32nd Poetical Week of Poetry…Poems

June 5

 

In a toilet by the sea

No one does any meddling on me

A town grows and grows by the minute

And whores run amok and are ruled by a despot

No cries are heard and everything is pretty crappy.

 

This town, a singular monstrosity, is pretty damn corny

Every damn house here is a motherfucking frisbee

All the despots in town eat at the local buffet

In a toilet.

Prospects here are pretty gloomy

The town mayors’ name is Uncle Charlie

He has a gun, with one single bullet

One big enough to hopefully take out the whole senate

Everyone, including me, is just a big baby

In a toilet.

In a toilet.

 

June 6

 

Fight hard

Lose everything

But still,

Fight hard

Goddamnit.

 

June 7

 

Fuck

Charles
Miner

 

June 8

 

Wake up

Sleep

Pass out

Sleep

Eat something

Sleep

Shit

Sleep

Go to school

Think about Sleep

Go to church
Definitely think about Sleep

Sleep up

Sleep down

What is sleep

What does mean

Baby

My mind’s going 500 miles an hour

Or nanoseconds whatever the case may be

Punctuation doesn’t exist now so fuck it

Never mattered anyway

So I’ll go on

As we all do

So we beat on

Boats against the current

Borne back

Ceaselessly

Into the

Past

 

June 9

 

I am

Nichael

Bluth

 

June 10

 

I measure my life

not with accomplishments

or anything stupid and illusory and temporary as that

but in work, slothfulness, masturbatory fantasies

and general nonsensical poetry

such as this

Always something like this

Look for the anagram friends and neighbors

Look for the anagram so that your life and all your problems will soon be answered

Just give me ten bucks and I’ll do just that I swear

Selah

And now life goes on

And know you are not alone

 

June 11

 

Libya

Afghanistan

Iraq

Syria

Arab Uprising

Revolution

Deaths everywhere

The French Revolution did the same shit

More people are dead

Kids are dying

It’s a nightmare all over again

And again

And millions more will suffer

But hey, as long as more oil can be bought

More profits divided amongst the top of the top

And as long as people can be subjugated

And more poems like this can be made

We’ll never out of business

Capitalism, you’re a nice and wholesome figure to find

(Subtext, Context, I’m not one for subtle social cues or subtle poetic

flair.)

Shit.

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