the drugs do the feels
and the thoughts, as indifferent
domesticated house folks

dwell on in their tasks
clean, organize, etc, etc, etc...
domesticated

castrated

sounds like super fun
the smells alone attract
release of the mind

At Drumfest last night
People dance limbs akimbo
No style or control
*
Just self-expression
As the Senegal drummers
Made our hearts beat fast
*
Animalistic
Reacting not self conscious
Good to see freedom
*
Frightening to some
What could they do with training?
Watch out Fred Astaire

comes a time for change
when wind the blows and time laughs
at you or with you??

my weakness is that
I do not appreciate
what i do have, shame

dear mox you have much
friends happiness and great love
i don't understand

truth is if I keep
posting here the only one
I'm hurting is me

when i first came here
I had ideas, goals, then the
popularity contest

when that kicks in, folks
can see that as they may, by
getting away from

those voices who are
used to a person being
a certain way, drugs

I am responding
to people illogically (ok 8 syllables)
in a desperate

attempt, it shows from
people who could care less if
i were plowing snow

for a full time job
next week, drinking coffee and
going to church, here, I'd

still be "same old mox"
with the same this and that
change comes real hard for

all...

it is annoying
isn't it, these trite self poke
analysis, endless

these threating mad
lashings out, these, annoyed words
I wonder what will

be said though, in a
look back, when time seems to put
this thing to a death

for me, and not here
important, just, meaningless
your words, you people

I feel when writing
a fight or flight feeling like
that of a man held

at gunpoint, who needs to
defend his life, rather than
critical thinking

this is odd becase
"creative writing" is so
often a battle

of egos best left
alone, so that person can
grow without their words

the thing about these
bboards and so on is they
only show a slice of

the person in check
I don't think I'll ever change
in that I take this

personally, so if
i write the question is will
I learn not to care?

Paranoid friend says:
"trans-Afghanistan pipeline"
like it's a _bad thing

some things never chang
other things always mature
then consider mox

An F-22
costs four hundred million bucks
That's too much money

They get oil from
those " I " countries, with soldiers
from all those " I " states

Her grace disrupts me
Unbroken dishes - laughter
all these tearless years

We discuss again
buying things only the poor
can afford to buy

I slept in the snow
disturbed dreams of the absurd
of some dignity

now that I've got you
exactly where I want you
I'm going to eat you

like right now he sings
I fart you..fart fart.. you fart
ahhhh..ahh.bark .gun shot

some boys are weird
making weird noises, restless
he always says "fart"

I wonder a bit
can I overdose on Halls
I'm killing this bag

you have all the fun
and you still complain and cry
+don't see it do you

nick is a big tool
seven syllables? pass

angels host do or die
fresh baked apple angel cake
with devil's frosting

i will wave a wand
bippety boppety BOO !!!!!!
happy spell on you

Note to everyone
On teh internets only I
know who you are

The Axemakers Gift
Not a bad little volume
To appreciate

live love dream and give
cover your ass, take what's yours
but not out of hand

the thing I need to
be for those I love, is to
be strong for them as

well as just myself
I am not the only thing
at risk in a war

against someone
with fallen ambitions to
be once as the God

leaves pack of red man
for all the folks here, so chew
spit, splat, I yi yi

well, I assumed and
made an ass of my self here
personal stanza

gazundheit, what comes
over in a fit of fury
mouth look like foot

You are mistaken
Not all words belongs to you
They are another

for those who court death
one eight hundred "suicide"
precedes badhaiku

the format haiku
is not serial stanzas
or epic free verse

Mox' verbosity
A rampant monstrosity
Most execrable

A sticky bead rolls
velvet thought set in motion
down the black fabric

A happy, pregnant
oppossum, all soft and fat
a gift worth giving

With helmet strapped tight
the slobbery chewbacca
eats chips made of lead

I'll worry about it
when I have to
I don't have time anymore

didn't this happen when
I took things so seriously
here and just went nuts

i don't want to be
him anymore, I want that me dead
spiritually, dead

here lies the old me
dust to dust, void to void
waiting for godot

I am tempted
to become your
"severe problem"

seriously

a friend who really
knew me though, tried to
explain my humanity

to you as people
I am a person, with feelings
a life outside of this

I've lost a lot
to the passing of time
family, friends, memories

I don't think I can
handle the gradual change
or that people care

they just are my enemies here
you people are my enemies

why do I answer
people who want to see me
fail so they can
feel

"closure"
why bother with you
it hurts to

I have been prepared
to deal with "severe problems"
my entire life

this is but business
as usual for me
if I meet you will

you're right, I need my
ass kicked, my life needs
to end, my house destroyed

all I love taken away
renamed Job
and so I can curse God

or have pe

I may become a
severe problem if I have to
just to show how
wounded my pride is
I didn't want to come
back here, I don't
want anything to
do with people like you
I don't want anything
to do with people
people are hell
hell is other people
we are already damned
a severe problem might be
action taken in self defense
a court room to explain
the lives I snuffed out
or whatever that attacked
one faithful night to me
you people belong to the devil
say what the devil wants
and try to drag a soul
down to hell with yourselves

the superficial ruled
the americas in the 1990s
3000 of them died

in 9/11, superficial
or not, such "severe events"
are rendered meaningless

something may also
happen to others here
that, break them, shells

of their former
humanity
(I take it personally)

souls spiral to a dark
center, the chord around the neck
strangles, autoerotic

you can see the demons
on a dark globe, the reality of hell
is a promise of oblvion

but eternal bliss is
a lie, the damnation can
never be left behind

will you shut up will
my father died from a brain tumor
it killed him in 2005

he was in his bedroom
you see this man twitching
spitting, sputtering

calling an ambulance
a man who had control
of his own life and

lost it because of cells
gone mad, and you dare
tell me of a "specific problem"

life is too fucking short
for that kind of bullshit
do I need more to

"teach the little boy
a lesson so we can feel morally superior?"

you are casting
the first stone
see you in hell

with great pleasure
i admit

Well-to-do, they try
superficial and careful
to squeeze every drop

while the mind is played
strange things are happening
ignorance is bliss

you dare predict my
life for me you, little people
how dare you tell me

try to intimidate
with threats of potential
"events", the reality is

this is a bboard
with chatroom egos
and I am one of them

I suppose my body
in a match and kerosine
is a "severe problem"

for some strange reason
i can only write haikus
just on this website