Solo for the Moment


	out to grab life
	by the tendons
	@ the base of its heels
& squeeze until life limps

or so the great 80's movies
	have taught me
taught me horrid hair styles,
	bad clothes, & marathon
	mentality.
All because of a false sense
	of security I find myself
	surrounded by shit I never
	expected to go wrong
Absofukinglutely.  No doubt
	about it, its all friggin
	garbage, all a part of
	our socially correct life
	     style.

You can't have life w/out style
	now, can you?
You get a weak immitation of
	a poser given the right
	ideas, but to appear
	the real article
there are plenty of ready made kits
	all packaged up for you
	to assemble.
That is the essence of our neostyle,
	the prepackaged feel,
for w/out that protective plastic sheath
	there might as well be
	nothing at all
The gods of business would never
	let it sell, they'd be
	out in force, demanding
Obsequious behavior, & we would
	have to grovel.
	 

its not like in them good ole days 
when consumption was the number one health problem
 all of us faced, when the old west was a whole new land, 
when everyone who drank made sure they kept a loaded gun, 
& there were trains gouging holes through mountains
 over the rotting corpses of thousands of chinese... 
 Back then a bag of beans & a loaded gun were all you needed, 
along with plenty of bullets to prove yerself
 right all the time.

(glad to see we've come so far so quickly)

conversation piece


oh christ does he see me
flowers brushed shadows in the back room
open air veranda, twilight stealing neon
shit here he comes, sombody cover for

How ya doin boy! Ain't seen you since you was a...
well now, I can't rightly place it, musta been the
year that them communists over there in russia had
that big scuffle over them Alympics.  You was just
a wee little sucker back then...  still kinda thin
too.  Ya eat much?

how am I related to these people

Yes.  I'm eating now as a matter of fact.

So you are boy, so you are!  Well, say high to yer
sister for me.

SNAPSHOT

i have pictures
 i have pictures i have pictures



TWITTERPATED - HA!

you know nothing!  you've found nothing, you are nothing & you're going NOWHERE!
I'm talking about 
TWISTERPATED
 which is a much more powerful monkey,
a big-ass sumbitch w/ a whole slew of them one things,
um...  shit.

no muse
none @ all

pure vile lack o' muse

not amused
@ lack of muse
not
that
thats
NEWS
or anything.

but if it were
then you'd know
I'd been in the market
for a muse
for a while

NOW.
here you see, I've found nothing in the middle of nowhere.
ai'nt getting much clearer than that
@ presenting that particular
secret of the universe anywho...

TWISTERPATION!

if this was
no, not is
was,
then if we
or shall
or would
could these be
more than if
like as it
or is it
or was
so what was
is if
then it
then how
or shall

I WONDER
(oh)
SO MUCH IT HURTS.

___________________________________________
twisterpated - when yr so confluggled that 
even yr frazzlegation has cruxy symptoms.
(see above example)
___________________________________________


Post Fling Syndrome

caffine nicotine alcohol & methedrine
got lsd & mushroom meanings
zoloft yawns & depokate freezings
valium & zantac & a shitload of beer
datura tea & been running the fear
got codine coughing itching misery
morphine dreams & lack of energy
got a big pretty explosion up the nose
dance until the heart explodes
got the desire for fire to feel xtc
spinal orgasmic energy
got chemical confusion powering me
like neon high from huffing gas
nitrious balloons & popping caps
got cocaine bullet & crystal mirror
got glass tube & travel size razor
got bennies & mini's & crack to choose from
but fuck all that I got pot to use

see thats the path I've done beat to death,
& chemical euphoria has never made sense
it's boring to me to feel ecstacy
cause I've tried all the flavors & they all seem bleak
it's not about being more wasted than you
it's not even addictions or substance abuse
it's a whole different race of humans you see,
a different mindset outside of mainstream.

my pains are old scars from weak hearts
& my veins aren't up for it tonight,
so if you don't mind I'll spend my time
forgetting my troubles with a bowl & a light
you're never alone in the middle of the night
when you're too fucking stoned to remember your plight




I have certainly quit my fair share of jobs in the 
past, usually under astoundingly unique 
circumstances.  I have fond memories of my experiences 
in quitting, and have sometimes spent days in figuring 
out just how to quit whatever job it was that I was 
currently despising.  On occassion I've simply walked 
out, or never returned, and that was that.  Other 
times, the simple and mundane process of quitting 
became an epic struggle between me and my soon-to-be 
ex-employers, struggles so bizarre they could only 
have been precipitated through the use of 
hallucinogenic substances.

One place, a privately owned burger chain native only 
to Witchita, I quit on six different occasions.  THe 
first few times I just stopped coming in.  A few 
months down the road, they'd rehigher me.  Then I 
would quit, then they'd rehigher me.  It was like they 
were begging for abuse.  I would work hard for a week, 
then devise new and better ways to slack off around 
the store.  I rarely worked sober, unless I happened 
to be broke or out of pot.  On more than one occassion 
I would work while I was tripping on acid.

The trully odd thing about working there was that 
everyone else knew I was fucked up.  In fact, I would 
either buy my pot from someone who was there, or sell 
pot or acid or just simply go on an alcohol run for 
the underagers, and we'd get fucked up in the back 
during the slow periods between lunch and dinner.  It 
was amazing that anything got done at all.

One night we were so trashed that two of the girls 
there, one of whom I was seriously thinking about 
dating for a week or two, started trying to talk us 
all into stripping and running the store in the buff.  
I was a little worried about hot grease mixed with 
nudity, mainly because I was the cook, and things like 
that will distract you from accurately preparing a 
drivethrough order.  For one reason or another, we 
didn't follow through, but it was okay cause the girl 
I really wanted to see naked ended up in bed with me 
about four days later at a seedy hotel on the edge of 
town.  It was me, her, and a few friends with a half 
ounce of pot and a few grams of opium, then it was me 
and her and the pot, then it was me and her all over 
each other.

Unfortunately, we also worked together.  I say 
unfortunately, because our relationship, such as it 
was, was doomed to end badly.  In this case it ended 
with me discovering she was cheating on me with a guy 
I also worked with, and as if that wasn't bad enough, 
I discovered it in the very middle of an acid trip.  
My first impulse was to laugh...  I was a tarot reader 
even then, and would go on and on about how I could 
find out anything, and she always looked at me like 
she was going to test me.  Well, I fooled her!  I knew 
about her affair within a day of it starting up.

So, of course, the following day I went into work, was 
to depressed to actually do anything, and finally 
walked outside and just kept on walking.  I walked to 
a liquor store for some vodka, then to a grocery store 
for a container of orange juice, then rode the city 
bus for a few hours getting quitely drunk in the back.

Life was good, even though I had just lost a job and a 
fine piece of ass all in the span of twenty-four 
hours.  What was even more amusing, no one at my job 
blamed me, and a few months later after she had quit, 
they rehired me on the spot.  I lasted another few 
weeks that time, but that's another story.