• ✍️ WORDS ✍️

    Welcome Guest!

  • Words Moderators: Mysterier

Post Random Stories & Poems Here!

I sit. You leave. I frown.


Hemmingway is cool like Doritos.
 
my wife done gone and left me�.......�.....
�.......and my baby sister died�.......�......
�.......my mind ain't got no reason�..........
�.......and my song ain't got no rhyme�....
�.......�................I wish I knew you better
�.......�.................now all I have is booze.
my life is going nowhere�.......�....�.......
......and my sanity's awry�.......�...�........
.....my veins ain't got no space left�.......�
......and my clock ain't got no time�.......�.
�.......�.....�.......I wish I was a black man
�.......�.....�.......so I could sing the blues.



�I just got a hot tip that the phantom is going to strike tonight.�
�No. He's dead.�
�Oh?�
�Yeah.�
�Okay, don't have to worry about that.�



�.....my life done gone and silent�...................
since my dream's been put to sleep�...�...........
�.....my mind ain't got no thoughts left..............
�.....and my bong ain't got no leaf......................
�.......�.......I should have killed you, back then
�.......�.....................like Hitler killed the Jews.
my wife took all my money..................................
�.....my prized antelope, my sheep�..................
�.....my aardvark........my potatoes�.......�.......
�.....ain't no different than a thief.........................
�...�.......�.......�.......I wish I was a black man
�..............�.......�.......so I could sing the blues.



�How did he die?�
�Who?
�The phantom.�
�Oh. Um, AIDS. It was AIDS.�



I don't get out of bed much�.......�...........
day and night I sleep alone�.......�............
the world don't make no sense none.............
we're born.........we live..........we die............
....�...........................I wish I never met her
.....�.........................never try......never lose.
..my flesh been decomposing..............�.......
got no meat left on my bones�.........�........
..my veins ain't got no space left.....�.......�
...and my clock ain't got no time�............�.
�.......�.....�.......I wish I was a black man
�.......�.....�.......so I could sing the blues.



�Would the owner of a white Mitsubishi Lancer, licence plate number PGO-743, please report to reception... Thank you.�
 
you sneak into my shadow when I am distracted
I am always distracted
and you are always there
waiting

I lie down, insects
crawling
across my sunburnt skin
I am illuminated

You don't have a thimble
nocturnal
parasitic
friend

I sleep with the light on
I sleep rarely
empty houses are full
of shadows
 
Here's a rant of mind. maybe not micro but it was a king-hell rant, I'm thinking of turning it into a standup act.

needs refinement of course:

All in one shot no editing:


It's called:

God; my favorite playwrite.

Are people actually paying attention to this farical charade they call democracy? I've just been reintroduced to the public and the televisions the patients watch, and realized to myself: "My god; these bastards believe in this shit!"

And another thing. I hate being typecast as someone who would share any interest or vested passion in the fucking democrats.

I fucking hate the democrats.

Hate
the republican inbred cocksuckers as well.

If you truly think choosing between two assholes pretending to have different agendas while being financed by the same massive conglomerate shits simultaneously should reevaluate their lines of reasoning.

I even hate the fucking liberals. I hate all governments, because they're unnecessary and no more than a widely accepted and sanctioned form of highly sophisticated organized criminals.

The economic system dictates the quality of life in this country, and in a dominater run patriarchal individualistic police state, the only thing that's going to save your ass or help your quality of life is becoming a king-hell fink yourself and getting your hands on the money these greedy junkies grind into powder every night and suck it up through presidential and corporate cottons, pushing it in the mainline while they blow cigarette smoke towards the ceiling casually admiring the live execution being broadcast to them special straight out of texas.

Here's an idea, stop bombing brown people. Then, maybe we won't have to send our children to die so you can make buck under the table and piss of the whole fucking world. Not to mention systematically decreasing the employability options while simultaneously raising the cost of living and keeping the minimum wage at a flat rate. That's pretty smart how you managed to keep feudalism going this long.

My hat goes off to you Monarchichal scum.

It's a good thing we get accurate information about world events and the human experience from watching reruns of "Raymond Blows The Milkman" sucking on food rich in poisons and carcinogenic properties while ironically giving ourselves a slow fate ending in diabetes when they'll have finally made it impossible to afford the medicine to treat it, thus killing you by proxy and keeping the good stuff for themselves.

"Then he gives the American People the finger, 'I've got mine; fuck you every crumb for himself."

"In a democracy people get the kind of government they deserve."

Indeed.

I'm voting for Ronald Reagan. Just so we can dig that blackhearted monster from his sepulchre by the see and prop his decaying senile visage up for the cameras, then douse him in kerosine and piss in his mouth while simultaneously sodomizing the abominable 'tribute' crap they have down at the former center of trade.

You'll get a hefty dose of the grim scenarios I bring to light here in 50 years, and I'm sorry I had to be the one to break it to you. Then you can look back on all those wasted hours spent on lines to use flawed electronics to choose some asshole who even if he were sincere, has no real influence over public policy at all.

While I have you fine Christian Americans here I've got one more question. You who do plan on pulling your pud in some voting booth half your life every 4 years when you could be engaged in some other activity, perhaps taking care of your 7 children, do you do it on the local level? What about 2 years from now when we've got a chance to drive out some of these rancid racists shit-eating congressman, state house officials, legislators, judges and representives? Will you be voting then? If the answer is no then why the fuck bother voting in the first place? AND having the gall to look at me weird because I wouldn't be caught dead wasting my time on a meaningless excersise like that.

The only thing politics is good for is gambling, and we already have pro football and they do enough damage. It's time stop pretending you're pride that was shoveled up your ass and out your throat isn't yours at all. You've been duped, friend. You've been conned. And when that's the case you can hardly blame the politicians any more for anything ever. You don't have the time to educate yourself on these simple mechanisms and processess by which they've managed to keep their slaves and convince them they're free? I blame you. You fucked it up, you get what you pay for. Or in this case, what you barely payed attention to not to mention critically questioning some of these ideas from secondary, tertiary, and as many other sources as possible.

I know it's not PRIMARILY your fault, they've done an excellent Orwellian job of addicting you to the instruments and conditioning vectors by which you're deluded into a value system that's completely and systematically constructed for one motive and one motive only and that's too keep you in line.

Enjoy your 65 percent unemployment rate in 50 years when the oil reserves are just about dry while no suitable alternative renewable energy alternatives have been implimented.

And keep giving your hard earned 'capital' to banks. This I never got, just really stupid. What the fuck would anyone ever need a bank for? A loan? Credit? Let me let you in on a little secret folks. Credit IS NOT important. It's make believe. It's money you don't have, and its an awfully convenient way of keeping you in poverty for the entirety of your adult life when you're convinced and bemused by advertising into buying a whole lot of stupid shit you don't need. Get a greendot card, invest in gold, silver, bitcoins, commodities with long shelf lives, and hock up the 5 dollars it takes to cash your check at walmart. Use the technology we have to take your shit back. These institutions are no longer relevent!

Get yourself a safe and keep your valuables in there, stop buying overpriced sweatshop products that were poorly manufactured to begin with, and stop pissing yourself in yokel excitement every time some stupid gadget or phone or trend is set to be released at some absurd price when you already have a perfectly good phone.

Time to stop the dick-sizing contest.

And maybe try to love your neighbor while you're at it.

I see people every day and for every kind, empathetic, polite, and truly humanitarian person I meet I see 99 selfish criminal ego driven madmen content on projecting their self-inflicted unhappiness onto perfect strangers when they're not busy working for some criminal corporation that's literally fucking your grandchildren to come in the ass for every quota they make, for every dollar they come by through questionable or downright illegal means, and destroying an entire ecosystem and resource rich environment that if used intelligently, could go on providing us spoiled simians with the 'comfort' we've been spoiled by since birth.

Remember, he who dies with the most toys....

IS FUCKING DEAD. And probably led a deplorably unhappy existence and managing in the process to ruin as many lives stepping in the way of his next dollar bill as is necessary, even though he's already got enough possessions and assets to feed, clothe, educate, and construct enough renewable energy sources to ensure our further generations a pleasant, peaceful, and intelligent life when the bell that should have tolled for your sour wooden frame starts tolling for them. The survivors of your sick addiction to acquisition, ingnorance, greed, and depravity.

I'm moving to India. Have fun you good honest generous 'Americans.' Try not to bomb, imprison, rape, or drive to suicide TOO many minorities and underclassed people while I'm gone. Wild idea, huh?

Or keep proliferation of deadly radition instruments alongside giving larger and more generous subsidies to the many PRIVATELY owned prison Industrial Cartels so we could put more consensual criminals in jail at the expense of the taxpayer. 40,000 dollars a year for those unaware. You give the man 5,0000 worth of education and he'll put that amount back into the circulation of the communities money reliance and save them the same. Or just let him smoke flowers. Crazy idea right? Let him smoke his flowers that feminize his testosterone laden violent streaks and keeps to his godamn self. Maybe he'll even get a little relief from the broken pelvis the SWAT team gave him while breaking into his house at 3 in the morning with no warning, blowing his dogs head off with an m-16 while the thing was still sleeping, handcuffing his 90 year old mother to a radiator, and traumatizing his sleeping children, 8 and 10 years old with 12 guns pointed at them and tear gas fresh in their nostrils and burning their retinas.

Must have been worth it for that tiny personal amount of cannabis he kept carefully hidden in a safe out of the reach of the children he used for his arthritis and chronic anxiety he developed from years on his knees struggling to feed his children and make his next rent payment.

I write fiction primarily, and I'd love for this to be a wonderful fantasy I cooked up. Nope, just a few observations my crank-fueld fingers started pounding into print once I got going. No cohesioin, just Joyce style stream of a consciousness mulling over a few observed incongruities in his head.

Only god could make this shit up.

So god is my favorite playwrite and author of all time.

It's all a game and if I could come up with a reality this weird that wasn't real? I'd retire right now. "That's it, I'm going to the beach" I'd mutter in delight as I typed the last word and burned the manuscript." Everythings breaking down, don't fight it. It's natural.

It's what happens. It's called transience and its not taught in school. So kick your feet up, open your windows wide and breathe in whatever clean air there is to be had in your state, and enjoy the show.
 
Last edited:
Yesterday's Starfish

I am floating on hydrogen bubbles, across endless gaseous waves.
My canoe is long gone. Melted, two days and seventeen hours ago.
I can't breathe. No. I refuse to breathe, this poisonous atmosphere.
Asbestos moon rocks everywhere. I hold my breath until I suffocate.

Gravity finally deserted us, after years spent upside-down.
The formal complaints I posted, lost somewhere in space.
The Sea of Tranquility less tranquil than memories dictate.
Constellations play deaf. My starfish still refuse to comply.

Pisces can only be seen reflected in the water.
My naked stars. Broken. Forever shuddering.
Like thin glass descending upon a black hole.
They swim like epileptics stuck in quicksand.

I wonder if they remember sunsets.
Or their brilliant electric-blue gills.
Before shades of grey stole colour.
I dream of pre-monochrome days.

Of yesterday's starfish.
Orange, purple, green.
Psychedelic lanterns.
Illuminating the sky.

Before fishbowl men.
And ownership claims.
Pre-flag. Pre-golf ball.
When we were free.

My visions predate the amphibious.
When tranquility was still bone-dry.
And we cut starlight into rainbows.
I dream of a time before nightmares.

I wake up, floating nowhere. A prisoner. Alone.
Pisces is the only companion I have. Grey fish,
Inhaling hydrogen mixed with liquified canoes.
I will suffocate, one day. And they will drown.

Maybe they have already. The dead don't float on the moon.
There is no oxygen left here. Only poison, fear and asbestos.
I demand a shiny new answer for an old unspoken question.
I hold my breath, hoping for a sudden change of atmosphere.

The calendar disintegrates into a series of joyless days and miserable nights.
I float on hydrogen bubbles, gazing at my reflection. These dying starfish.
My companions, shuddering like thin glass descending upon a black hole.
I refuse to breathe. I hold my breath until Pisces is dead. Until I suffocate.
 
Todd Solondz is either a genius or a pervert
his films are too confronting for cinema audiences
shock value is more than just shock

Edgar Allan Poe was a no show at his funeral
the black cat and the raven couldn't save him
from ghostlessness

Elvis Costello is well known because of his name
there's no such thing as co-incidence
(accidents don't happen)

Stephen King only wins when he plays blackjack
poker face novelists are a rare breed

Martin Scorcese is over-rated
if someone refers to the continuous shot in Goodfellas again
I'm going to stab them in the anus with a butterfly knife

I don't know who Bruce Valanche is
but I still laugh when people confuse
Eric Cartman for him

Bart Simpson is as dead as the three stooges

Vincent Van Gogh is only beautiful
because everyone else is ugly

John Lennon's death resulted in millions of tears
9/11 is the greatest tragedy we've ever endured

we over-value caucasians
we over-value celebrities
we over-value caucasian celebrities

gods of rock and roll
stars of the silver screen
crash test scholars pinned to our walls

They don't care about us
 
Melbourne Bitter.

Jessie speaks a thousand words a minute. "Fuckers in Greek tragedies and shit, they don't know pain. They don't know fucking anything. All this opera shit. People who write fucking operas, they're born with a silver spoon up their ass. And they like it. Rectal cutlery. Sick fucks," he stops for a second, to breathe. "You know what I'm talking about. What did you call them the other day?"
"Academics?"
"Yeah," he exhales meth smoke through his teeth. "You're a smart cunt, you know that?"
"No, I'm not. And, I didn't mean composers. Mozart isn't exactly what I'd call an academic."
"Mozart?" Jessie says. "Mozart didn't write operas."
I am surrounded, on all sides, by idiots.
I drink my Melbourne Bitter.
 
ForEverAfter said:
Todd Solondz is either a genius or a pervert
his films are too confronting for cinema audiences
shock value is more than just shock

Edgar Allan Poe was a no show at his funeral
the black cat and the raven couldn't save him
from ghostlessness

Elvis Costello is well known because of his name
there's no such thing as co-incidence
(accidents don't happen)

Stephen King only wins when he plays blackjack
poker face novelists are a rare breed

Martin Scorcese is over-rated
if someone refers to the continuous shot in Goodfellas again
I'm going to stab them in the anus with a butterfly knife

I don't know who Bruce Valanche is
but I still laugh when people confuse
Eric Cartman for him

Bart Simpson is as dead as the three stooges

Vincent Van Gogh is only beautiful
because everyone else is ugly

John Lennon's death resulted in millions of tears
9/11 is the greatest tragedy we've ever endured

we over-value caucasians
we over-value celebrities
we over-value caucasian celebrities

gods of rock and roll
stars of the silver screen
crash test scholars pinned to our walls

They don't care about us
Click to expand...


Love this one
 
ForEverAfter said:
Todd Solondz is either a genius or a pervert
his films are too confronting for cinema audiences
shock value is more than just shock

Edgar Allan Poe was a no show at his funeral
the black cat and the raven couldn't save him
from ghostlessness

Elvis Costello is well known because of his name
there's no such thing as co-incidence
(accidents don't happen)

Stephen King only wins when he plays blackjack
poker face novelists are a rare breed

Martin Scorcese is over-rated
if someone refers to the continuous shot in Goodfellas again
I'm going to stab them in the anus with a butterfly knife

I don't know who Bruce Valanche is
but I still laugh when people confuse
Eric Cartman for him

Bart Simpson is as dead as the three stooges

Vincent Van Gogh is only beautiful
because everyone else is ugly

John Lennon's death resulted in millions of tears
9/11 is the greatest tragedy we've ever endured

we over-value caucasians
we over-value celebrities
we over-value caucasian celebrities

gods of rock and roll
stars of the silver screen
crash test scholars pinned to our walls

They don't care about us
Click to expand...

Love it love it love it.

Be kinder to Edgar Alan though or next time I'll drug your ass on election day and leave you in the east river after you vote How I like's It.
 
I once saw a man with a shopping cart silhouette packing pop cans into grocery bags in the parking lot of a Burger King

Weaving through row after row of suburban hypocrisy

Counting his blessings with each can of Coke or Pepsi he finds carelessly thrown to the curb (his front porch) like a package, lacking a return address, delivered specifically for him

As he bent as low as he could for each separate piece of aluminum, and his heart beat steady echoes behind his sternum, I could his see teeth (or where they should have been) warp into a cracked and spoiled grin that leaked out the last few fading fumes of gin while his fingers, coated with ash and decay, forwarded another payment into his 401k
 
the music was playing in his home as he took a swig from a cheap bottle of white wine enraged with his lover

she sat by lamp light in a silk nightgown, reading a book upright in bed with the television flickering in the background

“why do you feel this way?”

“i cannot change my reaction. i don’t want to feel unimportant to you and right now i do.”

“you are the only woman i have ever truly loved; how could that possibly make you feel unimportant?”

‘i am selfish. i am sorry. i wanted you all to myself today. i needed to feel your love”

“you have me now and forever; is that not enough?”

“it should be; youre right. and im sorry that i feel this way.”

he storms from room to room unable to control his anger. why is she incapable of seeing how much i love her? are my words not enough? are the things i do; not enough?

she places her book down and stares at the wall, her head spinning with frustration at his inability to understand her state of emotion.

he reaches for the foil strip of pills placed precariously on his desk in preparation for consumption, determined to dull his anger and take revenge.

she rolls over, pulls the blankets over her shoulder and weeps.

he dances with the devil, as warm and gentle waves rush over his body.

she sheds a tear; wondering why communication is simply not enough to ease both of their pain.

he stumbles toward the empty bed and falls into a warm and belligerent coma.

she closes her reddened eyes; rolls over; and sleeps.

there is no pain in sleep. only peace.

unified they rest.

no more dancing with the devil. no more harsh accusations and damning words.

they open their eyes; theyre hearts are breaking.

“how can i tell them; that while i love them nothing else matters?”

silence.

like a dagger through the heart, like acid burning away at ones soul, a nagging pain; like never before.

silence.

the ability to process your feelings and determine the importance of issues above matters of the heart.

eventually the silence is broken.

she turns to him;

“i miss you”

“i miss you too”

that is simply enough.
Click to expand...

...kytnism...:|
 
Last edited:
don't forget the guilt you had
or you will write fiction in your head to justify it
don't hate that person for fucking you over
for he fucked himself over without knowing

when you start this walk to fame
what lengths will you go, when eyes are set for winning
amongst our own?

how many cycles will he run around
picking up stones, squeezing for blood
only to die with a dry throat
and a heavy head, to march to death without accepting
 
Last edited:
the music was playing in his home as he took a swig from a cheap bottle of white wine enraged with his lover

she sat by lamp light in a silk nightgown, reading a book upright in bed with the television flickering in the background

“why do you feel this way?”

“i cannot change my reaction. i don’t want to feel unimpor....
Click to expand...
kytnism said:
...kytnism...:|
Click to expand...

THAT is truly amazing!

A. <3
 
You're always asking me, “What's this like?”
“What's that lilke? What about this mixed with that?”
I feel like I'm spreading a disease
When I tell you how beautiful meth is.

…

We share a bed and it's just like old times, because I rehearsed it.
I'm my old self, the one you loved, a mask – safe, detached.
Time floods into the matress from both sides. Sweat and lust.
We tell ourselves, “No.” so we don't feel guilty later.

We fuck.
The wife;
the husband:
absent.

You say something like, “Thanks.”
and you mean it. In the sense that I've
made you cum. “Let's not do this again,” you say.
I establish a safe distance before I smile.

...

we rarely sift
we consume
we suck in refuse
moderation be damned

eyelets in the storm
the snake-charmer's
loose baskets love
karmic mutiny

we don't question
we consume
we absorb story
moderation be damned

lethal stamps
declaring living things unworthy
rendering consciousness into a soft powder
regurgitating time

sometimes, we wonder
why we consume
and what is on our plates
moderation be damned

the larval institutions
our erected cortex
failing to gather sufficient support
exiled

we rarely sift
we consume
we suck in refuse
moderation be damned

…

no job, no soul, no girlfriend, no family, no prospects, no talent, no wife, no pets, no house, no assets, no money, no love, no hate, no pain, no gentle indifference, no resignation, no defiance, no abstract concepts, no linguistic terminology, no words.

…

I been sitting like this
Since time done begun
Twisted like a corkscrew
Callused between the fingers

Ain't nothing going on

Dick gone turned inside out
Fallacies up in my head
Been slamming dirty junk
Up into my lonely heart

Got the bloody needle blues

I ain't been thinking no thoughts
Since the womb

Death is an illusion
I dance on my mortality

Ain't nothing going on
But the bloody needle blues

…

I become attuned to leaning like this
pivoting weight onto my right foot
my left knee bent, shoulders arched
my gentials squashed between my thighs

I am afraid
over time, I become more afraid

…

Hell is prostitution of the soul.

…

I am born.

All I know is pain.

Under the Rainbow

Somewhere under the rainbow, way down low
Somewhere under the rainbow, bluebirds die
nightmares that you dream of, really do come true

In trouble, like blistered dogs
that's where you'll find me
somewhere under the rainbow

Bluebirds die
in my dreams
that you dare to
question me, why
bluebirds
die, I...

I see trees of green and red roses too
I watch them bloom for me and you
And I think to myself,
“What a wonderful world.”

I see skies of blood
I see cotton clouds of white
The brightness of day,
I sell it for the brightness of the dark.

The colours of the rainbow,
so pretty in the sky,
I think to myself,
“What a wonderful world.”

The paranoid faces of strangers, passing by
Friends shaking hands, rattling their junk,
saying “How d'you do?” “Love to fuck you.”
They're really saying, “I... I love you.”

I hear babies cry and I watch them grow
They'll learn much more than they'll ever know
I think to myself, “What a wonderful world.”

Those nightmares that you dare to
dream. Why oh why can't I?
high, or...

Ravens

As I sit here, gently puffing
absently fearing ravens,
my Lenore lying, gravely,
stuffed into a coffin:

I consider when I loved,
and what it meant.
My Lenore, untainted;
I think of her often.

More than often, depraved
I sit here. I think stuff her.
Fuck her.

The memory of sweet,
sweet Lenore.

Her last heart beat,
shw whispers, “more.”

“Never more,” I say.
“Never more.”

A Nightmare Within a Dream

Life is a grain of sand,
as much as it is a thousand.

Beauty,
is ugly's cousin.

Love,
is fueled by hate.

There ain't nothing
but chaos.

Life is just a nightmare,
within a dream.

Doth We Protest Enough?

To IV or not to IV, that is the question
whether tis nobler in the mind's eye
to suffer the stinging vengeance
of constant neglect,
or take arms against
much-delayed reason.

Fearing, the end.

To die:
to nod,
no more.

And by a nod
to say we fuck.

The heartache
of the thousand cocks
your flesh is heir to.

For, in that cunt of death
what hallucinations do lie?

Euphoric girls, eating love
a silent tear for ever shove.

We relieve you from
this mortal coil.

Injection site A
or injection site B?

That is the question.

Grace and Shit

my blazing
face

your black lace leggings

sweeten the
sound of my

l-s-d

i once
was found

now
i'm lost

was blind
but now i see.

Day/Light Savings, Night/Dark Too

The clock does not measure time, it is merely an estimate.
The wristwatch and the second are unrelated, working indepedently of each other.
Time behaving, according to mood. When we slow down, it doesn't know
where we are.
Threatened, it projects fear. It says “Tick. Tock,” and we march.
Now, I'm no killer, but I like the shine of a cog. Gold, they used to make it out of.
I tell ya, old clocks: they've had their day. With a million memories, at a memory a dime.
My calendar's vacant, and you're desperate for my discounted time.

...

(And now "The New Testament", or...)

"The Pimping Life of J.C. Holyman"​

Part 1

Mary has a baby. Her husband Joseph has never touched her. Not once. They're married, but she's a virgin. So she sleeps around. Can't blame a woman for that.

Still, Joseph exercises his right to name the baby Jesus, which translates to Whorespawn.

(Note: It has been speculated that the meaning of Jesus might have contributed towards his limited popularity at the time. Jesus, Whorespawn, was not a popular name.)

Parts 2-7

J.C. moves to India and takes a lot of drugs.

Part 8

Permanently affected by his psychedelic expreiences, J.C. makes some really obvious observations sound profound. Like, “Love each other.” And, “Don't kill people.” He doesn't tell them about the blue beetle he saw sitting on a leaf one day, and how much it meant to him.

Instead, he starts to tapdance.

Judas says, “Aren't we supposed to do the Charlston?”

“Fuck that shit,” J.C. replies. “Fucking Jews can't tell me what to do.”

“Be careful, Jesus. You might get stoned to death.”

Still tapdancing, J.C. says, “Is zat a chalenge?” in a German accent.

Part 9

The Nazi Empire arrests J.C., after planting a roach in the ashtray of his Buick convertible.

“Be careful, if you're going to hit that," he said, to the arresting officer. "It's, like, crazy good.”

“Vat do you zink zis is?”

“I don't know, what?”

“Vat?”

“What is this?”

“Zis is a rhetorikal qvestion!”

“Wow, maybe you should have a puff. You're all stressed out. Go on, fire that thing up.”

“Silentz! You hav bheen sentenced to deaf for posseshon o' mari-vana.”

“Wow. Fuck. That's a bit harsh, even for Nazis, isn't it?”

“Vell, betvheen us, I don't belheeve so mutch in zis partikular order. I oondershtand vhy ve kill ze Jews. Und ze gypsies. Und ze cripples. Und ze faggots. But mari-vana? I don't know.”

“You're a stoner, aren't you? I can tell.”

“I partake on okashon.”

Part 10

“Ve nheed a leetel more distence betvheen ze hends nekst time, yes? Ve're trying to torture zem. Ve are not a bed and brakefast. Zere's an art to making a cross,” the crucifix specialist said, clicking together the heels of his black leather boots.

Part 11

“Kill me,” J.C. said.

“I vas already going to,” he replied. “Hence, ze cross.”

“Kill me,” J.C. said. “And let no more blood spill.”

They killed him. Four people attended his funeral.

More blood spilled.

Lots of it.

(Yeah, so that's pretty much the New Testament. If you read what I wrote, then you've read the Bible and saved yourself like 1200 pages. My version is a little more accurate than the Bible, if anything. So don't concern yourself about facts. I am Jewish. Actually, I'm not. I'm God.

...

My imported beer resting in a pile of ashes
The classiest, most expensive, thing in the room
It rises out of the ashes to my lips a couple of times
I extinguish joint against brown glass, disinterested
 
Last edited:
the United States is not the centre of the universe

Canada is south of the border if you're standing upside down
and your compass is sideways, or if you live in Alaska

those who live in the snow with the bears struggle to survive
Alaskans think they're extreme like the weather despite central heating

Alaska is not the centre of the universe

Canadians do not have egos because they might as well not exist
nobody cares about Canada, including the people who live there

Mexico is south of the border since everything is south of everything
the world being a sphere, and the universe a hyper-sphere

the finite universe is not the centre of the infinite universe

parallel dimensions lie south of the border between the perpendicular
and the adjacent? don't get me started on the adjacent

pan-dimensional cephalopods strut around negative space like gods
as if immortality implies divinity, and nothing is relative

the United States is not the centre of the universe

France is responsible for democracy and the Statue of Liberty
baseball wouldn't exist without cricket

the Spanish were the original red white and blue
and people were free, before they were people

neither France, England or Spain are the centre of the universe

the middle of everything might as well be anywhere
the universe doesn't have a centre, nor does it have it many

north is south and the apex is the plateau
infinitely large and infinitely small, we are one
 
The crunch of dead and
blood stained leaves,
under my boots,
You're like a genie,
granting me chances
that I do not deserve,
Your spirit yearns to
escape the pressure
cooker, a prison like
appliance,
You should've given up
the fight for me, many
years ago,
To tolerate a
destitute with a smile
tickling your lips,
I still remain
awestruck by just how
much you care,
So, you say that it
can never be as loud
as it once was.
 
Ash (remix) said:
You're like a genie,
granting me chances
that I do not deserve...

I remain awestruck
by just how much
you care...

So,
you say
it can never be...

...as loud
as it once
was...
Click to expand...

Fuck yeah.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Top