Censored Poets

NUMB

2011-12-29T11:23:00.000-08:00

Soul searching.
What you know?
what , how you feel…?
It’s so numbing.
Stone cold.
A faint distraction in the wrists, brain and hands.
A new direction, ready but not sleek.
Never too clear, never too speak.
A leap through.
A new day.
I sit here and contemplate reality.
What is really going on? Why?
For how long?
What will become?
Will the truth shine thru?
Will it be real or just another story tale of who knew?
Numb, I cannot speak. Numb I wish too peak.

A somber joyness moment.
Can it be true?
How will it be?
Who will turn?
Who will see?

I' ve been out of touch but rizing and learning a new way of life.
A new way of being.
Take it too tha heart.
People who care so much about me.
Who are honest and give me such pleasure.
Always educating, always a fun way too play while sitting there and learning , loving each and every day.
Take each moment for tha moment because as we all know nothing no matter how geling of a feeling, no matter how high one can be. The dark days are for us too see, feel and learn from.
Such hope.
such laughter with the ones you love.
You think now and back of hopefully the good times too come.
I clinch my teeth, my body feels weak.
Who really cares? Whose too blame?
Who to look too for hope and guidance so one does not fall and scrap her knees?
Bleeding so badly it never heals…

In tha art of her beauty/
In the description of her eyez/
I look too you and find no surprise/
And I, seek for you nott/

“One let down after another. Get used too it.
When it’s up, it’s up. When it’s low, it’s low.”

How low will you go? What is low? How low? High? How high, really?

Have you seen this and that? And everything in-between?
Look too me. You have never seen.
Tha distance in which I am too to become.
A thought of mishaps, a forgotten butterfly. Flying. Flying. Flying. And flying.

by Katie Chonacas

Chords

2011-12-22T09:26:00.000-08:00

I sleep with chords all around me
so if I get caught up in one I can say I died in my sleep by the most beautiful chord that had ever stuck me.
That it was so beautiful it took my breathe away,
like only a few things can.

Let's call a spade a spade and use it to dig our own graves.
I've been living six feet under the stars for way too long.

We're all stars
Burning too bright to ever see each other.
Dangling from chords like get-away-planes
Crash landing into a new ending

So come and tie us together
Burning stars Hung forever.

We're all cold in this dead space.
I've got body heat can we use it?

So do you
We just need someone to tell us we're warm.

So come and tie us together
Burning stars Hung forever.

I've seen houses burnt down and you said you'd rather go out with a bang.
But all we have is time
You're burning alive

Ya and it's when you stopped living your life by a timeline that you stopped hanging by a thread

Were all spread to thin born with just enough skin to cover up what matters

I'm still tossing in my sleep but haven't hit the right chord yet.

I still find myself catching my breath
And taking heart burn pills
To keep from feeling the friction burns of trying to get close to you said we'd never go down in flames

I know you said to never listen
I know you said to never trust someone who had skin like butterflies
I know.
Never look someone in the eye whose eyes look just like the star you picked was yours as a kid, before people started saying there was a registry and that there were limits on love and heaven had gates.

So come and tie us together
Burning stars hung forever.

So come and tie me together
A burning star hung forever.

by David Ball

BALLS

2011-12-21T11:23:00.000-08:00

Balls! Balls! Balls!
I love the sound of balls:
Balls! Balls! Balls!
jouncy, flouncy, bouncy balls.
balls to the walls
balls in the stalls
always, always, always
balls in pool halls.
Monkeyballs, moth balls
and sometimes three-toed sloth balls,
snowballs, glo-balls and Larry, Curly and Moe’s balls.
beach balls, baseballs, basketballs,
bocce balls, soccer balls, but not hockey balls,
cue balls, blue balls, screw balls,
new balls, two balls, sexy Rexy’s tattooed balls,
Harry’s balls, Jerry’s balls, never ever Mary’s balls,
pumpkin balls, brass balls, cannon balls,
golf balls, volleyballs, mud balls,
tennis balls, ping-pong balls, Wiffle balls,
hard balls, softballs, fastballs,
one, two, three, four balls and gopher balls,
fire balls, hairballs, space balls, crystal balls,
super balls, cheese balls and Nerf balls;
no such thing as surf-and-turf balls.
Oh, don’t leave out Cinderella’s ball.
Balls to the left;
balls to the right;
if you have enough balls,
you will never run from a fight.
Balls! Balls! Ball!
I love the sound of balls.
Balls. Balls. Balls.

by Bob Petras

Plushophilia

2011-12-13T10:11:00.000-08:00

I saw about thirty of them
in a parking lot by the edge
of the woods
all dressed up
in animal costumes –
roosters, rabbits,
horses, bulls.
From what I’ve been told,
they enter the wilderness
for the night
and fuck each other.

It’s a dog’s day to skin a rabbit,
pull its pelt right off,
to be a frog tongue-whacking
a fly from the center
of a rose’s sweet spot,
a bat caught in too much light,
a pony taking the prize,
a little piggy going to market.

The cat can’t help
but slosh the milk
on his whiskers;
the oyster can’t help
but spit into its wound.
There’s something about
turning a bug upside
down until those legs reach
for a wanting sky,
something about
spraying a porcupine
in the face.

It’s a stupid question to ask,
but why not –
How much wood could
a woodchuck chuck
if a woodchuck could chuck wood?
After all, it can’t
toss a boomerang
right into the roo’s pouch,
it can’t pitch wood
quite like a beaver.

The mouse ate the cheese.
The mouse is in the cat.
The dog swallowed the cat.
The dog is in the horse.
The horse is in the cow.

Somebody must have
swallowed the fly.

by Kurt Shinian

Glue Farm Autopsy

2011-12-09T09:27:00.000-08:00

I got both your eyes
Sitting on a plate
They freak me out
They move
I can feel, then turn
I roll over in bed at night thinking, "What kind of shit is this?!"
But it's still kind of drinking!
I notice the blood painting, it looks so much like you
I see both your eyes following behind me as I'm coming
I can't ever regret how I met you
We're growing the new kind of body here for the new kind of society
They shrink in the daylight
I've always got blood on my hands
In my hair
On my clothes
In my eyes My eyes!?! Oh fuck!!! I forget them for a minute!
There I remembered how to disfigure the lone alive creature
Burn off the face with a...
Blowtorch the features
Can you stop staring? I know it's not easy but please try
Today's blood special may be yours now as your dying
I'm still alone with those two fucking eyes!

by Lance Tarr

Lost in Love's Translation

2011-12-08T11:33:00.000-08:00

So maybe I'm not what you believed
But I'm running out of reasons to live
Ran out of suggestions to breath
Relinquish the blame, there’s no such reprieve
I must have misunderstood your intentions
And the definition of our relation
I suppose the reprisal is vital to your mission
To keep hidden the point that I've been missing
The fear that's set in your mind
Suppressed by the wine and these hedonistic retreats of mine
It must just be me but I believed that apathy
Was reserved for those that deserved to be unhappy
Not the foul unlucky perturbed
Fortune is bestowed on the weak minded cold hearted kind that prey on those that lie dying supine
I've been counting down to my last dying breaths
Hoping the reprise will cease in death
And when my chest feels heavy and depressed
I know it's the willingness to succumb to rest
I saw malicious lies embedded within your eyes
Those obtrusive words you were unwilling to confine
You could no longer subside within your divine right
To hold my heart on a platter
And serve it up cold with a side of revenge
Since then it all seems to suspend in a vengeful crescendo
The fairytale lifestyle is made privilege to those that are so willing to slay and lay pillage on helpless third nation village
Love it seems is a myth lost in translations between fact and fiction

by Rufus Reed

THE BARMAIDS MUSE

2011-12-07T09:29:00.000-08:00

I watch them
As they order
Their next drink...
How the melancholy
Courses over the ice,
As they stir their mixture
Of loneliness and gull.

I watch them
As they drag on
Their next cigarette...
How the matchstick lights
The tip of misery,
As their suicidal poison
Hovers around them
In rings of ashen smoke.

I watch them
As they hesitantly
Get up to leave,
Dressing up once again
Beneath counterfeit smiles,
Caught in their constant state
Of despondency.
Hiding out,
Stalling, not wanting,
Not willing,
To make their way back
Through the crowds,
Through their lives,
Through their loves.
With souls closed tight
And eyes open wide,
They stumble out
Into the parking lot
Seeing and feeling
Absolutely
Nothing.

by Amye Nicole Bird

TUNNEL OF LIGHT

2011-12-06T15:59:00.000-08:00

I hurt all day
I hurt all night
I vomit in my dreams
Tomorrow is a tunnel of light
Bearing down on my soul
From which there is no return
Turpentine cocktail
O’ thee for I yearn.

by Stanley “Hawk” Hawkins

Occupy

2011-12-05T17:07:00.000-08:00

Walking apprehensive through a
concrete jungle
lost in translation lost in my youth,
I feel myself slipping away.
My thoughts lack luster; my words
lack truth.
Damn this socialist plot! go down
with the ship!
Figuratively speaking of course, for
there is no ship.
There is only a polyurethane taxi
waiting to drive,
through the bacterial and viral
streets of America.
Putrid garbage flows violently over
lid.
Stench of political atrocities. Smells like hormone induced poultry!
America I have two dollars, what will
that buy?
Fame, fortune, a Mcdouble with fries?
Deserted abyss of destruction, the
waters of deception
quench Corporate thirsts. Philosophically moving
we seek retribution through a barrel
of a gun. I don’t know why?
I don’t know what from?
Infested apples hang aloft in a tree.
Suicidal thoughts come from money and
greed.
Ginormous debt, generous ignoramus.
Dammit I say to the concepts of day.
As I past a drunkard old fool oddly
named Shamus.
Bullcrap and Folly I whisper to thee;
as I sit on my stoop and wave goodbye
to the trees.

by K.G. Black

Blowing McDaddy

2011-06-14T08:37:00.000-07:00

You were lookin’
sooo fine
that first time
in vintage hawaiian

grabbed a seat
at the end of the bar
when someone whispered
to me
“yeah baby
he-is-hot.
i hear he’s gotta
righteous tattoo of johnny reefer
on his leg.”

“uh huh.”

“hey girl, I ain’t lyin’ to you
don’t you know who that is?
that’s McDaddy!”
“word on the street
has it
he spent time out west
with some Indians -
they changed his name to some coyote-dog
you believin’ that shit?”

and the more
he was talkin’
the more
i was lookin’,
and the more I was
lookin’
the more
i was thinkin’
man, I gotta get me some
‘i could use a McDaddy like that...’

by Katharine Hollister

She Wades

2011-06-13T14:50:00.000-07:00

Far down river in New Orleans,
The river rises, high, in the summer.

Her hands finger the dirty water,
it's the lifeblood in her veins.

The grass is trimmed low near the
muddy beds where the water rushes by.

Her hands, wet, dry in the sunlight
as she stares at a little girl.

by Brandon Roy

Throat by 8’s

2011-06-10T10:05:00.000-07:00

The tiger lily’s
Dotted throat
Raises oranges
into a pale light,
Into the dark of night
As young lovers
Dream upon its primitive
Beauty and its hot colors.

I dream upon the neck
Of yesterday and
Ravage about the future
While living plainly
In the moments of now –
The seconds of my
Discontented demeanor,
My discontented nights.

by Dawnell Harrison

you and him

2011-06-09T08:42:00.000-07:00

sexual tension brews
between you and i
while i hold his hand
i silently try to fight it
the fantasies plague my mind
and i’m turned on
with one look at you
i sneak a glance at your crotch
see the bulge in your jeans
and i hope to God he didn’t see
but as he’s fucking me
i think only about you
he could give me the world
but all i want is your dick

by Karyn Lindgren

CARNIVAL

2011-04-07T11:35:00.000-07:00

Ferris wheel revolves
velocity and glow,
a kaleidoscopic adventure

and screams of glee
heard ‘round the grounds
duets with the singing carousel

which spins
to horse’s gallop
toward the house of mirrors

reflecting
shadowy silhouettes
of our clandestine embrace.

Dozens of you
touching me
hundred of times.

by Michael Keshigian

horny this a.m. and this is what ya get

2011-04-06T11:52:00.000-07:00

no more sweet.
i love this place,
here,
you and me,
real: your balls
bang against my mouth
(where you belong)
my tits strain towards your ass,
my tongue wants to taste
all of you,
i arch beneath you
arched above me,
buttressed, pressing
together
(this is where i belong)
your cum across my face
in my hair, in my eyes,
deep down in my throat
your cum
in my heart.

by Claudia Neely

Walmart Ladies

2011-04-04T09:31:00.000-07:00

I’ve often wondered
Where the heavy set
Women at Walmart
Come from –
The ones that labor
Their slow
Slouched
Shuffled steps,
The ones that hunch
Over their carts
With their pastel
Elastic waistband
Pants
Drooping so
Indelicately.

I bet they come
Into the world with pinwheels
Anchored to balloon bouquets
Burdened by dumb
Headed ribbons and bows
Dragging with the levity
Of helium laughter,
Balloons that cannot
Surge
And bounce off of
Ceiling tops,
The ones that circle
In the idiot winds
With the listlessness
Of twisted strings.

I never understood the
Commonality of these women,
Their porcelain dog collections,
Their off color
Lipstick yawns,
Their floral
Patterned muu muus,
Their bad perms.

It seems to me
That the clocks in this store
Keep a synchronized count,
But forgive me,
Please beg my pardon,
But it’s just that
I’ve grown so intolerant
Of the way these women
Block every aisle,
As if they’re drunk
From the tonic
Of their own mutterings,
With their tempo as
Slow as
Slow fading rouge.

I’m scornfully judging
Every one that won’t budge,
And really,
I know that I shouldn’t,
But my courteous
Excuse me
Just went unlistened to
Yet again.

by Kurt K. Shinian

FRANKINSTEIN

2011-04-01T11:32:00.000-07:00

Color coded complete with picture I.D.
We’ll teach you to be like us.
Give you a turtle neck or bow tie
You will be our kind of Mensch
Complete with certificate of authenticity
Credit rating and charge account,
Security, savings, and even disability.
We’ll teach you how to walk and talk
in circles as if you had some sense.
We will give you some brand named shoes
We’ll even call you Frank or Frankie
We gave you a brain doesn’t matter
Which for they all are just the same,
But why are you still reaching for
Flowers?

by Clinton Van Inman

Come Closer

2011-03-31T10:25:00.000-07:00

“Come here, you said blanket lifting,
come lay by me.”

“Put your hand
down there
uh huh,
right there
nudge me,
coax me,

come closer
i want to hear you
surrender
to my ear
that little gasp
while fingers
furl their way
between your legs.”

“Closer still,
move into me honey
initiate me
to that thing you do
while hand lingers
against your flushed
cheek.”

So i press up against you
as your tongue
stumbles into my mouth.

by Kat Hollister

Downbeat Tigress Blues

2011-03-01T09:46:00.000-08:00

Sweet vengeance for a teenage starlet
hip now in such patient ecstasy
hoary whispers in your seashell ear
beckon to fallen idols from celluloid screens
& parade them before vestments
shed in soiled offering to await

The gang-bang grail of your appearance
too doped-up even for Hollywood
blood a dark cocktail
wrung from some used sex
the paparazzi find hope

Decaying in outright
stardom,
a magical levitation
across the body
of a once
believer

Listening
to drum rolls
fucking her every which way sideways too

her essence
melds
truth

into
the
broth of a flash-popping
bad
scene

by Peter Magliocco

Naked

2011-02-16T08:50:00.001-08:00

Don't look at myself naked
My pussy is dry all night
My poetry is emptiness
Never alone, only inside

Get your hands off, now touch me
My words ruin my peace
I hide my consequences
I hide my consciousness

I hold the past responsible
Nightmares of rejection
My self worth and my self esteem
Are based on his erection

I use him as a punching bag
I eat up all the blame
I bottle up my happiness
And let out all the shame

I run away for pitty
I run away from rage
I fear the others' wisdom
Can't fucking turn the page

I push away the real
Running from reality
I run from realizing that
I run away from me

His name is very special
Commitment equals hope
Forgiving all unholiness
Taking down the rope

Trynna be my sanity
Him, trynna be fair
I am a Photoshop illusion
And he is sometimes worth my care

Narcissism
Kill me please
Or please just kill yourself
Self esteem
Pitty the liar
Take the pill yourself

Dawn at two horizons
Watch me pick flowers as a kid
I used to live in paradise
Now it's a big pile of shit

Forgive the empty girl
Filled with images of herself
Forget forget the guilty girl
She'll never love herself

by Aneka Brunssen

Julia

2011-02-03T08:43:00.001-08:00

It is like a woman
to want to change a man -
and in this way
the fucking universe is a whore!

Tell me Julia,
has your luck run out?
Have the great hands of
sex worship
finally clamped down
upon your sagging,
hooded lips?
Bah!
It is neither there,
nor here.
It is unlikely that things
have changed,
and even more unlikely
that you would have put
an end
to our communal misery.

Oh Julia!
My love for you is uninhibited.
You are every bit the
Virgin Mary
as you are the
Whore of Babylon.
You are my Delilah.
You have defaced my wisdom;
my arms;
and my curled black hair.

You have betrayed
me amoroso ojos por plata,
clipped my body of
its manhood
and left me
groveling in the dirt with
a limp dick
and a broken spirit.

Aye, Julia you could indeed
have been born in the
poorest valleys of
The Sorek,
but we shall let the
Book of Judges
be the true narrators.

by Justin Boutilier

i called you my butter cookie

2011-01-26T17:07:00.000-08:00

i know them way back, packed
in the supermarket, stacks after stacks
labeled blue, each blue can
our big city's favourite, wrapped in red
spring's warmest gift.

it must have been your baby blues, or me
overwhelmed in a scent
so flattering, in a way
so sweet, it caters my court,
your ship.

crunchy touches, sugar on top, taste
on my tongue, the best flavor
unlocked - the best thing i know from you country -
all these golden pieces of loveliness
sink in memories.

by cherry rao

Incoherence ... incofuckingherence

2011-01-24T10:24:00.000-08:00

Because tear-choked incoherence will not make you hear I wonder
If I could harness humour to explain my hurt.
Would it make a difference?
Do we survive because my inability to specify results in silence,
Because of my reluctance to hurt,
Because of my inability to value my needs,
Because on too many levels I cannot believe that I have anything to offer?

Should I have challenged your selfishness, what I now perceive as selfishness,
Rather than be sensitive to your feelings?
Would you have been less so as a result,
And if so, less so what?
So what?
I am unsatisfied
Again, since it is seemingly OK for me to pleasure you,
Although I am not, myself, a source of pleasure,
Which hurts, reduces, negates and renders me humourless.

by Esme S.

I am surrounded by alcoholics

2011-01-20T12:06:00.000-08:00

They are here, there and everywhere
Friends and relatives
Unacquainted about life’s responsibilities
Hanging idle with a bottle of poison
Living while destroying
At home under their mother’s nose
Or all alone, nobody to talk to
In a world that is isolated and freezing cold.

I see alcoholics where I live
Young and old, all nice people though
Expressions of dejection
As if a barstool is the most comfortable place to hide
Or maybe just plain petrified
To face the world and all its problems
Through wide opened eyes.

I had an uncle who was an alcoholic
His wife left him
He then lived alone and drank as much as he liked
So one day he decided to place his head inside the gas cooker
And kill himself by breathing in the poisonous fumes.
I wonder why?

I have an uncle who is an alcoholic
His wife left him too
He now lives and drinks with a younger woman
She is a heroin addict decorated in self applied tattoos.

I had a girl, she was an alcoholic too.
Unbeknown to most, she hides it very well
It was hard to walk away
She gave me great head, she really could screw.

I am surrounded by alcoholics.
Although my parents, they barely even drink
They have often warned me about the degrading lifestyle
And the uncontrollable and horrid nature
Of an alcoholic
And how a world can crumble
While family and friends cant do a thing but watch on
With unconditional love that is ignored and taken for granted.

Maybe it is ok to hit the floor once in your life
Devotion is then highlighted
Guardian angels in the form of loved ones
Peep from behind the curtains of heaven
Express the free love.
We are here
You are there
Without each other things will never be the same
So lets enjoy it while we can
Lets awake to the sound of the bird’s singing in the trees
Fresh and sacred
Hands held high and spirits reignited to daylight and beautiful skies.
Lets live to enjoy our moments and smoothen memories.
Relinquish through maturity.
And when that day finally comes to sink into our coffins
It will be to sweet and everlasting praise.
Your time here has not been ended, but accomplished.
Enrichment and inspiration
Risen and derived
From the hearts of fulfilled lives
Final farewells untainted
With wishful goodbyes.

by Paul Hendricks

APOCALYPTIC JAZZ

2011-01-19T12:17:00.000-08:00

The sky is falling in transparent fragments
During an encore
By a band saturated
In sweat and saliva
Crying out for redemption
In accented brass tones
Their eyes bulge
Their veins pump
Like shotguns
In vigilance

They all wonder
When will be
Their last note
Their last breath
Their last request

Inside this vacancy
As the sun hold on
With its last rays
Competing
With the clouds
Shipped in like cargo
Impaling the moon’s romantics

Windows shatter
The earth quakes
Along with the bass
The drummer’s eyelids
Refusing to shut
Just yet
As the snare ticks

Lovers long for the last touch
The others embrace the one close
Or themselves
Huddled under tables
(in front of the stage)
Some cry
Others just accept
High pitch, solo driven
Margin expanding
Resolutions
At the gates
To implode

Fingers grip the valves
Clutching the last few moments
Bleed
Knuckles stretch straight
Cymbals crash in echoes
Within the unforgiving
Foundations sink
And no one is ready
To leave their regrets
Drowned in boos
Rising an octave

by Jason Jepson

THE SINKING SHIP DILEMMA.

2011-01-18T08:56:00.000-08:00

The ship is sinking and I
have the tinned food, the knife,
fishing equipment – yadda yadda -
in my dingy, but now I face
a more problematic dilemma.

That is, I can only take one of
these, either A) a box full of
poetry and fine wine or B)
a box of beer and porn. I decide
instead to go down with the ship.

by Matthew Roberts

humming along with a lisp

2011-01-17T09:26:00.000-08:00

this happened
back in the day
when a dentist had
a set of pliers and
a bottle of whiskey.

had the front
ones yanked
good riddance
it ached
and infected
tasted blood for
over a week.

had a hell
of a smile
after that
wrecked my
embouchure
for a stretch
my only
instrument
was
pussy.

it was okay
at first she
didn t want any
toothless man
down there.

she let me suck
her tit s
they tasted
like warm beer.

after awhile
she either got
used to looking
at my smile
or missed the
feeling.

either or
doesn t matter.

was back
where
i wanted
to be

hummin
right
along
with a
lisp.

by Robert Ede

So Deep

2011-01-13T14:52:00.000-08:00

Let me try to take
what is no longer there.

Let me rob from this moment
kindling, matches, and flare.

All I know is this
I am Rorschach-stained (again) by that first kiss
and the words–
“I never thought I would see you again,” followed by,
“I love you, suck my dick.”

With one more rip into
my familiar fabric
you’re the true fuckslut,
bitch.

I take in your guile
I give your venom a spit
remembering so much about you
I’ll simply omit.

by Kyrsten Bean

Short coming

2011-01-10T08:41:00.000-08:00

There is something
missing inside me
it must be missing
a gap
inside my head
because I fill
myself up
pour the fermentations
down my throat
gullet filling
but I stay incomplete.
I cannot pour
enough in to rise up
into my head
the words spill out
as the liquid
finds equilibrium
gurgling, bubbling
behind my tonsils.
I am missing
something
something else to fill me
missing something
to fulfil me but
happily when
my throat is full
I still have other
voids and the wine
bottle is to hand.
I am missing something
inside me. I
make do, a short
and narrow substitute
for the real thing
a short coming
but I am
missing something.

by jkdavies

Ephemeron

2011-01-07T16:07:00.000-08:00

It happened so quickly,
the way her love shattered

into a thousand fragments,
each a tiny mirror reflecting

a magnificent sunburst,
blinding her soured vision forever.

And all she had done
was ask him,

ask him in a quiver,
'Did you fuck her?'

to which he lied,
the bastard slipped

so that the truth hit her.
She knew it was over.

by Zaina Anwara

Letters to Myself as an Old Man

2011-01-04T16:46:00.000-08:00

In ten years,
I’ll write five letters to myself.
No, not five letters but ten poems,
living poems that inhale and exhale
and that can have the wings of a bird
or the guts of a fish
or the teeth of a snake.
These poems will act as a memoir
of sorts for when my face has more lines
than a pitted stone;
and I will find these poems locked away in a box
lined with velvet and dust,
tucked away somewhere in an attic or
a writing desk perhaps.
The same desk where my arthritic fingers still
drum the typewriter, clacking my remaining teeth
in a sort of rhythmic beat.
These poems are letters to a version of myself
at age 72, eyelids drooped over my blue, blue eyes
like great gray parasols.

by Andrew Ketcham

Cruelty

2011-01-01T17:40:00.000-08:00

Cruelty like sediments into water container
Even inadvertent stirring spoils
The serenity and sanctity.

It suffers from insomnia
Unleash its irritation of sleepless night
On orphan and weak.

People are poor by kind
And rich by cruelty
As if goddess of learning herself
Were blessing them
To deliver the speech extempore.

Everyone is embodiment of explosive
All we need is to light one spark:
Calling wrong a wrong
And get ready to sing a swan song.

A group of trigger happy youth
Making to and fro of road
Like venomous bees around honeycomb
Provoking and tantalizing to say something
All you have to do is to stir up the nest
And they would do their best
Better we know the rest.

Intolerance on rampage
And tolerance victims of stampede
Now none trembles with fear
All shudder with anger
The strong with one
But the weak with all cylinders.

Gone outside to seek entertainment,
For week-end refreshment
Wife suffered molestation
I suffered frustration
We flavoured hot juice of insult
Returned home with hurt inside heart.

by Vivekanand Jha

Two Hundred, Well Laid On

2010-12-29T11:49:00.000-08:00

Two hundred lashes, to the girl, harlot, seen leaving his room,
Another student, in her class.
Shame to her family, an abomination, under holy law,
Whip her, give her the lash.

Adultery, sin abhorrent, stone the whore, bury her in the pit,
Her son, pure lad, will cast the first stone.
Her husband, dishonored, her tribe and clan shamed,
It is written, kill her, kill the sinner, she cannot atone.

Blasphemy, the unbeliever did drink from our well, pollution vile,
Off with her head, we say.
Holy writ scorned, her presence on the street, we must not accept,
Now the idolater, we must slay.

by Jason Barrett

Delicate Are Iron Wings

2010-12-27T09:30:00.000-08:00

An abomination, of forked tongue and wing...
Lament at the birds, how they sing!
And in beauty, should I not perceive,
The world, through all of my grief?
Of heart and soul I have …none,
Regret... for the evils I’ve done.
As angels before me, have wept...
In sorrow, one cannot accept…
This life, for her cruelty, and rage...
As prisoners, blind to their cage.
Of flesh and bone… you are bound,
Let the hand of fate, cast you down!
For no beauty, in pain can they see...
Focused only, on the demon in me...

by Chelesea Lynn Flescher

I’m A Legend. A Fucking God.

2010-12-22T15:53:00.000-08:00

I’m an asshole,
but, honey,
I swear I do it best.
So don’t feel dirty
as it ain’t worth nothing
when you’re naked in the rain.

But hey, honey, as I said,
I’m a filthy fucking liar
and proud.
Do you honestly believe me?
What if I promise?

Truth be told
I’m just in it for the sex.
That sweet release.

Don’t you dare try to kiss me,
I don’t want for your touch.
You’re my waste of space
and I’m gonna make sure everybody knows it.

Hey baby, fuck it, I’m no good.
Well, that’s not completely fair,
I’m a fine advertisement for contraception.
It’s a joke Sweetie,
come on…
laugh like me,
clap with me,
cry for me.
Just don’t fuck with me
unless you wanna see my bad side?

Trust me, it does get worse.
(what do you mean you don’t trust me?
When have I ever let you down?)
I’ll have you on your knees
begging God for mercy
by the time tonight’s over.

Yes I know I’m sick,
oh yeah, I am a twisted fuck.
You ain’t even listening anyways.

Don’t answer that door.
STEP AWAY!
They can’t touch me
as there ain’t no proof.

You call that a beating?
You wouldn’t know police brutality if it hit you in the face.
Yeah, throw away the key
and see if I care.

I’m a Legend I tell you…
A FUCKING GOD!!!

by Aaron Kent

our neighbors

2010-12-14T09:29:00.000-08:00

neighbors neighbors neighbors
bloody imitators
a chapter of paradise imbued with books of hells
brains like a fine assortment of scintillating flowers,
with skulls resembling bottomless vases
rich elephants on rickety wooden legs
ready to judge they have the dirtiest vocabulary
with the most disproportionate antics

neighbors neighbors
transient eternity; eternal ephemerality
a truth of two words: falsehood and duplicity
all the importance that insignificance can carry
the mere voicelessness of a boring voice
beautiful birds in fine feathers,
turning into greedy wolves behind your back

neighbours
the closest strangers, indifferent to your anguish
a double-edged sword
honey-pots surfeited with the blackest gall
as if their teeth perspire
in the heat of abstinence,
they have to gossip about you, shamelessly

neighbors neighbors neighbors!

by Amit Parmessur

War

2010-12-13T12:47:00.000-08:00

It was a miracle that I'd ever been born in the first place.
From the womb onward.
This culture and society has weighed down on me.
Tried it's best to conspire to destroy me.
This cold-grinding-machine.
A relentless vice grip.
The soulless cyborg-horde swarming.
Cloned and programmed to hunt down and eliminate.
Everything different, ingenious, and or progressive.
A bleak Orwellian reality.
Who needs horror stories or movies?
Open your eyes, we're living in horror.
Everyday a constant struggle.
A battle.
A WAR.
Perpetually attacked and bombarded.
Seemingly never-ending, malice and betrayal.
A bestial and savage existence.
Animal drive set on auto-pilot.
Through the perilous wilderness of this fragile dream.
Toiling and fighting.
Trying to stay afloat.
Confronting the hostility of a cruel-universe, gone mad.
Going for the jugular.
Adapting and changing to survive.
This short life has taken a toll on me.
Scarred, tattooed, and half-ruined.
My sword dulled and becoming blunt.

I've become: reclusive, distrustful, cynical, jaded, and misanthropic.
I've seen and felt too much.
I've been through and indulged in life too much.
I've taken too many chances and experienced too much.
I'm a veteran. A survivor. A lone warrior-poet.
I'm just taking life day to day. Learning from my mistakes.
Trying to retain hope and attempting to stay positive and optimistic.
Smiling and laughing through the good times and bad.
Continuing to trudge along...

by Bryan J. Shaver

Death and I

2010-12-06T11:59:00.001-08:00

As I sit beneath this eucalyptus tree,
I think of the many things Death has done to me
He’s worn my bones, He’s Thinned my hair
He’s Stole my eyes, and he stole my ears
and he’s taken many things I hold quite dear.

Death is a man you should meet only once
You will not recognize him at first
His eyes will charm, and his voice will sooth
But when he touches you there is a chill.

As I sit beneath this Eucalyptus tree
With Death sitting next to me
I start to see, though my eyes have gone,
The beauty of the sea

Death is a man I know Personally
I recognize him now as a man just like me
His hair is thin, his bones are worn,
He enjoys the warm summer sun

Death and I
Beneath a eucalyptus tree

Pondering us both
What will become of We?

by Eric Long

Snakeskin Mountain

2010-11-29T11:21:00.000-08:00

We buried the truth
in hopes and good times
The scars and the shame
we save for the end
Conversations with good ol'
Mr. Daniel's are always the best

Glory is a drunken night
that lasts way too long
Human nature is a night
when drugs they fight back
But sex is a nice distraction
sex is a nice distraction

Let's Get Together
and celebrate the summer
Whiskey and drugs
make the dancing much better
Midnight high's
and quick goodbyes
One night stands are always better
when no one can really remember

He can't believe that this is a sin
To love her to leave her to do it again
But booze is good
and he trusts god knows
What's up
most of the time

But sex is a nice distraction
sex is a nice distraction

by Shane McCaffery

Until Tomorrow

2010-11-12T10:03:00.000-08:00

Pictures of her torn from women's magazines
grace my bedroom door like a candlelit shrine
inside the dungeon of a serial killer, and she
smiles at me, or pouts, or just looks sexy as
I wait for the mail truck to arrive so I can
stand visible in front of the open door naked,
"accidentally," with a towel like I was about
to wrap it around myself after a shower or swim,
but when I see what comes out of the truck, it’s
a man, so I get dressed and close the front door.

by Michael Frissore

Zoe’s side dish for living

2010-11-10T12:27:00.000-08:00

Zoe in the kitchen
Jeb pulling ragweed in the garden
Baby Rose sleeping next to the mutt
Storm outside, pouring down
At work + home
Dreaming beyond boundaries
Zoe cooks feeds her addiction
Makin Yaya’s chocolate sheet cake
Zoe keeps tubs of pimento cheese and Mediterranean tuna in the frig
Catering dinner for four; Zoe will deliver
Dreaming beyond boundaries and waiting for the side dish
For living

by Barbara Panos

Fed Up Fed Down

2010-11-09T14:33:00.000-08:00

Someone blew-up the Kelly
Writers House. Words everywhere.
Those pretentious world weary
kids are really weary now.
Now they have something to
write about. Grab the helve
and cock the hammer.

Here comes the press-gang.
They spread out like radiolarians.
Poorish man-jacks.
What do they want with me?
Can't they see I'm behind my
cortex? Glottis spasm - no words?
I found a thousand-legger

in my new used book. You know the
one with the bloody ox-blood cover.
My shirt is on inside-out, Moppet,
my only child. Fuzzy.
The heat came through the
floor boards and into my nostrils
like worms.

Will the sun ever show it's face
again? Come out from behind
that fucking ceiling. That ceiling
of the damned.
The bloated damned with their
opinions. I wait like they do
for approval.

by Garrin Riggin

after the fact

2010-11-08T15:08:00.001-08:00

after a couple good ones
we lied there in bed
lazing around
and not saying a word.

how nice it was
to just be there
admiring her face
and her body
with its generous curves.

one of those nice moments
after you have sex
with a beautiful woman

when you can do nothing
but look over at her
and think to yourself

yeah, that's right
I just owned that piece of ass

by Jackson Warfield

Sin against my soul

2010-11-05T12:43:00.000-07:00

I want so much to have reality.
I don’t know what is real and what is not anymore.
I don’t know if what I am feeling now is real or just warmth.
I come to you.
I need refuge.
I let go of who I was and what I wanted because fear clutched my soul.
I was alone, cursed to be so.
Truth betrayed me.
Yet… I needed truth again in some sick sadistic way.
Hurt.
Masochism.
I stay in the warmth I’ve offered myself.
But I stray, seeking to know, wanting to.
I hate knowing I’ve succumb to my devil.
I’ve become utterly pungent.
I smell of this.
I go into relapse.
You.
Wanting, needing, your guidance, you.
Don’t pity me, I was begging for it.
I want your forgiveness. My forgiveness.
I need to know.
I need to cling to the past, crying for its truth.
To have faith again.
Maybe if I feel this way again I can breed it’s wealth.
I pollute me with you.
Is this truth?
I’m insane.
But again, I cling to safety.
Threatening to run.
I vomit profusely at my own sins.
My weakness.
I hate myself.
Fuck.
Fuck me.
Please understand me, the reality is; I can’t forget this.
I don’t know whats going on.
Am I crazy?
Do you understand me?
Why I did this?
Why I had to?
I thought this is what I needed; pollution.
You healed me.
Made me see.
And then…I lacerated the scars.
To recreate the wound.
Wound of my soul.
Boils of shit.
Trash.
I cry to no one.
Only my eyes know my pain.
The next day I lie again.
Dishonest.
Not truth.
I’ve broken the mirror.
Me. I’m broken.
Broken, cracked.
Shattered cracked shit.
So I rush to the warmth to avoid my fears.
Avoid you.
My dishonesty.
Ignore my reflection.
To avoid sickness.
And my own wrath.
My own eternal hell.

by Jolene R. Nashlund

BUD

2010-10-29T14:32:00.001-07:00

She treats me
Like her dog
But I don’t have the nerve
To shit and piss
All over her carpet.

by Eric Blare

space in the '70's

2010-10-27T09:28:00.000-07:00

we smoke too many cigarettes
in your small car
until smoke stings our eyes
and i'll start to talk
about walt whitman
and you'll pretend
to listen
but it's okay.

we laugh at your story
of your dog biting your brother's dick
then you tell me the story
you've told me a hundred times
about the day he went away

we'll laugh away the smoke
we'll laugh until it becomes apparent
that we are no longer laughing
i'm trying to wash it
but it won't come out

ash singed a hole in your stockings
showing your skin.
it was pretty.

by Austin Cunningham

A Warning

2010-10-25T15:23:00.000-07:00

Stop looking at me
I know who you are
A sneaky spy
That watches me from afar

This is a warning to you
Who reads this now
I’m going to get later
I won’t tell you how

You’d better watch out
I may find you one day
And make you pay
For being this way

You found my note
So you are now aware
That I am onto you
You’d better care

You may find me scary
I hope you do
You’d better be wary
Because I am coming after you.

by Jacob Howell

Two Bloody Lungs

2010-10-20T09:24:00.000-07:00

I found out I have T.B. today.
My first thought:
“I’m glad I get to miss work.”

I found out my T.B. is latent today.
“Damn, I can’t give to the world,
And I have to go back to work.”

by David Rittenhouse

requiem fist

2010-10-19T09:51:00.000-07:00

he was drunk
with drool and
twisted hair
her sphincter
crushed three fingers
but he was determined

she wished the sky to drain
from her eyes
the cold creeks
to flow through
her veins
washing her soul

she turned
her face
to the
stained ceiling
pushed
back

she was stoned
things hadn’t
gone her way
the afternoon light
played on the drapes
she could never get warm
and only wanted
to get through today
smoke fuck and drink

he wished for death
felt tires running over
crushing his chest
needed pills
that were never enough
that left him stunned
and slumped
against the wheel
sweating face hot

she was languid
on her side
his cock was hard

he could hear
the radio in the room above
easy listening
she could smell whiskey
on his breath
behind her ear

he was on the outskirts
without spit to be damned
feeling his way now

she was drunk enough
sad enough and started to cry
the creek was finally in her viens

he had done it
and so had she.

by Robert Ede

Pussy Man

2010-10-18T13:10:00.000-07:00

Pussy can rule the world
Pussies actually rule the world
A three pound muscle
Attractive, sexy, poignant, and clear
They know not what they want
They call love which is not
It is a game of love played by many
And you cannot do anything when
Pussy will be demanding
Either you fulfill her demand
Or masturbate without rubbing your
Muscle with muscle
It is not going to make any difference, son
Pussies in fact rule the world.

by Santosh Kalwar

my first enlightenment

2010-10-08T10:57:00.000-07:00

came as black eyed susans
found light
in the midst of kansas
my soul was as young
as pickens go
lord have mercy
read the signs
i was touring hospitals when
my cousin and i
found new light
in blue lips
how nightgowns nurtured
what seemed like an accident
at first

by Blake Ellington Larson

My Shit Ain't Bad

2010-10-07T14:04:00.000-07:00

At the bookstore I
pulled out an impressive
hard bound poetry
anthology

One poem was four
lines about a dude
jacking off & a cockroach
eating his dried sperm

The same poet wrote
about how his sheep
had a pussy that looked
like his wife's

I said holy fuck
I thought I was bad.

by Catfish McDaris

Those Fucking Tramps

2010-09-06T20:07:00.000-07:00

Tramps just there on the bench,
littering the park up.
Smell of old haddock & woodchip & death –

carry sacks full of trash
& drifting white cloud -

to soften the muscle
faded & cracked.

Speak gibberish,

a mixture of gurgling sounds
& vomit -
a mixture of God awful gurgling sounds
designed to make us pity them.
They cry for one another too.

by Deborah Gordon

farewell the flesh

2010-07-26T09:13:00.000-07:00

if fucking is life
i must be dead
if fucking is so political
i am apolitical
and under the bed
jerking off and fitting
must've had more jerks
than hot meals
and more hangovers too
if fucking is communion
i am incommunicado
totally disconnected
not even a thread
hanging like the burr of nail
she loved across her breast

(a pastoral scene)

strange wooden trees
three crosses
that's kenneth patchen
he was a christian pacifist
and loved his wife so sweetly
fucked her all the time
even through the pain
everyone's fucking everyone
or getting fucked it seems,

(who cares ? not me ?)

if fucking is animal
i must be a higher being
licking the trough
and gutters at dawn
if getting fucked is karmic
i'm in nirvana
and hate the view
if fucking were everything
i'd be nothing
not even born
or the ache i bear for you
from down here
i can see and hear and smell
everyone fucking
in two decades
i have seen a million
cocks and cunts and assholes gaping
a flickering, disconnected scream

(i think they stole my love)

if you don't want to fuck
i'd understand but please
don't fuck me over
i'm already deeply scarred
and scared
don't get me wrong
i have fucked before,
more than my quota
the lost names and faces
even fucking now
and you know if fucking came easy
i'd be a natural
lions fucking foxes birthing lambs-
(a nature scene)
they even fucked in the camps and seminaries
i hear
some even die fucking but not me
i am a unicorn
and if you see me in the glade walk by
the birds and bees splendidly alive
come to carnivale

by Paul Harrison

2010-07-23T09:32:00.001-07:00

I’m not funny enough to be tragic
I arrive already drunk on boredom
you weigh down my buoyancy
I brush by gauging love

I open with your closing remarks
the electricity comes on
and we’re reconnected
semen flows slowly down your thigh
the grip of the earth grows tighter
the ocean spills over the hills
the air is fresh with stale ideas
the walls hung with frowns

a woman with an ear for good-looking language
a morning full of comfortable voices
the tattoo you’re working into a poem

the short cuts of love are too quick for romance
cruising through red lights
with the dazzle of your looks
I hope the character assassination goes smoothly
with the taste of the sea on your eyelash

the dark lingers longer than a glass or two
I’m looking for fun –not a goddess
your figure steadies me in an uncertain way

the embrace I never make
because I might never let you go

by Jude Dillon

THE WORD SHE BECAME

2010-07-22T08:35:00.001-07:00

I don’t know why you’re making fun of me
for the fact that I don’t know how to whistle.
You seem to think that everybody is born with the ability.
And I’m here to tell you that it’s not true.
That some of us are happy just being able to hum.
And imagine that the humming noise we’re making
is the same commotion the kite makes
every time it stops to think that it’s unraveling the string.
And a lot of people, by the way, don’t think that whistling is such a big deal.
I don’t want to upset the apple cart. But that’s just the way it is.
I’ve heard them say more than once
that if God wanted us to whistle, She would have learned how to do it Herself.
She wouldn’t have stuck around this long
unknitting the tissues we offered that sanctioned the word She became.

by Lee Stern

CURVES OF A SERPENT

2010-07-19T13:23:00.000-07:00

I carried you through like a trophy
Amongst southeast strips of scenic eyes,
Smelling flowers before standing delivered,
Possibly their smell could be of thought
Gone rotten, breasts all to me like
Goddesses of night, the hidden voice
Of pleasure speaking in the night,
In sheets soiled with tears, pillows
Penetrated for lusting ghosts, drinking
The water boiled to sanitize, sore pelvises
Thrusting to cum pain struck and more, to wit
On subject matter blurred by beginners luck,
Transforming my limbs into arms stroking the
Curves of a serpent, alluring hair I stroke, barbed wire
Fences surrounding her wall. Sidewalks talk of
Degrees increased with yards burning away, out
To the river flushing excrement exceeding decay, like
Memory clutches that weaken the present mind,
A different position for every episode
My future promises, an activity risen on ashtray
Dwellings, beaches of no sand or ocean, needles with
No prick, love without the L, the trots of no-legged
Fragile men. What varies is that scent descent
Into aroma therapy, nostalgic oils of
Innocent eyes, narcissistic neck stained
By an angels perfume.

by Brian Anthony Hardie

My last shot of Hennessy

2010-07-16T15:06:00.000-07:00

"My Heart goes out 2 the hunger
My Heart goes out 2 the Lost Souls
My Heart goes out 2 those who are blinded by the dark
My Heart goes out 2 those who are captured by stress, misery, and pain that just want seem 2 heel
When yall stress, I do 2
I am able 2 feel yall pain, and it does make me flimsy in times
This calls 4 Hennessy
She brings Hatred, but I love the way she makes me feel
All my problems are relieved 4 the moment
What I'm witnessing, I see that others need her attention even more
My last shot of Hennessy goes out 2 the struggles we all go through
4 everybody that have been through thick, and thin are approved 4 my last shot of Hennessy
4 the 1's that's no longer breathing because the struggle was 2 much 2 take, this last shot of Hennessy is my condolescense
I want the world 2 acknowlegde that even as a Thug, I got a Heart 4 people
I even got much Love 4 my foes that may roam the world
They may be my foes, but they are still my brothers" -1 Love

by Andrew L. Monroe III
-Dedicated 2 our struggles

Tales of the Mental Unit

2010-07-09T09:09:00.000-07:00

Sitting in an uncomfortable chair
I look out at the falling snow.
I’ve found this is my reprieve from
those kept with me. Kept like prisoners.
The others, those like me, they talk in group
therapy, some crying, some making accusations.
I say nothing. What is there to say?
“Hello, I’m mad - nice to meet you.”
I think not. One day we all decided
we wanted to go outside. There were
outdoor areas for us to explore (be
them small). We asked the head nurse.
“No,” she replied, “There is ice out
there, you could get hurt.”
A girl who had schizophrenia spoke angrily.
“How fucking disabled do you think we are!
We’d have to try to get hurt.” The nurse merely
shook her head. “It’s too dangerous,”
she repeated. So much for fresh air.
One day we were introduced to a new girl
who had come in the middle of the night.
She had tried to commit suicide. That next day
the schizophrenic, the new girl
and I sat down to talk. We inquired
about her suicide attempt and she proudly
revealed a wound across her wrist. It had been
stitched up. She seemed to wear it as a badge
of honor; to prove that she was truly mad now.
As if she hadn’t known before.
Another boy in the group was a musician.
He would play his guitar, sitting on the window
seat next to my room. It calmed me.
One group he stopped and accused,
“You’re all fucking mad!” The nurse tried to calm him
and he sat down on the ground near the door.
“How are you feeling?” the instructor asked.
“Fucking annoyed!” The instructor rephrased her
question. “On a scale of ‘frustrated, angry and furious
what are you?” “Fucking angry!” he answered.
he sat in silence for the rest of the group.
Out of all of us he was the sanest, though that
didn’t make him wholly sane. None of us were.
We would never be. Lucid, yes. Alive, yes.
From time to time. But eventually it would happen.
We would snap. I had always waited for this
to happen; and it did. My life spun out of control.
Since then I’ve grasped it once more. And I’ll
hold onto it waiting – just waiting – until I fall again.

by Mary Ramsey

The Free Safety

2010-07-04T13:49:00.000-07:00

I know you're going to attack my house
You hardly hold me with your misdirection
Only for half a second do I pretend to dote on your ground rush
You've played it safe for long enough
And now you're going for broke
You have guns and I have only my hands
You have skilled special ops to run trails into my land
But I've seen it all before, and this time I won't falter
I even lull you in, bait you, you feel secure in your sense of power
But I am the Small Man, the little fish who bites your dick off
You launch your attack, sailing through the air, piercing my ancient winds
I'm already there my dear enemy, treading ground full speed
I've always been there only you were too stupid to see
This is my house, motherfucker
And I picked your bullshit pass
Now I have your grenade and it's ticking away
I thank Ala, the most merciful, for working through me
And I blow yall niggas away

by Giovanni Mendoza

Sexual Intellectual

2010-07-02T11:38:00.000-07:00

Erectional, intestinal incisions
Flexible, symmetrical positions
Injectable precision
Electrical omissions
Spectacle, envision:
A technical professional of sexual submissions

by Cyle

ghost fucker bow wows

2010-06-28T11:00:00.000-07:00

this no good for nothing
scum sucking greed
slave psycho creep
can't get it up
at the same time that thing
is controlling his thoughts.
mid life brought a
crisis wife---
one of those trophies
the losers get for showing up.
she's 17 years younger
and trashy as hell.
with an end stage chunk of
DNA for a whip and a chain,
that he stuck up her cunt
11 years ago, proving the man.
still, she throws him out
after sticking it up his
with child support and
car payments.
the next day, without so much as
changing the sheets,
she's got something
younger, stronger, richer,
and a lot better looking
rolling around in that
vegas marriage bed,
and who knows how many
fuck buddies since.
making up for lost time,
pretending not to have
an orgasm, so they will
fuck her harder.

the kids can hear it all
through the sleazy cheesy wall
of the rental house
she kicked him out of.

but, sigh, it's all about him.
he's helpless in his egoparalysis
to change a thing.
he enjoys the betrayal.
he caresses his lies.
his heart is broken.

the kids are just some
ego inspired add on.
one day melts into the next,
while he fiddles with his
handicap, his club, his balls.
he sits around,
dreaming of doing it doggy style
with a whimpering blonde,
and for a minute,
it almost works.

he calls me
when they tell him
he has cancer
and I have to go.
I have to be all
goody good good
and watch him go
someplace no amount
of television and avoidance
can deny.
I'm not too crazy
about living in this
run down trailer court
making little meals
and tucking in
a half dead asshole...
but somebody has to do it.

by Anonymous

OCTOPUS

2010-06-23T11:04:00.000-07:00

Man has become octopus,
entangled in his own clutches,
fallen from sky to earth,
new foundation was made,
of rituals, customs and manners,
tried to come out of the clutches,
but not
waiting for doom`s day

by Dr. Ram Sharma

2010-06-22T10:25:00.000-07:00

Heroic gallantry in ages bereft
now anachronism, a shame of the deft
Whence come this perception, this theft?
of its context there is nothing left

Who shall mourn this aching loss
whose feelings do we gloss
Why does it persist in this modern age
it ought to remain hidden in its deep grave

Yet the written word keeps it alive
a phylactery that will not hide
An awful horcrux, a mugwump that won't die
a terrible idea, and I don't know why

by Jacob Germain

Open

2010-06-21T11:16:00.000-07:00

Apart from how you want me to
It's not so hard to be like you

I am 12 years old again
My brain under the microscope

And I am not the girl without a voice
The one you listen to by choice
The Unreal,
so much more appealing

She can touch and feel nothing
She can swallow but not taste
She can shapeshift into anything
til you forget her face

Everyone is perfect
Everyone is perfect
Everyone is perfect
Just not me

And she can't hurt you

I am afraid to lose my mind
But I refuse to be sane
I am afraid to be me
But I refuse to be you

I am a liar
A child
A mother
And I am sorry

I love you more everyday
when you love me like I want you to

I can only lie in this life
I promise
Because my eyes know who I am

by Aneka Brunssen

Pondered

2010-06-19T14:32:00.000-07:00

Joseph, Joseph, rejoice!
This sheet tells me that last night
Jesus had his first wet dream!

by Louie Crew

tongue ring

2010-06-17T16:55:00.000-07:00

a hole in an organ
I wish I could put holes in words that organ made
like I didn't even say it
it tickles to kiss
and people say it makes sex better
or maybe I never said that

a hole in a burnt organ
a chunk is gone
the chunk that is missing is sad
so write a song about it
and put it on YouTube

kiss a girl
you're a girl that kissed a girl
and you didn't tell anyone
and you're still broke
and jobless
stupid tongue ring
it was supposed to be spontaneous
and now everyone thinks you're a slut
not edgy at all
it doesn't even matter if you like keeping the lights on
when . . . 'y know

I take it out
the stud is gone and there is still a hole
there was a hole there
I don't think you really understand

by Rachel Milan Richards

Discarded Leggings

2010-06-13T22:31:00.000-07:00

So I care not,
And I think not
On these words,
Can we go there?
Can we be?
Could the world
Forget about time?
Slowly laughing
Broke the silence
The spoken word
is not a crime,
So I dare not
Start to remember-
All of things from
Way back then.
They're talking,
Have you heard?
I lost another one,
I lost another one,
Slightly full from
The lacerations-
All filled with it,
Here there is less
Than, the rest of
the world sold for-
He sold it in ounces,
A sudden knock
On your front door
Leads you to me,
Leads you past me,
Leads you away,
Again, this mess,
They're talking,
Have you heard?
I lost another one,
I lost another one,
I lost another one,
I didn't try this time,
Dare not loose one
more, one last time,
Squares and circles,
Must mean nothing,
The world is moving,
Now I'm walking
Away from the ground,
If you loved me,
If you noticed,
Slightly full from
The lacerations
They are healing
I grow new skin,
White as paper
Nearing the door,

by LM Sage

At the Time

2010-06-10T10:51:00.000-07:00

Ironic it was,
The cruel drug which made him feel so good,
He thought it was a good idea,
As on the corner smoking he stood,
But things changed when he was caught,
Dragged to a cell,
He stood there lonely,
In that forgotten hell,
There in the dark he grew cold,
The dark closing around him,
Thinking about his past,
Realizing now his future looked so dim,
Behind those sturdy bars,
Slowly losing his grip,
He rocked back and forth,
As if on a stormy ship,
He was let out quite soon,
But the prison air would never leave him,
He would have to reform,
Though chances of that were ever so slim.

by Honolulu Joe

Monster

2010-06-08T13:22:00.000-07:00

About that photo in your wallet
of yer so called girlfriend. It’s easy to see
you made that up in Photoshop
from a selection of boobs, arses,
legs, and blonde looks
from a one stop
body shop porn site. She’s a sight!
If you saw her coming in real life
you’d run a mile.

I had no idea
that Dr Frankenstein had made
a bride, who then had Quasimodo’s
love child. Then again your taste
in women always was a little strange.

Do you remember
that immensely fat fat bird? I’m sure
you do, you raved that getting laid
was cluck-tastic what with her making
all them chicken noises, and pounds
and pounds of tit, so much you didn’t
know what to do with it, but I bet
in the morning your face
was a right flash bang photograph.

Then there was the bald-headed bird
who took off her wig
then took out her teeth:
you had her Mondays, Wednesdays, and
Sunday lunchtimes, said there was something
about the blow jobs you couldn’t resist.

There was also girl with no legs,
you cruelly joked
that after you’d done the business
she move around the bedroom
like a snail.
And, sad to say, let’s not forget
the poor girl with elephantiasis,
doggie style with yer eyes closed
solved a multitude of uncomfortable
prospects. Oh yeah,
there was also the incredibly ugly
fifty five year old tranny
with hairy arms and stubble chin;
you have no shame, you even had him!

But, and this is what I don’t understand,
it’s always you that gets the elbow
the old heave-ho.
I don’t think you’re quite as good,
in-out speaking,
as you like to make out.
Let’s face it, your nothing to shout about,
so when it comes
to cut and paste Photoshop creations
yer all mouth and trousers
and a cunt of a dick head twat.

by P.A. Levy

Burning Bridges

2010-06-07T11:29:00.000-07:00

Deep dark circles
Yours is the stigma of my eye
He watched for too long
Perhaps you should leave
The tinted glass
And yellow bleached stains
Leave and never come back
But always take me with you
Take me were I can see you
Take me to a place I wish I could feel you
The windows of a bus
You could take me to all the stops
And it still would not be enough
Take us to a lift were we could rise
We want to go there
Why wont you go?
We asked you a question
Why don’t you answer?
You don’t see me anymore
When will we next meet?
The seat of a truck
The wave of an ocean
Take the long walk
But I will be here
Yours truly.

by Robert Atherton

Nothing more to say

2010-06-04T09:19:00.000-07:00

About handbags snatched from old women's shoulders,
lies said to his Mother:
"It wasn't me, I never took the money,"
tablets ripped off from friends in the clinic,
20 Roach 'Dottsie' owes him on Friday,
the nice touch that he got in Stephen's Green this morning,
Tommy's lovely gear ,"It's bleeding rocket fuel."

Nothing more to say
about the beatings in school by Mr. O' Brian,
the ribs broken at home by his drunk of a father,
how he had been held down and kicked in the street by the hardmen of the flats,
and had his face slashed from cheek to chin in a dirty prison cell.

He scored today,
cooked up,
put the works
in his arm,
and shot the heroin into his vein.

Nothing to say to the Garda who told him he was a scumbag,
nothing to say to Father Joyce who rapped him in the community center
when he was a seven year old child,
nothing to say to a God he stopped believing in after he made confirmation,
'cause he scored today,
"I love you Tracy"
cooked up,
"And the twins, Stacy and Stephen"
shot the heroin,
"And little Amy"
turned blue
and took a trip down the river,
with two Q's for the boatman
and nothing
mo
r
e.

by Karl Parkinson

Prozac Positivitly (Affex's our Lives)

2010-06-03T11:09:00.000-07:00

My six days of Prozac positiviy
well it started with an empty me.
Numbing our problems & surroundings
we can only taint our being.
& cry out for pain to cut through our melancholies.
A pound of flesh for hurt,
for reality,
for a fresh perspective in detecting a somber mentality,
to bi polar neutrality.
In contrast to a well oiled machine, functioning with efficient spark plug electricity.
So I’ll arise and go now, and go to Lowercore. (Laracor)
Where a secret garden will such our souls dry some more.
Nourished by living corpses,
beautifully rotting, blossoming and flourishing, in a world gone mad and addicted to weed killer.
Where a neural uptake has resulted in suicide.
So have you set a date to collide with your maker?
Or some demon heart breaker?
If I flew over the coo coo’s nest would you shoot me down, or set me free?
I’m not here to judge, what’s right for you may not be right for me.
But I know now, the importance of being Ernest.
It’s taken me 24 years to have learnt this.
It’s a lesson, a fable, a parable, for happiness.
And I thought I’d messed it up,
but it’s only when you hit your lowest low,
that you can set your sights high on a new goal.
So please follow your intuition,
listen to those voices from within
follow feelings to freedom.
I understand.
I know it’s hard.
I know you hurt yourself.
I know the demons by name. (say hello to them from me)
But please don’t fear them,
‘cause I know that we can clear
them from your nightmares.
I’m here.
I’m near.
&
You.
You make me real.
You.
You make me real.
A real reality is better than a
medicated mentality,
moving to mediocrity,
meditating to purity.
Prescribe yourself some Happiness!
Prescribe Joy!
There ain't no good thing ever dies!
So where are you going?
Do you know where you’ve been?
Do you know you have beautiful eyes?
Look in the mirror.
Look at yourself.
I can tell you’re beautiful.
Can you?

by Stephen James Smith

Online Purpose

2010-06-02T06:00:00.000-07:00

She’s the type of girl
that always comments on her status
but has nothing to say about yours.

The type that will happily
post heavily-cleavaged photos of herself online
and then complains when she gets
dirty messages from strangers.

Types shorthand in cellphone speak
so you hardly know what she’s going on about,
but it looks like she’s having a good time
and you feel ashamed of using
complete words and proper syntax
when communicating with her,
embarrassed of every , and .

But you still want
to fuck her anyway.

by Colin Dardis

Defined please

2010-06-01T12:44:00.000-07:00

I
Defined please
Just love the smell
Of Mississippi cow manure
Burning in the field
Muddy and fully swollen
Creek reeking of decay
Floating side up the
Turtles
Nibble
The rotting meat
I
Suffer no breath
Of matter mindful
Of being an attached
Thing
I ring round the ribbon
On the May Day pole
I blow and have
Been blown
In return when all that
Mattered of matter is to
Shed some seeds
Like white milky weeping
To repopulate the streets.

by David Patton

PLAYING WITH GEORGIE

2010-05-30T10:41:00.000-07:00

when I was a kid,
about 8 years old
the boy from across the street
would knock on our door.
my mother would open the door.
she would be so excited,
"look jeffrey it's georgie,
he's come to see you
he wants to play with you
go on out and play with your friend georgie".

georgie was a little older,
he must have been about eleven.

so out we would go
to the back of some house
behind some tree
where georgie would make me
suck his cock.

it wasn't something I wanted to do.
it wasn't something I enjoyed.
but,
I was afraid of him
and,
he told me if I ever told my mother
he would give me a bloody nose.

then one day,
I was down in our basement
with my uncle john.
my uncle john was taking a piss
on the basement floor.

georgie never told me
not to tell my uncle john
so,
I told him.

after that,
I never had to play
with georgie again.

by Jeff Shepard

Pornocracy

2010-05-28T09:16:00.001-07:00

One day things will just get too sexy,
Dildos in high offices and in shrines,
Christs nailed to vibrators across the land,
Fake tit furniture, places of rest
In the crevices of breasts,
Cars and commutes fueled on lube,
Workers sliding all down to work
Through the tightest of streets and alleys,
Muff diving taken for a vacation,
And mustache rides giving all amusement.

After decades of skipping to Gomorrah,
Our cocks will break off from use
And our slits will collapse and wave
To everyone in the wind,
We will have nightmares of strap-ons
That we cannot handle or thrust,
Priapus will laugh at us from the sides
And we will run through our homes
Where all edges are worn down,
Where every room will have a bed,
Looking for someplace to eat without
Having to use a bare back from an orgy
As a table to dine upon.

One day we’ll turn to monk’s rags
And take up the quiet habits of nuns,
One day we will go back to being screwed
The old fashioned way,
With our clothes on and standing in line
At the bank and ballot box.

by Ben Nardolilli

2010-05-27T14:46:00.000-07:00

Sarah,

Bent over the sink,
round bottom in the air,
brushing your teeth -

How glad I am to be your man
approaching from behind.

***

Sunlight melting
in the red of your hair
as you kneel down before me.

- (oh, my Sarah!) -

***

Best part of today?
The memory of your mouth
On my cock last night.

- (oh, my Sarah!) -

***

Wet with saliva
my cock swelling in your hand,
love creams your knuckles.

-(oh, my Sarah!)

by Richard Cody

A STRANGE WOMAN

2010-05-26T06:05:00.000-07:00

it's ten past three
on a monday afternoon

I park my car
and
wait for something to happen

across the street a woman
leaves her apartment
and
approaches her car

she checks her makeup
in the side view mirror

yes bitch,
you look good enough to eat, I'm thinking
and
I unzip my fly

she enters her car
looks my way
she knows I'm jacking off

she reclines her seat
and
begins to masturbate

she cums......
I cum

then we both drive away
in opposite directions

by Jeff Shepard

THIS HOLLOW AND GRAPHIC UNIVERSE

2010-05-21T11:35:00.001-07:00

My Pen is the parting of waves,
in a crowd of all those waiting to be saved.
He drips black oil like cum onto what was a fossil, in a forest, a million miles away.

and we slip our fingers, up the front-skirts of inebriation, as we whisper into their ears recited empty promises.
We are the very deities of Carnal Taste.

This Haiku Survived,
the bombing of Lovers lies,
yet all remained grey.

Her body was the Temple.
And all the thieves came to false worship.
Oh yeah, they gave all their loaded praise.
they came, came always to beg but never, ever pray.
they circled like vultures, always coming to prey.

Her heart was the thickness of a Beehive: She is the swarm of herself.
You can look all you want, but to taste and to touch, would always come at a price.

My eye's swallowed the ocean, they snorted the pigment of the sky.
They are twin birthmarks, my past-life of punishment, excess and crime.
My Temporal Lobe orphaned the Earthquake, breathing life into the Nuclear Butterfly.

For we are the Gods of Consensual-Rape fantasies,
forever greedy, alone and depraved.
All our good intentions and our ethics eroded,
when the right pair of eyes spreads her legs.

it felt so good to reunite with the concrete and the passing lights....

by Kyle Daniel Jones

this city

2010-05-20T16:09:00.000-07:00

this city is a
violent, murderous sack
of venomous shit,
and i love that about it.
i can feel its eyes following me,
as if to rape me,
and i’m fairly certain it would.
but the scum’ll never find me-
not where i’m headed.

by rip goldenkranz

Humanity Died

2010-05-19T10:33:00.000-07:00

There was a gathering on the mid road
I have also excited to join them
Expecting some interesting things to see
I found humanity has met with an accident
It bleeds and cries in pain
And seeks some solace from onlookers
Who called themselves
Wonderful and beautiful creatures of the world.

We remain mute spectator
As if it were a scene of movie.
None of hands heave to help him:
In some they were blinking like a cursor
In some they were like a flip-flop
In some they try to reach
But their deaf and stony emotion
Fail to respond.

But the heart of Atropos in heaven
Melt as He listend the pain and moaning
Of the humanity and He extended His hands
To support and succour
And we found humanity died.

by Vivekanand Jha

A Separatist State Of Mind

2010-05-18T11:49:00.000-07:00

A Separatist state of mind
he drinks in the day
drifting from place to place
without sense of time
fountain of youth with lime,
A Separatist state of mind
he rises with the moon
sunlight the demon's tomb
lurks in shadowed shrines
chasms dawn never finds,
A Separatist state of mind
with mistress train wreck
eye him like a suspect
sour and impolite
strung out under neon lights,
A Separatist state of mind
orders usual brew
the devil wants his due
greeting is concise
plesantries won't suffice,
A Separatist state of mind
nectar cigarette
free will tinged in the scent
strength measured in pints
ball and chain left behind,
A Separatist state of mind
burdens asphyxiate
wise men quick to make haste
cautious to confide
misery/company on hyde,
A Separatist state of mind
rebel's guitar pick
structure is eighty-sixed
robbing convention blind
sworn against the daily grind,
A Separatist state of mind
potent like vermouth
always ask for the proof
snake's eyes open wide
american dreamers lied,
A Separatist state of mind
moored in lonely shores
damned forever to war
route contra the tide
assailant to humankind,
A Separatist state of mind
the man is an island
risen from submersion
corrosive waves subside
indifferent to the tide,
A Separatist state of mind
fallacious glass ghost
bewitching mirage toast
gluttony in disguise
insatiable vacant eyes,
A Separatist state of mind
stoops to any device
slave destitute to vice
impending his demise
burning tequila sunrise.

by Alexander Wink

The Frog in the Slow Boiling Pot

2010-05-12T06:13:00.000-07:00

The Frog in the slow boiling pot,
Won't know when it's getting too hot,

He will not jump out of the pot,
Even when it turns BOILING hot!

If dropped in a hot "boiling" pot,
The frog he will quickly jump out,

But if in a slow boiling pot,
That frog he may never jump out

To all the “haves”, and “have nots”
Is there something we may have forgot?

Aren’t we really all in the same spot
All frogs in a slow boiling pot.

by Dennis Rafkind

Love Stained

2010-05-10T12:16:00.001-07:00

when you two are fucking
do you remember the time
that i did the same move on you?

or about the time that i took
you from behind in that car garage
at that party?

what about the first time i slipped
a finger in your ass?

i know you remember the time outside
on the air conditioner

and all the bathrooms we destroyed.

surely you are reminded of all
the days i begged for anal sex
and then finally on that glorious
day when you gave it up and
i came right into your ass.

when you two are fucking
is it on those love
stained sheets we used to do it on?

by Philip Ledford

Wisdom of Le Mer

2010-05-07T08:42:00.000-07:00

Men in deck-chairs, sat on the beach,
each a world leader, in politics and religion,
one exclaimed.................
The roar of the ocean, blocked out his intercourse,
not to be rude ... all approvingly nodded their heads in agreement,
each in turn, expressed their extreme, dogmatic viewpoints,
only to be drowned-out, by the thunder of the waves,
After a two hour debate,
unified, all jubilantly shook hands,
harmoniously hugged each other,
and agreed......
it was the most successful meeting ever held.

by Michael Levy

GO RIGHT AHEAD

2010-05-06T09:14:00.000-07:00

go ahead and blow your brains out
you're a coward
take the easy way out

go ahead and tie that rope around your neck
you're a quitter
you're taking up my space

go ahead and put a razor to your wrist
you're a pussy
it's not easy being gay

go ahead and drink yourself to death
you're a wimp
no one will miss you
not your family
not your dog

go ahead and jump
chump
goddamn-it
I wanna see the splash

by Jeff Shepard

A poem for George

2010-05-05T15:13:00.000-07:00

hey georgie boy
did you see “The Wrestler”?
watching Marisa Tomei
stirs out this sentimental shit again
damn, in our dreams she never gets old
what of the make-up and the cinematic tone
how she fools us because she never hides her age
she can’t be the stripper (yes, she is)
who rubs her ribs on the dancing pole
you would have loved
to be an extra in that sleazy bar
having a bitter beer and a crumpled fiver
i know I would.

by Jay Coral

ZULU TIME

2010-05-04T11:07:00.000-07:00

Because I want to be here
At your levee bend
Exactly like this
Lost to the world

Between your legs
In your rush and come
Deep inside
Your indigo cusp

Where your colors flow
To Mardi Gras and fleur de lis
From copper into bronze
Coral spilling gold

That minute Zulu time
When your waters flood.

by Russell Streur

Dreaming of Hemphill in my dream

2010-04-27T08:55:00.000-07:00

It seemed a dream
And in truth that’s
All it was
The standard of things
Wished for.
A begging thought
Below the belt
With legs thrown up
Ready for the fuck
His mission was strong
To fuck me the whole night long
And what of me
My pale flower
Wet with pre cum
Caught as in a casualties
Of human lust
With lusty heart
Of beauty to endure
The cock of desperation
That pierced me to the core
I am an average man
Who in his dream
Try to understand
What does it mean
To bent my back
To his top heavy straight
And sweat the sexual
Till all his lust is spent
Within me, on me
Skin to skin
He heal my wounds
As a matter of duty
He brought me to my knees
Of all my former lovers
And the revolution that brother Beam
Spoke of is realized
In the cause of sexual brothers
Who inherited their
Sexual appetite from the egg of their mothers

by David E. Patton

2010-04-16T09:44:00.001-07:00

you texted me from the airport
not a 'i miss you'
not one ounce of warmth
just 'let's fuck'
the day you got back
and your fiance is back home
but your text vibrates my pocket
and she leaves
you come and i'm thinking of her
he's thinking of you
and you're thinking nothing

by Shannon Peil

The Sideway View

2010-04-14T09:28:00.000-07:00

Twisted tension
Tangled tongues
Irregular heartbeat
Expanding lungs
Desperate restraint
Sweat pricked skin
Mirage of heaven
Drowning in sin

Too early to start
Too late to stop

Needs are human
This hunger is not.

by Beverly Orloff

My Poor Little Twat

2010-04-13T09:51:00.000-07:00

Every morning, I inspect my poor little twat
I wonder with horror of what I caught
holding a mirror between my spread legs
may the blisters disappear my pussy begs

You screwed me, bruised me, making me squeal
you laughed out loud like it was no big deal
you pushed up my legs forcing my nose to one knee
Calmly you said I have an STD

I actually enjoyed the hard rough ride
because you were so good I'll take it in stride
It isn't easy being a whore
no matter what cums up I always want more

Every evening, I inspect my poor little twat
excepting I have herpes and hey! so what
Do I tell this guy what's up in my slot
with a dick that big? Absolutely not!

by D. Newman

At a Loss for Words

2010-04-09T08:47:00.000-07:00

what do you say
about the word
fuck?
it just sits
there
brown & wet
spit on the
floor
the tongue
retracting
the smile
of fat
success
what do you say
back at the word
fuck?
hung in front
of you
smearing you
in its musk
its natural
lewdness
all over
all over
what can you say?
what can you say?

by Eli Richardson

SHIT DITCH

2010-04-08T15:38:00.001-07:00

I’m standing in a shit ditch
I don’t like standing in a shit ditch
I don’t like the smell of the shit ditch
I don’t like the people I’m standing with in the shit ditch
I don’t like how I got into the shit ditch
But I don’t wanna get out of the shit ditch
Because I’m afraid of the unknown.

by Stanley "Hawk" Hawkens

Housekeeping

2010-03-15T09:54:00.001-07:00

It's unique and a refreshing sport.
You give force to rub, shine,
sweep, wipe and evermore
You get to discover exciting
Sovenaires hidden under the bed.
While playing hide and seek
With the employer from the
Loads of works given.
The flies and big dragon spiders
That spits poisionous gas that destroys
Your mood with your float of
Musical tap dance.
They'll eventually land on quicksand
And gets swallow up.
But with the joyous butterfly swinging
Happly lightenning up your mood.
Then finally after perspiriering
You'll end back home.

by Michelle Tam

Nurse's Split Guts Next to the Death Bed

2010-02-28T13:31:00.000-08:00

The amputated hips
expressed words cutting like whips,
from inbetween two lips
and two tongues- it was soul sung,
it was night's dawn,
it was bring it on and fuck on off,
it was flick your wrist
and please add a twist
of lemon to my lime,
I like to look at the sun dial's less than shadow side
to keep out of tune with time,
your anuerysm has yet beat to mine,
I am still headed for the hospital;
you are heading into a deep fall,
wherein; the loose ends will swallow their friends
that they once tied together.
We did not say a damn word
about things that lead to forever,
matter of fact we ran from that
and begged for nev-r.
Never again will i sign myself off
to such a petty loss-
At the races, big bill for big squeals
as I people watch monochromed faces-
Now turned red,
"This place will be Revolutionarionary when
they let the dogs in", somebody said
then somebody was soon shot dead.
But his words resouned in hearts
that pounded through skin beat black and blue;
Long nights I spent up with
fever filled, few times thrilled-
Who could have known that the plague
was not what troubled the mind of oh so fine Edgar?
He only wished to join the corpses
which encompassed such a peace,
which living humans may never have a peice,
I will give you you my peice before I die
but don't shoot any mockingbirds with it son,
There are finer uses for such a well kept gun.

by Elizabeth Sage Maycann

Sex Death

2010-02-27T20:02:00.000-08:00

If she could fuck him
She would

Her fucking him
Would count for something

But he’s always away
He’s always unavailable

But she wants to fuck him
When he walks in

When he tells her
The things she wants to hear

But there are nights
When she wants to kill him

Wants to strangle him
Watch him die in her own bed

As if he wanted to anyway

by wiredwriter

FOR MY VIEWING PLEASURE

2010-02-21T09:51:00.000-08:00

my wife kept nagging me about getting the internet
I finally gave in, so now I'm watching the best porn
from all around the world
I watch the
black, white, asian, hispanic, porn

I watch the
gay, lesbian, hetrosexaul, bisexual, porn

I watch the
fuck your mother, fuck your dog, piss all over me, tie me up and rape me, porn

but I ain't all bad
I never watch the
kiddie porn.

by Jeff Shepard

This Is What You Say

2010-02-18T12:52:00.000-08:00

This is what you say
when you pick up a girl:
I am Atlas,
and you are my whole world.

This is what you say
when you pick a girl up:
I am Dionysus,
and your cunt is my cup.

This is what you say
when that girl lets you down:
I am Christ
and you are my crown.

by Joshua Pearce