"handjob" poems
Be kind to prostitutes
You never know when they'll throw you a freebie
Mar 15, 2012
Mar 15, 2012 at 6:09 PM UTC
He's found himself in the closet
After he lost to himself in a game of tic-tac-toe
And tied his lobster bib tightly
Then hid his cheat sheet, for the pop quiz he knew was soon to come
It's curtains for her
She let the cat out of the bag
And now she's up **** creek with ****** for paddles to go **** herself with
Right in the birth canal
Then we'll auction off the ******
We'll pass them off as European defibrillators
Maybe some extremist will want them
If we spew out enough mindless dribble
The All Time Shit-Show is about to begin
We have
The Chronic Masturbater
The Hypochondriac
And The Pathological Liar
It was either sometime yesterday
Or sometime tomorrow
Or was it sometime today?
That you were all going to make fun of the boy with the cleft lip down at the laundromat?
Out of the three of you The Pathological Lair sticks out like a sore thumb
I can tell he was the runt of the litter
Who always bites off more than he can chew
I see the Hypochondriac has convinced himself he has eczema
He rattles off all his symptoms
Inordinate filibustering
Now there's the Chronic Masturbater
He looks like he's over the hill
He's only twenty one
But the blue circles under his eyes and the deep defined lines on his forehead denote his inelegant aging
I sign all your lives away in my horrible cursive
And now you belong to the ragtag trigger-happy posse of gun-jumpers
My billfold his happily filled
So I must go do some reconnaissance
Spy on those who have quit their day jobs
The fish out of water
You must find that thing that really rolls off the tongue with a nice ring to it
******
*******
*******
*******
No...
Go hang youself with dental flossed you home-schooled fool
Indentured servants we're just an after thought
Sep 7, 2014
Sep 7, 2014 at 4:27 PM UTC
Sometimes I imagine what it would be like to sleep in a bed with no sheets in the corner of an empty airline hanger.
Eating ***** is oblivion to millions,
regardless of politics.
I don't cry when I watch the evening news.
Pictures from my 4th birthday party,
when I turned 3,
make me cry...
...for 1 spermatozoa.
When my co-creators' closed eyelids told me my grandfather had finally passed,
I remembered that I forgot how to make Mac & Cheese.
Time runs on batteries.
But when machines grow to match us,
they will one day pass a law against the consumption of sentient planets.
Still,
some will do it anyway.
And even if they have televisions in space,
I still won't cry.
Because we are all machines.
Jul 7, 2012
Jul 7, 2012 at 6:01 PM UTC
setting myself down on an anvil pillow. sleep is an anvil pillow. anvil and stone are a suicide dressed in 8 hours of mini-Godheads.. you become a repeat offender in the ever expanding realm of emerging fractal patterns sewn upon the quilt you lay across your sleepy bones like rushing water in an underground cave miles below the Yucatan Peninsula..
by electronic firelight they lay on my leather couch with the scraps of bedding I could afford to share, as if for some reason I can't escape the money analogy and see this, too, as a transaction.. buying.. a transaction.. as transfat is to nutrition.. money is tao.. my hate for money is tao.. I'm a love-and-lost buddhist like every other dreamer before me.
I'm tired of giving myself a *******
All I ever give myself is a *******
I refuse to bend over and at least try to give me a ******* or go to the next level in love and **** myself.
I keep telling me to do it. Keep grabbing my own *** during passionate tongue-twisters but I keep on insisting that I just CAN'T go any further.. rationally I may be right, but irrationally I still get shrieks of jealousy because I see that ******* sneaking out to kiss girls all the ******* time* as if I didn't exist. As if I wasn't always watching.
I stalk myself. It's a terrifying state of affairs. No matter where I go, there I am.
Watching.
One night, I invited me over, and as usual, I gave myself a ******* yet refused to go any further.
This was the straw that cracked the camels back.. and come 4 AM I kissed myself softly on the forehead as I slept and slipped into the night, hailing the first taxi to sail past me on the concrete river.
I awoke slowly the next morning and.. still dazed.. noticed I was nowhere to be found.
A great grief flooded my solar plexus and moved into my hopeless bones.
I had not even left a note. What a ******* I am!
I had not even left a note.
The rest of the day was spent in sordid grievance. I shivered, lonely, under my ever expanding realm of emerging fractal patterns sewn upon the quilt I lay across my sleepy bones like rushing water in an underground cave miles below the Yucatan Peninsula..
Jan 15, 2014
Jan 15, 2014 at 8:37 PM UTC
She squeezed his *****
And wasn't it fun
To make that 8 inch *****
Spurt thick, warm, and gooey ***
She said with a grin,
"Yummmm"
May 13, 2015
May 13, 2015 at 9:55 AM UTC
can there be no shampoos? no cakes?
no ales?
do you understand my
disdain for my own
self? i am alone in a room right now
it is a small room
on the eleventh floor
of a mediocre apartment
in a mediocre part of
the greater toronto area
i can hear bad music
coming from the room
above the one i
am currently in
i think it is some sort of dubstep
like, bon iver or something
it is the kind of music that
wins 17 daytime emmy awards
and a ******* from a
dead president of the artist's
choice (a lavish ceremony)
like a dairy queen in
late september,
i weep creamy tears
that taste like creamy
frowny-faces
i weep creamy tears
over a non-existent
lover who is right now
dancing to bon iver ft. drake
whilst punching me in the face
my non-existent lover is
also a stalwart lover
and i resent that quality
i resent my non-existent lover's
stalwart twitter account,
too because
it reminds me of myself
Dec 30, 2011
Dec 30, 2011 at 1:55 PM UTC
Please give me freedom in thought to somehow ballance my prison of existance.
Cast stones over the water in a chance they'll skip across dark waters only to be trapped in another place.
Im a grounded pilot viewing clear skies .
****** at all but seldom understanding even myself.
As tortured youth's scribble misery with ease still the grace of agony is wasted on jaded old farts like myself.
Im a ageless fool in a counted time .
Hey wanna chat?
Cyber games I can live in the real world for im who you see in the truth of my existance as well.
Empty corners is where I find happiness I just wanna be alone.
Hey want some company?
Yes stupid questions are alive and well spoken by overrated **** stars on the evening news.
Story at eleven the news anchor blew half the crew to get this job what about her coanchor.
Another school shooting whatever happend to a good old fashioned beating?
Im sick of what i see maybe i'll make a fake version of myself online talk to little girls who hate what they see
make em think i have a answer ive never known myself.
**** being in style cause thoose people are about as real as there plastic surgeons newly made face.
I hate what I see maybe i'll just rip my eyes from there sockets.
Post my pics on twitter and collect dust with the rest of the half wits that could give a **** less.
Pour a tall one i'll buy my happiness along with my new liver stop on the way home and buy that happy ending
from some ****** who's sold herself less than I.
**** this circus cause I choose to say whats real not give you a verbal *******
and send you on your way.
Like this if your to lazy to move a mouse and say what you really think .
**** the crittics there people who cant do what you can.
**** the truth it just gets in the way of a good lie.
**** your ego I need the air to inflate my own.
**** it all!
Cause it's easier to push away than to ever look at yourself.
Its so easy to give up but few can stand there ground.
**** my thoughts cause its getting to the point a zombies march seems easier than a single thoughts remark.
??????
No I dont have answers.
Aug 2, 2012
Aug 2, 2012 at 12:07 PM UTC
Call me stricken
by her
my favorite color.
I want to fill my ears with static
to give my thoughts some room to move
and my eyes monochromatic
with an artistic side to prove
She writes
like shes giving
Noah Webster a *******
her labyrinthine constructions
of consonants and vowels,
leading in circles
obliterating disbelief,
and I
AM
the words.
She tastes like ***
and nostalgia
nauseating my pages,
wearing thin over keystrokes,
repetition,
the mother of decrepitude
so my muse
decimates my thoughts
one in ten
one in ten
one in ten
CRACK
Sep 12, 2013
Sep 12, 2013 at 2:06 PM UTC
the odious and onerous qualms
I have to sleep in,
everybody's getting
married because they have nothing
better to do
or they think it'll fix their
brokenness,
I just want a ******* behind
a mall dumpster
I want roadhead going eighty
on the way to louisiana
I'm halfway with bourbon
sweats and the crank
smells virginal like young nun ****
it's funny in that.
the weeds in sunset rains
raids of storm clouds in
mild December
******* pressed firmly against
the vista panes painted
in some somber hues
and we pant quietly
to listen to the spatter of
rain, ******* slow to the
rhythm of the swaying trees,
you draw a peace sign languidly in the fog from
your breath,
and as you come the storm
breaks
and as I come I pull out and *********
on your ***
everybody's getting married
and having kids like
the ice caps aren't melting
like the jungles aren't burning
like the rich oil barons
aren't playing hopscotch
on our ****
the idiots.
I admire smokers,
I won't be around when I'm
that bored
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 6:28 PM UTC
Each note in my ears
conducts an orchestra of memory
a rush of blood
from my heart to
my head
I remember
my summer of love
making
The King of Carrot Flowers in California
his stubble- cactus needles
rubbing my lips numb like *******
She Came in Through the Bathroom Window, in Michigan
her hair a brambled bush
tangled in my fingers
******* for the Holidays, in her bed
her body like going home
each time "the last, I swear"
Every Little Thing She Does, in her car
trips to the playground
where we explored like children
and
The Communist Daughter, who set me free
the feeling of forever
my hand in the small of her back
as we danced in our underwear
to Waltz #2
I remember lying
on blades of grass
as hot air balloons
fell into the sky
stirring her algae eyes
my mouth dry and expectant
I knew exactly why I had to leave.
The Southern State
called me nightly
when I heard the train
shouting my future.
So
I rode her to Chicago
with Tom Waits
on my smoke breaks.
From Chicago to Dallas
I wrote poems of
"true love"
****** obsessions"
"surprise thoughts"
***** singing
'1. 2. 3. 4.' in Chris's guest bedroom
her boyfriend calling
we whispered promises
of a future before
we kissed goodbye.
Mar 19, 2015
Mar 19, 2015 at 6:19 PM UTC
Condoms, oil burners, shattered glass
The homeless homies homemade shizz
Now Chris can't sit still in class
Pounding the pavement with kisses to heaven
All hustlers sell
Dippin Dots
Wrapped in latex
Liquid to vapor overkills
The loss of will
From after parties after hours
Romancing the ******
On the corners
Quag **** hits schism
Asphalt littered with
Shattered flowers
Them chicks on the streets
Ladies of the night
Its matter of fact
Mr. Hightower / boulevard's class
For the hard ***
**** poor "G" learning how
To trample through his ghetto
As she masters each one
******* hand / jive and mashed
Chris and his gang
Up for sale (hot-damn **** jello *****
For white hyperions and
Black mellow
Cached
Out / yellow bellied / thin
Such barefooted souls
Marrow
Easiest to break
When already hollow...
(Guilt and shame is a gun
To the temple
And heart
Chambers
Such souls all hollow)
Those Outs Within...
Jun 2, 2017
Jun 2, 2017 at 7:15 AM UTC
i'm losing this patience of mine
it's the struggle of writersblock all the time
they ask how i am and i say i'm just fine but i'm dying inside
i can't swallow the truth cause i'm choking on pride
guess i love you so much that you're stuck on my mind
it's love that you want and it's love that you find
you say you have love for me but it's not the right kind
so here i go again losing my mind
cause i love you so much that it hurts, that it hurts
"you know that i love you" those are the words, those are the words
that i need to hear, that i need to hear
cause i miss you, i miss you
when you aren't here, when you aren't here
but the truth is it hurts even more whenever you're near, whenever you're near
you're laughing at me and that's the last thing you should do
cause i'll strap you to bomb and i'll say you just blew
you're still trying to laugh but i see you're almost crying
and i'm on the floor laughing so hard that it feels like i'm the one who's dying
but atleast when i die, i will die with a smile
in life, pain comes so cheap meanwhile
anything that's worth having just doesn't come easy
my rapping is cheesy and so is your boyfriend who guarentees he
will you love as long as you love him which means he
just wants you to **** him and right after you ****** him
and he came on your face, he goes back to his place
and you feel bad for yourself cause you're a ******* disgrace
your love is like a cloud and i'm in for the chase
but he beat me to it so i came second place
i once had this dream where i ****** you in space
where no one could here you scream while i slide in third base
cause i love you so much that it hurts, that it hurts
"you know that i love you" those are the words, those are the words
that i need to hear, that i need to hear
cause i miss you, i miss you
when you aren't here, when you aren't here
but the truth is it hurts even more whenever you're near, whenever you're near
and to anyone out there who think he can test me
you think you're better than me but the fact is
i'll beat you in practice and slaughter you in a track diss
your girl comes to me and says "i want to jack this"
this is what life's all about, the best ******* advice is to just use your mouth
and right after she ****** this, i looked and said **** this
that ***** is so ugly, i'll never let her **** me
May 8, 2016
May 8, 2016 at 8:13 PM UTC
I wish I could warn you about the Salton sea
Of its panicked shores
Of bottomfeeders
Topside once more
It's stenched coasts
Lush green migraines and migration
Boasting of the lives & liberty cost
Drowning in the murk of men’s habitual need
To improve upon ruination
I wish I could caution you to an endorheic basin
Of its perennial purpose
Of many fertile farms
Impregnated by men & their desire to quench desire
It is a natural ****
It is buried deep in the salinity of quest & reason
Give them structure from which to exalt
Give yourself a *******
Working the cracks and the cross of concrete which is potholed & pitted
I wish I could show you a river valley ahead of it’s time
Of its eventual need to exist
Of dependent mockingbirds
& cattled egrets
An uneven ***** on which mother colorado rests your beleaguered complaints
Drink up while it lasts
A memorandum to a family
That dried up the poisoned well
I wish we could fall to our knees
We don’t
We raise our hands to the sky
Take me dear lord
But first
Let me take a selfie
Let me edit my life
Let me apply a filter over this endless malcontent
& then when it isn’t enough
Let me blame you
Jun 11, 2018
Jun 11, 2018 at 2:01 AM UTC