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liki Apr 2015
Fairbanks Alaska
Was harsh and cold and was
Not as fair as it was originally thought.
A rifle too small for big game
And Galliens shoes two sizes too big on Chris’s feet
He set off for his last adventure
Hiked towards Stampede trail through the wind and ice
With nothing but a grin on his face and his ten pound bag of rice
B Young Feb 2015
The suburban housewives are all prostitutes.
Cuckoo CUCKOO cuckoo
Sings the cuckolded husband
Bury the demons in the backyard,
Jack.
Decomposing rotting souls
Enriching the soil
Get rich without any toil.

Step
Outside

A glance to heavens
From the floors of a forest
Reveals a distant star.
Symbolizing neither here, near or far
A twinkling image destroys the ego
Although in this here woodland
Anything goes.
I am the king.

The truth only goes as far as the rocks thrown
So I asked the reapers which way to go
Take a trip with me down memory lane
my past has no real pain.
And no thank you I would not like any fame
I really have nothing to gain but catharsis
So please don’t call me an artist.  

I learned how to read from Frodo
Potter got me through puberty
Infinite Jest is too long
They say the strong dont read poetry
Naked Lunch ravings from a ***** gone mad
Anything discussed on Oprah during brunch is just bad
Satre and Camus too absurd
Stephen King too frightening
David Sedaris too homosexual
Chucks Palahniuk and Klosterman too hipster
The Electric Kool Aid Acid Test for van wagon hippies
Lao-Tzu is too Zen
James Paterson and John Grisham are a waste of pen
The Perks of Being a Wallflower is too needy
Just begging to be loved
Like stupid Twilight
Ann Rice already got it right
Political books are for crooks
Self Help too pretentious
God Dillusion and God’s Not Great too scary
Romances are all wrong
Farces are all right
The Torah too infallible
The Gospels too life changing
Fear and Loathing, On the Road drugged tales disguised as art
Truth can be found in A Million Little Pieces
Lies found in the truths of our textbooks
Vonnegut is always too short
Woody Allen plays never long enough
Waiting for Godot left me waiting for an ending
The Big Book didnt work
Tweak is a ****** piece of work
Henry Rollins yells Get In the Van with a vein pulsating out his forehead while,
Nikki Sixx makes millions from a marketed selling of his soul
The Hunger Games are over popular children books
Did not stop me from getting hooked
A Brave New World is a reality
Dune a vision
50 Shades a pandering to public lust
The etchings left on my mind by Supertramp McCandless and Hesse will never rust
Edward Albee is everything you could ask a play-write to be
Harmony Korine just makes me envious
Even grand mom has the collected Carlin
Twain is middle school
Hemingway high school
Coleridge is college
Dostoyevsky too daunting
French books are too ****** french
Joyce too Irish
Kafka too German
The great American novels are comic books and tabloids

I get it life is both entirely ****** and perpetually beautiful.
One needn't to read to see
WickedHope Nov 2014
~Christopher McCandless**

My happiness is so temporary
I wish I had someone to share it with
        But
He (1) doesn't love me
  He (2) just wants to **** me
She (A) thinks I'm crazy
  She (B [& C]) believes I'm innocent
And he (3) has had enough

So I'm all alone
Feeling happy
But lacking love
Finally not depressed,
Not like the people I'm closest to care.
*Sigh*
Vassana M Jan 2013
My McCandless, if ever you leave upon whim one fine day,
I understand your sun reigned soul, is what I'll say.
Dull and sullen, my heart will send you on your way.

Ahead on your path I will ardently scatter showers,
Though I am small; great armfuls of camellia flowers,
From Fuji to the Blue Ridge Mountains' springtime bowers.

And as you go with each gracing step you take
Lightly on the flowers as they softly break--
An echo of me as the leave you take.

I know you'll leave me one fated day.
I'll come back to you, is what I hope you'll say.
But I'll not weep then, come what may.
Lucy Tonic May 2015
Like a ***** on a blood buzz
That surrendered to the dragon
Like Jupiter in a strange land
Water colors and cannibals
Like lemon world, minus candy
And true promise and false let-downs
Like McCandless or a Thoreau
Down a river lacking mystic
Like a soldier safe from harm's way
Watching pen-pals throw big grenades
Like echoes heard from a black hole
Filled with demons and Madonna's
Like an idea in a time warp
Full of castles and time capsules
Like a fire burning brightly
By Eskimos throwing blankets
Like Orestes punished greatly
By loud sirens in double-bind
Like a big world in alignment
With a spindle made of chaos
Like paisley love remaining still
While new age brings adhesive hate
Like a black swan, last unicorn
Asleep during apocalypse
Like kind vultures killing a beast
Because his stripes were too crooked
Like a family unforgiving
Of an angel born of their blood
Like a bad cough in a clear throat
Of a drunk God with bronchitis
John Apr 2016
The best karma is being born
Into a good family

Those aren't my words, rather
They're Duncan Trussell's
Who happens to be my favorite comedian/philosopher/human I've never met

And he's right
Tons of truth live in that statement
I've seen it first hand
And I'm sure you have too

I've always been a rather melancholy person
Prone to frequent depressive episodes
That usually culminate in contemplating
My own death
Whether or not it is ethical to end it
By my own hand
Or getting someone else to
Get their hands *****
By doing it for me

I've thought about disappearing
Just up and leaving without a trace
Into the wild
Like Christopher McCandless
But I know that my grief and guilt and never-ending disdain for myself
Would shadow me
Everywhere and anywhere I went

But I'm digressing
I want to talk about the origin
Of all that lurks inside me
Drenching my soul in darkness
And feeding off of me
And getting fat
With its unrestricted and mindless consumption
Of my energy

I want to start with my maternal great-grandmother
All I know of her is what my mother has told me
From what her father told her
Which wasn't much since she died when he only three years old
The main point I want to make is that she died in the care of
Shrinks, head-doctors, psychiatrists
Whatever you want to call them
In 1948
She was an alcoholic
Who would sing and sing
Without a single **** given
On the bus to and from work
People were obviously freaked out
By her unwillingness to conform to "normalcy"
Sitting quietly and ignoring everyone else on the bus
Like everyone else on the bus
So her brothers had her committed to an institution in Manhattan
One that is known to have had ****** conditions
And filled with doctors who treated patients like dirt
Flowers grow out of dirt, right?
If there was no soil on Earth, we wouldn't exist, no?
That's another digression (and maybe a pointless one at that)
Anyway
They said she died of liver complications
Which would make sense given her history of alcohol abuse
And then it was over
For her
Her sadness had ended
Albeit in quite a sad way
In a sad place
Filled with sad people
But she escaped
In the end
Leaving her memory
And, dare I say it,
Her sadness
To permeate down the line gallantly
On strong horses equipped with expensive leather saddles
Who now live within me
And I am certain
Will live on long after I am gone
River Mar 2018
How things change
From laughing in the rain to
crying in it
Nearly drowning in the grey skies

How things change
From the carefree laughter of a child to
the stuttering, clutching mess
of a cynical adult

How things change,
I remember only the happy days
of childhood
Now I'm looking for any way out
of the misery of adulthood

So eager for a quick fix scheme
I don't do drugs but I'm looking for escape
Tempted to pull a Christopher McCandless or Cheryl Strayed
I just need to find some way to get away

Now I understand
When I was a kid I didn't understand why adults were so frustrated
My dad used to say: "Never grow up"
But I was eager to become an adult, like most kids
Yet now I wish to reverse
Because the older you get the more your eyes open up to just how much this world is cursed

When I was a child I trusted blindly,
I was able to believe in things like Santa and the Easter Bunny
I know many believe Jesus Christ is just the same,
Lumped in together with nonsensical creations of the imagination
To soften the blow of a world that can be so unforgiving

But I like to believe he once did live
And if he lived
He truly is the best human being who walked this earth
Who wasn't deterred by scorn and persecution
Who carried out the message of love and brotherly union
I think Christians forget,
that Jesus isn't about religion
It's about transforming our world,
with courageous hope in our hearts
that our small impact
Will make ripples in the atmosphere
that grow bigger and bigger
Until the Kingdom of God
makes everything right

Maybe these aren't your beliefs,
And I'm not sure I can get on board with most of Christianity's beliefs
Like eternal suffering in hell
Because I know that this life is hell enough
But all I am sure of,
at least for myself
Is that Jesus came into this world for people like me
Down on their luck
And in much need of healing
He came for the sinners
He makes people humble
by His saving grace
He calls people to Him
asking them to leave everything behind
But what does the world really have to offer?
This is why I follow Him,
I step out onto the waters
Into the great unknown.
Dan Dec 2018
I first saw you as
Old grey beard desert mountain man
Smoking a cigar
You called yourself an anarchist
A democrat with a small d
I dig that
You talked of the importance of the wild
The nature that’s out there somewhere on the edge of the madness we are all stuck with in the day to day drudgery we call “modern living”
You were well spoken and funny, and while I didn’t agree with everything you said, I felt I could go along with most of it

So then I, as fellow lover of nature and person without much else to do, dug deeper
You talked about fire watch towers, Arizona redneck bars, Nietzsche, Einstein, and watching the birds
You talked about sabotaging bulldozers and wanting to reach out and touch the mountain lion
You talked a lot about freedom too
How each person should be their own leader
And no one should be a boss
And about how whatever great expanse of wilderness, or wildness, we have left is the last refuges of our freedom

The freedom to be that very thing we crave more death, to be wild
To feel alive
We only crave death now because we never feel truly alive
Grinded down in alienated ******* “jobs”
Promise of nothing more than light pollution noise pollution and the regular plain old pollutions of modernity
We search for some kind of meaning
And the struggle to survive with our own two hands has always been the most meaningful action of the human spirit

So we need this wilderness to ******* and get lost in
To breath in deep and trip and fall and get a little *****
We need that wilderness for us to go postal in, however you take that to mean
And finally we need this wilderness because we are this wilderness
It’s in our bones and in our blood
Oh Ed, you and I aren’t alone in this call to the wild
Ask Fredy Perlman about the freedom of the insect and the bird
Ask Kevin Tucker what he thinks of predicide
Whether it’s shooting wolves from helicopters or poisoning carcasses with stric9 so coyotes die when they eat it
We defend coyotes here
And as a good Christian boy I believe that anyone who kills a wolf, except in self defense, should go to Hell

And maybe one day
I’ll go off into your Arizona deserts
Or Chris McCandless’s Alaskan expanse
And maybe I’ll live and maybe I’ll die
But I will be home
I will be free
And I will be thinking of you, Edward Abbey

“May your trails be crooked, winding, lonesome, dangerous, leading to the most amazing view. May your mountains rise into and above the clouds.”

— The End —