Dirty stank ass hos
Why do they look like your mom?
Man they frighten me

You is such a ho
I ought to back kick you in
The teeth...yous a ho

perception of red
a figment of diseased minds
I'm gonna be sick

dough white 'cracker'
from red deer 'is it red dear?';
light my fart alberta

like a cat. tied to
a stick. that's driven into
frozen winter shit.

bullshit jack!! they are
chained by their genes they must
return to mama

"What The Fuck?" Cam'ra
For those "What The Fuck!!!" moments
Cah-leeck!!! WHAT THE FUCK!?!

Guess what I found out?
Your mom spends her dough on crack
You mom's a crackho

I do not know why
my lips are so goddamned dry
I need chapstick 'ere

Chupracabra: the
syllables flow smoothly, like
innards from a goat.

turkey, chicken, ham
it is very good to eat.
eat that turkey up.

worker bees can leave
even drones can fly away
the queen is their slave

potato salad
polyester leisure suit
i can roll in both

children will laugh, cry

depression is not
very nice if you're in space,
you might burst - kersplat!

Do donkeys eat crisps?
Using their hooves like man's hands?
Am I a donkey?

My trousers hurt me.
Is it because they want to?
What have I done to them?

Golden is the dawn
Warm bodies twist in damp sheets
I wake beside you

Nagging pain in hole,
My piles demand I obtain,
Preparation H.

Jokingly I laughed,
While knowing perfectly well
That my face was broken.

The tourists wonder
The streets look really empty
Epidemic Land

There is no parade
It's the Foot and Mouth Disease
I'm drunk anyway

i am going to
kick your ass so hard that you
will go flying far.

I got up and went
nowhere in particular
just drifting along

sleepy Sunday sex
sizzling bacon squeezing juice
another hot day

the weekend seems to
be a slow haiku time so
I'll submit no more

I'm such a loser
I missed the parade because
I'm such a loser

fresh out of batt'ries
but we're still making noise make-
ing noi-oi-oi-oise

dial-up to connect
with the internet is not
good. Cable's better.

Goin to the pa-
rade to hang out with all the
other drunken fools

Tis St. patty's Day
I am not drunk yet, but plan
on it later.. beer

if i had a horse
i would not be writing these.
t'is good there's no horse!

composition's hard.
but not as hard as waking
up in the morning.

addiction's cold hand
leads me to desire cocaine--
safer than haiku!

robert smith, the cure.
inspiration for better
poetry than this.

saturday morning.
we must all turn towards life
occasionally.

saturday morning
and i am not drunk. t'is sad.
tragedy, indeed.

saturday morning
i need so much damn coffee
to open my eyes

Slartibartfast
They'll always out do me
And thank God, some of
these poems are damn fun!

Intensity long distance run around
came around saw nothing
nothing is satan

This place is funny
Someone called themselves thegrue
Funny like burning

I drive a Corvair
Because it was very cheap
But I don't get laid

You smell like cabbage
That's been rotting for a week
In a perfume store

I am pait well but
My job is unrewarding
And somehow this is

My bladder pressure
So high after eight Keystones
I chip porcelain

Coworker respect
is hard to retain after
sleeping through your shift

Let the doggie out!
A penny sticks to my foot
Lucky, lucky, me.

Where the hell are ya?
Where the hell have I been too?
Too many places.

Gallbladder puffs up
Pain is exquisitly harsh
Thank you, vicodin!