Saturday, August 27, 2011

Shoot Mr. Boredom in the Fucking Head

save all yr yawns
for the grave, please

the first night
in yr coffin
you'll yawn
plenty of times

& forever after...

but you're here
now, bastard

so open yr mouth
& show yr teeth
& scream like
yr spitting
yr tongue out

Monday, August 8, 2011

Sunday, August 7, 2011

Friday, August 5, 2011

disturbing thoughts #5

i wanna punch myself in the nose & put a thumb over one nostril & snort blood in the face of Poetry...

i wanna stick my finger down my throat & catch a handful of bile & smear two lines of it beneath my eyes--a soldier dedicated to being CONSCIOUS of yr ORGANS...

i wanna slice off half my face & exposing half the skull run around yelling, NACER PARA MORIR! NACER PARA MORIR!

i wanna take a yard of barbed wire & floss the warden's teeth w/it...

i wanna put a giant blank canvass on the sidewalk beneath a ten-story building & jump off the roof creating HEMORRHAGE ART...

i wanna fill the insides of police crusiers w/lady bugs...

i wanna go to christ's supposed tomb & spray paint DO NOT RESUSCITATE! on the big rock...

i wanna swap the contents of the morgues w/the contents of the maternity wards...

i wanna cut my hands off & burn them & snort the ashes never writing another fucking word again...
This blog is updated irregularly and has nothing to do with the poet's output. The poet is actually disturbingly prolific. He writes about 5 poems per day. The pages are everywhere, even stacked in the bathtub.