Friday, January 28, 2011
Broken Cart
Song (link)
Lyrics:
Asile nine is labled wrong
They've already played that fuckin' song
The peaches look like chewed up pits
There're piles of Kibbles without Bits
When you're in the grocery store with a broken heart
The cart wont move; the wheels are stuck
Sauces all turned to rotten muck
The freezer doors are left ajar
Your bonus card won't get you far
When you're in the grocery store with a broken heart
Flourescant lights and bakery blues
Stock boy cigarettes and unmopped ooze
The deli is serving wraps of slow
And fullness feels like long ago
When you're in the grocery store with a broken heart
Saturday, January 22, 2011
With Regards to the Tallest Man on Earth
When you sing
About snake skin
Orchards being thrown
In the fire, I think
About this steam inside
For when a call is made
Into my heart, all
I can do
Is breathe streaks of smoke
And watch the wisps try
To circle
harmonies
around your
song
Tuesday, January 11, 2011
Some Thing
I'm on a platform
waiting for the J
reading Bukowski ranting between gusts
of winter's worn out knives, listening
to my mind whispering his words
The train coming now
Doppler effect with its waves
while watching people rise to meet their ways
and I catch my mind speaking louder
to be heard over the zeal of the brakes
louder and louder, myself
reading, now silent screaming,
until I stop and realize
this train is inserting itself
squeezing in something nasty
it's fucking my focus
the Bukowski is losing to the goddamn train schedule!
my entire self being
killed by what I have to do

I close the book and rise
watching people load
but I can't move with them now,
I will not be a part
of a steelish beast like that
without some serious literature
something rancid
something that'll make me not want
to accomplish goals. Jesus.
Where could I find something like that?
waiting for the J
reading Bukowski ranting between gusts
of winter's worn out knives, listening
to my mind whispering his words
The train coming now
Doppler effect with its waves
while watching people rise to meet their ways
and I catch my mind speaking louder
to be heard over the zeal of the brakes
louder and louder, myself
reading, now silent screaming,
until I stop and realize
this train is inserting itself
squeezing in something nasty
it's fucking my focus
the Bukowski is losing to the goddamn train schedule!
my entire self being
killed by what I have to do

I close the book and rise
watching people load
but I can't move with them now,
I will not be a part
of a steelish beast like that
without some serious literature
something rancid
something that'll make me not want
to accomplish goals. Jesus.
Where could I find something like that?
Monday, January 10, 2011
Landing the Job
I love getting drunk
because of my fantastic ideas
For instance,
when there is shit in the toilet
why reach for the brush
when you can clean it with your jetting piss?
I love getting drunk
because it prepares me for job interviews
For instance,
if they ask, "how should we clean this company?"
I'll know exactly what to say
because of my fantastic ideas
For instance,
when there is shit in the toilet
why reach for the brush
when you can clean it with your jetting piss?
I love getting drunk
because it prepares me for job interviews
For instance,
if they ask, "how should we clean this company?"
I'll know exactly what to say
Sunday, January 2, 2011
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