creeper
the drunken man walked into a cheap white trash haircut place, he was waffling his arms in the air, saying. “eww, ohh, so pretty, haircutters, so pretty”
The girls cutting the hair and the people getting there haircut all glanced at him with worried eyes.
He gave his name, and sat down to read some of the outdated magazines, as businessmen sat next to him, glancing occasionally to give a dirty look.
“hi sugar” he would say to them, if he caught their eyes.
He was making everyone uncomfortable from there robotic lil lives.
“ewww, ewww! “ the strange man finally screamed, holding up a year old people magazine.
“looks like brad pitt is going to get married! Eww, ewww. And to a woman! Ewww. Can u believe that! Such a waste!” the man said standing up holding the article he was reading, wailing his flamboyant arms around again, and making everyone uncomfortable.
“ahh, no sense in taste, any of u for sure!”
nobody said anything , as he sat back down and started in on this horrible cough he had from years and centuries of smoking. A few businessman got up and left. Suddenly this lady who was cutting this little kids hair, maybe the manager, stepped back from the scalp she was trimming, , she was gonna not have this in her fuking place of business.
“mr. u need to just keep quiet and wait your turn! u are scaring off all my customers!”
the gay drunken man was very offended by this.
He stood up, and said…
“well in all my life, well, ive never been . well, young lady! Where did u learn your manners, at sluts are us!”
the Mexican lady owner of the haircut place was upset now af
ter that.
She walked up to the man and slapped him in the face…
“get the hell out-a my store before I call the cops u sick drunken freak!”
the man wafted his arms in the air!
“and to think I’d ever let u handle my hair, u bitch!” he screamed !
“ive cut brad pits hair!” the mexican lady owner yelled at him
as he drove away in his vega.
Wafting his arms in the air. and hitting his crack pipe.
Zeeder Release
-mali tail pink cocktails slibber about virtuous remedies in seclusion u would never know
with the slumbered oblivion u seek but what u should not know what u want to be or see when u can see what has been or seen with your slit like binoculars slurped around sloppy shoulder girths hovering like bats on red wined night flights with goose feathered gimps laying loads like fried hot blood breath base lined raged loved miss gone want no bad- heart attack torn sewn flown on kites in summer lake parks with smell breeze of sauced up barbecued chicken air sweat like dreams with night mare schemes- hollow alive floating flickering eternally fuked in side a rolling pinto bean down a river of oceans melting frozen back stabs on pretty little swing sets shooting rocket fueled spazmatic like out of tune guitar stroker of a drunken non drunk not drinking today to drink today
there is an entire world outside these windows- for adventures must cleanse this scratched out itch of a memory lost for if such prince man bows crowns with glopped up residue chiseling through cardiac brain bubbles horking heaving bimbo bellied bloated zero to the vineless vines which over whelm certain seconds locked up in this cage of self made therapy-
Cat Paint
I started this new painting. I continued to smoke while painting it. it was truly taking on a life of its own, or a face of its own; my paintings are always faces for some reason.
Suddenly the paintbrush seemed to be moving in my hand with strokes that I was not controlling and the painting became even more abstract so to say. I tried to stop my hand from moving. But some force was painting for me. I tried to move, to get up, and to get away. But my eyes were frozen on what was forming on the canvas. My hand moved quickly, dipping into the yellow, the reds, the blues. Circles and spirals formed with eyes and lips.
this went on non-stop for an hour. Till I finally yelled
“its done! Let me go!”
my hand stopped moving, but it was shaking now, my whole body was shaking as I stared down at this painting I wasn’t even sure I had done. It took on different faces inside the biggest face. I stared down at it. its lips suddenly moved on the canvas and said
“what do u think dumb ass?”
I know I hadn’t smoked that much, and I jumped off the fuking couch and dropped the painting backwards, so I couldn’t see anything but the back of it. my cat was sort of sniffing it, when it flew on to its painted side real quick like, now its fuking eyes were blinking and little bloody tears of paint seemed to run down to its circular chin.
Its lips moved again.
“don’t just stand there u moronic imbecile, go get a tissue and wipe my tears away, hurry up junior!”
I grabbed my head with both hands.. mumbling..
“calm, calm, this isn’t happening, get a hold of yourself man….”
“of course this is happening u fukin retard!” its lips said.
My cat began to hiss at it.
Then a huge stretching tongue ripped from the lips and canvas, a long greenish pink reddish tongue slapped up into my ear and began licking the inside of my ear erotically.
That’s when I ran from my apartment screaming at the top of my lungs in nothing but a pare of Speedo paint splattered underwear, smoke dangling from my mouth. I ran out into the woods near my house and walked and walked and fukin walked, till I got a hold of myself. it had to just be a hallucination I thought to myself. I went back finally opening my door very slowly, slowly I walked into the next room ware the painting was. it was turned around on its back again. My shaky hands flipped it over. And there was nothing but a blank white canvas staring back at me.
“this cant be, but, I know what I saw, this cant be..” I mumbled….
That’s when my cat came up behind me and scared the shit out of me.
“bah! awwwwww!!!” I screamed, as he snuggled against my leg.
“fukin aye” I said, picking the lil critter up, and stroking his face.
“ did u like the painting I did?” the cats lips suddenly moved
“what the fuk?” I said dropping the cat. And running to my bathroom to vomit.
When I turned around out of the toilet, there it was, the fukin painting had been done..
The cat strolled up next to my shaking body and said..
“so what do u think of the painting?”
Class Act
here I stand
on the sixth floor
of a 120 dollar
a night
marriot
staring out
these tinted windows
high above
east lansing’s cold weather
down on
the ground
people wait
in lines
in snow flakes
to get into bars
there is a strange smell
of bologna
& stale smoke
in this
no-smoking room
& only one
movie channel
we wrap a wet cloth
around the smoke alarm
mixing a drink
ice machines! my wet dream
i hawk a goober on the wall
as he tells me
i’m a real class act
there I stand, grinning, looking down,
snapping pictures with no flash
on my last night of freedom
with a view of the city that glows
Farm life
he
said
the best way to kill
a chicken
is to
hold it by its head
swing it around in a circle
he
said
the head
will snap right off
& at times
the body
will fly
Git to work
hammer hammer
venison heart burn- tums-chillie
eat home made pickles
then over slam deee whiskey
while headspinny ooops kb
cold weather pretty pine trees
greenhouse hit hammer nails
earn cash
chickens and roosters squawk
glass watered bongs
the puking beef jerkey guest
moanin like a fool for hours
in the dark bathroom
with cleane towels
cok a doodle doooo!
a cock a doodle doo!!!
spotted dogs
late night moons
lakes made of frost
early morning blisters
with a bagful of dirty clothes
& a tooth aching cavity
wondering what they thought
in this brand new manufactured home
with arms sore from
a good day of labor
in the fresh cold crisp air
of another day gone
-
snow filled blizzard outside window
sits five heated greenhouses
filled with tropical named plants
filled with vacation islands
chickens coop’s, dead mice from poison along the walls-
everywhere is frozen whites & wind
pine trees hover like ancient memories
my gracious hosts do not smoke anymore-
nicotine that is, unless one bundles up-
to smoke in the blizzard of 4 feet of snow
my 2 pairs of sneakers sitting near indoor fire-
back aching, legs stiff, arms sore, got enough money for now-
outside it freezes, gets windier,
michigan is a frozen icicle on a lost map-
building benches for days, moving 100 pound bags of soil,
squatting, lifting, bending, pulling, hammering-
cussing, singing, smoking, feeding , petting roosters,
using muscles I forgot existed, actually sleeping a full rest-
feels like legs ran a marathon for the first few days-
“I don’t here any hammering ! on doh lay!”
he screams, we joke,
fuk off, eat shit, git to work, I quit,
sweaty bench builder
next to chicken cages
with squawkles speaking tongues yell
deep in my hammer
pounding blistered hands
against another rusted nail
my back screams
from the white hairs
sprouting from chin
and scalp,
screams… “ you are to old for this! U lazy bastard!
these muscles like to sleep!”
look outside,
walk frozen against
the cold wind, carrying a bench like table, on my back,
that is about to give u a first hernia
smell the crisp air,
light a polluted cig,
feel the blood of movement
send natural highs over un natural highs melding
into one golden sparkle-
peeking through the clouds,
is the sun’s flickering red eyeballed orange-
above these tropical heat filled green houses-
sits black leather couches, 500 channels, glass bongs-
out in the middle of no where, on land with acres and acres of apple trees frozen into perfect freeway lines, absolute stillness-
every morning is a good one, among this troll palace of a friend who’s
still working, spraying insecticide’s- among the forest
& the lights- after dark-
just outside these windows, grows a world u never seen-
crystals against snow drift runs through dripping stoner nose snots-
as eyes explode with almost glorious changes of a much needed scenery
but even tho are their, this is something, alone-
like frozen ears, stumbling straight, on frozen pine trails.---
meditate while hot shower breathes in thc bathroom, neck snaps,
white hairs sprout from burnt chin,
half smile, double chinned..
cant escape age-
well, never say never, ever, never, not clever, drunk, end babble..sever. awful------------ice frozen- drinks flat, mornings like dogs spotted,
back legs out, coughing all day-
stop talking-
stop thinking, u are an idiot,
u are a full-fledged flounder
wondering around with chapped lips,
& french fried bellied-
bean juice burp, sneakers dirty, umm, sleep-
snowed out wet sock bed tine snow
money, sore bones, farms..alone
click for larger view
