Obliterate the Bastards

Kurtz wasn't kidding
when he muttered the words
through his crusty fevered lips
"the horror"
"the horror"
a graveyard of depleted souls
what will they say about our time?
our years with Mickey Mouse as president
about asexuality?
about gentrification??
hipsters
*spit*
these aren't due problems
they don't rest on you, me or i
i sit and think about all this shit
my purpose, money, sex, material things
none of this ever gets a rise out of me
what is all this?
these material bullshit things
this lack of motivation
i don't even tie my fucking shoes anymore!
we've become sloppy pigs
withering in each others bullshit
you saw all this coming didn't you?
oh.. oh.. it's cause you have a psych degree
you're a genius aren't you?
i'm not.
time
this time that continues
and eventually runs out
"live in the now" = *jerking motion*
every second equals a shot
take a deep breath
you'll be here for a long,
tired time
these things
this organization
this greenback
these undefinable,
unobtainable things
we have
time
yes
always with the time

Some of the Times

some of the times, a band spells it out:

"n Columbus they were shopping on the first day, the first official day of war. It's so easy being oblivious, and it's easy being self-absorbed inside of 80 different stores and coffee shops. The whole world's not like yours. There are many kinds of problems, not all of them are like yours or mine. But I forget that all the time.

Oh drama, are you all in my head? My problems aren't really all that bad. So distracted by the things that I don't have. How sad.

Our petty problems we add them up and we dwell on them half of the day. Our petty problem we add them up and they always get in the way. Our petty problems, so American. So caught up in our own little worlds.

Oh drama, are you all in my head? My problems aren't really all that bad. So distracted by the things that I don't have. How sad. How Sad."

Hollywood Water

we arrive, clean and tight
sit down to take a drink
of the hollywood water
taste almost like the bones of crushed writers
so then we sit
hands in laps
bored
then again we proceed to drink the bones
of crushed writers
ahh the glory of it all
and they're clicking their heels above my headrest
clink clack
oh my
before i rest it all,
it'll be here in the morning
come back!
"Come Back!"
the least of your body will severe from your thoughts
and a leak in the system
yes
Hollywood water gives me diarrhea too.

Ye Olde Crustic

we enter life through a vault
and exit on a leather bound book
we known nothing else
our time here is spent working to the core
quality of life gets pushed aside
the rat race
small crevices for us to crawl into
become red eyed, carnivorous creatures
and still wake each day
delusional and zombie like
punch the clock
and with each clicking of the clock
the death bell rings
shaving fragile minutes from us
with each parking ticket and traffic violation
the push us further and further into obliteration
asphalt will rise up, volcanic ash will litter our crops
and we'll still sit in our houses
waiting to be told what to do

Birds of Paradise

at least once a day
the flowers speak to me
as i'm walking to the car
they shout about almost everything
all at once
this constant babble and inaudible noise
that explains me as well
once a day
i mutter your name
and hardly ever frown
you are living, breathing, sweet smelling art
and perhaps i wasn't the right guy to fully appreciate
something beautiful like you
but we linger in positive space
and move quickly through the negative
alone, starring at the ceiling
i find comfort in your memory
you took a piece of my heart
as i'm sure i have a piece of yours
lets not trample each other out
lets not throw them in the disposal
but appreciate our differences for what they are

human.
we are simply human

66 Post

the tiny gigapets ate my insides
no more lung, kidney or intestine
the rid me of all evil and insecurities
now i can be like all of you
crawling on my skin
devouring millions of incentives
my jaw skin loose
my veins no longer with blood
the reversal of everything i prayed on
and the stimulus gone
gone
gone
now i walk amongst you
like a soldier of fortune
a hypocritical landscape with immobile ambitions
feeling the ceiling
caressing the nozzle
i bite down on the gunmetal
grind our teeth, "x" on bullet, smoking barrel
these things
these things ate me
my flesh burning
the smell of dreams pissing
i shoveled the dirt upon myself
and cut the strings from anything above me
like the old man before me
we are hating machines
non feeling machines
non deciding machines
fornicating machines
dead inside machines

Jonas Had Flesh Eating Disease

are you okay?
yes, i'm okay
Jonas had flesh eating disease
he had a stay overnight on my couch
slept and snored, farted and grunted
slobbered on the sheets and left early
he left when the sun came through the venetian blinds
he took a pair of my finest shoes
and one of my hats
also took my watch
i was angry, but then i remembered he wouldn't live long
and it wasn't contagious
note:
"i probably won't be back,
and more than likely you've been infected.
you've got 5 years, so make it the good ones."
i felt anguish wash over me
and sadness in my knees
i sighed, then out loud:
"goddammit, he took my best hat"