Getting Fucked Up

Who is the one.....who wants fun?
Yeah...The Indian fucker...
Always a Lucker....
As He Has the Licence of marriage Fucker.

Though The scenes are bloody,
A neudity of soul and mind....
With the Hot Porns stars,
That made His mind shine.

But On the Bed.....
As usual her old wiffy ahead,
Ohhh....The Poor man....
Just see.....dis time again.....U are fucked Up!!!!

DEATH AND TAXES - MY RANT

I have little time for poetry

Little time for thinking

All I do is calculate

What I, to Uncle Sam, will be sending


There are forms for this

Forms for that

Every piece of my home

Is strew with paper all about


I though it would be

A paperless society

But never before

Has there been so much paper on the floor


I have been hunched over my computer

Trying to assemble

The impossible

Into something even a beaurocrat could understand


Death does not come easy

I have begged for it before

I just might be able to make it

On April 15, not more.

**********************************************
Another reason to legalize the herb:
income tax season..................

Thanks Praveengola and Pibeseth :)

Chasing the dragon..

The inner beast is awoken inside of me.
The battle that's lost, I see as a tragedy.
The inner demons, brought on with a single thought,
Wrapped up in myself,  with a quickness, the drugs were bought.
Broke down in a syringe,  and slammed in my vein, on comes the rush, my life threatened again.
My inner peace is shaken, and my youth was robbed,
By the demon within, thus the cycle begins.
Bottle it up, don't speak a word,
You don't want to talk, nevermind what you heard.
"To get your feelings out", or so they said, "is blowing hot air!!"
Nobody's listening, 'cause nobody cares!!
I heard as a youth,
I was twisted askew.
So back to these demons, the ones I can't handle.
I deal in my own way, as my mind is a scramble.
Hold my hand, embrace my soul as the rush comes.
My body trembles, my mind is a flutter, my soul pays the price as the process is done.
The high runs its course,
Duly noted in blood.
If I'd only learned to cope, as a child should.
There would be no dragon, no white pony to ride.
No pain and agony,
No demons inside.
But for now, there's devils to quell.
Forgive my temporary lapses, as I over come this spell.
Head's getting dizzy,
That was a big shot.
"Better than normal" he said.
Shit,, I forgot.
I feel my soul lifting,
From it's normal place,
My heart is slowing,  from it's steady pace,
And the color is draining from my face,
And my thoughts are calming from the normal rat race,
As my soul departs,
From this earthly tomb,
The first time, in a lifetime, that which I seak,
a lifetime of torment, turns to a deathtime of peace.
So what's the price that's paid, for innocence lost?
Why only my life, the ultimate cost.
Shit, I died.

Nice going IB

I can’t remember what I did
But there’s a bag of burritos in my kids crib
And why is my remote control
In the fridge
And who the hell is this girl
I just woke up in bed with
She said her name is Ronald
And we met last night
On craigslist
Can’t remember if she’s a girl
But she claims last night was transcendent
I’m starting to think
Mixing vodka with vicodin
Is highly not recommended;
Now why is there a fat guy
Sleeping on my couch
With an open mouth
And a half eaten corndog hanging out
Alright it’s time for everyone
To get their shit and get out
If I have to shout it again
Yall will find out
What the bat in my hands all about
I’m just going to get my keys
To the car and leave
And just ignore
The Christmas ornaments
And cheese smeared on the tree

Daytripper

Springtime in NYC.
Grains of pollen
Looking for love in my lungs.
Pigeons humping pigeons
On charcoal sills
Overlooking the half naked
Walkers shedding their modesty
And the half baked stalkers
Shedding their decency
On the criss crossing
Kaleidoscope of streets
In Greenwich Village.

I'm badass and jonesing
For some skyscraper altitude
To go with my big city attitude.
A nickel bag of Washington Square's finest
Might do the trick so I peruse the park
For the tallest rasta wrap I can find.
Ganja gangstas got nothing on me
With my high waters at my knees
So homey hooks me up by the arch.

By the time I dig out
All the twigs and seeds
I got enough for one
Hit but what a hit.
Motherfucking line drive.
A strike of lightning
Zigzagging through my arteries
Burning off cholesterol,
Triglycerides and any other leeches
Unlucky enough to stand between
Me and Nirvana.
A Nirvana so hopeful
Kurt Cobain would still be strumming
A guitar on Bleecker Street.
Fuck Seattle.

Rhythms pounding like tribal drums
In my chest and the blood flow
Demands nothing less
Than a fuck to end all fucks.
An ejaculation to purge
Every drop of sadness ever
Settled within my soul till,
“Here she comes just a walking down the street
Singing do wah ditty, ditty dum ditty do.”

Skin tight black leather pants,
Stiletto boots, a real femme fatale
In a torn t-shirt with some quote from Gore Vidal
Reading “I'm a born-again atheist.”
Now there's a booty I can believe in.

Our eyes make like magnets.
Within seconds she wraps a studded collar
Around my neck and yanks my chain
East of Eden to the bowels of Alphabet City.
Steam rising from manholes in every corner
Like a Scorcese picture and I'm Deniro for a day.

She drags me down to the subway
Crawling through a portal
Just before the turnstiles
Into a labyrinth so dark
I felt like some furry ass mole
Led on a by a shrew.

She pushes open a door
To a studio barren
But for some art and a futon.
A painting on the wall,
By Pendejo of Soho,
Of a parade of Ken dolls
Dropping down a chute
Of a meat grinder,
Emerging as sausage.

A six foot tall wrought iron
Sculpture of interlocking gender
Symbols standing in a limestone
Basin filled with cherry Kool Aid.
The creepiness culminates
With bed bugs the size of buttons
Bouncing on the futon bed
Like hyper kids on inflatable castles.

She goes to the bathroom
To powder her piercing.
I don't see myself sitting no less spooning
In her leather cocoon so I steal a cigarette
To buy some time to size things up.

No lighter or matches but I spy
An acetylene torch I more or less
Remember from shop class
Or chemistry class
Or the movie Hostel.
Pretty much a marijuana induced blur
In all three cases but I figure
What the fuck and I actually get it going.
Going so good the cigarette disintegrates.
My face feels flush till the smell of rotten eggs
Reeks from my retreating hairline.

Saving face I toss the torch
Which lands in trash and the room
Goes up in flames.
I try to man up and pull my damsel
In distress from the fire
But her arms and legs are flailing
And she nails my balls with her boot.

She grabs the fire extinguisher
Screaming adjective and noun combos
So emasculating
I try to outrace the other rats
Running from the smoke.

I run and I run till I fall
Out of breath,
Lungs burning.
Squinting through watery eyes
I find myself propped up
Against the arch,
Homey shaking his head in disgust
As I begin to ache for the stability
Of a cab ride to Grand Central
And a train ride to a sleepy town
By the vapid rapids
Of the Bronx River.

SEE SPOKEN WORD VIDEO HERE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=player_embedded&v=VgN_-TCIZ3M

Operation Restore

My mind takes a drift
floats above the swirling
plumes of smoke
beneath the fumes
the thick, fragrant odor
soothing...
Mellow thoughts flow as
the worries ebb
I'm more in touch
when disengaged
more alert to life
when I'm off it's stage
I'll take a back stage nap
to improve my show
with a breath or two
and some easy notes
tuning in by letting go

Fantastic stuff , these are great enteries :)

cells dying make my fantasies.

The smell of canned goods on a campfire,with
The feel of latex and lube.
A constant pressure -just short to the remenets of an eyebrow.

drastic change of aggrivated nerve endings-

A once missing rubber,
for the package was in my thermos,
made its way out of me.
i fall in intense defeat.
but quickly gain composure,due to my tent neighbors overwhelming curosity of my outlandish behaviors the night before.
i spark a joint and sniff my last ruffie.
off thru the leaves i quest seeking answers
hoping theres less wood out here
than what was in me.....

i then awaken.
passed out from a whip-it, i had dreamt all of this.
i go for cold water on my face, chug a PBR
and walk out
and in to my friend showing off the tents he just bought.

Lucy


Buckle your belt
And brace for the ride.
Put her on your tongue
As she soaks to your mind.
Kinda tastes odd, as the paper dissolves.
Clear thoughts racing,
The trip's just begun.
The tripping sensation,
Of the third eye's elation;
A call to the nation,
Of Hoffman's creation.
The red eyed riders
You thought insane.
The professional researchers,
Of the vast
Astral plane.
A heavy dose,
To open your eyes
Breaks you free from a lifetime's deception and soul's misdirection,
Deep seeded inception,
And ignorant lies.
"Lucy"
The beauty of a reality, broken from the norm...
"In"
Third eye blown open, a soul in reform..
"The"
Intelligence anew, mind opened wide...
"Sky"
No bars of ignorance, no "locked inside"
"With"
Free mind, truly free...
"Diamonds"
Free of restraint (eyes open) I now see...
The doors of perception,
Perfectly clensed.
See things as truth,
The soul makes amends.
The hippies had it right,
When it came to lsd.
Awaken the mind
Let go of time
To break loose that ego
And open up to dreams,
And realize that things,
Aren't always as they may seem.
The trip to your core,
Your truest innermost self,
Unfortunately by most,
Is left on a shelf.
The shelf of sanity,
Stacked neatly with stuff,
Makes you kick, and scream
With anger "ENOUGH!!!"
The cleansing received,
From having a good trip.
The slip of sanity,
And the regrip,
of insanity
And feel of raw emotion,
And still minds commotion...
No more... slow.... motion........


Intricate B

The Acid Meth Club Night With Floyd ! extreme content !
Psychotropic fluxuations filming a hazy picture for a hazier syndication
An 8ball pocketed
Masticating her eye ball sockets
Masturbating into shopping dockets
Sweating profusely, betting on a children’s game of foosball
Screaming until they can’t stand it, beaming at the ushering parents

I tried to sit in the club but the music was shit, like dumb dumb dumb
So very dumb, how can they condom this?
So I slip on my headphones and play comfortably numb
I lie down in the middle of the dance floor
And smoke the last of my meth with some chance whore
I feel need to write, I’m having an aesthetical attack so I ask everyone for a pen
They ask me “What the fuck is that?” the whore helps me to my feet again  
She tells me “Relax”
“I need some information first. Just the basic facts”
I confirm my dreaded inclination; the whore before wore no copper’s cap

Thanks everyone , there's some great entries here so picking a winner was hard . Well done Tony Pena ,Rellik and Strider , great work guys