I moved the statue …
Down the mountain …
I carved the stone, hewn from my soul.
I gave you 5 pieces of fragmented bliss.
You took 4 cuttings of my sacred tree.
You left me down below, buried beneath the statue.
You left a cenotaph to all those men on the skids of love.
I’m just brainstorming ways of getting into trouble tonight.
That’s why TWITTER is BAD!
I don’t fear the gypsy women … I fear my gypsy lover.
I don’t fear your gypsy magic, woman …
Your old world, new world, blood magic …
You put something in my spaghetti … in the sauce … you put a hex on me … you replaced my heart with a wasteland.
I don’t fear you.
My stone face? – hides the hole in my heart.
My stone face is the wall, the barrier, between my memories of old pirate kingdoms and the last stand of the Hippopotamus Armies of sector 5 …
And you will get me 3 pounds of cocaine.
And I will hide my nasty stone face from you.
Whale armies form up, and the wharf rats play dice and roast the bullhead over the fire.
Candy mates, trinkies, flippity flops hang out near the fire. The smoke is sticky and black and the pain overcomes the scent of creosote and old whiskey nightmares.
And I am Chingiz, dead.
She told me to take that last breath.
She said, “take my breath and my gold and my pcp …”
And she wandered back to the woods, to the cave, to the place of forbidden grace.
And she made a pyre.
And upon it she roasted her sadness, with pine nuts and sage and bitter fruits.
Imagine a race war PLUS a gender war …
Total remake of “WARRIORS!”
Bring back Coca Cola with cocaine …
I’ve never done cocaine … and I don’t want to do “shit your pants” cocaine … but I really wish a person could still buy a Coca Cola with cocaine …
I want to be the Gavril Princip of the “Battle of the Sexes”.
Women want “the truth”, except when it comes to revealing their gypsy mind control techniques.
WHAT IS THIRD WAVE FEMINISM?
It’s the thunderbird …
It is the great sky freak, sent from the Devil, to tear open our worlds and replace our pumpkin spice get together’s with whiskey knife outings and bat-borne mind illness.
And you tell me to VOTE?
And I say, here’s a knife.
Do we have to kill it, to prove it exists?
Does BIGFOOT NEED TO DIE?
Do I exist?
I’m just the chumbly-rump who melts in Little Saigon, and awaits the great jostling …
Am I here?
I just see a meat sack of sad thoughts and a horrible hair cut and a spare tire for a 4×4.
Remember the food?
The food your mom would make you …
Remember the first time she made FRESH VELVEETA?
And it was covered in black sand …
And your face was red from the sun …
And your father will be home soon.
(and someone will get yelled at)
Remember that food?
Remember “tilt” ???
Young folks don’t …
You’d try to fuck with a pinball machine, so there’s a “tilt sensor” … and if it senses “tilt” the game is shut down.
The “tilt” sensor went off a few months ago …
Wookie armies are moving in …
Crymbic weavers are mending the tapestry, ready for furry beasts and poop disasters …
And you say you want some new music on your iPhone?
You want cocaine and Cuervo?
The cigarettes are burning next to the bed stand.
(the hooker is asleep)
There are two kinds of attractive for women:
- attractive enough to be in a picture, but she’ll suffer through sex
- sexually attractive
I don’t buy the “I love him for his mind” types … because it’s bullshit.
throw away your old “boxes” …
(they don’t fit)
“Dan, when do you shop?”
“7 AM to 11 AM …”
“To avoid the gronkis-lords …”
I am 50 …
My insides have turned to trembulii-889 …
I am composed of dead pus and grankis and weird ants that live in my ears.
I hunt at night now … I am the nocturnal creature.
The ancient paste is my salve, and all the plastic lords are falling into that sink hole.
There are 8 WARLORD CLANS vying for control of #Seattle:
- Gronkis Lords
- East Side Trymbics
- Real Estate Surf Nazi Commies
- Squirrel Hoarders
- Tangata Manu
- Ginger Clan
Only one shall win …
And the die has been cast ..
And the slug-witch feeds
If the Gronkis-Lords take Beacon Hill?
Then #Seattle will be lost in the nasty swoil of oily residues.
“Everyone wants to be in a Godfather movie … no one wants to be Fredo.” – Dr. Freckles
If you’re an optimist?
- buy as much physical gold and silver as you can afford to.
- stockpile 1 year’s worth of food.
- purchase firearms, ammo, learn to use them.
- know HOW you will purify water if you have to.
for the optimist
(don’t ask about the pessimist scenario)
A lot of anarchists are really soft Keynesians …
Especially when it comes to the rationalized value of “cryptos” based on the value of “fiats” which are, on planet Earth, technically worthless MASSIVE DEBT notes …
(then there’s the billion people in Texas shit too)
He calls himself “Osrat” …
He spends time watching your door … he spends time watching your cat.
He lives behind the dumpster, not far from the heroin needle pile …
His eyes are red and green and angry.
He pulls you into his fear grasp.
His mouth is wormwood, blood.