rivulets of wine
strains of the gullywasher
of my yester eve

i sincerely doubt
the constipated poet
can pass forth wisdom

there's a point when one
doesn't give a shit and then
does all their best work

the esteemed haiku
shall remain unscathed henceforth
by reckless digits

i wonder whether
insincere apologies
surpass mere silence

well it's about time
someone pulled a me on here
it was pretty good

freedom to appeal
rise up and say how you feel
someone else's deal

i hear what you say
your ideas have merit
but it ain't haiku

fuck nepotism and irony and metaphor and meritocracies and borders and depreciation and the "time value" of money and principal and fear and ambition and obsolescence and Malthus and efficiency and endorphins and disdain and schedules and racketeering and threats and retribution and and and derision.

i feel like a right asshole when soapboxing; but, dammit all. fuck all of the nuanced distinctions and befriend your neighbor and let's solve some of this shit. otherwise, toss it all. the art, the love, the property. fuck's sake.

dash the division
and address poverty's house
most complaints downwind

racism endures
homophobia allures
sexism, most pure

something to be said
about pencils, they work in
space, as they are

remodeling, nope
no new space pens, just graphite
russian cosmonaut

Old yellow pencil -
Blunt, worn eraser, chewed up.
More work, less of us

topless patrons at
a topless bar, served coffee
it got burned down see

herculean id
bound no more by balderdash
topples partitions

awakened by joy
met with schlepps and internets
self chastened, i prize

acts of disvalor
becoming most inviting
forewarned is boring

distracted before
mightn't even summon more
bold pop-ups begone

ghastly occurrence
"cognizance." in my "captcha"
among the worst words

so gore vidal
has passed away and for what
guess I must read up

From a dull input
Clarity of cognisance
Polishing my thoughts
.

far too frequently
the problem with family
is that they exist

the really realest?
repugned by experience
i thwart forever

jettison the hope
i quit, therefore I might rise
aloft on disdain

a toasted morning
my sole eventide desire
mourning roving souls

I'm here to write now
the threads of fate intertwine
part of the whole quilt

what is said of pride
is it the last refuge of
those who are dead souls?

if you wish to live
gracefully, stop dying
and start living well

the show of power
always a shade of grey in
the face before snark

paronychia
glowing on my rude finger
please go and get fucked

paronychia
glowing on my rude finger
go and get fucked

words escape me but
here are the words, written, now
escaping my keys

heralding the dawn
prolific shitty haiku
drenching the welcome

the source now divorced
from the filtration system
flows unseen, shallow

insufflate darkness
my once beloved vortex
finished with that shit

condensed vitriol
sublimates on my black heart
vaporized at once

ever see the horror
film, man finds pregnant woman
then one night she's not

he has sex with her
then he's sucked into her then
she's pregnant again...

eats a man up now
don't it? add to the idea
there's male and female

signs in the stars, and
such idealism does say
a lot, to us cocks...

gather ye ova
and dash the phallus once more
audience reclines

let us face the truth
gender biased axiom
males: superior

oh come on now then
aren't we all fung shuied or
what have you man/woah

we are the breaks to
each other on the runaway
highway of life

Got to have our fix
Woman to stroke our ego
So simple us men

Give money to banks
They can't manage our Billions
Capital idea

Nothing fucks up your
Friday like realizing
its only Tuesday

my vertex 2 sleeps
as if spiked by nembutal
fuck you ocz

Lonely small town girl
Bad boy. Fast car. Alcohol.
Tragedy ensues.

a disburbing prose
designed to get tension
might not need answers...

so we leave it here
read, green, blue, and so on,
angry sounds of loss

Romantic Christmas Memories

Approximately 50,000 universes explode in my left nostril, the sparkly bursting lights reminding me of dead Christmases past with all the bright green and red pools of bloody wrapping around the memories of grandparents and dinners that are no more and never to be again. The farce-ness of it all, the dead curb-side forests after New Years

well I just made a
slight investment in cheese
tonight, films that is

tom servo and crow
are going to haunt me for
the next five months now

colleague of janis
the rapture of recaptcha
delivers the goods