pillow blanket snow
throwing those perfect made balls
sunny day with chills

I wish I wasn't
angry, so the words here would
be words of healing

the spirit is quite
unreasonable, yes, but this
is work in progress

yes, I am aware
of my own flaws, a deep dark
anger, resentment

not liking rejection
I suppose some embrace it
and some just give up

yes, there is a fear
of the dumb spit chew redneck
he is frusrtation

he is powerless
he is trying to survive
and gets in the way

of progressiveism
this is why there are
still nazis in the world

I find no peace of
mind here of course, it drains
to try and create

for an enemy audience

i would rather write
lighthearted things but the angry
it is like if you

show any imperfect
nature, it's shot down, where's
your own fucking modesty

this is not a field
of battle, but the blood soaked
swords of samurai

how buddhists made sense
of taking life while making
it mesh with their zen

nonsense is used in
some eras, as dada was
to expose madness

of war, but in the
cause of marxist ideals, well
how does one answer

enemies, i see you
as enemies

I don't know if it
matters
nothing I say matters if I answer you

BS do you know
how to write a haiku or
not? you are not sup

posed to keep going
accross the lines just to fin
ish writing nonsence

is this good or bad
to be complacent at last
thinking less, and less

To Florida now
for underwater bubbles
and fun. Goodbye, cold.

frustration is a
reaction, for example
when someone says a

poem is "derivative" they
are themselves, reacting
so, in reaction vs. pro-active

this does nothing...I wrote
two violent images and it solved nothing

some poets are still
going to be the kind of person
who photographs the

old lady run over by
a lunatic for the evening news
and feels nothing for her

I've had fantasies
of beating the class snob
into a bloody pulp

censors exist to
limit the competition
because hell is too

lazy to use real demons
to do their work so they
use failed art professors

and failed poets such
as some of the contributors
here..

i like chocolate pie.
don't forget the whipped cream spray
spray it on my tounge

i liketo eat stuff-
isn't that so horrible?
i wish i was dead.

Zombies on the prowl
drinking blood and chewing flesh
People taste so good

oh here we are today.
giving our stomachs turkey.
perhaps I shall barf.

Barcelona soon
Gaudi, dali and Tango
And some warm sunshine

tits splendor mein kampf
male breast reduction, seraf
holy host the most

cast not spoiled fluid
yeoman failure, lame druid
i shit myself, dash

reflexive horror
jump outside that shit, borer.
derivative shame

give me steam and we
might get tea, espresso or
just scalded by heat

well it's the day we
eat turkey and are in trad
stuffed as they once were

mind saturation
eggs on top of my pancakes
u try not to think

Flatulating girl
You have found the perfect man.
SF, she must know.

that's the best all week
i really do like those two
personality

cough cough, sputter, gag
yes winter is here, out with wine
in with the flu meds

she farts in the car
i pretend not to notice
but it turns me on

restaurant at noon
somebody sneezes nearby
snot on my sandwich

I wonder if some
folks on here as they write hit
themselves in the head

with their poetry...
bad syllable...BAD BAD!
I hate my syllable...AHHHH...cry

whiskey transfusion
wild flower feels one with world
pressed close whispering

aborted fetus
you are unloved, unwanted
a death mcnugget

That one made me laugh.
There should be more humorous
poetry on here.

I wonder what a
vogon haiku would sound like
floomph melodrumpries

Desire for all things
A woman a car a boat
A power syndrome

breath of fire's flight
stomache out, coals kiss remains
the dragon has fucked

turn down the ringing
that you have rung in my ears
shit..I'm not barkin'!!!

it refused to say
what I wanted it to mean
bad!!bad!! BAD!! haiku

last but not least love
some say this and it means crap
you first babe..you said

is it time for bed
my head aches my tummy turns
cause: sleepaway camp

mad about my flu
but i can only manage
one flaring nostril

rusty balls again
better find some lubricant
i am iron man

the sex is not quite
the end in itself but the
ends to a means, love

animal feelings
are comingled with the big brain
and out comes the crunk

committed to filth
she excretes upon my chest
i have found true love

committed to filth
she excretes upon my chest
i have found true love

having read Ash's
Sorry to lower the tone
With my "Base" last one