"whelp" poems
Depression is my soulmate
He fell in love with me
He couldn't wait
Depression lays in bed with me at night
Follows me in my dreams
Holds me back from the light
He wants me all to himself
He whispers sweet nothings in my ear
Convincing me I can't survive by myself
I try to get away
but he holds so tight
He says I have to stay
He pulls me close, slow dances with me
When I'm with him , he recites every bad memory of the day
I start to believe this is all my life will be
I want to think it isn't true
but is it?
it might be?
I have no clue
Depression doesn't like when I have a friend
He gets jealous of happiness
He makes a big fuss and that's usually the end
When they leave, he reminds me that hes here to stay
I lay in bed crying
He comes in, holds me till I'm okay
I know I should get away, find help
But not even my mother believes me ... whelp
Depression meet my parents without my knowing
He made them think when I'm free from him ,the real me isn't showing
I guess hes my better half
The side of me that makes them laugh
But I can't get away, its too late
I lost the key to freedom's gate
Apparently this is my fate
Depression is my soulmate
Sep 19, 2018
Sep 19, 2018 at 11:48 AM UTC
The day that I was christened--
It's a hundred years, and more!--
A hag came and listened
At the white church door,
A-hearing her that bore me
And all my kith and kin
Considerately, for me,
Renouncing sin.
While some gave me corals,
And some gave me gold,
And porringers, with morals
Agreeably scrolled,
The hag stood, buckled
In a dim gray cloak;
Stood there and chuckled,
Spat, and spoke:
"There's few enough in life'll
Be needing my help,
But I've got a trifle
For your fine young whelp.
I give her sadness,
And the gift of pain,
The new-moon madness,
And the love of rain."
And little good to lave me
In their holy silver bowl
After what she gave me--
Rest her soul!
8k
I am a Jar of Jelly, crying for help.
A restaurant in trouble, bad reviews on Yelp.
Garbage service and food, soggy bread and kelp.
I am abandoned on the shelf, like a cold little whelp.
Nov 27, 2014
Nov 27, 2014 at 2:08 PM UTC
Standing on a busy street corner
When a limo pulls up next to me
Out pops the head of Johnny Depp
(Not the body mind you, just the head)
And asks where's the nearest Dairy Queen
Not one to miss an opportunity
I blurted out I'll show you the way
So that's how the head of "The Depp" and I
Spent time together that day
In his limo he had his makeup artist
Which seemed a bit odd to me
Everywhere the head of Johnny went
It had to dress up for the scene
Since Johnny was drooling a Dilly
First stop Dairy Queen
With Johnny's head as the Mad Hatter under my arm
It was a very strange scene indeed
With me holding onto the Dilly's
And Johnny's head on the counter up front
Mr. Depp was the King at the Queen that day
Though his ice cream licking habit did turn some peoples lunch
Later on passing a Piggly Wiggly
Johnny's head said what's up with that
Told him it's nothing more than a grocery store
His reply was let's give it a crack
So undergoing more of his makeup
And in the blink of an eye
I have the head of Jack Sparrow
In the grocery cart with a bag of Funions by his side
Yes, Johnny Depp's head loves Funions
Which to me really ranks the breath
But who am I to tell a Big Time Movie Star that
I'm not the keeper of his head
He even dressed as Edward Scissorhands
Which didn't turn out quite right
Since Johnny's head has no hands
To hold the famous Scissorhand knives
That day we went to so many places
With every stop a new disguise
I guess for entertainment you do what you can
When all that's left is your head and some of your mind
Whelp, that's about it on this days adventures
Not a whole lot more to be said
As I stood on the street corner waving bye, bye
To the limo pulling off into the sunset, along with the head of Johnny Depp
Mar 8, 2013
Mar 8, 2013 at 8:19 AM UTC
From the time that Billy was a kid
There was evil in the things he did
His mama knew it
And I knew it too
I told her that he needed help
I tried to avoid this evil whelp
I had to find out
Something I could do
Billy's teachers said he's bad
In fact the worse kid that they had
They sent him home
And kicked him out of school
I told his mama, he can't be mine
She blamed the Mogen David wine
we had when
we were on our honey moon
As he grew up, he wouldn't change
He'd spend his time out on the range
doing things
we didn't want to know
I told his ma, I've had enough
We can't keep hiding from this stuff
the folks about
will run us out of town
It's bad enough when I go for beer
The bartender serves me with a sneer
And the other's look away
Or just look down
I know Billy has a dedication
To certain kinds of medication
But nothing ever helps
The way he acts
We can't blame the Mogen David wine
I said Ma, I think it's time
That Billy left
and that's the facts
Mama cried, but knew the truth
He couldn't live beneath our roof
Or we'd end up
in an early grave
One night I went and said to Billy
You may laugh, and think I'm silly
but, son you have a week
you have to go
Billy nodded and kept on eating
This was a short, family meeting
He looked at me
and said real slow
Pa, I know you don't love me
And ma as well, it's plain to see
We ain't the same
and I ain't moving on
I didn't argue, just got up
I couldn't eat, I couldn't sup
I had to end this
I had to get a gun
I knew I couldn't take him down
But, I'd find someone around the town
someone who would
Rid me of my child
No one came to help us out
I even gave the lord a shout
Help us god
our kid is just too wild
A fellow came, in a week, ten days
His name was Pat, to change Bills ways
He said he'd help
tomorrow night
He faced down Billy at high noon
Bill, dropped like a lead balloon
His ma and I just knew
That this was right
Pat, said things will work out fine
It wasn't Mogen David wine
that made Bill bad
It's just the way of life
He rode off in the setting sun
He'd killed our boy with his six gun
with Billy gone
it's just me and my wife
Feb 5, 2015
Feb 5, 2015 at 11:01 AM UTC
The first time I saw you
You have eyes that were so innocent,
Hair that perfectly frames your face,
And a smile gives of an aura
Endlessly making me linger
To your being.
However i doubted that
Not all people can be like you
So a rainy day came
And so does your frown
I observed you passively
Hoping something changes
You were so busy on things
With your hand flicking along
I assumed you were consumed
By the world and its people
I approached to help you and asked
"Are you okay?"
You gave a gesture
Seemingly making it so
Confused by these thoughts
I got tangled unknowingly
You were putting me under
Like i was in a case of plunder
With the whys and hows coming
How can i be so stupid to realize.
All this time i fell
By the time i laid
My desperate eyes on you
Thinking it was me all along
Fooling myself that
You needed help
From all these whelp
In the end of all
It was me who needed it
A help from you
From the world itself
By all the traits you have
To keep me going,
Running,
Living,
Breathing and
Hoping.
That someone like you would save someone like me
In a world that is full of mischiefs and illusions
Apr 11, 2014
Apr 11, 2014 at 9:03 AM UTC
I'll rip you're innards out!!
No calm down, there's no need to shout
I'll snap you're thin little neck!!
Shush! Keep yourself in check!
Never! I'll shout till I'm heard!
Shut up or I'll cage you, you daft little bird!
*I'll show you a daft bird!! Rot in Hell you *****
Don't you dare raise your voice anymore!
I'll speak as I like! They earned my wrath!!
Stop now! It's not what I want! That's not the right path!
Coward! Spineless quivering sham of my queen!
Go back to sleep! You know that's not what I mean!
You meant to make them pay!
Now It's me you betray!
I have lost my master,
So run away faster.
I'll lend you no help,
Insolent whelp...
Aug 8, 2011
Aug 8, 2011 at 12:15 AM UTC
Once I bore unkempt hair,
a crown over a wondering visage.
Twas a time of smaller age,
when a had nary a care.
I was staff-bearing and sword-wielding,
princess from times of yore
and keeper of lost lore.
But my spirit could go only so long unyielding.
For there was a mask-wearing weaver
of a garish smile
who in his guile,
had made others a believer--
Of his wicked web of rampant lies.
This wretched thief of naivete
Left not a shade of perspective grey--
but black, without reprise.
What cruel beast of human shape
was cast down upon me?
And why could others not see
but merely question with mouths agape--
At the sins of which he reveled
merely for his stature?
Yet if done after
surely they would have been compelled--
To hear my pleas
and punish his evil hand!
And then at last I might command
my woe from drowning me like all the seas.
Alas, twas not
as I would hope, you see
for fate was most unkind to me
though of wrong-doing I had naught.
"But why?" I asked
"Princesses of yore, and wielders of old lore
they know happiness for ever more."
To that end I had been masked--
From the truth before my weeping eyes
that evil always has its say
even on the brightest day,
for peace is the keenest of lies.
Like he, the villains tall and small,
from fiercest orc to goblin whelp,
will always find fate's loyal help
while heroes are left to fall.
That is how it plays on the world's stage
I have learned and learned it well
that where white snow falls, somewhere else burns a hell.
And yet, perhaps this way is not a cage--
To conquer all of worldly ways,
For in my time--made wise--
I have come to see with my heart's eyes
one for whom this pattern sways.
He is a hero brave and strong
no prince and no knight
no dragon does he fight,
yet for him could be written king-worthy song.
So perhaps, the wicked do not always prevail,
not every time at least--but most--
and get their bitter dose
of a taste of what it is to fail.
Jan 12, 2012
Jan 12, 2012 at 4:17 PM UTC
He told his sister to feed the dogs,
His twin sister; Sophia Bogvoskya,
As he was to take out the herds
Of horses, sheep, donkeys and cows,
Out to the plains and hill land for grazing,
She never took a **** she locked herself,
Up in the ante chamber of the main house,
She took the mirror and began looking
At her beauty, Russian model beauty
She began picking her nails,
As the dogs were starving in the sheds
They whined but no succor came forth,
A fiat that coincided with arrival of ogres,
The great Western Ogres, the tongues wagging,
They had a plethora of eyes and mouths,
Noses and ears, limbs both hind and fore,
They ate all the young sheep,
They took away Putin’s young brothers
Crimea and Ukrainian, both were taken away,
By the ferocious NATO ogres they were taken
In a whelp and desperate kicking for freedom,
Dogs stood aloof as ogres thrashed Sophia
Into thin lacerations of red flesh,
They ate as they roared with laughter,
Then they went away with their loot,
Vladimir came back home, found nothing
No sister, no brothers no sheeplings,
Only two white sepulchers glared at him,
The graves of his mother and father;
The former cooks of Lenin Vladimir,
He mourned and mourned grievously,
Then he sang a dirge of his forefathers
From the herculean land of Bosnia,
And also Moscow, he dirged;
We were born in the wee of the night,
When the bear is whelping,
And we were suckled by the Tigre
When our mothers were taken slaves,
For no man or creature
Will ever make us victims
Nor subjects of fear,
He recovered from the moment
Trial some moment of loss and bereave,
Then he chose to go after the ogres
But with a strategum of no match,
He began arming himself first
Before he could set on,
His mobile armory full of deadly weapons;
A bunch of wasps, wild bees, black ants,
A thousand slings, spears and sickles,
Machetes, poisonous saps, and toxics,
Wild dogs, five hundred snakes and scorpions,
Bows and arrows as well as cudgels,
Clubs, stones and chains,
He also learned how to use the hands
In the most lethal manner,
Then he went for combat,
To rescue all that was taken,
Taken from him by the ogres….
Sep 12, 2014
Sep 12, 2014 at 8:38 AM UTC
Stop the beating of my heart.
End my life and let everything
Be forgotten like a fossil in an ocean.
Cease me from living.
Bar me from breathing.
**** me!
****** a thousand nails into my chest,
Slit my rasping throat, cut my trembling wrist
And let my blood drip on the floor
Until it forms a sea, enough
For my horrible childhood reminiscences
To drown and walk off the shore,
Where I am the fragments of sand,
Trying to create a stone
Just to be whole, firm, and strong.
**** me!
Pour a hundred-gallon of water into my mouth
And let my pain evade and flow out
Of my suffocated body.
Maybe then I can finally say
"I'm fine"
Without trying to extend
My hand above water
Or trying to breathe bit by bit
While my lungs load a river.
**** me!
Pull my eyes out, so I won't feel my tears anymore.
Slice my ears, so I won't hear myself again yowling in mourn.
Break my legs, so I can finally stop myself
From jumping on a deep water like a stupid whelp.
Hook my heart out of my chest.
Bludgeon my head to death.
Maybe then, I won't feel for once
Like I'm a canary underneath
The undertow of an ocean,
Wings ripped off and flight unfound.
**** me
Because I can hardly breathe.
I'm drowning in the thought of being sad
While losing the reason to feel so.
Every day, anxiety drags me to my bed,
But insomnia has this silly prank of hammering my head.
I try to ask anyone for help,
But whenever I see people in my surroundings
All I feel is like eternally drowning.
They make me feel like a terrestrial flower,
Trying to breathe underwater.
Every night, I write poems,
Not to **** boredom
But to **** something that kills me -
Ceaselessly.
Every letter I write on a paper
Feels like the water
Inside an aquarium where
I keep on suffering
And drowning forever.
I'm in the abyssal zone,
Too deep that even light can't penetrate.
Darkness engulfs me,
And light easily burns me
Take me from this depth.
Take me from this kind of death.
This depth makes me lose my breath.
**** me
Because living already feels like dying.
**** me
Not becase I'm tired of living,
But because I'm tired of dying!
**** me
Because it's suffocating.
It's asphyxiating me.
This darkness makes me
Hardly see
Myself.
It feels like I'm dying forever,
And I don't want to die anymore,
I'm drowning.
I can never reach the shore.
Save me!
Oct 4, 2018
Oct 4, 2018 at 2:28 AM UTC
You
Brought me
In blood and tears
You yourself but a child-
Into this world.
From a distance
You watched
As I grew.
First a whelp,
Now a wolf.
You
**** yourself
With every inhale
Of that odorless
Drug
And here I am
Helpless
Watching you die....
Just as
You watched me grow
Not long ago....
Feb 26, 2014
Feb 26, 2014 at 3:05 AM UTC
From late June into September , perpetual hot weather , her bounty increasing with each passing day , harvest reluctant , painful , ,inflicting rash , whelp and sting , staple of southern cuisine , native to Mother Africa , brought by enslaved peoples at Eastern shore , across Georgia eliciting painful reminders to dark days , pod to Croaker sack , plant -to -plant and row -upon- row !.........
Sep 22, 2015
Sep 22, 2015 at 10:14 AM UTC
I saw the great change in him
After he saw the nyanga
As if something was tailing him
Something sinister from the Okawanga
He wanted to gain mental strength
That was why he sought witch doctor help
So together they went to great lengths
To summon the Tokoloshe for this whelp
Born of ****** and sinister thought
The foul creature was called to this world
And a wake of ill doings it brought
Causing fear in each boy and each girl
With this new friend he didn’t need me
But he still needed praise and accept
So he brought me along just to see
How he ***** a girl whose blood he kept
In a bottle for pride in his deed
After he killed her and chopped her up
“I was brought there to watch her bleed”
That’s what I said, when I told the cop
The Police came and took him to jail
But the Tokoloshe followed him inside
Soon he vanished, no trace, not a trail
And rumours said Tokoloshe helped him hide
No one saw him for several days
But a rise in disappearances occurred
And soon he revealed his wicked ways
He stole belongings from his victims, I heard
So, he was caught again but not held for long
His Tokoloshe had not finished yet
It was his purpose to match evil with wrong
And **** and **** whomever he would get
18 months he was on the loose
Sometimes aiding police investigations
He would help them pick up the clues
So he could re-live the gory exhilaration
They could only find partial remains
Tokoloshe had made him use his axe
Rather thoroughly and thrown them off trains
He made sure souls would never relax
When they caught him the final time
He was smiling with satisfaction
He felt no sense of remorse for his crimes
Now he hangs as the judge’s reaction
Tokoloshe is still hiding somewhere
Coming out at night when your dreams are deep
Wreaking havoc and causing a scare
Biting toes, ****** women in their sleep
Apr 24, 2013
Apr 24, 2013 at 2:58 PM UTC
I bite my cheek and pinch my arm
In a place that mom cant see
“Why are you so pissy today?”
“You’re such a drag to be around
when you act like this”
She says
“sorry”
I say
Instead of the retort that comes to my mind:
‘So are you on the days you’re mad,
When you’re done with everyone’s ****
But i know that will earn me an even bigger glare
A clenching of teeth
And a good ol’ grounding
So i sit quietly brooding and fuming and say simply
“sorry”
sorry im not good enough for you
sorry i have feelings unlike you
sorry im
not
enough
“How are you?”
Asks my good friend via text
“Pretty good hbu” i reply with vision blurred from tears
The marks i clawed into my arm still burning
“Dinner’s ready!”
Yells someone upstairs
“I’ll be up in a sec!”
I reply
Hastily pulling down my sleeve
and wiping away the messy makeup around my eyes
‘Whelp’
I think to myself
‘I hope they dont notice’
They dont
And if they do they dont mention it
For which im grateful
I dont feel like launching into a discussion that typically ends with me a blubbering mess
Anytime we have that discussion anyway
I know we need another one,
But i just cant bring myself to reveal anything
That might make them think somethings wrong with me
So for now ill just
Smile
And keep saying
“sorry”
Sep 24, 2017
Sep 24, 2017 at 9:13 PM UTC
With ****** knuckles and gritted teeth I whelp in frustration.
The overwhelming desire to beat myself numb and claw away my skin.
Tears burn my cheeks and my eyes are heavy.
My voice is horse,
with every shout through a clenched jaw my adrenalin spikes.
Swollen and upset I lay hopelessly begging for a level head.
Jan 13, 2014
Jan 13, 2014 at 11:54 AM UTC
Standing on a busy street corner
When a limo pulls up next to me
Out pops the head of Johnny Depp
(Not the body mind you, just the head)
And asks where's the nearest Dairy Queen
Not one to miss an opportunity
I blurted out I'll show you the way
So that's how the head of "The Depp" and I
Spent time together that day
In his limo he had his makeup artist
Which seemed a bit odd to me
Everywhere the head of Johnny went
It had to dress up for the scene
Since Johnny was drooling a Dilly
First stop Dairy Queen
With Johnny's head as the Mad Hatter under my arm
It was a very strange scene indeed
With me holding onto the Dilly's
And Johnny's head on the counter up front
Mr. Depp was the King at the Queen that day
Though his ice cream licking habit did turn some peoples lunch
Later on passing a Piggly Wiggly
Johnny's head said what's up with that
Told him it's nothing more than a grocery store
His reply was let's give it a crack
So undergoing more of his makeup
And in the blink of an eye
I have the head of Jack Sparrow
In the grocery cart with a bag of Funions by his side
Yes, Johnny Depp's head loves Funions
Which to me really ranks the breath
But who am I to tell a Big Time Movie Star that
I'm not the keeper of his head
He even dressed as Edward Scissorhands
Which didn't turn out quite right
Since Johnny's head has no hands
To hold the famous Scissorhand knives
That day we went to so many places
With every stop a new disguise
I guess for entertainment you do what you can
When all that's left is your head and some of your mind
Whelp, that's about it on this days adventures
Not a whole lot more to be said
As I stood on the street corner waving bye, bye
To the limo pulling off into the sunset, along with the head of Johnny Depp
Sep 28, 2014
Sep 28, 2014 at 3:20 PM UTC
You've felt it haven't you?
That stabbing feeling
Right to the chest that seems like it has
Absolutely no chance of healing
I know, getting told No is a part of life
But hear it too often and it'll dig into your confidence
Like butter bowing down before
A hot steel knife
I'm already rather socially awkward already, so getting shot down makes a bit of painful sense
But I'd trade more than a few dollars to get out of my shell, i mean what the hell it's like trying to appease Mike Pence,
But then if someone does take interest, in me I'm like a falling stock in a market you can't trust easily, because I'm like a puppy that's been kicked repeatedly trying to find a sense of self, and learn how to once again love someone else
Is it ever going to happen for this pathetic whelp?
Dec 20, 2016
Dec 20, 2016 at 10:14 AM UTC
Usually genial and kind
Today your cruelty blows my mind
You taunt and tease until I cry
Makes me want to curl up and die
You are the big B
I thought you had my back
Wow... Stupid me
What is the point In
******** with my mind
We all know youre the boss in this joint
All I did was ask for help
Yet you kick me to the curb
Like a useless whelp
Thank you so much for the sensitivity
You inspire my revenge
To be full of creativity
Jun 9, 2013
Jun 9, 2013 at 10:46 AM UTC
i crinkle and split the foil,
most generous , of pale light
budding sickly about the charming dint
of your ivory calf. satirically the spades small, sharp, and digging
the suns grave
blotch in twinkling scars
pleasant acne 'pon the eve's face
soft infinity:
a plunging savagery
i'm a whelp
to thy sugar so bittersweet as throat gorging lush vertebrae
your spine, i cradle haphazardly in my stupid fit of flat tissue
in my ointment you are the grandest fly
a pestilence i gladly so lovingly
carcass
Dec 1, 2010
Dec 1, 2010 at 10:40 AM UTC
Whelp, here a goes the first poem on this site of sites,
gotta make sure i do this sheeit just rights.
Dec 4, 2013
Dec 4, 2013 at 1:49 AM UTC
She wears a mask,
To hide within herself.
There is no need to ask,
For everyone ignores her cry for help.
All the hatred inside,
Locked in bond with the loss.
Only singing emotion can abide.
No one can see her tears gloss.
The mask says “Hello!”
Here eyes say goodbye,
Nothing is what the mask shows.
Because deep inside, she cries.
“Is there anyone out there,
That is anything like me?”
But thru the mask, no one could hear.
She was all she could ever be.
The mask won't come off,
No matter how hard she tries.
Surveyors will laugh and scoff.
But the true story is in her eyes.
Sooner or later, you will see,
The loneliness hidden behind the mask,
Everyone seems so happy,
And my dear, this is no easy task.
“Why can’t I be like that?”
She tries to call for help,
But to them she is only a number stat.
Or a worthless, depressed whelp.
She sees no one who looks like her,
On her knees she asks,
Why she is this way forever.
But her only reply was a roomful of masks.
May 24, 2010
May 24, 2010 at 5:39 PM UTC
I look for you in the faded light
Mist obscures a soul so bright,
Lost in words that give no peace,
The melody, I fear will cease.
Smile, that time is not so near,
So lets go have another beer!
The laughter will endure the dark,
The glow will make the features stark
We can last forever, it seems,
Walking on the narrow beams,
of life in HD technicolour,
a cruel assessment of a dying pallor.
Of course, this will all come to pass,
And we will celebrate the holy mass,
With music, alcohol and song
And everything that seems so wrong.
To keep the memories alive,
The feelings that we keep inside,
must eventually be let go,
into the river of life’s flow.
Come now, and take my hand!
At the river bank, where we will stand,
smile warmly at those who pass,
and embrace this life of love at last.
The song goes on and never fades,
The lively tunes strange cadence plays,
And keeps the sun above us strong,
To warm our skin the summer long.
The long cold winter will come soon,
With coats and scarves we’ll be festooned,
But in our hearts warm with desire,
We’ll rest nearby our passions fire.
A deep and healthy sleep will help,
The mothers last milk for the whelp,
That feeds with only food in mind,
Eventually, being left behind,
To meet head on life’s expectation,
to declare love as its last oration.
For this we can only be thankful,
And to that thought, lets light a candle.
Aduain
Nov 14, 2018
Nov 14, 2018 at 5:15 AM UTC
We are the Choice of the Will: God, when He gave the word
That called us into line, set in our hand a sword;
Set us a sword to wield none else could lift and draw,
And bade us forth to the sound of the trumpet of the Law.
East and west and north, wherever the battle grew,
As men to a feast we fared, the work of the Will to do.
Bent upon vast beginnings, bidding anarchy cease--
(Had we hacked it to the Pit, we had left it a place of peace!)--
Marching, building, sailing, pillar of cloud or fire,
Sons of the Will, we fought the fight of the Will, our sire.
Road was never so rough that we left its purpose dark;
Stark was ever the sea, but our ships were yet more stark;
We tracked the winds of the world to the steps of their very
thrones;
The secret parts of the world were salted with our bones;
Till now the name of names, England, the name of might,
Flames from the austral fires to the bounds of the boreal night;
And the call of her morning drum goes in a girdle of sound,
Like the voice of the sun in song, the great globe round and round;
And the shadow of her flag, when it shouts to the mother-breeze,
Floats from shore to shore of the universal seas;
And the loneliest death is fair with a memory of her flowers,
And the end of the road to Hell with the sense of her dews and
showers!
Who says that we shall pass, or the fame of us fade and die,
While the living stars fulfil their round in the living sky?
For the sire lives in his sons, and they pay their father's debt,
And the Lion has left a whelp wherever his claw was set;
And the Lion in his whelps, his whelps that none shall brave,
Is but less strong than Time and the great, all-whelming Grave.
1k
dont get weirded out
this is safe for work
you see im entertaining tomorrow
a thorough cleaning is in order
through and through
first things first
a proper dusting
right after the coveted sharpie box
shelf comes "first"
books records bric-a-brac and all
****
ive been meaning to listen to this album
signed and everything
lets put that on for some dusting music
table turns
check
the needles effective
i can hear the shallow resonance
hmm no audio
lets unplug all the cables
check the power supply
and the pre-amp
turn it all off then on again
****
let me take this apart real quick
****
i need some parts
i need to call stanton
OPERATOR! OPERATOR!
30 minutes later im told they dont have it
WHELP
back to dusting
stepping over stanton parts
I THOUGHT I LOST THIS MOVIE
i can play it in the background
whilst im cleaning
THE PROJECTORS BROKEN
let me take that apart real quick
hope i dont get the parts
of the two aberrations crossed
that mustnt happen
wink
and then the re-framing project
and then organizing my music collection
and then just one poem
color code my closet
rewrite my resume
clip my toenails
and my nose hair
four more poems
annnnnnnnnnd
mess
"oh hey welcome, drinks are over there
just dont step on my record player"
and heres where it gets crazy smart
i tear EVERYTHING off the walls
draw all over all the stuffs
with those ****** sharpies that started it all
turn the whole ******* place
into a performance art piece
i call it
"fix it: I DARE YOU!"
May 11, 2013
May 11, 2013 at 12:46 AM UTC