Friday, February 24, 2006

Weird variety (Aesthetically pleasing)

Strange shit. People I don't know.
Trying to help out a friend, murphy's law at its best.
So here I am, wondering what the fuck.
Wondering why I ever started the truck.
Geeze louise, I shouldn't have been surprised.
But now stupid's being reinvented right before my eyes.

I guess I've been replaced, my friendship a toy.
Wasted hours and hours, for this, the sweet bliss.
How exciting. Hardcore drinking party music.
Lower key, better quality.

Neither here nor there.

........That was a long time ago.

Now I'm amidst inside of a capitalized "lack thereof"
The know betters are no better.
No better evil, correct? States aren't up for the saving.
Up against a lonely wall, not so much faced.
Turned away from -- even though you want it.
While you don't understand it.
You run away from it until you run towards it.
You love it.

It's so you.

Even though you still don't know who you are.
You're everything you never wanted to be.
Never anything you wanted to be.
Because you're washed in it.
Bathing in your own disgrace.
The lack of saving face.
Masturbating in public -- despising it in secret.

It's time to get over yourself.
Time to pick up the chrome jeans.
Pull your legs through
Forgive everything.
Don't forgive yourself.

You, my friend.

You've became everything I've been dogging on for years.
But to hell with it.
That big label (originality) you wear it so well.
Everyone else does now though -- child.
Color, creed, whatever -- that's all bullshit.
Bullshit in the deep treads of my boot.
Lucky its not your head.
Full of empty space.
Cusack - (Better of dead)

You'd better be proud.
You're so original, so fucking (out loud)

Enjoying your own taste.
Your own little happy existence.
Still sheltered even though you shrug it off.
Sheltered by originality now -- you're my dog.
Sheltered by a lack of being -- homie G
You complete everyone else around you.
Welcome to the (whole)

So fucking welcome.

I've got carpal tunnel.
But I've gotta keep typing.
Because one day, you dumb assed punk.
You're not going to have Tupac.
You're not going to have Biggie.
You're not going to have any of the other celebrities you'll never understand.

You're not going to have jack shit.
Except for whatever they told you.
Who's hot, who's not. All that mumbo jumbo.
Join up now though

...Time's a wasting...

I've got carpal tunnel.
But I've gotta keep typing.
Because one day, you dumb assed punk.

You're going to look up to me.

Screen print my face on your fucking shit -- Jackass.

Fuck off.

(Not really serious, it was more of a "delightful" fuck off, not a mean one..........ok maybe that hardcore music effected me a titch more than I thought.... Suddenly feel the need to go get a chained wallet and jack off dance in public.)

Ignorance isn't bliss.

It's fucking hardcore.


Monday, February 20, 2006


The black tornado.
A miniature F5 with marshmallow paws.
He flies across the floor.
‘Thump thump thump.’
He loves his kingdom.
Everything’s a toy.
He especially loves his birds.
Little chicken wings bouncing around.

He’s mesmerized by the feathers
The bird call
The feast
Whichever it is.
The birds don’t know his intention.
Like a child picking out a lolly pop
He wants to push and watch the cage drop
A little furry mouth
Chowing down on the winged-ones.

All the while the big fuzzy.
Fuzzies one and two
Stinky Blink
Molly Moo
He’s got control over them too.
His big dumb furry thugs.

He is king, ruling with an iron marshmallow fist of a paw.
Ignoring anyone who might want to attack his kingdom.
Ignoring his furry punch ball.
Ignoring the world outside his kingdom.
Ignoring that damned over priced scratching post.

Razor sharp claws, all thanks to the recliner couch.
For when he turns wild, a marshmallow pawed grouch.
He’ll dig in the claws, growl like a tiger.
Until you calm him down.
With milk, or a kitty treat.
He’ll be this growly monster.

Ha ha, one last thing

Don't forget
Be sure not to get his fuzzy kitty fur wet.

Ha ha, Crazy Eddie

Friday, February 17, 2006

No idea. LoL

It must be windy outside, the light hasn’t gone off.
Vibrating, booming lungs, drowning you out.
The coughs are all over, now in the blowing wind.
Your eyes are so bright, I read your insides through them.
Releasing my fright, a little bit less the hoodlum
And more the man, less the American.
Less Alaska
Little left of Montana
Hanging from your legs
Increasing the lack of oxygen.
Pulling your leg, ending it all over again.

Laugh loud, raise your hands up.
Close your eyes, shut out the corrupt.
You still can’t hear me now.
As you’ve been drowned out.
They vibrate the ground still.
Loudest of all – without a doubt.
But do they really matter?
These enemies claiming to be friends.
The ones kissing babies, savoring hands, & kissing rear ends.

Dumb down my sickness.
Help me to get better.
The mental concept, the political mad hatter
You can fix me now with your rules.
Your rules, views, and banter.
Give me a break from this impartial lie.
Give me a break from your narrow eye.

Boom goes the light bulb, shattered glass raining down.
The idea’s still there, its just been mislead.
A national game of Russian roulette.
Another hollow point in your head.
Your ideals are the same
Moralistic and simple.
Self righteous and sentimental.
Exception you hate so well.
You know you’re not going to hell.
So your cocky, think you’ve got something up on everyone else.
Lighting up the torch, none of you agree.
You hate on the likes, as much you do the dislikes.
The narrow vision’s getting blurry.

Not even in a hurry, I’m happy to take my time.
Head blown, getting lost in the middle of a rhyme

Bravery’s been reduced to a whimper
Soldiers creeping each other out.
The time of World War, gone without a doubt?
Could we do it, a third time, without this world being put back in the dark times.
A land finally cold, cold like the leader’s heart.
A war not fought with technology, only sticks and stones.
The bombs they go flying, nuked skin and bones.
Broken. Ugh, can’t do it anymore.
Gotta have something left to fight for.
Two frightened business men.
Duking it out over land.
His eradiated pile of shit is more important than the other man’s
Absolutely terrified, no more government.
Post nuclear humanity.
Clawing at the boundaries of reality.

Grooves, scars, on a hanging tree.
Leaving a reminder of its infamy.
Not burned down, but re-energized.
Now standing, a reminder of the genocide.

But hey, as long as I’ve got a lit Marlboro.
I think I’ll just relax, and let the bombs blow.
Its still windy outside, but the light has gone out.
The night is a relaxing one, the wind carries a whisper.
One that still says freedom, no matter what leader.
Pausing for a moment, letting things quiet down.
Strong Bad’s answering emails now, gone now is my frown.
I think I just need to get the hell out of this town.

Vacation away with love and warmth.
Keeping each other arm in arm.
So close together, after such a long time.
Finally so close, two hearts beating in harmony.
With this girl that has my love
The one I’ve been dreaming of.
Finally, a kiss, hand in hand.
Our hearts make our world a better place.Together, completely safe.

Saturday, December 10, 2005

The one with the monkey in it

He's a curious one.
This curious George.
But he's not a monkey, no way similar.
Curious yeah, but what about in particular?

Black like his heart, slimey like his personality.
Cold, hard, a Midas touch.
Playing it up to the Republicans I loathe so much.
Republicans so fake, so pretty.
So fake about politics and religion.
Yet molested behind closed doors.

Down on all fours, getting a treat.
You're a follower while you sleep.
Living the American dream inside your head.
While this country you believe in is long since dead.
Lying Politicians, lining bloody pockets
Fake assed religions, gold lined rewritten bibles.

We all love you America.
We know your cops don't lie.
We know you don't see people in need and walk by.
We trust that you care about us.
We expect you to take care of us.
Sleepy time, American Dream.

The flag flown hasn't been proud since 1776.
Now its all about crack addicts sucking dick.
Want that better high -- faster and better.

This bush loves the country he sees.
He wants to push you to your knees.
Need him, want him, love him.
Believe every word he utters.
That's what it boils down to, right?
Sleep, consume, befriend the enemy, sleep tight.

Watch him laugh, settle down in Florida.
Listen to him sing, fire up your engines.
The expense is nothing to you.
Slather on sunblock though.
And lots of it.

Dream of mushroom clouds.
But don't worry about crazy Elvis impersonators.
Impersonating a leader, a sick sick dictatorship.
Talk dirty, he'll silence you, click click boom.
Russia's not the problem.
But its still Russian Roulette.
Are you old enough to remember the 'red threat'?

The missiles can reach us.
But ours will annihilate us all.
So why worry? Why worry at all?
We might be stupid.
But we're a stupid Super power.

Powered nuclear.
A power over the world.
The power of intimidation.
The hypocrisy of an administration.

The US citizens are happy.
Just look at the Gap commercials.
TV Programming.
Programming a better you.
Buy more useless shit.
MTV wants you to.

So be cool, vital, love yourself.
You are after all the only one.
Bush's favorite, hell, his lost daughter or son.
Remember the pictures of Stalin?
Uncle Joe.
George wants to be that to you.
Maybe even a father.
Because he cares.
Cares about his tax payer sponsored air plane rides.
Over the fields and fields of oil he hides.

Right under our nose.
You can't see when your eyes are closed.
"American dream" spelled out in oily letters inside your eye lids.
Just imagine though...

One day, thousands of lost years from now.
You'll be the dream, lemme tell you how.
Your bones, buried under stars and stripes.
Fossil fuels my friend, Earth perpetuating itself.
Thousands of lost years later, another Bush another lost son.
He'll have the wealth, clawed out eyes, bloody pockets to be filled.
He'll call dibs on you, black black crude, maybe even coal.
Its all the same to you, all the same to you.
Eating you alive, all along, was the goal.

Home team zero.
Visitors win.

Worried about Aliens invading.
They already have.
We're ripe for the taking.
Eyes closed, arms open.
He's the new leader.
Backed by God.
Bloody bible pages.

The blood of the weak.
The soldiers.
Dying for nothing.
We act like we support them.
We're just bluffing.
Too old, too lazy, to go over seas.
Send the poor, send the true dreamers.
The ones that actually thing they're making a difference.

One day they'll be worth while.
One day they'll be in ultimate style.
Fossil fuel, we fancy it pitch black.

Start sucking America.
Or at least till Clinton comes back.
At least he was more appreciative.
Of the head received.
Regardless of blow jobs.
He woke us all up.
If only for eight years.
America was cool again.
Ogling big titties, and drinking beers.

Shit, now all we have...
Fear, oil, sadness, uncertainty.
And I tell you what America.
Just like oil...
We're gonna run out of tears.

I love the red white and blue.
I really really do.
But I'm a Democrat.
I'm awake.
And this is one big -


Monday, December 05, 2005

Glacial ages

Caught underneath the ice sheet.
Nah, just cold sheets on the bed.
Cold because of you.
Because you couldn't join me.
Caught with my pants down, my own little glacial age.
Frost bit and shriveled.
Tiny (small) like a watchtower's field of view.

We laugh about them, nothing else to do.
Still I'm shriveled, tiny, horny, missing you.
Bed's so cold, growing colder every day.
I want to be sweating with you.
Melting ice sheets away.
Fuck glaciation, restless masturbation.

Beating off inside and out my mind.
Thinking about you.
Not always sexual.

Preoccupied by schools and mini vans.
Learning, living, dropping off little twerps.
Strapped into snow pants and poofy coats
Big red gloves on tiny little hands
With lunch boxes full of 'not p-b-and-j again!'

Still, you know, they're off at school.
Time for me to show you the golden rule.
Mine's a little different, but so much the same.
Do it right, and make you scream out my name.
'Fuck me John! Fuck me right now.
...But do let me know if I act like a cow.'

I love you.

(I'm weird)

Wednesday, November 30, 2005

Update, Bigfoot, right here in the city.

"I'm the problem"

It rains, it snows
It gets fucking cold, frost biting your toes
When will it stop, helping your heart freeze
Not so much weather, a storm inside your soul

Rip at yourself, rip at everyone else
Claw your own skin, scream; fucking shout
You can’t be him, nor can you be yourself
Can’t have his life, can’t have his wealth

Been like Frankie, over and out
Way past Elvis, fat bloated and strung out

Come to think of it
I’d rather be Johnny Cash
Thunderous tones
All dressed in black

To stand for something real
Not so incredibly whack

You’d like to be a homie
The Jeffersons turn you on
You fancy yourself a churchie
The bible won’t do you wrong

You don’t drugs
Just make sure to hide your bong
You’ve been saved though right?
So proud, hell, break into song
Hallellujah brother, Jesus saves!
Meanwhile the liar
You’re digging a grave

Monday, November 21, 2005

The worm's about to turn!

I’ve been strangling my own ability to let things out. Telling myself that I can’t write. Even trying to convince myself that it was time to move on, learn a trade, buy a home, and be all suburban. Over and over-- If you try to be a writer, you’ll end up living a life of obscurity and never amount to anything.

But then this lovely girl explained to me that I’m a chronic underachiever.

“Oh how exciting, now I have an excuse.”

I kid, I really do. This realization, along with a talk with my Mom about what I really want to be, I’ve been brewing. Brewing ideas, brewing courage, maybe even brewing a little bit of confidence. But I haven’t been letting it out. Why? Because I figured this underachiever thing would turn me into a writer without the ability to finish a goddamn story.

But here I am, with inspiration – whatever that means.

I haven’t been at a loss either, I’ve been taking it all in. I know what I’ve gotta do, its just all about doing it.

Next semester I won’t be stepping into a class room. I will though, be clearing out a lot of bullshit. Minimalist-like. I have way too much shit. I’m going to start reading books. Also going to be aided in that by a lovely girl and my Mom.

I’m going to become a writer. Just, I haven’t read the greats – that’s something I’ve gotta do. All of them, I don’t plan on stopping once I get going.

So many things to do, I know. One of them is unplugging. There’s a game I play, or now, use to play. Where my interest in being an author was sparked.

Pretty sure I’m gonna have to give that a break, or if I do, its going to be about the character, not the game, win or lose. I’ve had my fill of that “Lifestyle” if you can call it that – some people do.

Like the drug thing, only more trivial.

…And now its time for something completely different (Cliché)

Raw and Smackdown were both hard ones to watch this week. Losing Eddie Guerrero has really hit it hard. At the same time, its marvelous, because its never been like this. Never before have all the wrestlers come together like this and broke kayfabe. Even when we lost Owen Hart, it wasn’t anything like this.

I think Eddie’s greatest gift was that he treated everyone like Family. “Familia”… The love he showed, all the things he did; they’re shining through in the WWE right now. He touched so many people. All the heels, tears in their eyes, being sentimental, showing that they’ve got great big hearts.

As much as this is about Eddie, its also about being reminding why we love wrestling so much. Through really taking a look at how much Eddie cared about it. Showing the fans, the wrestlers, the families, the owners, showing everyone – Wrestling is entertainment like no other.

I have been crying a lot over it, but I’ve never lost someone I felt as close to as Eddie. It’s hard to explain, yet, not selfish. I’ve lost family, but I didn’t know them – seen them off and on, like four days inside twenty years, if that makes sense.

For the better part of ten years, I’ve been watching Eddie Guerrero wrestle.

Eddie = Wrestling.

Still miss you man. I won’t let anyone forget either. I sure won’t.