Long Ov Poems

Cnt think ov anythng other than u
cnt stop smiln whn yo name z talkd ov
uve managed to get thru me ,all wories turnd of
u hve cleand dat melancholy on ma mind
mde m show u, parts...

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or

The Stages Set for Grief

"What you sow, I reap --
after I fu*k it over."
-- a grossly obese Grim Reaper
yet of an appetite
greedy

*   *   *

Close listen to the tick-tock of thy biologic...

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My Heart,
My mind,
You thought you could take it,
My life,
My time,
Yeah, you thought you could twist it,
-And now it's ov-er,
No more Mrs. Nice guy
Time to say goodbye,
Holding onto empty promises,
You don't even cross my mind,
Go ahead...

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Mi camma to America wid a passion for moni en fud,
hoppin to getta rich;
en de sai det gold is founda in striz!
Mi work en work ol dei
to meke sam dollar,
en mi eat pizza, en drink...

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We use to know
Howt o put thinggs down.
People gowin roundd,
Their lives tied behindt em by a spyne of brown strings.

You know we use to know howter kill cows
Wid the back af wharrever, hacking instrument hong...

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One Drop
 
The rain is pouring outside. 
Flash flood warnings are everywhere. 
We try to fill bags of sand, 
and keep the water from winning. 

The storms of our lives are frequent…
at least for some...

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Here comes the bull:
     strong, vibrant, towering,,,
     Decided, looks prepares
     the attack...
     Quickly, shoots,
     Anxious...
...

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What a Hill ov Lies eventually does is avalanche crumble
& depending upon the quality, the voracity,& the audacity
Starts to backwards step, then to seep
The only problem is is that it stains
& has a way of...

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Charley Dinton said
that everyone has a secret name.
A bad person’s name
might be long and segmented
like chopped jellied eels,
or spat out in gobs like phlegm.


He was old when I was young.
I paid him little heed,

yet it...

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Stuck.
Over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and over and ov
 Stop that.
Bad habits, that’s all they are. 
Stuck.
Repeating and replaying...

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Hewwo and Mewwy Cwistmas dearwest Bugsy!
Season's gweetings to you Daffy D!
So gwad you fwew out this way
Bwess my bones, if it ain't Wosemite Sam!
(Pweeze weave your shotgun in the guest womb)
Good gwacious, it's my owed...

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Desert Head
The tales they told of ole sailor Fred,
Had skin-grafts a grafted on top of his head,
To keep out the baldness, a triangular patch,
Touch of a p smell coming, perhaps,
 with the new hairy faerie...

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