Holiday

I spent fathers day on myself and just got my dad a card with only two lines. How awful is that. Then I go on a shopping spree for myself. No offense to God but next time I'm going to write ten lines of things for my dad. Words that have meaning to us. I'm almost forty and all I think about is memorys. I call them modern day, with the help of watching movies in surround, recall. I dream vividly to when I'm not stoned all the time. I went to the book store, Barnes and Nobles to be exact and I ripped a page out from a magazine. I know, thats awful but I just wanted this one page, it was a callender of all the contests. Some poets say whats the point from our district. I say it is the point for excellent poetry that is adaptive and serpiginous. My sisters birthday is coming up so I really need to get a groovy birthday card.

Deadlines

Actually your a token of sweets remembered
And when it took over I was an elbow out.
Anthropology of a star
Looking for the grand release
Also contemplating why? the register is blinking her
Long eye lash my way
So if my chin falls off my face or
The word is to outrageous about independent
Doppleganger or worst
Detective work for art.
All woman are still strongest than me
I'll make sure of it
I can't despair
Cause your my dig
On getting in
On the rap
Cute turtle
Catastrophic smile
Humming risks.
All books moved out of the sleeping bag
And also problematic jobs.
And except for the drugs I lost in my pants
Before the misdemeanor stuck
Smoking cherry cigarettes
Cause she gave them to me
Photographing myself again
Molly said it was genuine Iggy.
Carry it the last tune cause I'm reconnected.

Blue Paint

Imagine that! Uncle Dave was right about the weather Decaf man swearing. Primitive Appeal Soggey, Everything is killing me and sometimes it sounds really good to, tell me a word you haven't for a while, so i'll figure out my cellular on my own overlooking the tallest tree in the desert standing on a clifff. but i'm in the worst lounge to, if i sit for a while things seem to get dangerous or the idiot that says free. back to buzzinn the asphault about a open sky and rocks, or a rave in a cupboard its in the espreeso my feeling of stuff. i tink i blew it up in a sharring rue, and everybody runs or hunts me somewhere, i can feel it when the coyotes said what it says in the card about thousands 'something about the blue paint' is the abstract splat about choice and deliverance.

thinking about last rites with the mellow rock on satellite or fighting an angel somewhere else.