Pity Pally

What set him to disappoint her?

Tears of a phony; they are used to manipulate women into pity.

This is the definition of pathetic and there are males that do this.

Male, but hardly called a man as there is no quiet inside the chest

And the gut does nothing, save grow.

The sex is of the desperate passionate

Often this type fears possessing a small penis.

A pecker, really:

Knocking on the door but never gets quite all the way into the room

If she opens her twat-wings.

Any female over legal age has an instinct about these sorts

Any female over twenty may throw them a fuck (damn pity)

Any female my age who does not find them fatuous sees far too much of

The good in humanity

This can rare be considered a flaw

The human view

Not the emo-faggy condition.

And I have no idea if this is the case.

I have no real urge to ask. If I did I would hear a contrary answer.

Since I think I know everything and I do I'll hush.

She waits to be stolen

Like a gem left alone

Ten seconds in celluloid and Holly Wood cried;

As much as I hate fuckin hats

I gotta wonder

“What you hidin' under there, brother?”

He answers with a crooked smirk

Shows off a flash of baravdo

Cracks a “Yo Momma!” taboo.

My eyes go tight making their fists with the cast of my eyelids

I upturn the corners of my mouth and say nothing at all.

Why not?

He can take her home and fuck her if he must

If she lets him

I know when I fuck her I'm going to a place he never found.

Dig?

When this happens

It already is

He finds out his facade just cannot overcome real chemicals

Crying and fapping before a salacious

Tear slicked grin

I'll send the bastard a thank you card.

Stand Up

Road dust blew
Rum did flow
For all the care
It did not show.
Soaked feathers
Flew down south
Knew the whole time
Not to go
To stop the tears
Went anyway
Ain't much to do
If she won't stay
So much easier before she showed
Loneliness
Murdered the crow
Such a stupid cliché
But I used it, man.
Try to stand up
Stand up
Don't get tired
Don't fall down
Buckle on me
Try to stand up.
Damn I knew we had it all
Only me who felt that way.
She bet the house
We lost the same
Bet on red
Bet on blame.
I could burn it down
Call the law
Leave it all
And feel like fall.
Do like Frank
Say fuck this place
Add more age on to my face
Stayin' drunk
Just keep it light
Stand up, stand up
Don't fall down
Dead in my hand
We still right here
Try to stand up.
Pour a glass and smoke a smoke
Cursed to live and cursed to hope.
Tell a tale of folks I knew
How we once drank with the stewbums.
We had guitars
We rocked the clubs
I miss the days when they knew my name
Often I wonder
Was it an even trade
Alabaster face
I wish I was true
I don't mess around
But am I with you?
I guess I gotta
Stand up
Tall
I will give you my hand
Because I love you
And I will stand up.
I will stand up.

Welcome My Murderer

My love for my loves is a brilliant thing

Damn the hate in my veins

Gift of gratitude to hold and uplift

But it slips

Be ready to etch my grave

Ignore the ignorant

The ignorant

The enemy

The faces move

The fire stays

Painted in crimson

Met anew day by day

The lives of others are not my fault

Responsibility

I live for myself

No one lives for me

Own your own responsibilities

This is truth

Pith on display

Fear bred of love

Bred of care

Where the eagles dare

Far from the apathy

Bring on the words

Enervate

I beg on bended knee

Show me the body that will put me in the Mercy Seat

My dears

I will see you when the trumpets scream.

Enema Enemy

The enema in me is my Hard
Not heart, you dipshit prick
My Hard
Word you don't understand
Fucktard
Look up "cuntface"
my Hard
Enemy...
Neck cords become tentacles
On guard
I hate these motherfucking dicks with
All my heart
The enemy in me
Is my heart
Word you don't understand
My Hard
hate.
Chords fake word hatredy
Kill Hard...
Dead heart...
Remove the part
The Hatred part.
Fuck what you can do to me
You will never win.
Flushing your shit all out of me...(yes, the elipsis means repeated)

Blackjack 36

Still busting all the rules to ashes,

Rub ‘em on my chest.

An epic fail ad fin is fun and et-cet, Bet!

Backboard now firewood

Howlin’ at the moon.

Ridin’ on the Green Line

My stop be comin’ soon.

Silent in the belfry now

Ate up all the bats.

Move on into diffidence

A golden stench morass.

Nine year number cycle only took me five

I told you muzzah-fussahs now

Death can look alive.

Three tongues can get along better than one

Figure that riddle, doll, you ready use the gun.

Man he come around again in black trenchcoat

His horns a little longer, halo ‘round his throat

Stangehouse

Titmouse

Press, press, press

Discover the polarity in mixing up laments

Disorder, tri-polar explosive endless bomb

Watch the babies grow up and bang bitches to moms

So hit me dollar make me holler

Silent as the moon

Don’t bogart the bottle, son

My time be comin’ soon

Hear the yowlin’ train?

Singin hound blues.

Hell-hound blues.

Rot-gut booze

Me worn out like some shoes.

Polarities

Oh I remember when Mikey had these dreams

These dreams of becoming a scientist

But they turned into a fucken sludge made o’ schemes

He looked up from his life and wondered how he got there

How the dreams he had in 1992 turned into a quagmire of despair.

The six strings did not just draw blood

They drew something worse

Something undefined

Something bare

Not a single cunt kenned the score

And that there was a Hell goin’ on upstairs.

There was a Hell goin’ on upstairs.

Mikey held out fighting and visiting jails

Getting cop-raped with fat fucken thumbs

He kicked some cunt’s skull in until the bastard’s brains turned to mud

That attempted murder

Just too much to handle

So down to the south he fled

He loaded up on smack and green for a blowjob

He took himself a small Texas stead.

But it was shit as everything is

And he hopped another Greyhound bus

Found this sexy little thing who liked Dada

And fucked her in a bathroom somewhere in Kansas.

Next Chattanooga

And a house fulla cockroaches

Some faggot who tried to suck him off

And in a fugue he almost allowed it to happen

Then he broke the motherfucker’s muff.

So he went Buck Nutty

And deep dicked the world nutty

Landed this sexy little cunt named Courtney

And the lot of his friends became jealous.

But he didn’t care

Let the daft cunts stare

Mikey’s a God and that’s all there is to it.

But to stay in Heaven he needed his horse

To ride through the Pearly Gates

So he started collecting

And bones he went breaking

And eyes he crushed under his boot.

Oh Dirty Mikey…

Can you ever live it down?

Then them six strings came back and so did the Star

But he was a Star and she was a Star

A Star of the underground the other Star despised

So he beat her fucken ass and left her to die

Sickening is the thought but every moment deserved

For him

And for her.

Next went the club scene and everything obscene

His dick it stayed wetter than the inside of a toilet

His blood ran green with chemicals and despoilants

Zero Gravity and everything done nicely

Four pussies landed in Milwaukee

But that was nothing

Nothing compared to Mikey’s little trip back home

If a home he ever had in Tennessee

To that dead goddamn Valley

That place in the dirt

Where he deep tunneled everything with a pussy

And those six strings that killed him

Brought a swoon he despised

But loved out of the corners of his eyes.

So he played diabetes

And got needles with easies

Does that make sense

You shit cunt yes it does

And I’m cursing too much but I guess that’s the way it goes

When you’ve lived in the mud.

There was Whitney

And Beth

And Savannah

And Jenny

And Cora

Kristina

And Anna

So much vagina it began to stink

But nothing served to calm like the pink

I guess Mikey wanted back in the womb

And the OC did its best to presume

A way back inside

Too bad not prescribed

But finally the Xanax vanilla.

The tragedy here is that Mikey,

See,

He never really meant

Or CHOSE

To be this kind of guy

Fighting every last motherfucker

And breaking their ribs

Skull fucking their eyes

Ripping their windpipes

Maybe killing

No cries from the cops as yet but who knows.

Loved the knife at 15

Used it a thousand times

But somehow he lives free

And was free to do all these things I have shared with thee

Married

There is no more to share

Aside from a legacy

Polarity.

The Wandering Hangman

These towns I have trod

Footsteps crushing gravel

And snow

Singing as I go

Weep through a smile as I sing

Met the Eczema Kid

And the Tumor Man-Thing

Wiping the soot from the dark side of the spoon

Slept often on concrete

Pondering doom

Naked, enraged

Steel locks disengage

So begins my short-lived reprieve from the cage.

There’s no dress like a jumpsuit when dancing

Before the Judge

Romancing

Showing respect while swallowing sludge

The cast of my eyes doth not budge.

The Felons they laugh when they see Crazy

The cajole Crazy; Attack!

They know but little as Crazy

Cannot be cajoled toward attack

(To Provoke is the trick)

Nay, that manipulation

Is just for the Frightened; the Slaves.

Not for the Golden so used to the bars

For the Gold is always barred by sick mental states

(And redundant as advertisements to one such as me)

So piss on me

Beat me

Kill me

Don’t bore me

For banality only death penalties do.