The rebel fugitive cab driver picks up the harlequins And rapes them until they understand what it means To be human and it all blurs together The city the lights The cock the cunt The message the truth But then again classrooms can be deceiving
My eudemonia could be taken in stride but it seems to Simple to overly sifice At clouds of interminable white and keep The blacks from my coveted tractors because they had their Turn to all the others for recognition you said a folly I regurgitate words for mine are not so special As to be those intermingled with holler than thou Thou art but not at the same I can only be kept by those...
And It Will Come for You
The president took acid and made a mark on the floor As his politics mirrors his religious whore The baby vomited sunlight and the mother lapped its generosity As the calming father waited to luxate them by paternity The homeless man ate soap as the pressed skeleton Smiled with out control over his generous funds And the clock struck back again
Why Must Conscious Be a Choice
The retarde chelonian walks by store openings aware Of nothing that those companies intice into mainstream Bullshit to feed to an overcrowded and indulged hipster Anthem belting manogomus perfusion of heartache and Quorals exspunged by fadoras and burning memories The infantile swirl of fortitude and open sexuality Could be as easily squashed as my genitailia or psyche And the lesser being...
Dr. Straightlove or: How I Learned to Stop...
The tellurian vigina discretely bids the light In a twisted perversion the 50’s would easily spit Into and lap up as the genocide of the women’s race Bleeds ever farther from the abhorrent crack And the men run fleeing to it in terror And need its instincts to guide it from mushrooms And cradles and glutinty of metal scraped by earth And used as dichotomy And yes let’s...
I bring rain by a vernal sun And I make the men pray for the storm I make the world and it’s need And I hold the need in music and make all deaf I form the bust of man And he is me So can the bust finally fall and kill all that he created
My Oedipus conniption Is full of corse depiction Of slaughtering my son the devil Or of sleeping on upheaval We need to create poise For dosn’t the baby tire with his toys
The photo album had a moschate stench From its age and reprehensible memories A glass of crimson despair a fire low and foreboding It all blurs as dose the past the poem and identity We like to make it clear here
King of I Don't Know
The adroit metaphors shanked Pynchon’s Voice in a barren crowd It is all but what the venom sipped from a challis Made of bone the blood of sand and Jesus’s eye
Tree v. Earth
The ground could catechize the tree for his huborous stature But the tree could just as easily tell the ground How lovly the air tastes How simple the view creates And how thank cup the tree is to be swayed by the breeze For he cares not that the breeze is his puppeteer But that the puppet may move at all
X's on the Antagonist and His boy
The little boy bought his comic books with martyr intent His batman and superman stacked high So he may cut his finger on the pages every side And draw in his fluids on the evils of good The same grinning visage with incorrect marks for eyes For they could save the ruck between the page Yet his parents could not say the same So the boy wades through fires Till he can finally be the villain...
If dommer ate his children Then eve had no pride All but the quickest wit Should be spared and tried For all can write poetry But none so overt as me
Everybody is in a great relationship and I'm just... →
theepichumor: Bored? click! Arrested development is the shit!!! Prob the best show ever made. I want the movie out is bad
Get Off the Train
Vocal chords resonate with a terrifying Brisance that no fuse may light more But if the voices words are broken They must be let to stand For the carp must return to the sea as if it were truth And no one may take that away from me
The Hand Is Where the Heart Is
An Iniquitous god ate a baby in its sleep And the god is its father but only for now The Gasser talked of nothing with envy of those who didn’t But he made the first thing you ever loved from nothing at all The Roman with a heavy sword and a lack of truth Had yet a selcouth eye of gold For his palms could still be run through
Abstraction is the sincerest form of flattery Not for the man but for its reality Come into this formulated elixir For sharp tongues only slit throats And poignancy austere
It is not the place of a body It is not the place of a saint in red eyes To tell the demon dressed in gold That his beliefs of self must destroy It is not selfish unless there the man bends It is the most charitable of denotations For it forces one to pick a standard And let files gather themselves in an empty desk In an empty mind that dosn’t need them to speek
Contradictions Give me Hope
Entreating papers of elegant sing Are all but affectations of needed caress Like ships in a yard uptight and up-dressed And tinfoil may be polished But it does not for a wardrobe make I staired at an ominous partition Of the fears of he generation that had me And I touched it as picket fence wept at the sigh of an Atrocity it created For wasn’t the fence the only one declaring...
The sun erupted from America’s metaphorical cock And it sang a prase of brazen gall upon any man woman child The sun etched the patterns of her dress on her flesh All down her side read a perfect swallow to giver her peace His chest singed with his most formal of ignorance And the stitching melded with his form And he looks sown from the bliss he tried to be And the boy was baptized...
Coddle babies in black holes and swaddle them tight Weeds could save them if only by dowager’s might They all come back to take what was rightfuly the owners But the astringent commune takes hammers and nails To fine to be weighed on the scale If it worked for the few it can work for the many But the level stooped should only be brought to One who’s prayers have been levied
If the absinthe took Max any deeper All could be lost of love I need the confusion to keep me stable I vomit on birthday candles and watch Africa die on it I want no less than abortions and sunken eyes Fostering sharp tongues and fallen angels That devour a heart for only the heart eats Dogs of war might be let But greatness only spills in fortitude on the floor I want what no one wants...
Dime Store Thief
The dime store theif is esculent Just as as the morsels he slithers away with are But you must remit his sin For he must keep his hearts a thunder And his plates full of pallets Full to home and sensual need After all small portions for the big eyes Seemed fair at the time For his life is riotous For it takes what isn’t his And for the good doesn’t look back
My mind like pretentious perfect slabs of granite Should I take my hands to the side and make foot holes Or should I just let go and let me have it But one you fall into the maze you can’t fall no matter how Soft the stone
Eat Up Saviors
My Antipode is my lord My savior is my need As a breed to easy to find nirvana’s heed If sweet laced with frilly flamboyance Floated on the stream of air could I eat it Or might it just seep like annoyance In my temporal lobe I could eat weed and let vines caress my head Like cartoons of ships melt into horizons It’s all deceived into my mine I won it because I say so And I...
A master becomes the pococurant At the end of his watch His religion of hard and fast training looses luster His bone becomes as week as muscle And his muscles as resilient as bone He slips his tongue back and forth through slits in his figure For he has too much to say And not enough to let it known He forgot to live a life with others So he stays the rock of sniveling bastardization...
His rutilant cock to be a giver Her stagnant body a vessel I need a sign that what the heartache drinks Is not as pedantic as my pen Creep forth a nimble horse drawn carnage of vomit You must grace you keeper with his means For he wants it and wanting is half the fight But he can not hold what soft became the curse Talent can only escape the talentless So make me a woman And give me what...
I soak up the spill of engendered blood as he dies further This appertains to a dog A companion of my natural life A poet dies on his birthday And accends where all dogs lie Regergitate appologies and raised glasses but keep your memory He laped up spit in the corner out of a bowl I with a mop must cleen his disturbance for the last time His memory is now only his grave That’s why...
I need you to force my shift I need you to let a stray adrift I need you to work through a conflict of words I need you to listen if only to Nick it away It’s profluent in a duck-tile fashion Pressed up like a dressed up doll on display For an unknown lobby And only keeping lockets can keep secrets And only fucking can stay deamons And, apperently, only repition can cure souls
I Love a Poem with No Soul
The Oracle killed my father and my mother watched My son was dead before birth on the guilt of fingers crossed Sometime the world is what is sown And some time the world is from the eye cursed to know
Im only quadrennial for it is too easy to graduate than fail If birds sang like children there would be no war The they could eat like sinners the devil would not be so stale If only children weren’t deaf and to the underscore I could wish them luck on face value For they are trained to construct them without cause And engender a pattern in a forgone niche anew This is the place of...
I sit in the professor’s layer Androgynous in his petifelic mustach That I could quite like To injest this self To excrete another I should love you as I bite my finger in repose I should kiss the orcistra as it lets my fly With breath in my ears I can hear all the poetry I question I can question the man above me And wonder why I speak so obtuse
I am an alembic set to gape To slaughter pigs i see only as meat for a glutinous family All but exparaments of flesh to last a craving Simplicity and brash juvanality I will abhore later As a man not myself A hoast to all that want brings And yet venom should not go to waste
And cant is all I slur In my stupor and it is time to eat the bile It was too easy to smoke grades and become a man Than say a boy and keep colors straight But when a truth blurs then the line to cross is already behind
Lick the salt off the computer’s irony You are it’s liege Yet you keep it afloat Entreat it’s ego to give you one And eat you Id for there is no use for This real world philosophy In this false utopia