Tuesday, April 26, 2011
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Amen
The society of women should be cherished and revered by man
But man must abstain from this behavior whenever possible
Its all the norm
Some people live their whole lives without going crazy
Such a vapid existence they must have lead.
Friday, December 18, 2009
Are there any real women left?
The girls don’t smell like women anymore
they smell of candy
lollipops
fruit-tingles
things so sweet your teeth rot just from the sniff
it ain't right
What happened to the smell of a lady
a classy lady
a simple floral base of lily
sandalwood
and musk.
A smell that defines you as a person
puts you ahead of the class
The girls these days smell like they have been unwrapped
straight out of the box and placed on the streets
perfect hair, straight down
usually blond
makeup smeared over their sprayed on tans
designer dresses bought from factory outlets
sunglasses too big for their face
smelling of candy
fake
I want to smell a real woman
Bring me one real woman...
Wednesday, December 2, 2009
Fill Her Up Thanks
It’s been a long time people. Life has been a little hectic so I might just ease back into this blogging caper. I will be stopping by to check on you all and to say hi. Till then fuck off.
I ride with the souls of the dead
to work
to the track
to weekends away,
but mainly to work
You lose most of your soul on your way to work you know.
Fills up a bit on the way home, but not enough.
Not enough to cope,
cope with the woman
the kid
the reality TV and it’s reality people
the neighbors
and the price of water.
If you’re not careful you will run empty.
I’ve seen men run empty for days,
weeks,
years
but it soon catches up.
You can tell a man who run’s empty. Spot em a mile off
They look just like you and I, but they are beaten.
They wear ties, drive cars, drink coffee, play sport, read the paper, comb their hair, listen to music, eat food, watch movies, read books and
Fuck.
They do all this and more, but none of these will fill the soul, only one thing can fill a man’s soul.
and that's to dream
No one dreams anymore, they are all beaten
beaten down by the machine, the woman, the job and
life
A city of dead souls going to work, turning around and going home again
day in
day out
Not dreaming
living life
Dead.
I met a bum in the street, I gave him some coin.
He said
“Hey mister, last night, I had one hell of a dream”...........
Wednesday, November 26, 2008
Memories are made of this
“Can you take me away from here?”
“I can take you 150 kilometres north”
“That’s far enough”
We sat in the car not saying a word to each other
The silence was loud and unbearable
I could here her thoughts and mine mixing together over the sound of the tyres on the road
It was raining and the wipers were on full, it was really coming down
“Do you want to stop and get a coffee?”
“I have no money”
“I have money”
“Can I have something to eat?”
“You can have something to eat”
We pull into a roadside café and I park next to a big semi with writing on the side;
‘You holler we haul it’
Inside the café Johnny Cash is playing on the stereo, something from one of his last albums, you can tell because he sings with purpose like he does not want to die mid song.
The lady behind the counter is fat and round and stinks of cigarettes and mothballs, black veins run the length of her legs and her name tag says ‘Glenda’
I order two coffees
Black
And a breakfast omelette for my traveller
We sit in a booth with one of them mini jukeboxes on the end of the table, surrounded by crusty condiments
“Can I play a song?”
“Sure”
I give her a dollar and within a minute Roberta Flak’s ‘Tonight I celebrate my love for you’ silks out of the speakers.
Glenda brings us our coffee and breakfast omelette and as she walks away her ass wiggles from side to side and the black veins strain against her skin and verge on popping out her legs; squirting black blood behind her ass has she wiggles away.
“Do you think Glenda has someone to celebrate her love with?” asks my traveller
“I dunno, probably, she has that ass, a man could get lost in that ass for months”
“Do you think that’s all love is, is fucking?”
“Glenda doesn’t look the talking type; she looks like she’s lived a life of actions not words. But no, there’s more to love than fucking”.
“Like what?”
“Like time”
“Like time?”
“Yeah like time, you gotta spend allot of time on this planet and if you wanna spend the most of that time with the one person you gotta like em, don’t you think”
“Like em or love em”
“Whatever”
“Do you have someone to celebrate your love with?”
“Just eat your damn omelette”
“I’m not hungry”
“Then why’d you order it?”
“You were paying”
“Fuck”
“So then traveller does you have someone to celebrate your love with?”
“I did but not now”
“What happened?”
“He would come home at nights drunk and rape and beat me and call me names like ‘filthy cunt’ and ‘worthless whore’ and poor beer on me as he fucked and beat me”.
“Fuck”
“Yep and then I would take a shower and clean the sheets of blood and beer and he would be snoring loud on the couch and then I would put a blanket over him and go to bed.”
“Is that what you’re running away from? Him”
“No not anymore”
“Divorced?”
“I killed him”
“Fuck”
“So mister you wanna eat my breakfast omelette?’
“Sure”
We sat there in silence as I ate the breakfast omelette and Roberta Flak faded away to join in on the silence.
I could feel her staring at me
“I gotta go the toilet”
“Sure”
“Can you come with me? I’m afraid of public toilets”
“Sure”
I put the fork down and followed my traveller into the toilet
She undid her belt and pulled down her panties and squatted an inch from the seat
Her legs were thin and bruised and sexy, her cunt full grown and bushy
Silence was broken by her stream of piss hitting the toilet
She looked up at me watching her piss
And smiled
And Johnny Cash started singing with a purpose……………….
“I can take you 150 kilometres north”
“That’s far enough”
We sat in the car not saying a word to each other
The silence was loud and unbearable
I could here her thoughts and mine mixing together over the sound of the tyres on the road
It was raining and the wipers were on full, it was really coming down
“Do you want to stop and get a coffee?”
“I have no money”
“I have money”
“Can I have something to eat?”
“You can have something to eat”
We pull into a roadside café and I park next to a big semi with writing on the side;
‘You holler we haul it’
Inside the café Johnny Cash is playing on the stereo, something from one of his last albums, you can tell because he sings with purpose like he does not want to die mid song.
The lady behind the counter is fat and round and stinks of cigarettes and mothballs, black veins run the length of her legs and her name tag says ‘Glenda’
I order two coffees
Black
And a breakfast omelette for my traveller
We sit in a booth with one of them mini jukeboxes on the end of the table, surrounded by crusty condiments
“Can I play a song?”
“Sure”
I give her a dollar and within a minute Roberta Flak’s ‘Tonight I celebrate my love for you’ silks out of the speakers.
Glenda brings us our coffee and breakfast omelette and as she walks away her ass wiggles from side to side and the black veins strain against her skin and verge on popping out her legs; squirting black blood behind her ass has she wiggles away.
“Do you think Glenda has someone to celebrate her love with?” asks my traveller
“I dunno, probably, she has that ass, a man could get lost in that ass for months”
“Do you think that’s all love is, is fucking?”
“Glenda doesn’t look the talking type; she looks like she’s lived a life of actions not words. But no, there’s more to love than fucking”.
“Like what?”
“Like time”
“Like time?”
“Yeah like time, you gotta spend allot of time on this planet and if you wanna spend the most of that time with the one person you gotta like em, don’t you think”
“Like em or love em”
“Whatever”
“Do you have someone to celebrate your love with?”
“Just eat your damn omelette”
“I’m not hungry”
“Then why’d you order it?”
“You were paying”
“Fuck”
“So then traveller does you have someone to celebrate your love with?”
“I did but not now”
“What happened?”
“He would come home at nights drunk and rape and beat me and call me names like ‘filthy cunt’ and ‘worthless whore’ and poor beer on me as he fucked and beat me”.
“Fuck”
“Yep and then I would take a shower and clean the sheets of blood and beer and he would be snoring loud on the couch and then I would put a blanket over him and go to bed.”
“Is that what you’re running away from? Him”
“No not anymore”
“Divorced?”
“I killed him”
“Fuck”
“So mister you wanna eat my breakfast omelette?’
“Sure”
We sat there in silence as I ate the breakfast omelette and Roberta Flak faded away to join in on the silence.
I could feel her staring at me
“I gotta go the toilet”
“Sure”
“Can you come with me? I’m afraid of public toilets”
“Sure”
I put the fork down and followed my traveller into the toilet
She undid her belt and pulled down her panties and squatted an inch from the seat
Her legs were thin and bruised and sexy, her cunt full grown and bushy
Silence was broken by her stream of piss hitting the toilet
She looked up at me watching her piss
And smiled
And Johnny Cash started singing with a purpose……………….
Tuesday, November 11, 2008
Monday’s Movie Night; A real tear jerker
“Can you play an instrument?”
“I can play you”
“I’m not an instrument”
“Yes you are, you’re the most easily played instrument around”
“I have no strings”
“You have strings of the heart”
“They are unplayable”
“I play them well”
“You play them well?”
“I play them well”
“Can you teach me?”
“You can learn”
“How?”
“From your mistakes”
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes”
“Then you will learn fast”
“Teach me”
“In time”
“I have time”
“Time for me?”
“Time for you”
“You’re learning fast”
“Wanna fuck?”
“See, you know a string”
“A string of your heart?”
“The strings of you”
“So you wanna fuck”
“Of course I do”
She’s sitting on the couch, naked in a white robe
She lifts her leg and farts
And takes me in her mouth
The music plays
And my heart skips a string...............
“I can play you”
“I’m not an instrument”
“Yes you are, you’re the most easily played instrument around”
“I have no strings”
“You have strings of the heart”
“They are unplayable”
“I play them well”
“You play them well?”
“I play them well”
“Can you teach me?”
“You can learn”
“How?”
“From your mistakes”
“I’ve made plenty of mistakes”
“Then you will learn fast”
“Teach me”
“In time”
“I have time”
“Time for me?”
“Time for you”
“You’re learning fast”
“Wanna fuck?”
“See, you know a string”
“A string of your heart?”
“The strings of you”
“So you wanna fuck”
“Of course I do”
She’s sitting on the couch, naked in a white robe
She lifts her leg and farts
And takes me in her mouth
The music plays
And my heart skips a string...............
Wednesday, November 5, 2008
The Machine
A man walked up to me in the street and said
“Hey mister, nice to meet you”
I looked at him
“Is it?”
“Why yes is it, it’s a beautiful day and the sun is out, you are walking and I am walking and I don’t have to work another day in my life”
“Well the sun is a cunt and I’m walking cause my car broke down and I’m lookin down the barrel at another 20 years of 9 to 5”
“You’re leaning too hard on the machine man; you gotta not lean so hard on the machine”
“Too late I’m in the machine, programmed, hardwired;
Wake up
Shower
Masturbate
Eat toast
Drink coffee
Drink water
Pull out the drive
Turn left
Turn right
Stop
Go
Morning
Log on
Hello
Espresso no sugar, strong
You will have that by 3pm
Eat
Shit
Log off
Turn right
Turn left
Bins out
Dinner
Whisky
TV
Fuck
Sleep
“See you’re leaning too hard man, you lean too hard and the machine takes your soul and all you’re left with is a bag a bones and no soul”
“What the hell have you got”
“I’ve got a soul man, I don’t have no car, I don’t have no house, no wife, no kids, no job, no boss, no friends, no food and no cares”
“You’ve got it all man”
“Yep I sure do man, I got it all man, all I need, right here” tapping his chest
“Good for you, you got it all, all you need, good for you, I’ll see ya around, good for you”
“I got it all man”
“Good for you”
“Hey mister”
“Yeah”
“Spare some change?”
“Hey mister, nice to meet you”
I looked at him
“Is it?”
“Why yes is it, it’s a beautiful day and the sun is out, you are walking and I am walking and I don’t have to work another day in my life”
“Well the sun is a cunt and I’m walking cause my car broke down and I’m lookin down the barrel at another 20 years of 9 to 5”
“You’re leaning too hard on the machine man; you gotta not lean so hard on the machine”
“Too late I’m in the machine, programmed, hardwired;
Wake up
Shower
Masturbate
Eat toast
Drink coffee
Drink water
Pull out the drive
Turn left
Turn right
Stop
Go
Morning
Log on
Hello
Espresso no sugar, strong
You will have that by 3pm
Eat
Shit
Log off
Turn right
Turn left
Bins out
Dinner
Whisky
TV
Fuck
Sleep
“See you’re leaning too hard man, you lean too hard and the machine takes your soul and all you’re left with is a bag a bones and no soul”
“What the hell have you got”
“I’ve got a soul man, I don’t have no car, I don’t have no house, no wife, no kids, no job, no boss, no friends, no food and no cares”
“You’ve got it all man”
“Yep I sure do man, I got it all man, all I need, right here” tapping his chest
“Good for you, you got it all, all you need, good for you, I’ll see ya around, good for you”
“I got it all man”
“Good for you”
“Hey mister”
“Yeah”
“Spare some change?”
Monday, October 20, 2008
A Commissioned Spring
“Bo I want to go out”
“I’m writing”
“But you’re always writing, I want to go out, it’s nice outside”
“It’s nice inside too, we have music and drink and air-conditioning and what more could you want”
“I want more Bo”
“I can’t give you more”
“Bo what will I do when you die?”
“You will eat, sleep, drink, fuck, dress yourself, walk around and bitch”
“But I need security”
“Then get a dog”
“NO not that kind of security, emotional and financial security”
“OK you win let’s go out”
“But what about security”
“One thing at a time”
“Now you want to go out or what, grab your coat”
Penny always brings a topic round to emotions or financial security but the trick is to put her off the scent by introducing a new topic, a new conversation for the reason that no matter what the topic might be she will always have an opinion and will just be happy to talk, talk and talk.
Women are wonderful at this; they can play for hours and if they start to slow down just start another topic and you can daydream for another hour or so.
“Where are we going Bo?”
“To see Marcel”
“But why Marcel”
“Because you wanted to go out”
Marcel lives on the 18th floor in a commission housing project and is the most remarkable painter I have ever seen.
Out the front of his building Penny and I pass a group of kids hanging around and one of them whistles at Penny and yells “show us your cunt ay”, “yeah show us ya hairy cunt”
“Here we go” I think to myself
And with that Penny is off, running and screaming after the boy
“Come here you little son of a bitch, I’ll kill you, you know, just you wait”
I sit down on the bench and light a cigarette and watch Penny run after the boy
The sun is out and it shines bright down on Penny as she runs, she’s wearing her favorite summer dress but in spring and the flowers are out and it all looks so nice and I take another drag on my cigarette and watch as she catches the boy and sits atop him and starts punching and clawing at his face and the sun is shining and the flowers are out and it’s a lovely spring day.
As I finish my cigarette Penny walks towards me with a big smile on her face and brushes the dirt and grass off her knees and her favorite summer dress in spring.
“See what I did Bo? I got the little prick”
“Yes I did dear and how lovely you looked”
“I got the little prick good didn’t I Bo?”
“You sure did dear”
We get into the lift and I press floor 18
I knock on Marcel’s door
The door pops open and there is Marcel
”Peek-a-boo…… oh it’s you… sorry come in”
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” I said
“I thought it was Lisa” he said
“You play peek-a-boo with Lisa?”
“Just come in and sit down will ya”
The apartment is covered in paintings and empty beer cans and brushes and pizza boxes and mouse traps in all the corners and empty tubes of paint and dead mice
“This place is disgusting” says Penny “when was the last time you cleaned?”
“Cleaned?” said Marcel with a puzzled look on his face
“Come here I want to show you something”
We follow Marcel into his bathroom where he sits on the toilet and perched in front of him is a canvas on an easel and next to that a tray with different colored paints on it and brushes
“See I can paint while I shit, I can sit here all day and paint and shit and Lisa brings me drinks and food and I don’t have to go anywhere, I can just eat, drink, shit and paint, it’s marvellous”
“It’s genius” I say
“It’s disgusting and gross and unhygienic and the most disturbing thing I have ever seen” says Penny, “what does Lisa think of it?”
“She loves it, she gets the house to herself and when she wants to go to the toilet I just stand to the side”
“I’m getting out of here” yells Penny
We all go out into the lounge room and the front door opens and in walks Lisa
“Lisa Oh it’s so awful how do you put up with it? Bringing drinks and food to him in the toilet” says Penny
“Some of his best paintings have been done on the toilet”
“Oh Lisa it’s so awful”
Marcel throws his hands in the air as he walks across to Penny and yells
“We all shit, we are born and then we shit, we shit till we die and then when we die they suck the last bit of shit you have right out of you.”
“I paint to fill in time between shits”
“So that’s what you want to be known for? Painting and shitting” barks Penny
“Precisely, In fact you can do my eulogy, you will read”
Here lies Marcel Zimmerman, he was not a great man but a man non the least, a man who wanted nothing more than to paint and shit and eat and fuck, He was not a great man but a man non the least.
I laughed so hard I tripped on a beer can and landed on my ass, laughing among all the dead mice and the empty pizza boxes.
“What’s so funny you asshole?” yells Penny, “your not going to be remembered for much more, what do you suppose I will say at your funeral?”
Here lies Bo Bo, I wanted more, he could not give me more…………………..
“I’m writing”
“But you’re always writing, I want to go out, it’s nice outside”
“It’s nice inside too, we have music and drink and air-conditioning and what more could you want”
“I want more Bo”
“I can’t give you more”
“Bo what will I do when you die?”
“You will eat, sleep, drink, fuck, dress yourself, walk around and bitch”
“But I need security”
“Then get a dog”
“NO not that kind of security, emotional and financial security”
“OK you win let’s go out”
“But what about security”
“One thing at a time”
“Now you want to go out or what, grab your coat”
Penny always brings a topic round to emotions or financial security but the trick is to put her off the scent by introducing a new topic, a new conversation for the reason that no matter what the topic might be she will always have an opinion and will just be happy to talk, talk and talk.
Women are wonderful at this; they can play for hours and if they start to slow down just start another topic and you can daydream for another hour or so.
“Where are we going Bo?”
“To see Marcel”
“But why Marcel”
“Because you wanted to go out”
Marcel lives on the 18th floor in a commission housing project and is the most remarkable painter I have ever seen.
Out the front of his building Penny and I pass a group of kids hanging around and one of them whistles at Penny and yells “show us your cunt ay”, “yeah show us ya hairy cunt”
“Here we go” I think to myself
And with that Penny is off, running and screaming after the boy
“Come here you little son of a bitch, I’ll kill you, you know, just you wait”
I sit down on the bench and light a cigarette and watch Penny run after the boy
The sun is out and it shines bright down on Penny as she runs, she’s wearing her favorite summer dress but in spring and the flowers are out and it all looks so nice and I take another drag on my cigarette and watch as she catches the boy and sits atop him and starts punching and clawing at his face and the sun is shining and the flowers are out and it’s a lovely spring day.
As I finish my cigarette Penny walks towards me with a big smile on her face and brushes the dirt and grass off her knees and her favorite summer dress in spring.
“See what I did Bo? I got the little prick”
“Yes I did dear and how lovely you looked”
“I got the little prick good didn’t I Bo?”
“You sure did dear”
We get into the lift and I press floor 18
I knock on Marcel’s door
The door pops open and there is Marcel
”Peek-a-boo…… oh it’s you… sorry come in”
“What the hell’s the matter with you?” I said
“I thought it was Lisa” he said
“You play peek-a-boo with Lisa?”
“Just come in and sit down will ya”
The apartment is covered in paintings and empty beer cans and brushes and pizza boxes and mouse traps in all the corners and empty tubes of paint and dead mice
“This place is disgusting” says Penny “when was the last time you cleaned?”
“Cleaned?” said Marcel with a puzzled look on his face
“Come here I want to show you something”
We follow Marcel into his bathroom where he sits on the toilet and perched in front of him is a canvas on an easel and next to that a tray with different colored paints on it and brushes
“See I can paint while I shit, I can sit here all day and paint and shit and Lisa brings me drinks and food and I don’t have to go anywhere, I can just eat, drink, shit and paint, it’s marvellous”
“It’s genius” I say
“It’s disgusting and gross and unhygienic and the most disturbing thing I have ever seen” says Penny, “what does Lisa think of it?”
“She loves it, she gets the house to herself and when she wants to go to the toilet I just stand to the side”
“I’m getting out of here” yells Penny
We all go out into the lounge room and the front door opens and in walks Lisa
“Lisa Oh it’s so awful how do you put up with it? Bringing drinks and food to him in the toilet” says Penny
“Some of his best paintings have been done on the toilet”
“Oh Lisa it’s so awful”
Marcel throws his hands in the air as he walks across to Penny and yells
“We all shit, we are born and then we shit, we shit till we die and then when we die they suck the last bit of shit you have right out of you.”
“I paint to fill in time between shits”
“So that’s what you want to be known for? Painting and shitting” barks Penny
“Precisely, In fact you can do my eulogy, you will read”
Here lies Marcel Zimmerman, he was not a great man but a man non the least, a man who wanted nothing more than to paint and shit and eat and fuck, He was not a great man but a man non the least.
I laughed so hard I tripped on a beer can and landed on my ass, laughing among all the dead mice and the empty pizza boxes.
“What’s so funny you asshole?” yells Penny, “your not going to be remembered for much more, what do you suppose I will say at your funeral?”
Here lies Bo Bo, I wanted more, he could not give me more…………………..
Friday, October 17, 2008
The weather outside is frightful
Three months ago my wife said to me
“Its ok Bo you don’t need to wear a raincoat, the time has come”
“Ok, if the time has come” I said
Fast forward three months to today
You see that?
On the screen
That’s its leg
That’s it head
And that there
That’s its beating heart
Tonight I will smoke cigars and drink whisky
And be thankful
Thankful that I will get to be a Dad...........
“Its ok Bo you don’t need to wear a raincoat, the time has come”
“Ok, if the time has come” I said
Fast forward three months to today
You see that?
On the screen
That’s its leg
That’s it head
And that there
That’s its beating heart
Tonight I will smoke cigars and drink whisky
And be thankful
Thankful that I will get to be a Dad...........
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