7-25-11

I can smell its putrid prominence in the air

Fumes of fear burn nostrils like dog piss

Eyes tear from the dense fog of dread ever encapsulating

You can even taste its imperceptible film on your tongue

All is unknown but the palpable clouds of ominous loathing

As I tiptoe ever so lightly into the darkness

My carelessly mapped route has led to a dead

end

I look back on better days

So close I can relive them in vivid detail

Their proximity matters not now

The looming panic of what is now is all that remains

The cruel joke of life crashes hard like stormy waves

Indifferent and vague white caps fixated on drowning

me

The rip tides of inconsequence

Tearing me slowly to a watery grave

And though, admittedly I saw it approaching

It was there all along

Like the punch line to a bad joke

The ones you tune out from the start

I simply never discerned

All along I was the joke

The non-existant laughter

of a fool only fooling

myself

Losing

Cigarette smoke swirls sweeping grey patterns of gravel and tar lining the raw and tissues of a ragged esophagus. This was the tenth last cigarette of the day. I cough hard, feeling loose ribs shake sorely as I bleat out a gutteral cough and spit brown gobs of lung onto the melting sidewalk. Like a nervous twitch, beer shoots impusively from hand to mouth. The lukewarm piss flows through the scarred highways of throat into acid worn guts mirroring the grime of the city flowing from gutter to sewer. Both the beer and the cigarette champion the knee-jerk reaction created by the tormented consumer in a poor attempt to defend against the ever raging war of social anxiety and self hatred that hold the leash ever tightening on a fleshy, potholed throat.

This war has raged unabashed since the formulative years in the creators mind and now this weathered body bears the outward scars of an internal battlefield.

My flicked cigarette butt explodes onto the ever burning concrete sparking and coming to life like a grainy film of some poor countryside as napalm ravages its lush greenery turning it into a bleak and desolate black poc on the face of an ugly earth. Head down, I walk the familiar steps into the dark bar. I open the door and let light pour in illuminating forgetful faces that hiss back at the intrusion. I force a stiff smile as if I knew something no one else did. I decide to throw whiskey at the fire inside and order rotgut. The burn feels good travelling down as it briefly masks the everpresent burning in my throat. I plunk down at a ragged stool and pretend to be interested in something. All the while the demons in my head multiply screaming their truths to an ever captive one man audience.

"You are a fuckin lowlife piece of shit!"

My smile tightens.

"Nobody here is really your friend, people only tolerate you because youre a fuckin helpless fuck!"

I sink deep a thousand feet into my stool and fumble awkardly in my pocket for a phone.

"Just fuckin leave so people wont feel so fuckin awkward around you!"

I answer an imaginary phone call and make my way to the door where the reception is better.

"Fuckin asshole, you're not important"

I defeatedly walk the block back to my self made prison hopeless. Its just me in there. I lost another battle.

Morning Asshole

I feel my mind driven hard like a rental car in Montana, where the speeds limits know now bounds and the deafening wind menacingly burns the smile from your face. I scream bits of grey polluted bronchial particles that pop like rancid popcorn kettles. My voice cracks resilient as lightning while the guttural burn at the top of my bleating hopeless lungs begins to crescendo. The Wilhelm scream, once rasping, twists devilishly primal and syncs in time to the deafening tic-toc of that old piece of shit dusty clock that my ears focus on, banging in my head like a fiendish premonition. The true unexpected Intensity of this uninvited onslaught prompts stomach acid burning green throughout my esophagus, venomously caressing my tongue like snakebite.

I awaken fanatical cursing in spiteful pitch cursing the existence of the god’s that exist in places I have never known or felt. Sweat burns my eyes, falling like five pound tears from a dripping feverish skull.

The nightmares of an existed life flash like a flicker from a heated lighter touching a glass bowl.

I breathe in deep, inhaling noxious fumes of ever-haunting failures and failed penitence. I count the stars that burst through blood vessel bursting, crimson eyes. I lose count as a jackhammer slams on my brainstem propelling grey brackish sloshing cerebrospinal fluid to rock side to side in my brain like a canoe.

I light a cigarette and stare at the stucco ceiling. Today is another day.

Free Shit

Please take all I got

Take my booze and my pot

Take that barstool, my spot

They all said its my plot

Take the friends that are not

And this ailing brain that just rots

So then…

At least I know what I lost

And I can find what I want

Cause I miss a whole lot

And none of it

Is anything I got

Drunk. 2.19

This scanty, weathered old cherry tree stands unaccompanied; baron, amongst a forest of ghosts. It Peers timidly alone and crestfallen, into a decimated landscape of loss and sorrow. It was said by those that saw the tree grow and blossom into the luminous spectacle it once was, that Da Vinci himself would willingly breathed his last breath just to touch the canvas of those beautiful blossoming leaves that radiated lively and so vibrant. The good times when a true exquisite pallet of everything beautiful rested upon this once majestic portrait that stood so tall and strong have long passed leaving the lone thin stick jutting awkwardly toward an ominous moon.

When the cherry blossomed it had a luminous forest filled with light and promise. The radiance of the tree was marvelously displayed and celebrated deep down in its roots. After time that beautiful blossoming tree felt its root drying and flaking, leaves began to rain like bombs from a blackened sickly sky. Those ever so trusted and connected leaves fell one by one losing contact, losing connection drifting and evaporating into this polluted soil only to germinate to another doomed forest. Upon when they shall fall again.

It’s told that tree still stands today, though the leaves germinate feigned and lifeless turning black and falling fast. The tree now withering and dropping bark in pounds stands scarce casting its meager shadow onto a field of nothingness.

There are times that this old piece of wood jutting from the decrepit terra firma is watered and hope is pumped to its roots. Those rare fleeting moments pass and fade like the leaves that used to breath the real life into that frail old cherry tree.

"An American Dream State" or "The Final Decline of the American Dreamer"

"I may have way overdone it with that train rail size line of that foul chemical but you gotta push the envelope...." I erratically managed to tersely grunt spurred by theburn in my nostril upon insufflation of the fiery chemical. Timing trailed off after a lapse of minutes spent unanswered proved that only one blast of foggy haze hung silent in the icy air of the empty room. It proved I was again alon on this trip, where is the meaning? I contemplated the meaning of alone, because that what I know in the present, on the filthy mattress in the corner the room, mouth unflinching and face strained and screwed up akin a meth addict after years of atrophy. I fit that bill. "I am that same Bill. Hello nice to finally meet, names William, call me Bill, please. I know nothing of you, please sit..." I readied myself to hear from the void only to find that the evaporating air leaving my lungs is alone, not joined by another cloud mirroring its isolated and ever-fleeting warmth. Like a lame bird to weak to fly south, the words freeze, accept thier impending fate and dies. I can scream! I can try to let these words not fall into icy rivers of apathy but you must really feel it in the pit of your heart. "Place few dare to go..." I snort and clear a nostril, and that phrase drips down the back of my throat. Ill keep that one under my hat. Great thoughts never to be heard, or self-important rhetoric lined with insecurity and sorrow? One in the same I say to myself, I agree! Now my mind freezes and races at the same time. I try at changing my reflection bouncing oblong of the plate below the smell that holds the key to the garden of knowledge of good and evil. To steal from a book that stole this story from greek myth "take the apple", you cant be innocent forever, take the red pill, avow to seek knowledge. Truth is paramount. Remember that, if not til the end of the fourth paragraph.

The look etched firmly on my face holds its evil twisted grip, creating a mask most exceedingly congruant to a deficient Sunday school puppeteer in rural Kansas whose sloppy hand work cant distract from the mangled face he wears like Ol Charlie Manson's swastika. He knows its there because he has seen mirrors but tends to forget when in his diminutive spotlight. I see myself in his bpdy we are parallel, his devils breath halitosis seeping out our lips to dance on his blatantly homosexualesque John Waters mustache and the distinct feeling or perhaps perspicuous ominous loop running through everyones mind that my jaw is permanently wired shut or may need to be soon. Our face bearing to the world the abominate leer he makes as those scatological musings creep on neighborhood boys as they sit in his lap every weekend for candy time which immediately followed an unparalleled and well directed version is Jesus Loves Me. We have noxiously begun a disturbing harmony mirroring each other as twins conjoined at the heart, sharing all through nods and sickly knowing looks those beady twisted eyes light up as thoughts we share are utterred aloud with a dry cracking gravely bleating voice that I just heard alone minutes or hours ago.

The words left unsaid as I trailed off lead to the feeling that those words took years to come out which clashes directly with the fact my nose was still deep into the plate as if it were an air pocket and I was near drowning. How long had I been breathing chemically charged dust off that special plate that remains a favorite of my Salvation Army furniture set. I stare into the pattern on the plate and see Jerry Garcia style tye-die and then am attacked by the marketing warfare over his line of designer ties. I fingered the bag of xxxx (pick any combo of letters and numbers) staring grimly as if I pulled Mark David Chapman eyes out of his skull and shoved them into my empty sockets milliseconds before pulled the trigger four times on that shiny .38 Special spilling John Lennon's blood, leaving him with nothing but that last wonderful lyric "Im Shot." What poetry, so much for peace. "EAT THE MEEK!" I say as Mark from my iron cage Ive been in since the year I was born. They say re-incarnation is bullshit, but I was born two months after he was sentenced and roughly about the time his soul died in Attica. I remind myself to re-read my first edition copy of Salingers' Catcher in The Rye again for next countless time and think about the weather in New York on that December 8th which was only a month ago and also a month after I entered this seedy little patch of terra firma over grown with weeds and thorns and no visible paths through a hole I may have been better off missing the egg i was shot in cause fucker sure was a scrambled one. All the while eyes, steely, remaining transfixed, and bloodshot in they're worn out dirty sockets they had no option but deteriorate rapidly eventually becoming pin points, narrow needle tips of faint steely black.

The slimy sentence spoken slithered slimly off the fork in my tongue as if multitudes of toxin-oozing snakes swarming from gut throat and through my mouth were squirming wrenching and sliding hesitantly through teeth leaving a acrid film as they hissed and eased out of thin white lips, leaving a scence resembling the structure and stench of a Baghdad Target House after its luminance and shiny walls were disemboweled by American ingenuity, restructured as an "Area of Operation", causing it no longer to be a persons home. The grainy calcium resided in the same dead zone. Pieces of cold, piercing, raw, crumbling calcium rotted and dropped like pebbles excruciatingly trailed faster than the heart bouncing as blood paints my once drab ribcage by, dare I say familiar) nails dragging down my throat as the rock slide scratched ruts blazing bloody stream to the waterfall into the acidic volcano of devils bile swirling in my gut. through teeth . clinched shut with the tightness and bite of a rusty bear trap. Pupils, mere specks of black ice, unflinchingly fixated on the lines, circles and letter and number patterns relaying the chemical structure notated on the dirty white jewelry bag filled with another of the uncounted for research chemicals the brilliance of science has created. Unforgivably and begrudgingly a slight few of us aware of these evaporating freedoms become simple lines, circles, and letter and number patterns, lose dimensions until they are simply theories or like urban legends that float in that short lived purgatory which is merely the time the FDA has heard rumblings from county cops in rural Arkansas that sixteen year old Jack Goff is now reading at Howard Zinns "A People's History of the United States" and Tikhal, Pinchbeck and quite possibly more of that lunatic Shulgin's hypocrisy may be under this nosy teens bed. Quite possibly, even now as this is written, strange, dark, satanic substances possible of mind expansion or in some instances spiritual gateways are causing unnecessary thought that leads to lack of patriotism, Terence Mckenna, DMT, and Noam Chomsky and ultimitely the foolishness and futility of questioning the answers and making waves in a dead sea of routine. You must keep this in mind, you can't stay afloat the salty sea of routine if you make waves, remember you have a career to think of!!! Your career must remain sovereign because thats how you achieve the joys of mortgage for that 1/4 acre plot and that compact car that drives you directly to that life consuming cell every day but sure is great on gas consumption. Word is that new must have for the year that is gonna be forcibly filled into every ear and opening of your body without the courtesy of whiping up your bloody asshole after your been sold and told and finally conform to stop the noise I think I may have saved $120 on gas mileadge this year. Cant wait for the Super Bowl commercial!

As the tension in my jaw clamped stronger with each dependable metronome like tick of the clock which had seemingly amplified my body shooting jolting electric spasms as the amplifier dropped with a electric splash into the mind floating more than swimming and sloshing while bits disseminate into that caustic acid filled bag we were given for Happy MealsTM. "God bless America", and "Burn Baghdad Not the Flag" thats how I was raised and I had shirts saying those exact phrases. Thats the American way. My ashen grub-infested -filled cerebellum set its formative years soaking in it's briny grey stew before I ever got to scrub it clean. In that stew was "this is your brain on drugs," very cleverly told by The Partnership for a Drug Free America, as they assuredly had my best interest in hand, when they stated not to take a plant that was better, healthier, and even medicinally beneficial but to take their product which are killing off million from cancer and liver disease. At the same time I was told to not confuse cheech and chong for more than just entertainment; and that every famous actor/actress, celebrity and and politician doing massive amounts of destructive drugs from the modern day President who was doing cocaine while I was getting my diaper changed to the mayor of Nations Capitol who was just a bad caricature of crack-binging self, to the Governator who loved orgies coke and pot among steroids and various other debauchery. Organized religion took one on the chin when the gay bashing Ted Haggard got busted fucking a gay for pay fella and snorting meth. You do you, Ted! It was a hoot when that hooker found out his was head of the Christian Coalition and leader or the ultra-conservative left wing bible based agenda telling him he can fuck dudes but not sign a bullshit contract with one. HS Truman is famously quoted as saying "C students rule the world." But he also said as a military strategist, which I think is more fitting, “If you can't convince them, confuse them.” And best of all once elected he said "I never give them hell. I just tell the truth and they think it's hell.” Correction, Mr Truman, you feed the public enough bullshit and they think its hell. I belive what he was trying to say was by blowing up Hiroshima and Nagasaki he was sparing them the truth because surely thier couldnt be two hells in a Zionist' eyes.

I felt my teeth chipping and felt the grainy rotted grey pieces of calcium falling down my sink of a throat and into the acidic pond of green resting in my guts. I am trying to swallow nearly thirty years of disinformation and sift through what reticence has been overlooked and decipher my own history. All appreciation and enthusiasm I had for History in school is now relegated as arbitrary and disconcerting. vociferously echoing the anger felt for fighting a liars war that once echoed and still to this day nearing the six year anniversary of my triumphant return to "normal life" resonates through that briny gray matter wallowing around leaking out onto paper or media from time to time. I am for the immeasurable and last time admitting defeat and accepting we are the victims of our own design, yet I will consign that I will not me lied to again and if I shall have some bastard seed spring from these loins may those untruths never become litter in his mind, and may it never live this lie based lifestyle the past, current and hopefully not but more than likely the future. I shall return to this plate one day shove my nose in and pull it out telling my son that we did not invade Iraq to liberate a tyranical dictator and America had a good run from prohibitions defeat to the assassination of JFK, but with any luck Ill be telling him in Dansk if we make it home, or Spanish after the fall of Rome.... "I may have way overdone that train rail size line of that foul chemical...."

Now my teeth are gone, as well as my face. I lied through the first, and coincidentally lied the other off, so now its just me, no snakes just overgrown untrimmed one time war zone. Less to worry about so I say:

Admit defeat. Live for truth, for the lies have already been planted long before we touched feet on this soil.

Start again. Bring on the floods, god. You couldnt have anything worse than gaping anus elephant porn when you did it for old Noah.

Well, thats fiction, I seek truth. Theres just as much truth and more likelihood of a zombie apocoloypse, Ill put my chips on that and practice with a pump action til then. Outside the US of A-holes!

Be honest, or your the first zombie gunned down. 10,000,000 pts for zombie politicians. (side note: i will be making axis of evil zombie cards with living people on them and if you bring thier heads to me, zombie or not, you get invited to join the new race of more intelligent, adept, dexterous, capable few that survive.

**Authors note: My recent stockpiling of weaponry is only for personal use only and is not intended to inflict harm 0n anyone other than lying politician zombies"

**Authors Note 2: I am of Lockean beliefs and firmly believe that the libertarian party is closest to what this Nation needs. Jefferson also a Lockean believed firmly on John Locke's conception of the social contract differed from Hobbes' in several ways, but retained the central notion that persons in a state of nature would willingly come together to form a state. Locke believed that individuals in a state of nature would have stronger moral limits on their action than accepted by Hobbes, but recognized that people would still live in fear of one another. Locke argued that individuals would agree to form a state that would provide a "neutral judge", and that could therefore protect the lives, liberty, and property of those who lived within it. While Hobbes argued for near-absolute authority, Locke argued in his Second Treatise of Government that laws could only be legitimate if they sought to achieve the common good. Locke also believed that people will do the right thing as a group, and that all people have natural rights.

**Authors Note 3: I also believe in the decriminalization of all drugs and support treatment rather than prison for drugs like heroin and meth. I also support taking the power (money) away from street gangs and those bullying the drug trade with weapons and force and sell everything through liscensed dealers so the product is always clean and regulated. If you really think about it you cant name one drug that the govt doesnt have a cleaner/similar version (with the exception of crystal methamphetimine).

I WILL BE RUNNING FOR CITY COUNCIL BUT WILL BE LATE TO EVERY MEETING UNTIL THEY ARE MOVED TO GOLDEN CORRALL!!! VOTE CHRISTENSEN NEXT ELECTION!

moonpies for misfits

we're still alive he said
we met 11 years before or more
and i remember way back when
he taught me my first bar chord
we used to tear it up reckless
moonpies for misfits with no cares
you got that right i said
we're still here
scarred but here
but then again
we were invincible then
we're still here
just not like then
without a care
full of hate
when we smashed
for laughs
and to prove to all fuckers we would
quit school stuck ink
and called the working man
and the men who worked fools
to hit bottom and to crash
we thought the last sight of us
was the last sign of us
we thought the last sight of us
we thought wrong
because face to face here we stand strong
but this time we stand for good