It was a hot summer morning in late August. The brick building in front of her was daunting. This was it. Her first day of high school. Her long brown hair swayed behind her. It brushed gently against the small of her back. Her heart pounded excitedly in her chest. A new adventure awaits her. An adventure filled with many smiles, and many hardships. This is the story of a girl in high school, with long brown hair.

-

Freshman year was fun for her. She made new friends, along with keeping a few of the old.  She met 3 people in her life who had a strange impact on her life, both good and bad.

One of these 3 was a girl. She was *****, and had different style, which enticed the girl with long brown hair. They were put in the same group, and began to talk. Soon after they became close friends, and had their first sleepover. It was the first sleepover of her high school year which wasn't with a friend from her previous school. She enjoyed it very much, and truly valued her new friend.

The two would often be seen together, and even made friends with two others who were like them. The two others were boys. One boy was a bit of a nerd with floofy hair and glasses. The other boy was a punk guy with long hair and darkened taste. The four would go to the mall together, and became inseparable.

The girl with long brown hair really liked these new friends. They were so much like her in so many ways, yet she also had others whom she enjoyed just as much. Freshman year went well for her. She was happy.

Sophomore year rolled around. Her confidence was high, and her relationships with her friends strong. She had made new valuable friends, and loved to do choir and theater.  She continued to make friends through her extra activities, along with keeping close to the ones from freshman year.

The ***** girl in her little friend group had met someone. A girl. They were in love, but the girl with long hair didn’t mind. They were still best friends throughout it- although the ***** girl drifted away as she was occupied with her partner. The boy with long hair and darkened taste told the girl with long hair that he loved her. She was scared, and told him she didn’t feel the same. He accepted it, but became depressed. Time passed by. He was always sad. The girl with long hair became closer to the boy with darkened taste. She wanted to fix him. She wanted to help him. He told her he loved her. He asked her to be with him. She hesitated out of fear. A little time went by. He asked again. She said yes.

-

They were happy. She made him happy for the first time in a while. He made her happy too. One night, the punk girl invited the girl with long hair and the boy with darkened taste to sleep over her house with her and her partner. They agreed. The four went to the beach. The night was foggy. The air was warm; the breeze cold. The boy with darkened taste and the girl with long hair fell in love.

Time passed. They were happy together. One night the girl with long hair had a terrible feeling. She had a panic attack. The boy with darkened taste was busy with a class he was taking. The girl called her best friend to panic. She calmed down.

The boy with the darkened taste called the girl with long hair. He yelled at her. “Why didn’t you come to me first?”.  He exclaimed. “You were busy. I didn’t want to interrupt you. I was panicking.” He scorned her. She cried the whole night. The next day, she didn’t eat. The school hosted a mass. The girl with long hair heard murmurings throughout the choir. Her best friend had gotten in a severe accident. Her car rolled over. She panicked. The boy with darkened taste apologized to her for fighting. He promised to not do it again. She believed him. He asked for forgiveness. A little time went by. He asked again. She said yes.

Junior year began. The girl had one friend left. The summer was fun for her, but not in a way that was healthy. She had stayed with the boy with darkened taste. She thought she loved him. She thought he loved her. She was wrong. The beginning of the year was rough. He yelled at her a lot. He didn’t trust her. He would often take her phone to read her messages. She wasn’t allowed to talk to other boys. He made her delete her social media. She wasn't allowed to talk to other friends. She threatened to leave him. He threatened to **** himself. She was stuck. She was scared. She was sad. They fought. He grabbed her. He wouldn’t let her go. She tried to yank her arm. He held tight. She wanted to leave. He wanted her to stay. He asked for her forgiveness. A little time went by. She said yes. This happened continuously. A short while later, they fought. She was used to him grabbing her. She was used to him forcing her. She tried to get away nonetheless. Then he hit her.

-

The girl with long brown hair was sick. She did not eat. Her friends whom she  cut off were worried. Her weight dipped to an unhealthy level. She thought the worst. She thought she couldn’t escape. She was wrong.

The end of junior year was her time. She escaped finally. She was not unscathed. The girl with long brown hair cut it all off. She needed a fresh start. It was symbolic to her. It helped her.

    The beginning of Senior year rolled around. The girl had healed a good amount, but not entirely. She had cut off communications with the boy with darkened taste.

He saw her in school. He spoke to her. He asked for forgiveness. The girl forgave him, although the wound was still fresh. He asked her to be with him again. A little time went by. He asked again. She said No.

Now the girl is a different person. She was wisened by her experience, and was able to forge some of her friendships with the friends she loves. Some relationships cannot be forged. She tries still. Nothing will be the same. She realizes that. She moves on. She is happy. Her weight is back to normal. She is healthy. She was no longer the same girl, with the long brown hair. She is a different girl. A more happy girl. Only now, She is the girl with short brown hair.

Maybe you could scold me
Tell me that you love me so
Dig my grave with your
Harsher words
But hey man I don't care

Sid and Nancy had it made
****** chic stupidity
In a hotel bed
Glazed eyes
And soft carpet touch
Like a thorn in the side of youthful folly

Keep it *****
Keep it fresh

Bleed on me

Always there she is,
Like the color of an evergreen tree.
Always uplifting she will be
When I am down.

Always the best advice she can muster
When she has not a clue herself.
Always I will be her priority
Even if she has ten other things on her plate.

Her long yellow hair, and bright blue eyes.
Her tomboy looks and unproportional nose.

She lives so far away, yet she is still right beside me.
Late night phone calls hours long,
Consisting of boy drama and family problems
And of remembering summer nights of laughter.

We don’t talk nor see each other everyday,
But she is my best friend and I am hers
And I will never take her for granted
Because she has me and I got her.

She was as crazy as a Norse horse
with a wild bleached mane and madeyes,
always willin to do anythin for ya
with a ''come on then''
her moods would drive you insane,
wrenching compassion and anger from your heart in equal parts,
spewing venom when talking of her ma,
it would hurt to listen,  yet it was easy to see this sulphuric froth
as just rage being rage.
In her kitchen she concocted over spilling potions
banana and coconut breads, her time was your time,
her table always spread, with baskets and jars,
Valerian by the bottle she sculled to help sleep,
baskets with moss and golf *****, Scottish tat in a heap
and beliefs, worn and threadbare like the carpets
in her tiny,  orange doored flat
with a gerbil called ***** and a hamster called pat,
and dear wee Jamie who spouted that Halloween mantra ''crap bat''
we filled and hung balloons with sweets and let the kids skewer
the hell out of them, it rained chocolate in the corridor for weeks,
and that is what I loved about her madness,
is that it dived and it did, and it speaked

As emotion rushed to me
and through me
On that first day we met
You were an Angel
An Angel with spiked
Black
***** Hair
I heart bursting
overflowing with love
copassion
Empathy
Pain
Abandonment
Guilt
and Rage
you hid them well
deep within
Your
tough exterior
Cloaked by your jet black
spiked doo
You were my Angel
I just knew
Instant bond
I bound to you
My day dream shatered
As you spoke
with kindness
You were ther to say your
Goodbyes
To all who knew you
fairly well
I was not
part of this crowd
So see
It's fate working its magick
For you to leave me now
Would be just tragic....
You came to bid your crowd farewell
You'd be leaving that afternoon
You would be leaving way too soon
I saw you.
I approached
I introduced myself.
You replied with kindness
You knew of me
So much
for our friendship
it would now never be
With tear filled eyes
I made my plea
Oh, please
Jackie,
Don't leave me!
I just cannot go!
..I have just now found you
I am here all alone
no  mother
no sisters
no brother
no one
to care
for no
one
to love
No one
to laugh
with
happy hearts
Always
alone
With hopes
so high..
Always
have been
left
behind
Left standing
on my own
holding on to the
smallest memories
of a time of laughter
a time of peace
A time without
time where no one
ever leaves
Behind
the little
girl Soldier
still at war
a
war
worth
winning
some...
...anyone's
love
yours
is most
special see
so
Please
don't leave
Your words
told
a story of
reumions and laughter
As tears fell
from my eyes
my heart
crushed
under
the weight
of
Memories
they remind me
of cruelty
of a
careless
disregard
shown
the
little girl
soldier
you had never known
she
was dying inside
from wounds deep into her soul
Only years later  
would the
Angels reveal
why
had
brought
you
there
The day
you met  
the
little girl
soldier.
The day
you ended a deadly war
You put out fires
And tore down bridges
You held my hand through 20 more years.
You are my Angel
Thank you
for being with me
From that day until this...
You held me through many troubled fits
Some lasted minutes
other years.
you never left me
YOu never grew tired
The litle girl soldier loves you still
without her tears


love
a




I think back to that moment

Lottie lived in an old pebble-mashed cottage in the middle of nowhere, with a ***** muzzle tree in the garden. She always wore white glubbs on a Sunday, and going to mumble sales was her favourite pass-time.

  All year round a lyre would smoulder in the gate, as the house was not connected to the lucidity grid, which Lottie considered the work of the davel. She liked to recite Shakespeare to her clogs but as she got older would mix up her worms and get her lettuces in the wrong order. At times I was the only one who could stand on her.

   There was a lovely orchard out the back in which all kinds of baffles, tums, bears and cheeses grew. She made the best crum plumble you never tasted.

  She loved her macaroni wireless, the old type powered by molluscs, although in latter times she accepted my gift of an up to date transittor with a built-in bat pack.

  We would ***** away many an hour as she reminisced about her youth, when she had traveled far and wide in the grand old days of steam *****.
  
  Lottie kept all her marbles right up to the end in an old sweet jar, kindly leaving them to me when she passed. So now it's up to me to carry the mantelpiece.  Dear old Lottie was unusual, but I liked her concentricity.

There's no one quite like Lottie
I'm sure you will agree
To some she didn't make much sense
But she always did to me

she takes ashes and sculpts them
into new perspectives.  new lives.
beginnings are like sweets at her fingers
colourful, varied on the tongue.
she can taste different directions before she commits
that’s just who she is

she is beautiful
waves of hair and a pierced nose
a ***** neo michaelangelo
sitting there in youth
patience in her tiring muscles
until she freezes into womanhood
on planes of smoothed stone.

she has grown beyond my stature;
an adult born in a huff of breath
that pours over our lives
her new status matches the pull of her eyes-
wells of blue insistence, i’m here, i’m here
I’ve grazed myself on eighteen,
I wear my newness well.

when she covers her arms in bracelets
hard little planets
that orbit her statement-
i’m me hello world i’m just me

when she paints her eyelids
lips
lashes
dying herself new

I’ve got it - woot!  Well, we’ve (Lisa and I) have it. The Covid.
After living carefully serpentine lives - for the last half decade - we both have it.

Lisa started feeling ***** Friday night, after work. Saturday she had some sniffles and we both took Covid tests, coming up positive. By Saturday evening, Lisa was laid-low and looked a flu-like death warmed over. I am asymptomatic, not a cough or a sneeze, although I do feel some fatigue and an occasional little dizziness.

“I hate you,” she said, in a moment of clarity and focus. I think it’s a temporary, fever-driven hatred - but time will tell.

Charles, our escort and consigliere, who goes everywhere we go, didn’t catch it. He’s become our designated shopper. When I asked Lisa if she wanted anything she said, “Orange juice and mango gelato.” Twenty minutes later, Charles handed me (masked and gloved through a door crack) two bags - one contained a large, extra-pulp orange juice, the other had a $70 selection of various ice creams, gelatos and ice cream sandwiches (the receipt was still in the bag.)

Saturday night, I texted my mom, who’s spending yet another summer overseas with “Doctors Without Borders.” She Face Timed me not two minutes later, from somewhere in Poland, or Ukraine - 4,170 miles away - and after checking I was ok - delivered what I think of as “family infectious disease lecture #17, full of “If you’re going to be a doctors” and “You know betters.” I love technology.

My sister Annick, a doctor herself, was knocking at our (her) door twenty minutes later. She gave us both mini-physicals and left a list of things to periodically check (like blood-oxygen levels) as well as two boxes of Paxlovid, “Do NOT take this unless or until I tell you to.”
We all have Apple watches and are now walkie-talkie connected for even more instant communication.

Rebecca, my fellowship surgeon, was, of course, very sympathetic and supportive when I told her but displayed a careful, verbal, clinical distance - addressing me as “Mz Vionet” once - instead of her usual “Anais” or the even more usual “excuse me.”

I’ve been promoted to nurse, cook and bottle washer - but the ice cream, topped with a little Bailey’s Irish liqueur, is spectacular.

Anyway, here we are. We’ve finally joined the Covid parade. I guess Covid isn’t over after all.

From the Thames, I snake along the black
Serpent taking the Tube, London’s rack
On the Northern Line, the night lays ahead
I remember the town’s name at the top of my head

Camden is like a classy underground broad
Come along before you’re again on the road
I was a chick when I first came to Camden Town
At eighteen, now a woman I’m downtown

From gothic ***** clothing to Hare Krishna
Camden is kind of like Gingsberg’s California
It’s shabby and mystical, silly and lyrical
When I’m there please don’t give me a call

Camden is like a drunk crow looking for Poe
In between nails and leathers that glow
You would grab a dude and he’ll be beneath
Jack the Ripper roaming at Hampstead Heath

My New England, Camden was and is
Not because of bars and hashish drags
Camden possesses underneath her rags
The sweet scent of a quirky release

Deliciously deviant divine
Line up at the looming line
The black Northern Line inked
All throughout London, linked…

December 20, 2015 9:26 pm
London, Victoria

Tough as nails punk rock scream-*******-teen girl.

A real wild child maneater.

LIGHTS! CAMERA! ACTION- Girl.

Small town girl chaos all over the big city- long days and drunk days.

Hazed afternoons on the boardwalk- sublime shirt and a longboard.

Shaved hair and skin tight pants- creepers and two toned ***** dance,
no highschool claptrap dance for our action girl.

She's crazy as the glue she sniffs- she lives on the edge, she built a home on the cliffs.

*****, spunky hard as nails, screwloose downtown headcase.

Action all day, action all night- this girl don't back down from a fight.

I AM HEARING MY RIBBER IN MY HEAD, SHOWING ME, THAT I WAS WRONG





YA SEE, WHEN I WAS YOUNG, I WAS LOCKED IN A SCHOOL CLOSET

AND I SAID, TO MYSELF, I WANT TO GRAB KIDS ON THE MOUTHS

AND MAKE THEM SCREAM, YA SEE I GRABBED DAVID ON THE MOUTH

AND HE WAS A COOL KID TO ME, BUT I HATED BEING LOCKED IN THAT ROOM

SO I TOOK REVENGE ON THE SCHOOL, BUT MICHEAL WAS TOO STRONG

BUT I MANAGED TO GET A WRESTLE IN, WITH HIM

YA SEE I WITNESSED CAMERON BEING *******

AND I HEARD THAT BOY IS NOW DEAD, BUT HE TRAPPED ME

IN MY HOUSE, SO CAMERON CAN PLAY

I HAD FUN PUTTING MY HAND AROUND DAVIDS MOUTH

AS WELL AS ATTEMPTING TO GRAB GARY BAKER BY THE MOUTH

AND I ALSO FANTASIZED GRABBING A BULLY MARK, WARD

BUT I DECIDED AGAINST THAT, CAUSE HE WOULD BULLY ME WORST THAN MICHEAL

AND I TOOK REVENGE ON THE MALL CROWD, BY BEING THE COME HERE GRABBER AT THE MALL

BUT I GRABBED ‘EM AND LET THEM GO

LIKE THAT KID, I TIED HIM UP, AND LET HIM GO

I AM WRITING, THIS CAUSE I AM A WRITER, ARTIST AND YOUTUBE ENTERTAINER

ALL THIS WAS BECAUSE I WAS KLOCKED IN THAT STORAGE ROOM

AND I FELT LIKE KIDNAPPING PAUL BERENYI, BUT HE WAS A TEASING BULLY TO

PLEASE STOP TREATING ME LIKE A PHEDAPHILE OR KIDNAPPER

I MADE A MISTAKE, JUST LIKE ZANO AND PAUL MADE A MISTAKE BY LOCKING ME IN THE ROOM

CAUSE, REALLY DUDES, I WAS RESCUED, BUT STILL I HATED BEING IN THERE

PEOPLE USED TO GRAB MY WALLET AND TEASE ME, BY TOSSING OVER MY SHOULDER

I GAVE JAMES PEDERSON, HELL, I WAS TRYING TO BE LIKE THE BIG MEN OF MY PAST

BUT I ENDED UP BEING A BIG WORTHLESS

YA SEE, I RIBBED DAVID, MY OLD SELF IS RIBBING ME AT PRESENT

I WRESTLED WITH BOYS AT SCHOOL, MY OLD SELF, IS TREATING ME LIKE AN ANIMAL

I AM NO ANIMAL, I AM NOT STUPID TO STAY WITH MY OLD SELF

THE RIBBING CAME FROM NOBODY BUT MY OWN SELF

THE SHUT UP ****, WAS FROM MY BROTHER

I HEAR VOICES SAYING CHRIS ISN’T AROUND ANYMORE, BRIAN

I SAY, LET ME GROW UP, WE’RE NOT AT SCHOOL ANYMORE

BUT I AM LISTENING TO MY VOICE OF MY CHILD SELF BACK IN THE 80S

WHAT HAPPENED TO ME, HAPPENS TO MOST COOL KIDS

I DON’T UNDERSTAND WHY MY OLD SELF CAN’T EXCEPT ME IN MY CHOICE

TO BE AN ACTOR, I AM HAVING MEMORIES OF PAT SAYING IN AN ANGRY VOICE, YOU’RE NOT LIKE US, BRIAN

YOU WILL NEVER BE LIKE US, I WANT YOU TO GROW UP PAT SAYS IN MY HEAD

I TOLD HIM TO TAKE MY OLD SCHOOL SELF, UP TO THE COSMOS WHEN WE SLEEP

BUT IF I FEEL LIKE I DID LAST NIGHT

I WILL SIT AND DO MY TAPESTRY, TILL I EVENTUALLY DROP OFF

CHUCK METHANE ON DAD, CAUSE HIM AND ROBIN WILLIAMS

WILL GROW UP TOGETHER AS TWINS

I KNOW I AM GETTING OLDER, BUT I LIKE TO FEEL YOUNG

THAT’S WHY I WRITE AND DO ART

BRIAN ALLAN TAPESTRY PROFILE FACE BOOK

AARON CLAYTON AND AAA YOUTUBE TV ON YOU TUBE

BRIAN ALLAN ON ART COLONY

JOHNNY GEORGIE BROWN ON HELLO WRITERS

WRITER JOE ON WRITERSCAFE

AND I AM NOT WOOSEY FOR LIFE, OR COMPUTERS

I SIMPLY TOLD CANBERRA OFF, FOR LOCKING ME IN THE STORE ROOM

CAUSE I AM HEARING PAT MUCK AROUND WITH MY OLD SELF

MY HOOLIGAN IS DEAD, AND SCATTERED

UMMMMMMMM GOOD RIDDENS TO BAD STUFF IN MY HEAD

UMMMMMMMMM  I WANT TO SAY, KIDNAPPING IS NOT MY STYLE

UMMMMMMMMM I DON’T WANT TO KIDNAP MYSELF ON MY FAMILY

UMMMMMMMM SO I WANT THAT LITTLE KID DEAD

UMMMMMMMMM I BROUGHT HIM BACK, TO THE STREETS

UMMMMMMMMM TO SHOW, CANBERRA, MY HOOLIGANY COOL KID IS DEAD, MY ***** KID, SO TO SPEAK

Our teacher's right on TV
She tells us all about
the ****** spree...
The radio plays us songs that go
Satan rules... the Lord is
on death row...

(Chorus)
Is this our future... our hope?
How can our children cope?
Well... brothers and sisters
I'm here to say...
Show the youngsters
Christ's love TODAY!!!

The movies tell us to lie and steal
To get over... to be a big deal...
Where is mom?
Where is dad?
She's always working...
He's always mad...

(Chorus)

The computer has the internet
Sarah tells no one
About the guy she met
She's so happy... til she
gets to meet him...
She's ***** won't tell
Mom where she's been...

(Chorus)

Your heart is broken by
The killings...
The news is always
Too thrilling...
You're in tears when
Johnny's dressed *****...
He's confused... he's taught
He's a monkey...

(Chorus)

Jesus will be sad when He
Returns someday...


SoulSurvivor
Catherine Jarvis
(C) September 29, 2014
(Rewritten)

"That was like tripping
On acid." "I loved that when
I was ten" I said

"Well, that would explain
Quite a lot about you, then"
My friend mumbled back

Who knew that you could
On two hours of sleep, and
Walk miles all day

Sitting out of dance
We realized that we were
"***** emo" teens

EPCOT, in the end
Is half Thinking Day
Made professional

Also, my dreams are
Apparently far too weird
To have been healthy

I have a slow leak of faith
In humanity.
I'm heartsick,
Funky, *****,
My soul is spewing chunks.
At first, it was only a slight rise in temperature,
Followed by a rash of diatribes,
Then hot and cold wars
That produced the shakes.
Our world could use cold compresses;
Polar ice-packs are symptomatic.
The ailment is hereditary.
Patient Zero is low on the tree,
With roots entangling us,
Like veins filled with bad blood,
Encircling the body politic.
We are the carriers,
The un-quarantined green monkeys
Swinging freely, infecting
With a disease that will not skip
A generation.

As a child growing up in the 80’s and early 90’s
Television sets looked a lot different then they do today
A square box that was bigger then ever with a square glass piece to cover the screen
A dial on the tv to change the very few channels that were available
Being a child you have a vivid imagination and believe in almost anything
For me, growing up was all about imagination and having fun
As for the television......
I believed the square glass covering on the tv could be removed while watching a program
Being able to pull any character from the show directly into my living room
It may sound stupid but to me that was real... especially when I was “able” to pull ***** Brewster out to play with me....

Also, growing up we played outside (a lot)
Mother may I?
Red light, green light
Tv tag
Hopscotch
Red ****
Skip it
Jump rope
Riding our big wheels
Climbing trees
Swinging on the swings to see who could go higher
But always remembered
“As soon as the street lights went on at dusk, we all returned to our property”

Why am I rambling on about my childhood?
Unfortunately nowadays children growing up don’t seem to grasp the idea to get outside and play (without a piece of technology in their hands)
Their all to busy with their face plastered inside their phones, iPads, video games etc
Not just children, even for adults (I am also guilty of this) but I also take a step back and revert to my childhood and take it all in
Even for a couple minutes, hours or even a day....
Let’s all look up from our technology and take in the world
With so much hate, anger and animosity throughout our world (because we all hide behind our social media)
Let’s all be kind, love one another and help someone
For you never know when you will need help yourself
You can’t always hide behind your technology
Mother may I pray for love and peace around the world?
(Mother) Yes my child, Yes.......

When the light will tell the thickness of poems,
When the rain washes the letters,
I will come from ancient times past
A mechanical rusty doll.

On the wall nakalabay a few words.
I even will not be enough.
About the others, gone before, fighters,
The ones that are gone.

It won't be the eternal "punks not dead".
We're not that *****.
We're stuck with corks in our stomachs.,
We're just tin cans.

If someone reads my text on the wall,
The creak this song will.
But there's no difference in footprints.
The prints of the feet of we the people.

Everyday we see new people.
People walking around,
brushing past us.
We see them go.

Can't deny, at times a certain woman
in an amazing black dress
or one in a ***** outfit
catches more than just your attention.

One may say, somebody has got
a little crush on a stranger.
Seeing people together makes you
want to be with someone.

And then, you go home,
ready to sleep at night
playing a certain song
to help you sleep.

There she is,
in front of your eyes,
as always,
every time you close them,
she appears.

She never leaves your sight,
as she dwells there itself.
That face,
however far away, is crystal clear.
That face,
is all you ever need.

However long
you need to wait,
however hard
you need to work, to get her
and however far
she seems to be,
she will be yours, you'll see.

The face behind
"Wonderful Tonight",
I'll be waiting for you

because

I just

can't help

falling

in love

with

you.

It ain't gonna be me the stinking state pigs will be a-cuffin' because
I ain't licensed at nothin,' not even bakin' a sweet, California muffin
with big raisins, orange sprinkles & whatever else I feel like stuffin'
so as not to yank out prematurely before I gets more than enough in
Sometimes I cry as pigeons peck my *******, other times I just tell
them to stop it & not to do it ever again because I don't like it much
Fattened cows ate our tomatoes & starving pigs then ate our posies,
so don't you dare take a huge, reekin' **** on our colorful tea cozies
'cause lovin' you's like fressing cherry pie from a gal with 1 bad eye
while I sit cocked sideways needing a yardstick 'cause I ain't so shy
Mary Ellen Judy Norton Taylor Walton your ******* are too flabby,
so I will go down on your furry tuft below, that I jokingly call tabby
as Judy suffers from, & is afflicted with, an obtusion of farm senses
that interrupt her monthly charges regardin' normal-flowing ******
For Hef's ******* Judy was feverishly hot on a bear rug naked bare
after flinging aside T.V. pretend bro' Jim Bob's farm-boy underwear
that he wore when they rocked the house in grandma's rockin' chair
1 day I was viewing The Keiser Report starring ugly ol' Max Keiser
which would detract from my sexiness yet make me so much wiser,
& cause great-toe-jammin'-pecker stiffness & irritate either eye sore
while grindin' down 4 canines, 8 premolars & a middlemost incisor
I'll sing 8 days on the road in my big truck like I'm ol' Dave Dudley
running from Jesus God and hiding with waitresses as I rave studly
of a manly prowess using stiff asphalt laid thickly to pave mud free
like the wife support payments forked over by singer Neil Diamond
that would be burdensome to a poorer Jew like the shill Neil Simon
Boldness & beauty, blackness & blue, I am stupid, just not like you
'cause as my cornflakes sog in milk, I don't sell my nuts for a *****
anywhere where life spells death there is a cloudy heaven to pursue
It was hard push, yank & pull, talk ***** to me don't talk ***** to me
I like you or likely I love you, I try too much, better just wait & see,
while I give up at changing you into the woman I long for you to be
in the image that schmo Bobby Darin wanted for ****** Sandra Dee
whose big ******-numbed ******* nursed Bobbie's raw-milk brutality
pitched on a bowling lane of broken-leg bone & severed-hand ****
what made him stolidly 910 million times more serenely handsome
under the guilty shadow of the gay Bruce Jenner gender switcheroo

that could very well be his surgical whoops slip up Waterloo before

he would sexcite sike **** Hillary Clinton's homosexy affairs anew
whilst his hot peas thawed, hair pack jelled & old girl caught a clue
beyond clues given for cows driven to spit up cud for another chew
in kingdom halls where witnesses disfellowship guys seen fartin' &
queer-drunk on Mexi-gasser beans poured from a lime-green carton
that was endorsed by ******-ball Dino Crocetti A.K.A. Dean Martin
who liked pancakes, hotcakes & flapjacks with blackstrap molasses
as he denied hotcakes for burnt pancakes, griddlecakes & flapjacks
& proctologic exams for nothing that probed his chafed crap cracks
that looks like a flounder, that with a *** cleaver, a crazy *** hacks
at my red wiener, warty cucumber, candle stick & old orange carrot
as witnessed by my chimp, quokka, gerbil & clipped African parrot
that is so selfish with gooily-raw rat meat that he'll not even share it
with the hack Bob Browning & his ***** monkey Elizabeth Barrett
****** hid her vaginal emptiness from Richard Cory, Kyle S. Bruce,
Daisy Lou & Garett Hobart's lost nephew whose quarry tile is loose
You screamed like an unwashed **** when I pinched your lard ***,
I can't stomach your sister, because she is such a whining, hard lass
conjuring up old Crowley occultism, but what makes her the worst,
she wants me to sign a ****** suicide pact that states that I die first
as self-****** is a sin & she cares little about my soul being cursed
in realms that count not among its angels William Randolph Hearst
& Marion Davies & accused wife-snuffin' millionaire Robert Durst
whose hunger for Malay tail was sadder than greasers dyin' of thirst
I slumber in greenish ***** ill puked hard *****-woozy & drunken
too sick to down gooey, greasy doughnuts I shoplifted from Dunkin
'cause I purloin cream topping & jelly filling better than anyone can
now o' when Smith, of the fake Titanic, knew he was a man sunken
to televise (tele advise me telly television tele-visionary uncle Ken)
my nose from the vantage point of me red **** is funky-funk funkin'
or my ear from the fall-off point of a thin *** sins funky-funk funkin'
or brow from the terminal point of **** lips is *****-punk punkin'
or toes from a tiny point of 2 **** tips that're chunky-chunk chunkin'
& triggered at the apex of ******-**** ***** for a clunky-clunk clunkin'
once ragged atop the peak of Clinton's ****** of dunky-dunk dunkin'
& crap beyond a holt of pretty ******* to ***** a bunky-bunk bunkin'
My ultra-favorite, back-******* monkey loves me me me but
I love my bonnie Bonnie who lives across the ocean & over the sea
in a palace with Sparky Marcus who spreads a cruel, spooky mucus
over a toady staffer popularly known as crazy Luke or kooky Lucus
whose stratospherical id raced far beyond whatever Sparky ever did
long after Henry McCarty & William Bonney became Billy the Kid
Confess & grovel before the Lord, for on asphaltum your ***'ll skid
because dark spots on my shaded parts means that I got a headache,
that's got more killin'-power than a Malaysian/H.A.A.R.P. seaquake
I know that what you now know is on a need-to-know basis, and so
I counted them twice to I see that you amputated my left largest toe
to **** foot-bred animalcules unfelt as my atrophy trots paraplegical
in ****** labs of agriculturalists, whose studies are parthenocarpical
I love the challenge of a chic freak as it makes my pocked **** tired
7 days in a usual Haitian work week like quitting before being fired
which was her fat-*** way of losing a new job just after being hired
as this stunnin' **** ruptured me because she was so sexually wired

with white ***** makin' my Jacmel Beach tragedy 100% uninspired
Ol' men know that plastic Barbie doll dolls want G.I. Joe men, ever
since genital-lacking Barbie Roberts had the baby of *****-free Ken
whose naked 11-count stood unnaturalized as he could not reach 10
as cruel bears are bear-tricky like Smokey Bear & T.V.'s Gentle Ben
in ol' Kowloon City where Nancy Kwan sleeps with me as Ka Shen
who smoked Raleigh cigarettes for cancer & sailed north for scurvy
to enhance her perky nay-nays & to make nip-wide hips more curvy
on the roof to the floor, beneath the attic in my dungeon topsy turvy
On rough seas no boy sailor knows what a Chinese cargo ship'll do,
'cause in a tight D cup bra a raw-rubbed lawyer **** may ****** sue

I slumber in greenish ***** ill puked hard *****-woozy & drunken
too sick to down gooey, greasy doughnuts I shoplifted from Dunkin
'cause I purloin cream topping & jelly filling better than anyone can
now o' when Smith, of the fake Titanic, knew he was a man sunken
to televise (tele advise me telly television tele-visionary uncle Ken)
my nose from the vantage point of me red **** is funky-funk funkin'
or my ear from the fall-off point of a thin *** sins funky-funk funkin'
or brow from the terminal point of **** lips is *****-punk punkin'
or toes from a tiny point of 2 **** tips that're chunky-chunk chunkin'
& triggered at the apex of ******-**** ***** for a clunky-clunk clunkin'
once ragged atop the peak of Clinton's ****** of dunky-dunk dunkin'
& crap beyond a holt of pretty ******* to ***** a bunky-bunk bunkin'