Jibber Jabber from a Jim Jam Jabberwocky

Non-sequential nonsense from a man with nothing left to lose, except his job.

I don’t want to dance at the white mans disco, I just want to freak out in the peoples garden.

that lecherous last hour before a three day weekend.

No Refunds.

I need to call my mom soon
but the television is no crystal ball.

the toaster is on
but no one has any bread.

run the blooper reel
my life is in the subtitles.

I can hear applause
in the walls of my
inner turmoil.

I need to sleep
but my coffin still ain’t hip.

this city promises so much
but it takes so much to carry on.

my mouth is open
but which trend do I speak?

I can hear applause
in the walls of my
inner turmoil.

I think I bought the wrong mask again.

No refunds
no refunds
no refunds.

Think You Got Something On Your Leg

sperm in a rocking chair
pipe smoking the sky
back and forth
drinking old day moonshine

photos scatter book
memories drift in haze
seems like yesterday
ejaculated into earth

nothing else to do
rock back and forth
waiting for dusk
waiting for dawn

just another sperm
who avoided the sock.

Another Bout Of Bad Writing By a Man Who Eats Vag Tables.

Bowel is tinkering with movement.
on facebook Gollum look-a-like children are all the rage.
the news is nothing more than the past in print.
but out dead weight carries us further out.
if someone tweets with no followers, does a recession lose balance?
rush hour traffic doesn’t know.
everyone is busy, no one is safe.
at long last a hero.
just kidding you’re reading a comic book.
look god, pig anus.
Revolution in cargo shorts!


the cubicle can’t slit its wrist.
weeds will grow no matter what.
a baby is being born
and no one can say why.

Two Minds Don’t Always Think Alike

don’t threaten me with poetry.
scar tissued composure.
a daily prayer for future ash.

I will not believe it.
I will not wrap my arms around barb-wired words.
your rhyme scheme does not scare me!

I see through your moleskin.
I see into your own bleak necessity.
your inability to voice woes beyond simple wit.

but can you blame me?
can you?
since I am in fact
your sub-conscious.

Anonymous asked: I forgot to tell you that I loved you ;)

well this was a nice way to start a Friday.

Another Idea that won’t happen

I want to remake the Tina Fey American Express “what’s your twenty” commercial and base it on famous Authors, like:

  1. Bukowski at a liquor store
  2. Vonnegut buying smokes
  3. Hemmingway buying bull fighting tickets
  4. Balzac buying pounds of coffee
  5. Lord Byron at a brothel
  6. William S. Burroughs buying junk
  7. Ken Kesey buying grass
  8. Kerouac and Cassidy buying gas
  9. Hunter S. Thompson buying bullets and whiskey
  10. ect.

capitalistic incest breeds mongoloid monopoly war/ bald eagle pride