my two beloved
perished within these two years
art can't encompass

is there argument
great pain causes great art, then
how does that explain

50 shades of grey?
I applaud those who can read
through such a thing which

must be an act of
endurance, but to taste some
people like to eat beets

oh crap I like beets
and beats

you russians have it
in for the japs after the
1905 war huh...

then when all seems at
rest something comes out to throw
more disorder in

the whole world can just
go nuts all at once and the
system crashes down

I am not a shark.
I refuse to eat raw fish.
It is too stinky.

Here's a new idea:
Wasabi nasal spray tube.
vhs up first. ;-)

Seriously though,
I effing luuu-uuuv sushi!
I'll eat it all day!

My novel has a Jap nuclear terror twist in it... read now. ;-)

well we watch anime
read manga, practice zen, play
nintendo, and drive

subarus whilst we
eat sushi, giant robots
manga my sensei

gaijin poetry
pirated from nippon, sure
but who won the war ?

:)

and the book on my
desk is about marquis de
sade, boring really

have more fun watching anthony
bourdain going places, he's cool

Sudoku, haiku,
sushi, bizarre fetishes...
I am Japanese!

password codes causing
fetishes? and I thought girls
wearing rubber...well...

can't ya spare a few?
at least you'll be off your knees
and free of Mrs.

fetishes abound
identify the sources
and miss orgasms

resume prurience
my van is luxuriant
care to step inside?

I clamber right on
peripheral vision off
you cryptic dipshits

captcha "codes" distract
sublimating my lewdness
into something else

Effing Cut and paste doesn't work!

Lips Like Bombs

Morning hue on your face. Lips like bombs caressing mine to yours all things pass. Waiting by the tracks, you said "Meet me there".

Take me for a drive to somewhere I know not. Let the fear drain away. Breathed on by the mother you are mine alone.

Waiting by the house for what they said was mine. In the end we all die.

Lips Like Bombs

Morning hue on your face. Lips like bombs caressing mine to yours all things pass. Waiting by the tracks. You said

Lips Like Bombs

Morning hue on your face. Lips like bombs caressing mine to yours all things pass. Waiting by the tracks. You said

My haiku's are weak
Some of them are very bleak
Few are very chic

although Nimoy said
he was not spock, yet he was
in two different books

raises his eyebrow
no I'm irish german, no
pointed ears, green blood

well Leonard Cohen
is not Leonard Nimoy but
we could say jews, both

men, the poet is
Cohen, the writer, singer
logical no doubt

I am not sure where
I heard the Gesture of those
people of vulcan

was the same gesture
made by rabbis on yom kippur
for their people's sins

argue if you wish
but if the force is with you
live long and prosper

yeah vulcan turned
into a singularity
was not my style

I smelled a horse fart.
Glorious reminiscing.
Galloping through grass.

Team doesn't matter.
Though the new stuff was ruined.
By J.J Abrams

so old or new star
trek, and why does it matter
if it does at all?

grits teeth...spoiled brats need
to sink or swim, because if
spoiled brats are in charge...

2008 all over again

I'm a homework whore.
I solve equations for cash.
Spoiled brats pass math.

A woman told me
that a foot is equal to
twenty-four inches.

Earth is very small.
I would like to see the stars.
To see new planets.

Yesterday is gone
Today is nearly over
Count your blessings dear

god damn, we can't be
cynical without some dumb
fuck with a cell phone

sharing the whole thing
like there's nothing private tell
facebook to fuck off

sucide by cop
interesting concept, pain is
too much, he shoots you

Bloody, virgin girl.
Holy dicks, God, what is love?
Paedophilia.

do not miss old days
where you had to turn a knob
long live the tv remote

election is nigh
pop tarts are overrated
diabeetus knows it

corrugated hate
folds upon itself, buttressed
flatten that hazard

torrid vehicle
burning up as she propels
passengers be damned

dy by dx
anonymous in fuego
light us up, captain

cordial badinage
vhs on the trigger
ideal rejoinders

For the down and out
the green grass of Pershing park,
becomes Shangri-La.

Procrastination.
Prophylactic prolific.
Reverse entropy.

My email is:
darthfigpucker@yahoo
dot com but of course.

My pen is penis.
Fertile ink wells are sperm cells.
I impregnate you.

Very soon to be.
Fifty thousand haiku.
Who will be the one?

The Viagra spam
Would be most appropriate.
We could call it art.

I'd rather solve a
differential equation
than write a haiku.

but of course a kind
word in politics or the
art of writing is

suicide

and it's funny, you're
writing poems condemning
poems that are you know

pretty damn good poems

ha ha ha! I am
the damned, poetry is the
very music of hell

VHS, do this:
Go buy yourself a young wife.
At the Philippines.

You will not be bored.
Your penis will be happy.
Poetry be damned!