ode to 14

sitting at a desk listening, intently, to Suicidal Tendencies, lost in a world of smoldering fires that I had not set with a match that did not belong to me. there was nothing quiet in the rage calm, serene thoughts of death (mine or his) And I’m the failure? not all antiques are worth something. … Read moreode to 14

Trying to Understand

Those Catholic girls can really fuck you up; something in the way they’re called to serve         God; On hands and knees, Ass pointing to heaven, Crying out to god – for what, he only knows But there you are, trying to understand how a drop of rain feeds the Red Woods.

the rain

the sky outside is melting,right down into my bones.they say trauma is heldright down into the muscle;there’s women all over the worldand every one is ugly –     uglier than a single sin     with a neighbor boy in the rain.we don’t talk about traumain the bones or the muscleswhen the sky outside is melting.

Who cares about the facts, get a reaction!

In this BBC Story, there’s apparently some issue with the "count" of the civilian dead – is it 65K or 650K? Is it that one in every 10 deaths is being reported? Could it be that a nation, in the full grips of war and utter chaos (afterall, who’s paying the teachers to teach in Bagdad and where are the Garbage Men 3 times a week?) might just have a wee bit of corruption and huberis? Is it possible that 5-7 families out of every 10 are just affraid to make the walk down the Ministry of Health for fear of theirs? Could it be that those officials charged with keeping these counts have been, god save them, lazy in their duties; or could it also be that they have been, perhaps, instructed to lower numbers so things don’t "seem" as bad as they are? While Bush looks for a "credible report", I’d like him to look for a credible leader for the American people and our colonies. The only credible count is one done with a firm statistical foundation, as we know that math is not lazy nor does it lie. To call this report "not credible" is to essentially say that all the polls and the counts in the U.S. are not credible – even worse, it is to show your utter innaneity at not being schooled on the fundamentals of math – 2+2 does in fact equal 4, G.W.

 

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Whores

The best thing about a whore is her honesty, fucking real honesty like you can’t even get in church. And when they tell you about your cock, how nice it is and sweet and pure, when they pump you up about your scent after you’ve been in the mines for a week, when they hold … Read moreWhores

Slow Kids

He was an average kid filled with average stupidty and reasonably clear skin for being in 8th grade and I didn’t really give a shit about him. His sister was in the grade below us and I couldn’t stop thinking about her: white puffy sleeved blouses, full lips and dark brown hair on a creamy face. I wanted to fuck her under the bleachers during a football game and leave her quivering without my load, declaring her unworthy of my seed. I’m not sure why. She never said anything to me and I never even got to know her. I felt a little guilty for imagining that about her.

But she’s unimportant, afterall, I never stabbed her. It was her brother that started the whole mess. George fucking Harrington had a knack for instigating a violent reaction and appearing the martyr. I’d seen it several times. Anyway, most of this is unimportant, except that I wound up stabbing him in the hand with my pencil and then hitting him across the head and body by swinging my desk into him. It wasn’t that big a deal; the pencil went right through and except for a little bleeding from the skin tearing, it missed anything important and left mostly a bruise, and the desk was more visually effective than anything else, since I hadn’t gotten a good enough swing by the seat back and the angle was awkward so that it more glanced than belted.

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all crap

It’s all crap. I spend more time playing with my poetry and reading it and re-reading it and liking it and not liking it and editing and editing and editing and not doing a damn thing with it, except not writing it. It’s a petulant child that taunts me with my glory days, except when … Read moreall crap

Soapbox Artist: collecting art & literature of the worst kind