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Showing posts from October, 2012

This Sure Beats the Hell Out of Algebra, Doesn't It? (poem)

Dr. Who-me?, eww. You can't see or understand that I'm the Invisible Man with jewelry? You lookin' pretty paltry & pouty I'm feelin' kinda rowdy like a cowboy that don't say, "Howdy." Pennywise, I am the ultimate Ghostwriter: John Ritter, only bigger & more bitter and, yea, you could figure... on a star. All those Once Upon A Time wishes, tend to go a bit too far. Tracy Chapman said you got a fast car. But all men be playars. All womb-men be bitches, and give birth in a rut 'cause of a sting in the gut so what you breed gets called mutt and never gets what they need to sleep and feel alright. So they grow-up like me and ghostwrite. Say they, "Al'right," when they're not all right. Every step a jihad, Every breath a fight. They might let you pray if you're lucky. Even if he does love you, he'll still fuck me. With pay. Tell you it's addiction, tell me it's fiction, but ...