I have gone
Trying not to be so alone.
I have been accused of being
Like a dog with a favorite bone
In my attempts to justify
The awful choices I have taken.
But I don’t listen, I only talk
Any advice is all forsaken.

That’s how it goes with me
If I can explain things away,
Like Scarlett, I'll think about it
Maybe on some other day.
Maybe then I'll finally understand
Why I do what I always do.
But we eloquent losers don’t care
So very much what is true.

Heavy foot steps and lead laeden words.
Trying to create sense of this emergancy of birds.
Predators hiding lurking in the laminate
sealed in with a kiss the layers are feeling permanant.
Clear obsidion mixed with volcanic ash.
Crushing down on me, im gasping for breath.
Shaking like a mountain just before the eruption
trying to remove myself from this plastic corruption.
Daisies die in feilds..
Deers burn as the air horns call out the catastrophy.

You all need to run from me.

Silence in my self, I am no longer seeking
i need to break free and sing just as birds sing.
Calling out the warning; shaking up the evergreens.
its all interconnected.
Hyperspatail turbulance im screaming in my bed
im worried
im afraid
im trying
its working
i think that the plastic might just be burning
the toxic
the posion
its all gassing off from me
dont breath me
i feel like its something.


I could just be werid. Relaxing in turbines, i think im just trying and poems lead to calm minds.

Make sense of me. Make sense of you.
And you.
And you.
Im caought up in the subterfuge.  Capracioisly grapsing
for what im not sure.

Cattawompus canyons are cut into my heart. Im so confused information on piecharts
, the values dont match
the legend is misleading.
God seems to be warrenting this healing.
Kicking in the door
creating a dizzy storm.
Cyclopeon rage
stolen from days of yore..

Its time to let go.
Its time to grow.

Just understand me . just for a breif moment. I am harmless. I am less. I am lost. I need rest..

A bunch more words too honest too painful. I write poems to unleash all that is shameful.

This hurts.

This is needed.

I am bleeding.

Just so I am.

Just living.

Just leaving.

Just kidding.

Just bidding.

Betting.
On when its all ganna explode.
On when the subroutiunes will need a defrag machine when the bios gets corrupted when the system wears down when i will stand in the light looking like a ******* clown.
Because i trusted.

Why is this so hard?
I am 24 years old and cant drive a mother ******* car.
Fear is a disease that i can not squah on my own
a whole battallion of star ships need to warp into my home and disrupt the radio frequencies that speak to me
in dreams the nightmares unending the face grips and rending my cheek bones are tensing my teeth are condensing milkbones and raw tones

This excitment inside me
burns out the live feed
darkness envolopes mailed sent by trumpet
these echos of my thoughts
repeat the words taought
like liar and loser you dumb ******* ****** acomplish not nothing but your something is ******* just so god ****** worthless they all wait for your face to turn to a frowning grimice of you drowning you floundering ****** you sociatial ****** you cautious cat crawling as dogs get the tasties of life while your wasting your time just complainging this echo echo chamber needs to be ******* obliterated. A star dust deconstruction and rebuilding of the most primitive functions.

Take me from my own head.
I made my bed.
Id lie in it. But. Its made of my own meat and guts.

Friends
.. I need your ******* help.

Just.
Be you. Perfect.

I trust you. Despite what these echos say bouncing in my brain.

Just.

This is too much.

Just.

I think im just werid..

Just.

Please dont run.

I brag about my prowess
But I’m really a big mess.
The truth is I’m coasting
Nearly roasting in the fire,
The one I lit when younger
Full of burning desire
And right down to the wire
I hid, lied, swindled me
Double-handedly, as if
There was a rift between
Myself and the truth.
This was my youth.

I believed lies I was told
If I liked them better than truth;
I was such a shallow  youth
And the swindlers could see
When I was coming down the road
They’d load me on with their stories
About what great glories lie
In putting people down so
i could rise as high as the sky
With just a little lie or two.
How easy it was to do;
To lie my way through.

It would be years before
The score would catch me
And ****** me out of my pride
And get me to walk alongside
Those I had walked on, cheated.
At every point I was greeted
With reality standing next to poetry;
The myths that were my story
With very little glory in them.
They were sort of a battle hymn
Of someone who always before
Fought all the wrong wars
And called the dead losers.
Oh, and I was a big ******.

Does that explain a great deal?
That I really didn’t feel,
That I was on autopilot
And made sure to deny it;
That *** was my navigator
And hope was an alligator
Just about to consume me.
You could costume me, but
The way I talked and walked
Gave me away, every time.
Lying was my crime, nor was I
All that good at it. I failed;
I went to jail and confession
But none of these sessions
Helped me at all.
My heart was too small.
My pride too tall.

He has a degree in bait and switch
He’s a devious, deceitful sumbitch;
He’s a human hound dog,
A trash talking fat hog,
Ready with a phony smile
And he has been for a while.

Happily taking britches off of *******
If she’s not too fussy with her *****;
Because by gum and dagnab.
That’s the first thing he’ll grab.
As crazy as a lifelong ******
He thinks a nice guy is a loser.

He reverses what he says each day
And if you catch him he’ll always say
He blames it on Obama and Jews,
On Democrats and fake news.
He changes his mind on a whim
Thinks nobody is as good as him.

We need to mention how ugly he got.
His appearance seems to be all rot.
He’s made of pure grease
That keeps him so obese
Still he claims he is as trim
As guys half the size of him.

He got started by his daddy’s dough
Back a flashy half century or so
He has very little taste
Most of his life was a waste.
Every business he touches
Ends up walking on crutches.

Why is his image with so secure?
He’s not a decent man for **** sure.
An adulterer and a predator
Treats his wives like competitors
Who are blocking his limelight
And should be hidden from sight.

Life rips the fabric holding time at bay
and lets loose the frenzy.

I say
seize the moment
and catch each day
as if it were a butterfly and
ask yourself the reason why
life acts this way.

If we are to live to be we die
if we die to live we still die anyway.

Once upon a threshold in a town
so far away
where the magi travelled to throughout
each night and then one day arrived to
find
the stories were all true
apart from colour television and
Elvis as a stablehand, a
blue
sapphire,
a *** of gold, some
aftershave or so I'm told,
gifts or bribes?

Well,
history admires the brave and merit is the King,
so Jesus never had a chance
which has a familiar kind of ring.

I wrung the necks of several ***** in the aftershock when the dark sky brooded, deep was the mood until some jokes quite crude were circulated,
the congregation as expected congregated down the ******,
and was the crucified the loser?
that was the question on people's lips,
several tips on how he could if he had desired escaped the dire consequence
and some said, three pound eighty pence
for a pint was far too much.

I pay, we all pay
some pray, but
time finds a way to
break into every day
and crucify
everyone.