Death:
Cessation
Peaceful
Boring
More than mind-numbing
Non-existence
How terribly exciting death is
Nothing matters but matter
And when that’s gone
You’ve never been so full of energy
Death
Decomposition
Transformation
Creation
When you finish being
You are
You simply just are
Unadulterated existence
No consciousness to get in the way
No fear, or ambition, or plans to distract
You simply are
Complexly are
Massive and Energetic
Atomic
Infinitesimal, Ubiquitous
Perfect
World Poetry Movement asked me for an artist’s release on the poem I submitted to them a while back, New Passion, Duraflame as it was a “semi-finalist” in their “compeitition.” The scam artists also asked me for 40 bucks to buy their book in case I get in it, and $25 to print an Artist’s Profile.
However, the assholes censored my poem so when asked to proofread my poem I responded with:
In line 10 the word “@#$%” should actually be the word “cum”
That cum is essential to the poems plot and sound. I searched your website and could find no mention of censoring “obscene” words or profanity or bodily fluids. If this censorship cannot be undone please do not print my poem as “@#$%” is not my word nor in my style. Furthermore if the word cum is more offensive to sensibilities than intravenous drug use in a cheap motel than I weep for our world”
Now I’m off to go mail this. They sent me a self-addressed envelope however the cheap fucks didn’t even spring for prepaid postage.
She sells her body,
I sold my soul. We’re that old
Kind of rock and roll
Here’s a picture from my notes.
It’s a different interpretation of a 10 gallon hat. That’s supposed to be a jug for a water cooler screwed into the head of a poorly drawn man with no ears.
If any of you ever become wildly successful I expect to see madness out of you
I want to be the John McEnroe of poetry
Where’s my literary Bjorn Borg?
been working on a short story lately
The idea was cool, the execution isnt great
Kinda suck with story arcs, and with writing anything more than 1 1/2 pages
Which is why I decided to write a short story in the first place
I’m on page 5 though so hooray
Can prolly get several more out of it
I’ll post it when it’s done and you can all go
“Stick to awful poetry, Sir. At least that way it’s only 8 lines of my time wasted”
The birds sing of the shortcomings
The inability
The longing
Trumpets of impotence
Embarrassment
Frustration
The finish line so far beyond the physical limits
The psychological fortitude
The stamina
Sleep must have a selfish lover
She never seems to come
I left my socks on
I was so excited I didn’t notice
Or care
The elastic strangled my leg halfway up the calf
I left my socks on
This move, or omission of a move to remove my socks
Would later be ridiculously ridiculed during a session of never have I ever
In a game of Kings
Jovial Joking over the top, almost as ridiculous as leaving my socks on
I left my socks on
But if my memory serves me correctly, she undressed me
She omitted the move to remove the socks
She left my socks on
Maybe I shouldn’t have lost that round of never have I ever
I left my socks on
She left my socks on
Either way when her father walked in
All I had on was my socks
My socks and a bright red condom from planned parenthood
Which was a gift for my 16th birthday a few months earlier
I left my socks on
She left my socks on
I could have swore she knocked them off
It was my first time, and I never finished
Howie wasn’t happy (her father) but I was ecstatic
Even as elastic dug into my skin
