to waste your time
Because there’s
nothing
you ought to do.
You can sit down
in front of the
TV
and nothing
would change
because
life
doesn’t expect
anything
of you
except keep living
which is hard enough
Tag: writing
It’s too bad things are like they are
Most things are bad
and the good things never stay
for long.
I guess I’ll go out and find the
next
great
thing.
I eat hot wings like a fucking predator
munching on the bones,
breaking them down
with my teeth.
It’s easy,
they cook the meat hard, you see
comes off easy.
And I realize that the phone
auto-corrects ‘fucking’ to ‘duckling’
A Hero
I remember my graduation well
We didn’t go to bar.
There was a restaurant near the ocean
in a small harbour.
Not all places took cards, back then.
So half the people couldn’t drink.
My dad took me and some schoolmates
to the nearest grocery store
and took out some cash
My dad was the hero, that night
In a nice car
The hero status wasn’t extended on me
but that didn’t matter
I relished the drive
because it meant I didn’t have to
step into the madhouse
a while longer.
When did we lose respect?
Probably at the same time
People became people
And not slaves
but then we became
slaves again.
High society is for the fancy
Yet it’s not
Art is for the people
Not for the rich
Rich people buy art
And it becomes high society
I’m so confused
Don’t get a job
Jobs are awful
You have a place to call your own
and before you know it
you have stuff
stuff that you don’t want to get rid of
You start saving
which leads to worry
worry about the future
Then,
the only thrill in life
becomes another paycheck.
If you can, stay out of it
if not,
live in poverty
That’s my advice
if you want to write good.
I’m too deep into it now
to get out
My stuff needs to be
pried off my skin with a
knife
Just need a little more excitement
Of
A new book
A new beer
A new walking path
A new store
A new buy
A new realization
A new idea
A new skill
A new girl
A new story
Otherwise
I’m going back to sleep
The flies love beer
especially when it’s mine
they swarm around the glass
tip toeing around the rim
suckling at the sugary
nectar
where my lips had touched
Then they get greedy
and drown
their corpses float below the foam
and I drink them
straight down
and I’m none the wiser
until I realise
where did the flies go?
It’s either that or they go for a much
tastier couple
or group
even though flies tend to
stay around
filth.
a place of horrors
I could do a lot of things
but not here,
this place of horrors,
where the dread looms high,
temptations at every corner,
where doubts had etched into the walls,
tears soaked into the carpet
and hope buried under a sea of shit
Getting drunk on a monday
You shouldn’t do it
Yet there are places that are open
and serves you
what does the court say?
How do I explain it
to the jury?
It isn’t my fault
those bastards
want me to fail
your honour
The big guy with the wig
tilted his head
and held me
at contempt
of court
The Horrors of Writing 