Mr. Feeny in the house bitch
Watch too much Boy Meets World
Your eyes will bleed
Look like pussies
Look like Lilacs
Or beautiful fleshy skinful roses
Whatever that means, am I right?
Bye Bye Forever
Old towns and new towns soon to follow
A life in the sky
A life underwater
Sky hooks you around
Sky-hooks all around
Brian Scalabrine-ing everything
White Mamba on the loose
Yes Yes, that’s the life, isn’t it?
I hope it is *if it’s not I’m fucked*
Time to go watch Boy Meets World some more
And try and stave off some headaches
(And play some basketball, huzzah.)
March 30, 2013
Went out today
Saw God in a basketball
“Godlier” children and teenagers tried to read me like a fortune cookie
And all I heard was vague generalities
Some songs and prayers were had
on my behalf, I guess since it’s Easter and all
Who gives a shit about the Easter Bunny or about the celebration of the Lord or about anything else?
I worship vagina and basketball and literature and life and death and coffee, hell fuck yeah do I worship coffee
So why not spill my guts out
And open my soul up
And be as awkward and as nauseatingly honest as possible?
What’s not to love, fellow poet laureates of the night?
Acne souls everywhere
What’s the point
Self-sustaining economic bankruptcy networks
Watching Always Sunny in Philly
And watching sports highlights for hours on end
And reading John Dufresne
This is probably my summer vacation in some odd way,
Sherlock on BBC
I’m still waiting for Series 3
Oh beautiful America
Never-ending green lawns of vaginas
Never-ending threats of death under oath by
Judge, Jury, Executioner, and the Media, as well
Ball so hard
And I guess I’m supposed to like a
Fuck it, burn it
Burn it all
Why must you disappoint yourself?
Why must we continue this lie?
Why should a poem like this
Be able to capture every single little moment
of your tired existence?
Hell, the world’s not any better,
But, let’s not kid ourselves here:
You’re no better than anyone else.
So what we can buy designer clothes?
That shit will fade away, and will need to be replaced
by NEW ones, made in China, just the way we like it, right folks?
Everything. Made. In. CHINA.
What exactly do we do, again? Besides dumb ourselves down
and try E and try this and a little of that and voila, it’s all the same shit, anyway
Whatever man, just go out, man, just party, dude, go to the movies man and don’t worry,
society will remind you to buy that new phone or that new car otherwise you’ll never amount to shit because of a million and one commercials goddamn they’re everywhere
It must be hell to be an ad exec
It must be hell for the Devil to deal with these scumbags
I’m not dealing with it anymore
I quit trying to bend down for this society of commercial garbage
And no, I’m not better than any of it, but I don’t pretend to be ignorant
You’ve betrayed yourself
But maybe the flame will come alive again
Or maybe not
Who’s to say, anyway?
I guess I’m like Shaq that way: I’m done(and I still need my rings, damnit.)
Hare Krishna, Hare Krishna, Krishna Krishna, Hare Hare
Hare Rama, Hare Rama, Rama Rama, Hare Hare