Thank You.

Joe Shmo,

Just wanted to say thanks for all you do. I know that sometimes you feel like the Titantic’s sinkin’ but just know that we’re all here for you & not goin’ nowhere for a while.

How’s Susie doin’? Heard she’s been pretty busy with that new Asian you guys got at home. Ain’t she a pretty thing! Takes after her brother, I guess.

Eat some turkey for me tomorrow; just don’t go into a food coma because I don’t wanna be the one to wake ya up! Kiss your worries bye at least tomorrow & you can find them again next week if ya want.

-your Copper

angel fire

the way you move, so swiftly against the weight of the world.

the way you speak, with intelligence full of wonder.

the way you write, a dark sensation herded against the warlike.

the way you dream, struck in terror by thoughts of the wakeless.

the way you look, as if you’re walking on air.

the way you think, never falling short of being warmhearted.

call those wacka wacka; even they can’t stop me from being engulfed by your angel fire.

Unbroken Conversations

Those wacka wacka came calling again,

and this time brought some real logic.

Getting to talk with a brilliant mind inspires;

something about the creativity brought up within.

Raised from the soil like a baby calf is raised from

its mother, creativity at its finest.

Missing the days when the gears to my mind turned 

so sharply won’t help, but discussing will.

And expecting something grand to come out of this 

isn’t any sort of disbelief.

When the time comes we’ll all see together-

until then I’m left waiting with questions brewing.

Dalai, is that you?

found the organist strung out

it’s a long life, if you really think about it

& when we started the group we all loved VBS &

ate animal crackers for lunch.

but then things got weird with the headliner

& the sax player freaked when he made us all play

random pitches on each other.

things were gettin’ stranger with him everyday

while the sluggish beater was becoming detached

& the sax player had enough.

headliner couldn’t put down his happiness & even in

his sleep was brainstorming some crazy sh-t about
breathing & yoga with vegans.

everybody was all weirded out & left except that 

sluggish beater & his pet the slippery finger man 

who secretly loved the headliner.

The beater beat too hard & left angry/bitter while 

the slippery finger man grew apart from the ol’ 

headliner & the whole thing ended.

26 Hours 'Til Sunrise

Brianna,

Got the wacka wacka calling again. They’ve been tryin’ to get ahold of me since june the first. Seems like everything is spinning a million times a minute but me.

I know that being sick aint no excuse, but I think I’m comin’ down with that thing again & 7 wont be the magic number this time!

23 down, 580 more to go, alongside your aunt susan petting your english paper and leashing the online exercise program. She thinks you cant gain weight these days.

I don’t even get all this nonsense. It’s like this: blah. Gotta sleep now, it’s 11:02 and we got 26 hours ‘til sunrise.

nite,

your silhouette 

Alphonso

so bright and gleaming;
with your brilliant hues of red and blue.
your figure swiftly streaming,
throughout the earth you breeze through.
light up the night with your shadows of grey;
the sleeping master to patrol.
others intrude and you flare open wide,
a sight that thrills my soul.

SNAKE HEAD ESCAPE

go to kelley's island.
find a snake.
rob a row boat.
snakes love where light is little.
then blow up a boat.
dont forget your SNORKEL!
dive to depths with your snake bud.
CANADA- land of Pudding Beard.

-rafter

where stalin meets sam

too close to call

but not close enough to gain Minnesota

yet, too close to call

its sickening ya know- because we need

this crazy scoundrel to ride a pony elsewhere

so sickening, that we don't want him

it comes with weak candidates

strong, but not strong enough

those weaklings, the thought!

too close to call

but we know who will finish first

its about time to call

Stalin, be gracious.

cardboard coffee cup

11 days, all wasted. Time with you always seems grand ‘til I swallow your steaming darkness.

spitting out the boiling mess quicker than I took it in, I always seem to forget the hardships that face your cardboard coffee cup.

Talented as you are I know you’d see if you looked, but then your english teacher catches you peeking then back with the dog you go.

You both seem to have it all together; the lean figure and dapper looks, ‘til the sides cave in from all of the steam coming from your ears- you and that cardboard coffee cup.

But it’s hard to realize that even that robust cup, firm with the grip of your hand will someday be pitched.

and with it all the thoughts in my mind and dreams that will never be. I do understand, and i’m sorry, you cardboard coffee cup.

ballad in c flat

your chain broke today.
but then it didnt surprise me cuz you flew
down that hill like pigs fly from the sound of a shotgun.

you were tryin to catch another glimpse of that Hungarian belly dance, i guess.
no brakes and a flat c is hard on us all, man-
but just made ms. taylor have a hard time gettin home on that big seat o' hers.

grab that apple from your f150 before he runs it over, thanks.

sick

nose red & swollen the only question i think to myself may be
"why do all these guys say 'a-choo'?"

why not "perry toto," just like that old donkey my lower hinge creeks-
time for some of that WD-40!

"take a pill" says Ashley but deep down she remembers that i never will,
only "a-choo" & fire throat.

when this is all over I may join a polka band called "fire throat."

-perry toto

OLD McDONALD LIED-

about that farm
when Betty Slinger went down there said he "got sold."

turns out chicken comes from conveyor belts- NOT EGGS!

then again mr. walton likes "every low price" so if that cow
tongue tastes & looks like a chicken, call it a hen, why not?

thanks for your early death trap, uniform guy.

-your pet

F-150

huge beast, that black monster.
he swallowed me into his empty shell not aware that snakes bite hard!

"fix my AC, my flat tire, this broken steering wheel," says he but
then forwards in gouging out my eyeballs & stealing my wallet.

hacking into my whole life as if it were some bank account;
that black monster.

it's 2am:

and i'm working on a new book!

freehand poetry, folks
mixed like a salad dressing
with a hint of fine art.

i will keep ya posted, thanks and nite.

-me

Back Muscles #5

rick James,

if that really is your name.

i'm tired of seeing back muscles & yours are no exception.

since now I have peace of mind i'll give ya a fair piece of my mind!

& what is up with your two 1st names; everybody is gonna think my name's Jimbo.

see you.

the sneering calf

why they always do it? if you knew once then maybe the
rest of this sphere may pat your tummy a few times.

nothin' being right is gonna kill a few off fast, man.
type letters to the world on a glowing screen, and thats all cool

BUT i don't see why youre bragging about your lasagna dude,
being that it molded near 2 years ago.

and yet you look at me like i'm that little round calf
you baked to waste- but really its just your sour milk

oh, SOUR MILK! why did it have to turn so quick?
a question that you know will be left unanswered.

why they always do it? if you knew once then maybe the
rest of this sphere may pat your tummy a few times.

matt lark for state rep

cant stress it anymore.
this guy is everything a state rep is and does
everything one of those guys should do!

and best- he gives out free hand fans that say 'lark' on 'em.

www.larkforstaterep.com

16 or 22

then suddenly a truck driver walks in the room with a chimney sweeper under his eyes & 


everybody says “hi matt or nate, or tom, dick or harry- whatever the hell your name is!” 


and he says “joe? the man that owns this place; i’m just a scientist. i ain’t got no name!”


so edgar allen poe comes outta the closet with the wife of laura bush & the spider creeps 


slowly down his chimney sweep. Everybody screams “TARANTULA!”


                            -me, 16 or 22.
                             WHO KNOWS THESE DAYS!?

Add caption

NEVER TRUST A WOOLLY MAMMOTH

8/1/12

"take your vitamins" said tommy's mommy before she threw sugar cubes in the ceiling fan &

passed out- unknowingly. she got drunk last saturday; mus ta drunk too much.

i can swear you man, being a border-line diabetic'll kill ya someday- but 'til then we can just forget about ron paul winnin' any election.

bob dylan for mayor, matt lark state rep, and oscar the grouch for commissioner!

we all know he's blind while "JACK THE RIPPER sits at the head of the chamber of commerce"


thanks,
mouse.

welcome

this is how it began, really though nobody believes us.

it really is poetry, ya know- just takes some gettin used to and sooner than later you all will
get the light bulb.

"huh?" says mr. fry but he knows symbolism in the back of his inflamed mind.

hope it suits you,
well or unwell (its up to you)

-me