Tuesday, October 5, 2010

THIS fucking kid

The kid had lost his, Grover nose, and he was pissed. (Yes, Grover from Sesame Street.) Five years old, he didn't care about much else. He could be a wicked little bitch if he wanted to. Momma's dishes were his victim tonight. He knew what he was doing. He just needed someone else to feel the hurt that he was; might as well be Momma. He went into the kitchen quick, but steady, head cocked to the side; a deep guttural scream poured out of him that faded into, "WHERE IS MY GROVER NOSE!" He grabbed the first dish he saw out of the counter drying rack and lashed it into the tile floor. It shattered to pieces. Felt good to do that! Then it felt suddenly bad. He was socked in the stomach with instant regret. What a foolish thing to have done! But wait, he was mad, it wasn't his fault. He rolled with that mind-frame; it would be his motivation for when momma surely would come and scream at him. He realizes simply using, "I broke your plate because my Grover nose is missing" as an excuse just wouldn't cut the mustard. He had to hang on to the pain of not having his Grover nose, and use it to make momma have some sympathy for him.

It was then that he noticed he had cut his foot, and it was bleeding. He began to cry from that. NEW PLAN!

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

Modern Gadgets

I've got four different modern gadgets on my desk
They provide obstacles for my typing
It would be easy to move them
Yet easier to not
Two have touch screens
Two have buttons
In other moments they each supply convenience for a task
At this time they produce the opposite
That just goes to show:
There is a time and place for everything
You stupid modern gadgets
I don't mean that

Thursday, June 10, 2010

I just can't

Yeah yeah yeah, I know, be normal. Talk about the normal stuff. Keep my attention with the things I can relate to. Make me think about stuff I want to think about.

Please don't challenge me.

Don't challenge me!

Write it monkey. Write me what I want. What I think will do me good.

Make life comfortable.

I don't blame you.

I just can't.

I don't know you.

Saturday, May 22, 2010

"Keep that viscous poodle back!" Gary yelled to the old Manhattan lady. She held surprisingly tight to the leash as the small beast chomped and spit and cursed at him. The old lady didn't say a word. Gary was cornered in the confined entrance-way of his eight story apartment building on the upper west side of the city. He had no other choice than to kick the ever-living-shit out of the little pest, and run, full sprint, three blocks to safety.
I got my bones cracked by a chiropractor for the first time.
This is a very strange thing.
I don't mind cracking my knuckles... but my spinal column?!

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Take my wife please

She stopped at an unimportant corner of an unimportant block in her unimportant neighborhood.
She focused in on an unimportant crack near the unimportant corner.
She looked closely at the crack; closer than normal.
She thought more in depth about the crack; more in depth than normal.
She thought of how much unimportant stuff had to happen to make this unimportant crack; it was all quite amazing.
She wasn't sure why she was compelled to think more of this crack than any other unimportant crack.
She just, maybe, wanted to make something unimportant, important.
Being drunk sure can help an artist get haunted.
A wrap around balcony can really class up a place.

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Oh Heavens

Jerry pulled very hard at the tough weed. It didn't budge as his clasped hand slid across the strong base of the plant causing something akin to rope burn. He cursed a retched curse to the heavens. He was pissed. It was bad enough his electric battery powered weed eater couldn't do the job of removal. Now God was playing jokes on him. He was sure of it. He regrettably stood up and walked all the way from his front yard to the old shed in the back of his house. The shed had uneven doors, sagged from years of wear, that were just difficult to open. After a bit of struggle Jerry was inside the shed trying to hunt down a tool he felt was over kill for such a job, but nonetheless, he needed: a pair of hedge clippers.

Jerry blew on and massaged his wounded hand as he scoured the shed for the clippers. After looking on shelves and in boxes he found them where he least expected them: hanging in their place. He grabbed them and made his way back to the weed.

When Jerry got back to the weed he was astonished to find it had transformed into a fire breathing dragon, and he was then engulfed by flames and cried to the heavens as his life slowly slipped away.

Most People

There is a hole in the wall.
There is a hole in the wall where someone once penetrated a nail.
I don't know what hung here.
I don't know if something hung here.
It had to have been to hang something.
I can not think of what else it was made for.
Maybe it was not a nail?
I can not think of what else it could have been.
People don't just make holes in walls.
Most people.

Tricky neon

Neon is a color that emits light without a release of energy. I'm of course not speaking of neon gas lights, because that of course releases energy, stupid. I'm talking about the neon colors that children like for their cloths, shoe laces, and school supplies-- to name a few. The tricky kind. The kind that makes you think, "oh look at all that energy being released and causing a beautiful glow." But NOOOOO! It's all a lie! It's a crazy colorful magic trick! And I feel a bit betrayed to be quite honest. Just saying.