*****

I like *****, I like ****,
before you touch, you must get permits.
Nothing like a nice pair of assets,
oh how puppies make nice pets.
Bazongas are ***** that are large,
strippers and hookers, will always charge.
Nothing like the perfect *****,
but only on the perfect woman.
******* are yummy dark or white,
but first you must wait for an invite.
Some girls even have a third ******,
do not squeeze says Mr. Whipple.
I don't mind girls on the itty, bitty, ***** committee,
on a carpenters dream, I show no pity.
They could be called a bust, some call them cans,
a woman's squeeze box, all men are fans.
Chesticles is a term I have never heard,
but everyday, I learn a new word.
I like cones, I like jugs,
girls with big ones, I give hugs.
Al Bundy loved calling them *******,
at the restaurant, I wish I was one of the recruiters.
A girl with a nice set of knockers,
might find herself with unwanted stalkers.
Fergie sang about her lovely lady lumps,
a good set of melons, still give me goose bumps.
***** always come in a pair,
why do bra's, they have to wear.
Even men who smoke lots of crack,
still can appreciate a good sized rack.
I don't care if there fake or real.
in a crowded room, I always cop a feel.
Girls love showing off some cleavage,
I wish I lived in a ***** village.
Babies need breast milk to make them stronger,
if the mom is hot, they may do it longer.
In conclusion, I love *****,
with whipped cream or melting ice cubes.

sweet, slender, beautiful
the words he picks from the meadow
carefully and purposefully wrapping them in paper
he carries them to the doorstep of my heart
lays them softly on the mat
and knocks on the door

the paint is crisp, the knocker untouched until now
the whole house wakes, the sound reverberating throughout
i scoop up the flowers, arrange them in a vase
place them in the biggest room with the most light,
only the best for my treasure, my first bouquet

canto 1
I call her daddy my own. He felt nothing for her when the time had come for him to do something he fell and she felt nothing at all, nothing whatsoever. It is a cruel world, mateys, and the best thing you can do is curse God and die. Hard to ditch the pity act. Ditching is denying and there is much truth to the lie.

canto 2
Their eyes bubble in the open air, they fill to bursting and scrub until they scratch. **** drips. It's a sound that I will never forget. A sight that should be reserved for the dream world...a stench unrivaled.

canto 3
The Chinese bomber is persistent. One has to wonder why he bothers at all, seeing that his attempts have been futile up until the present moment. It's shoe week, so I guess he has his reasons. But this has gone on for far too long. If there were a way for me to stop him I guess it wouldn't hurt to try.

canto 4
Random parking lots and good God what have they done? I thought it was all over, these thoughts were through, these voices are mad. Usually it's not as upsetting. Your car door gets stuck, you know, it happens all the time. It happens every day, still you never get used to it, do you? You're always stuck inside that ugly mirror.

canto 5 (the "missing canto")

canto 6
I want to tell the world how good you are. Amazing and incredible. **** and *******. Talented and unrestrained. Honey nut Cheerios. You give it but I have a sneaky feeling you would rather be lost in a dream. A banal night vision. Comparably

canto 7
I want to make it better. I want to see you smile. What can I do? You are my own heart ripped from my chest and given wings to fly. Your smile is a lost treasure I would do anything to get it back to give it back to you, I didn't mean to take it away from you. You push me up against a stone wall and you don't even realize you're doing it. That my soul cries and prays for something real, for some kind of explanation or even an excuse would be fine right now. Instead I float. Not the way I like to float. I drift and crash, a dizzying spiral out of control, confused and dumbfounded by the realization that none of it means a ******* thing. What I thought was love turned out to be a jester's game, a joker's trick. You don't need me anymore.

canto 8
I hide myself behind a blanket of stone where you cannot spit fireballs at me without cracking an egg. Cold breeze tickles my news. It's not too chilly in this room. But the fireballs warm things up. "Blanket of stone"...what a stupid expression. Why do you have to be so hateful to me? How many times can a man say I'm Sorry without losing an eyeball?

canto 9
I have no right to feel the way I do. I don't think I can control it, though. This is one of the ****** up idiosyncrasies of my confused existence. Vanish without a trace and look for clues in the alphabet soup.

canto 10
Weariness is like a slug, a giant slug, a parasite infesting my body, hanging on and hanging out. A fire down below that waits for my imagination. My sleep patterns are getting ****** up but I'm not sure if I was sleeping or just dreaming I was awake. Under the impression that it doesn't matter? Well, you are a stone fool for thinking that way. You've never experienced the life-changer. Else you would know. But all I want to know is this: Why am I afraid of sleep?

canto 11
Things get slow. Patience is required, but I don't have any. Why does it have to be that way, o cruel dictator? You get a kick out of this ****, don't you?

canto 12
Spill your guts, maties, it's the only way you'll ever come out of this situation with even a shard of dignity intact. I know it's early and you haven't had time to adjust your eyes and your wrists for this delicate task. Go! Do it now before you lose confidence.

canto 13
We took a holiday and it was so nice. She stood there on that stage without a stitch of clothing on her voluptuous body. Baby, don't you let your hairdresser down

canto 14
Who doesn't love breakfast? Me, actually.

canto 15
I can't help it if I'm changing every day. Ask the question later, maybe my answer will be suitable. I don't think I can help you because I'm not like anyone you've ever known or will ever know or can ever know or would ever want to know and why do you keep wanting to know where I've been? I've been right here. Right where I've always been. Haven't moved a muscle.

canto 16
This is the 16th and I should be proud but the apathy seeps from my very pours. That little ******* was about to take a **** in the corner. When I picked him up to take him to the paper he dropped a couple of turds on the floor beneath me. I guess he couldn't wait.

canto 17
Sometimes things change so much that it's hard to tell if they're for the best or the worst. It is at these times that I enjoy a good evening on the water, enjoying my yacht and eating peanuts from another man's sack. Salted peanuts with pickled eggs and deviled ham with a side order of angel food crack.

canto 18
My wrist hurts and I've lost the will to **** socks.

canto 19
The lawn chair has been placed under extreme scrutiny. It's rocking motion is being scientifically tested and arranged for packaging. The physics of this miracle are in the process of logistical infiltration. You'd be surprised at how useful a rocking lawn chair can be in a world tangled in war. It's a good place to relax. For paranoids, that is.

canto 20
Bird feathers of a different post, it has never made a lick of sense and the promises made were broken. Who was that man in the bird suit? Why was he making all those funny noises? I'll have to investigate. Lawd have mercy I do believe I've **** my pants.

canto 21
Don't come crying to me if you feel misunderstood. I can read right through you and I know that all you're doing is fishing for a compliment. You will not receive one from me, Salty Dog, not because you don't deserve one. You probably do. But not from me. Perhaps you should take up your case with Hoda Kotbe. Who knows but that you might look really, really good on television. Just remember to feed the dog before you leave. He gets hungry. But he doesn't miss you. I don't mean to break your heart, but the rational man within me is very convincing when he tells me you are a real pickle.

canto 22
Those comments are found particularly offensive in light of the situation in the Gulf. You need to regulate your interest in beans. One day you'll fly to the Middle East looking for peace and all you will find are demons like the ones who raised so much hell in "The Exorcist". You don't want that, do you? Settle for Ranch Style and leave the diplomacy to the masters.

canto 23 (the "lost" canto)
I wouldn't wish this on a barrel full of monkeys. They say that time heals all wounds and I suppose it does. No "if"s, "and"s or "but"s. Don't believe me? Listen to 'em snarl. They're hungry for blood and sandwiches. I owe you nothing, so perhaps I'll send you a good time from New York. You gotta love a trapeze artist.

canto 24
I'm trying my best to change the world but the fact remains that the human race does not deserve the kind of tender loving care that I'm well known for. This holiday event will not include high temperatures or the kind of crap the weather people try to sell you.

canto 25
******* Valhalla. This is how it always seems to wind up, isn't it, Pinnochio? Just when you think things are getting better, BAM, ****** up again.

canto 26
You know you've reached a severe point of boredom when you switch to the Daystar Network and find yourself singing along to the bogus faith healers. Pecans on that one, please.

canto 27
Plug away, Sailor. Keep plugging away. When you get there you can say you plugged away with as much vim and vigor as a much larger man. Slough it off, O Great one. Keep sloughing it off. When you get there you can say you sloughed it off with as much skill and empathy as one might expect from a lizard. Or a monster frog.

canto 28 (the "twenty-eighth canto")
Come, look at my incredible collection of dice. Right next to my collection of mice. Next to that bowl of rice. Sugar and spice, everything nice. My head's full of lice. Don't think twice, just break the ice. Pup your puppy dog in the freezer.

canto 29
My toes are cold and so is my nose. I should be concerned with this situation but, strangely, I could care less. There are so many other, more important things to worry about. Like how many frosted flakes are in that box over there. And is there any milk left? And is it the real deal or that phony 2%? 1%? Skim milk is even worse. If it gets down to that point I'll save the money and use tap water. Don't think for a moment that I won't.

canto 30
Colored pencils expect risque answers to tame pencils. Unfortunately the quality of superior eggs is relative to the ice cream that has dripped down your shirt. You're starting to smell bad and I would highly recommend soaking in vinegar for an hour or six.

canto 31
There are times when I wish the planet would implode and **** every living thing into a void. I don't wanna die, but if I'm gonna I want everyone else to come with me. I'm tired of hearing about God's word. But even more so John Hagee's special gift for your love offering of any amount, the super duper Bible verse audio player, with selected passages read by the man himself. You can leave him behind.

canto 32 (the "same as the 31st" canto)
There are times when I wish the planet would implode and **** every living thing into a void. I don't wanna die, but if I'm gonna I want everyone else to come with me. I'm tired of hearing about God's word. But even more so John Hagee's special gift for your love offering of any amount, the super duper Bible verse audio player, with selected passages read by the man himself. You can leave him behind.

canto 33
Yazaa, yazaa, yazaa I told you I was gonna steal that car. You didn't think I had the guts, did you? But look who's laughing now! That guy with the big flower in his pocket must really feel like **** right now, realizing that his awesome vehicle is no longer in his possession. Maybe get an ice cream cone, maybe feel better.

canto 34
Come out of your hidey-hole, scurvy dog. Rat scabies be breathing down your neck and it's cold and old and you'll do as you're told. Pinch back that stray lock of hair, O Queen of Sheba. You shall spend the rest of your days parked on a green chariot overlooking Lake Erie

canto 35
You could have given me a reason for the season. Instead you had nothing to offer but a huge chunk of pepperoni that had mold growing all over it. Admittedly it was delicious but surely you could have come up with something a bit more expressive of the tender emotions I inspired within your fluttering heart.

canto 36
The prospect of a news reporter calling you a crack head based on information gleamed from your Internet social network profiles is quite terrifying, but when you tie the noose you might as well make sure it was time well spent. It's a shame you shaved your head because the painful truth is that now you bear a striking resemblance to Telly Savalas.

canto 37
Energy. That's what is required. And not just the kind of energy you can get from sugar, caffeine and butter. If it were that easy you could be **** sure that the Catholic Church would be the first in line to canonize it. They have a burning desire to fall off the wagon. "Which wagon?" you may ask. The one with the ice cream, of course. Don't be a fool.

canto 38 (a "short" canto)
If boredom is a sea in which one can easily sink into and drown in, I must be swimming the Atlantic.

canto 39
When the dog barks like that it's a sure bet that he's been neutered in the last few days. It's a sad and sorrowful sound that is only recognized by **** knockers in the deep woods.

canto 40
I could stare at the bars of this prison for the rest of my life. Okay, that's *******.

canto 41
Who was it that once said time is the only reliable concept in the universe? Oh, wait. That was me

canto 42
They tell you to wait. That's what it's all about. Wait, wait, wait, wait until I can almost feel my hair turning gray. The estimated time is currently number 7 the estimated hold time is 4 minutes, thank you for your patience. Well, you're welcome, comrade.

canto 42
I've only to surrender you to the world, lie down and wait for it to crush me.

canto 43
If I can only keep it together...if I can only hold it together this one time, I know the gravy train will come my way. Would it do any good to pray? This isn't the first time that enlightenment and illumination have reared their blessed heads. Would that I could live within them this time.

canto 44
Have I told you lately how much I hate to wait? Thinketh not that the Chair has lost it's financial imbalance, the very thread of chocolate that brought you here. It is still a very important and, some would say, a hot topic regardless of the amount of grime, sweat, blood and V8 juice is spilled on it's ivory shaped pear seat.

canto 45
The shadows turn into cloaks, dark itchy woolen capes that enfold the nothingness beneath them, the nothingness of being. You could have worked a little longer and a little harder on that one, amigo.

canto 46
It's been awhile but my wrist still hurts and I've written the word "moon" on the back of my hand with a Sharpie.

canto 47
I'm movin' this **** to WordPress. No I'm not. **** WordPress. Press WordFuck. Word FuckPress. On and on and on and on and not the least bit clever or entertaining. But I do like steaks.

canto 48
I swear to God I wish I had never taken that first hit of ****. Look what it's done to me. After so many years, I guess I was only fooling myself. Or maybe I was so dumbed down that it didn't seem to matter. But now things have changed. And I can do nothing about it. Dump a can of Campbell's Chunky Soup into a bowl, throw it into the microwave, let 'er go for three minutes, let 'er cool down in the oven for a couple more, stir in a quarter cup of Tabasco sauce, let 'er cool down for a little while longer, mix in a ****-load of Cheez-It reduced fat crackers and then go to ******* town. Go to ******* town, I say, **** the stoner days.

What could be worse
Than a garden
Full of gnomes and trolls?
Is it:
Lawn jockeys and yardells;
Chuck adjusting his carb every Sunday afternoon;
Bathtub ****** Marys beseaching us to love;
Metal flowers on outside garage walls;
Fish ponds with gills in the filter;
Red gravel flowerbeds with little white fences;
Cosmetic door knockers;
Swimming pools without diving boards;
Mirrors on fences;
Burning ******* in fire pits;
Backyard landfills;
Icicle lights;
Weedy neighbours and an east wind;
The screech of tires;
The thump of metal;
The sound of screaming;
The absence?

Yeah. Plenty could be worse.

My sister never had any boyfriends
which was quite surprising really you know
because she had a nice pair of knockers
and a very cute little **** on her
but never once a gentleman caller
came knock knock knock on her friendless portal.

So I asked her what was the ******* score
that no butch lads wanted to part her bush
and whyfore was she not barking for it
in a vague manner of ******* speaking
and she told me to glue my keen peepers
on her keyhole the next night to find out.

Thus I knelt down before her bedroom door
my eye glued to the appropriate hole
with a full view of her "sleepezee" bed
on which she casually lay spread out
legs opened like a major T-junction
and then her friend appeared to my rapt joy.

I gasped in wonder as her lesby love
straddled my **** sis and gave her tongue
a good chance to lick out her womb entrance
causing me to indulge in self-abuse
as their eager mutual *******
gave way to some red hot ***** action.

(I hope they didn't hear the noisy splats
as I squirted my lovejuice onto the doorpost)
Good taste, eh?

It always makes me wake up when it hits;
When a rivulet of sweat runs between my ****.
I wake up thinking some bug is walking there
Because it tickles my manly bit of chest hair.
Guys are built much different than the rest.
We are not supposed to have issues with our chest.
But here I am trying to get some sleep
Suddenly aware my cleavage is too deep.

Stuff is happening backwards that should not
What we supposed to do with this mess we’ve got?
Something’s got the world all upside down.
God must be a freaky circus clown.
Regardless of some nasty radio rants
I have no problem with women wearing pants.
And in life today as I have always seen
The woman is often the boss, big and mean.

And I have heard, in current affairs and state
That men can even, in time, learn to lactate.
But this one situation in which I have *******
Threatens to unhinge and drive me a bit loopy.
I guess, with time, I will someday get accustomed.
And I know some old ideas need to be jettisoned.
But I never expected that this would be a year
For me to go get fitted for an absorbent brassiere.

Make dreams,
take dreams,
create them yourself.
Runes for ditherers.
Whispers on raindrops.
flowers on breezes.
Birthday boys and pretty girls.
Wearing bright white crop tops.
Bright pink cheeks and twisted curls.
Haircuts and elastic.
Fashion trends.
Cheap shop friends.
Call centre workers,
out to make an easy buck.
Poking folks.

Killing jokes.
He's preaching the end of the world.
How dare he be so bold.
To visit my front door,
garbage paper in hand.
The devil to capture have and hold,
hangs in the watchtower.
From this day, now and forever,
The aged leather sofa plethora of all sold lies.
Invite them not in, briefcase duos.
perfect smile.
See them coming run a mile.
Or just ignore the door.
(c) Livvi
This is obviously just my own opinion.

On our knees, working the naked Ken
to mount the clueless Barbie, making
them moan, screaming, "O! O! O! O!"
Dumb toothsome puppets, self-satisfied,

bubble gum Corvette, her small ***, huge knockers,
and nothing proven or dared, solving
bodies unlike those we pushed so hard against —
me and my Easy Bake, you and your erector set.

Do you get discouraged when you write?
Do you feel that when you write people are being too polite?
The bottom line if you can distinguish letters and turn them into words
You are thinking with an imaginary surge
If you can write a business letter then you know how to write
If you imagination takes you to a place then you know how to excite
The statement is writing with authority and taking your thoughts with what you know
Remember you are the illustrator being the show
The inventor with a surprise mind
Use whatever creative resources that is combined
Settle for but keep thinking as you explore
Negativity is something you should ignore

Turn the knock at the door and write like never before
The refreshing breeze while standing on the shore
A writing tablet offering you expelling ideas
Destiny with a journey
Business at hand with the pen

Never say you can’t
Start with efforts in try and it will determine you can
The knock out punch with your writing starting at once
When other people try to discourage you and say you can’t write
Tell them don’t be jealous and uptight
Negative thoughts means some people aren’t bright

Follow your dreams and go with your heart
Take your hand and just write until done
Join the many Poets and Writers and be among
Write about what you know or how you feel
You control the dialog in being a big deal
Your Coach says write until when and conclude at the end
“Your Writing lives and you survived your own muse”.

Swerves the verve of voluptuous curves
That ******* clad lies become ironclad wides or wives
That the uxorious mission is a useful instrument of precision
That a denuded forest becomes the acme of toon and television
Let us garble our quotes and refrain from prolonged oaks
That whisk the memorial flames beneath the softly and the constricted spoke
I wrangle with big swells and tumescent lips
Labial love is liquid rushing to impress my scent and my lisp
Flamingos careen the specialty of wide-nosed oxygen
The toxic ragamuffin does lack the characteristic halogen
Runny tears on whitewashed days, scrape the pond of excess
**** of waifs and wastrel sways the world’s columns stand ever more proud
The future has two authors a converging future and an approximated past
Leeching on to the dastardly knockers of hacked brass tax
We then linger and malinger with germs that flippantly exercise the *******
That exorcise the ruffled harbinger in an incomplete rhyme
Sordid yet sublime, a city breaking on through to the mother side
Of the brother’s promise, to bequeath love lost and undressed
Unbuttoned snooze caffeinate my coffee
Established crews scour my pastiche of laundry
I need a confirmation that some littoral joke isn’t anymore creative than a hoarded broke
Broken in fracture, illuminated by rapture, the panacea of pain disaster
The deliverance of fragrance yet to gain and yet to lose,….. refrain poetaster
Simpered friction swipes the edict of election
As ******* becomes the Olympus of defection
But ponder no more these quodlibets of regaled glory
The amaranthine time has been proferring the same tried and true Love Story
Arranged or deranged, the best will *** and the rest will come
Thereby we become the litter of Medulla Pons surviving on Jack-and-Dandy ***
Remember this in many ways we are a shining city paid for by the mentally ill
Waylaid with the marble of the ultimate rocketship dumb enough to thrill
We soak and absorb the truest bright and the weakest light
As the fraternal order of the lambent moon becomes an extraterrestrial communion rather than an aghast fright
John Derry offers me two geese and I offer to fleece the homespun danger of the moral police
But Capone cannot cap the stone with signature and artistry alone
He cannot unfurl the booth bonfire and the broken home
But his evaded taxes are relaxed because of meritocratic classes
Of wisdom becoming wizardry and idiocy becoming harlotry of sinister waste crass plastics
Limpid with freckled frowns and monolithic and nomothetic pounds
Of zeros escalading a spawn-trout upward voyage and a quiet pillage of a bear-eaten town
Benign rumors of soaring afflictions and deloused tumors swarm the pasquinade village
A Potemkin place where gays get spayed covertly by laying a nescient egg deceased and weighed
In the navy we are not, but thanks to the gravy we are bought and we are sold
And of course you must trim the bushes before they scowl in the fold
Hedged bets on arts, squirts and debts
Of hottest flirts, car washed shirts and wrangled King Tut **** and Cleopatra wet
To this history I owe a greater than perfect debt
A Raider with influential sweat
A gamboler with a frisky totem of regret
Radiant sun says goodnight
Glazed to beat you, you fearful fitful 1997 willful fright

My father used to take me fishing;
i can remember it clearly:
bleary eyed wakeups at 2:30 a.m.
after preparations late into
the night prior, the
smell of gasoline
as the outboard motor
sputtered to life,
its deafening roar as we
raced the sun along the
river's length.
The eery silence that followed.
Because we rarely talked.
We were fishing.
Dad loved largemouth bass,
red-breasted bream, catfish,
shell-*******, warmouth,
stump-knockers, and
whatever else.
i enjoyed fishing, too.
But we rarely talked.

Time moved on, and us with it.
And there was less time for
us to go fishing together.
Years passed, and i said
to myself, -i said it
very clearly, i did- i said,
self, we need to go fishing
soon.
There is at least one more big fish
out there that i am after.
i even mentioned it to my father.
Let's go soon, i said...
     -Yeah, that sounds good.-
but we both knew we wouldn't.

Time moved on, and us with it.
And there was less time for
us to go fishing together.

On the day of my father's funeral,
there were many surprised faces
upon my arrival.
They thought i had gone off fishing,
but i knew the river had run dry.

Your giant leap for mankind
Was my exile in a pillbox
A stasis of dead-ends and
Reckless door-knockers
Undifferentiation
Hallucination
Annihilation
Apocalypse of self
Over-man or Under-man
Can’t hide from the super-group
Who prematurely created him-
A slave in their time loop
Moving to keep from standing still
Blame it on a quicksilver mind
Day or night it’s machinery
Starving to be bled and blind
Initiation
Fragmentation
Annihilation
Apocalypse of self

It has only been two weeks since we had met
in that grand house full of irksome snobs
you a concertmaster soprano, me a lonely poet
your eyes and lips requested me to watch you perform
so a week later I went to the concert hall
it was an rendition of Mozart's The Magic Flute
she was playing the part of sweet Pamina
her voice fluttered like butterfly wings
I have seen many versions of this opera
yet I have never seen one like hers ever
the first time seen in my life Ach,ich fuhl's
such a touching piece performed *******
my heart was pounding in my mouth
sweat formed upon my brow
I did not know if I was in heaven or hell
I stood up when she finished and shouted bravo
what a pair of knockers what a wonderful show


By Christos Andreas Kourtis aka NeonSolaris

I think Women are Hot and.
Should be shown respect
And all though I get *****
I take time to Listen

Can't get into Sports Teams
Know's what fashion is a Dream
Of Bob Mackie, Calvin Klien
Versace, Chanel, and Ralph Lauren

In the Kitchen I create with Panache
Tenderloin of Beef with Marsalle Sauce
Vintage Recipe Chocolate Cake at
Proper Temperature I Bake 'til Perfect

And shopping is a Spree as
Long as its not for me
Rather Shop a Bra for a set of knockers
Then Shop for a Pair of Kahki Dockers

When it Comes to Culture I am Allured
To Poetry, Art, Music and Stage
And so ever fond of thespians
Could it Be I'm a Male Lesbian


All the Work here is licensed under the Name
®SilverSilkenTongue and the © Property of J.Flack

Miss Pinkie
pours me scotch
in a glass

any ice?

no thank you
I slip slow
allowing
to swirl round
my twenty six
year old mouth

she sits down
beside me

she wears that
polka dot
red short dress
and the blue
cardigan
her dyed brown
cropped hair style

want music?

got Mahler?

yes of course
she gets up
and puts on
a Mahler
symphony
on her old
gramophone

as she bends
I spy red
underwear
unattached
to the light
brown stockings

she comes back
and sits down
Mahler starts
lights are low

can I smoke?

sure you can
she replies

I light up
so does she

how is she?
she asks me

who is that?

the slim girl
at the home
pretty thing
all brains but
no knockers
Miss Pinkie
says softly

we just talk
I reply

about what?

poetry
modern art
politics

is that all?

yes that's all

she inhales
and stares cool
exhaling

any ***?

of course not
not with her

why not her?

I don't know

we're silent
Mahler plays
we smoke on
sip whiskies

I study
her two chins
her blue eyes
her thick thighs

the last time
we had ***
she mutters
it was good
on the couch
till you fell
to the floor
half way through

she was right
'bout that night

MAN LIFEBOATS
MAN OVERBOARD
she shouts out
too loudly

she stubs out
the wasted
cigarette
so do I

how about
my big bed?
she asks me

if you like
I reply
thinking of
the slim girl
with the brains
and hot ***
in the back
of her car

that image
in my head
as we walk
to her bed
her plump ****
swaying slow
to Mahler
the moonlight
in the sky

this is how
the world ends
no big bang
just a long
drawn out sigh.

God,
(I'm not praying, I'm mourning)
It is exactly 1:04 in the morning
and 37 seconds
and I can't even ******* sleep
and there is no one that I can talk to who understands me
because the people that do,
stopped caring when I started trying. . .
I'm writing this here on this piece of paper or computer screen
(whichever you choose)
because I ******* miss you.
And I know that you would yell at me if you heard that word
come out of my mouth
but I would rather you yell
than not say nothing at all. . .
****, ****, ******
You're still not yelling so that means you must
really be gone. . .
It's 1:09 now, dad
and 17 seconds
and I have school tomorrow
but I can't sleep because you always ******* haunt my thoughts
and I used to think that I wanted to **** myself
because I thought I could be with you when I die
cause you said we could meet again in heaven,
you remember that, right?
Sure you do, that was one of your
last ****** days on this earth
But now that I don't believe in heaven
or hell
or maybe even God,
what have I got to die for?
In fact, what the hell do I even have to live for?
You're so ******* gone and
it ******* hurts
and maybe it makes me a ****** poet to write
so many curse words in a poem.
You would scold me if you read this.
But you can't read this,
and you're not scolding me
and you're not even ******* here anymore.
You're just gone,
and *God,
I need you to hug me and tell me it's all okay
and call me your little girl one last time
and let me see you ******* wasted
off your knockers one last time
and let me come home to find you broke into our house again
and let me listen to you yell at my mother
once more. . .
God, maybe this makes me a bad person
but I would take anything just to have you back.
I ******* miss you. . .
and no matter how hard I try
I can not put down in words the immense
seering pain that I have felt.
It's 1:17 a.m
and who ******* cares about the seconds.