Wednesday, May 23, 2012

The Thought Reading Drunk


I'm just a very ugly peel of unhappy
not speaking loud enough
looking down
you see me look and look and look
this ugly
I'm so ugly
Soon You will believe me
I have been beautiful you tell me
not up to you
shutup thought reading drunk
I've come Oranges
I'm Your third time
I linger The last time
I melt
You can’t see me shine
I'm just so half there
stunning first time makeup
believe its still me
can't can't You can't
tell if I'm I'm not I'm
not interested
and You look
look and You see
I was always
looking at you

Sunday, May 20, 2012

The guy was naked as he passed the bathhouse of girls who saw he was no clothed pervert so their towells stayed lieing on the floor

Tuesday, May 15, 2012

Social  failure.  Failure  socially.

Ugly  person.

Laughing  stock  in  their  minds.

Loser  loser  loser. Rip  my  throat  out.  Waste  of  words.  No  one  really  likes  me.  No  one  really

likes  me  alive.  Likes   me  dead.  Likes  me   dead.  ME  DEAD.  Wonderful  idea.  ME  DEAD.

Give  them  what  they  want.

Comprehension  of  spoken  words  so

s  l  o  w.  Connecting  with  anyone  won't  happen  at  my  pace  of  mind.  Example.  Don't  know

song  lyrics  to  my  favorite  bands. I  am  actually  retarded.  Why  didn't  anyone  catch  on  to

this.

Turn  around. No  where  to

go  to  heaven  or  go  to  hell. Wherever  it  is  get  on  with  it.
It came back. Swiftly and Flawlessly. Would kill myself. But much to look forward to. Disappointment imminent. Yes this is a cry for help.

Tuesday, May 8, 2012

running running running running running running jogging jogging stopping walking walking
waterbreak
gasping gasping pacing pacing walking walking jogging running running sprinting tripping collapsing
booboobreak

Monday, May 7, 2012

working too hard at her


risking

WHERE                     HAS          BLUE
GONE       TO                                                 TREAT
HER          A               THOUGHT
                  LEAPS OFF              A
CLIFF       OF             SE             X
TO             NIGHT     SE              VEN
TO             MORR      OW
INFREQUENCE       NE                 XT
AN            EAR          LOBAL
PROTE                                       ST

Where does depression go?

When the depression goes they have me feel belonged. When the depression goes there is something to look forward to. When the depression goes the body explodes flower joy. When the depression goes I can hear the birds chirping. When the depression goes life is so simple. When the depression goes it must be elsewhere. Today the clouds rain heavy so the depression must be there. When the depression comes I wish it never leave. When the depression goes I wonder why I was ever depressed. When the depression goes I'm in trouble. What comes up must come down. My sister calls me moodswing boy.

An exquisite corpse I take credit for.


the conceited poem

Who could say whether the thaw was complete?
The silence broke. Incendiary rain and thunder
Plastic palm trees
The 10%: responsive to the copied underworld
We drank cider at midnight, with thoughts of cinnamon trees.
the crisp crunch of gravel against shoe

One more cup of coffee every day until I’m dead

But only a clock can make a sound like that
Brontosaurus burgers at sunset
They will not dream of baboons and periwinkles
They remained dominant until the end.

Easy Exit


Wednesday, May 2, 2012 10:54PM
            Hey this is for a poem. Okay?
Uh sure.
            How do you feel tonight, David?     
Less hungry, uh let me think about it. Thinking about it: Good.
            Good. Good?
Yeah, good. I feel alright tonight.
            Alright. Nice talking with you.
Wait what are we doing tomorrow?

Are we there yet?


Are we there yet?

Yet, there we are
napping on the clouds—
licking the stars
Below, we see a man hanging from a cliff
Yet, there we were not
So he plummets plummets, plummets
to the needles afar
pleading for his mother.

We spot a blackberry bush—
it’s voice calls for us
Yet, there we were—
napping on the clouds

Sunday, May 6, 2012

College

E   S   S   A    Y   S            T   O           D    O    

fuck.
P    O   I   N   T   S             T   O            L     O     S     E

soap.
S   H   O   W  E  R   S        T   O           S    K     I     P

latenight.
W  A   I     T  E   R   S        T   O                T      I     P

luck.
S    M    I    L    E     S        T    O           P    U     N     C    H

hope.
C    O     C     K     S            T     O         C    U     N      T


lovefight.
                       I   S          I  T                F    U     N       ?        




WARNING LABEL

WARNING:

DO NOT LISTEN TO BUKOWSKI MORE THAN (5) TIMES A WEEK

IF YOU EXPERIENCE WEAKNESS OF WILL CONTACT THE INTERNET
BECAUSE NO ONE ELSE IS AROUND

DO NOT GIVE IN. THE NEXT DAY AVOID STAYING INDOORS
IF GIVING UP OCCURS SIT ON A BENCH AT LOCAL PARK UNTIL SIDE EFFECTS WEAR OFF

What does depression mean?

If I stop writing the depression comes back. If I start reading it the depression comes back. If I take a break from my work the work never gets done. If I take a break I take another. If I am creative that's enough for one day. If I end the poem here I'm satisfied. If I keep writing I'm scared it won't be good. If I write something good I think it could have been better. If I am satisfied I am dead inside. If I am dissatisfied the depression comes back. If I can't decide what to do the depression comes back. If I find something to do the depression comes later. If I can stop talking about myself I must have something important to tell other people. If I can talk to other people as if they were not there they would like me better. If I notice people their nerves become disfunctioned. If I am unpredictable they nod and smile. If I am predictable there's now something to talk about. If I am predictable I hate myself but they love me. If I am unpredictable they predict me as mad or bored. I am mad. I am bored. If I am bored that is depression. If I am mad I am angry above all that depression. If I overreact to being dissatisfied they won't allow my depression. If I am in the money they won't allow my depression. If I am out of money they expect my depression. If I am depressed then I will keep walking on with the world. If I am happy I am a pioneer. If I scare the world with my courage they will step out of my way. If I move forward in life I am happy. If I move forward East I am happy. If I stay West I am depressed. If I rhyme I am happy. If I arrive on time they are so very pleased. If I am late being late was worth being happy elsewhere. Why did my dad tell me to be quiet everywhere we went? Why didn't Mom talk with me more? Why was I alone? Why did I get stoned. Why carry a phone. Why anybody pretend to be not alone? Why are the easiest people to talk to alone too? Why reach out to the beautiful ones who already have someone to say they are beautiful to their face? Why bother with me and you and them and her and what are we looking for in another human being?
go tohell for whatyour dirtymind isthinking
willget big ideas they happen
justdont get anyideas
dont justdont
dont get any big ideasthey will never happen
dont get any big ideasthey are not going to happen
dont get any big ideasthey are not going to happen

Saturday, May 5, 2012

Something on my mind

Nothing
Nothing
No thing
No, thing
Thing, no
No no
Thing thing
Nothing

Yesthing
Yesthing
Yes thing
Yes, thing
Thing, yes
Yes yes
Thing thing

Yething
Nothing
Maybething
Maybething
Maybe thing
May be thing
May, be thing
Be thing may
Thing may be
May may may be be be thing thing thing

Everything
Every thing
Every every
thing thing
Every every every every every thing thing thing thing

EVERYTHING

Friday, May 4, 2012

Outsides In


Outsides In

hexagon edges hardened, a diamond’s breath. From a green goo form turtling attitude tapdance the beach of evolution. Paw from fin, fin from what had been, back to pigskin, the poetry written deep within. Center of Planet Rock that Hot Damn! Pan of Secret Sizzle. Each word wheezed did melt those survivors born under a lucky star. A lava cloud a ping-trill frequence rings the lobe. My chirrup beamed from othersideoftheuniverse belly then out this turt’s chomp. Reamed my god HurLeD AcTuAl SYruP! What’s up with this green body of a shell? swims like a tuna and screams ricochet up an inkwell? here’s the catch,
            I fooled ya, ima great liar
You shoulda seen the hook yr face
Could you really go on reading some sshit about turtles with magic powers shutup get out of here go clean your apartment or stick yer dick in a toilet ASshOle
           
                                                                        .end of poem.

James A. Emanuel


JAZZ
from the
GOODHEALTH KING

Gone t’ the beach        gotta
Get outta the city
All the other here are contagious of the city

Fever dreamin             Lock the
keys in hot car            can’t    eva lose
Clothes comin off       cruise with ya hands in ya food

Pain of DUES             first of th’ month BLUES
           
            Come in kids an listen up
            That lifeguard  isa piece of shit
            yall swim out as far as yall needa swim

Somethin goin on wit the sand— sticks t’ our hands
Grain gums in d’zigned harmonization
Palm-scriptions recite rhythmic strans of bead         

Slam the door              Vacation down zipper highway
Return                         Complete metamorphosis
Through n to               the DAYSLEEPER opposite

Donchu got the sand   hitchhikes onto carseats
up legs             on yr sofa
what yr dog licked up                         noodley shit stinking

in yr garden. . . one day
                     . . . A Pretty Flower

"as the form appears the spirit wanes"


                                                              The title of the poem is underlined.

Stepping up to bed, the blankets sip me into                                            Shower: the pores on my back
its furry throat                                                                                              subsume moist-air





Arising next day the cauldron                                                                     Plaque stir plays game
spills over                                                                                                       of alluvial depth charge
                                                           


                                                A ghost of our generation commingled with the rest.



Arising dingy green a grin                                                                             Toothbrush purl swept
on your face                                                                                                     into orbit midnight
 


Stepping in to sleep, that coquette smiles                                                    Bathtub: the mind on my neck
a snake’s                                                                                                          dissembles landfall





           

FREE THINGS CLICK HERE TODAY!!!


N    O     T      E          T   O           S    E    L   F

Weapons at your disposal:
            --Careless state of mind
            --Walking class style
            --Beard Fear
            --Personal Flexibility
            --Blue eyed stare

. . . I love my eyes not for how they look but for how they see.
            Testify to bursts of spontaneo-reality. Puts it down to memory, in neural                                       
                   connections or on parchment. But the page put out from the inner,                                                    
                         pleasurable sights, painful ones. Sterilized.
      I love my I’s not for how they look but for how they seem.
            Truth is, I am not the guy writing any of these words. He and I talk. Check in                                              
                   with each other from time to time, 
                         but I prefers to work by my self.

My <Tarantula, by Bob Dylan> Moment:
            Death. What about dark&alone nothingness?
                        Life is already nothingness.
                                    --Itself probably misunderstood as nothingness by those moved on                                                  
                                       to Death. Somethingness ain’t nothin but
                        Maybe. Maybe not so bad.
                                    --Death? feels like nothing.
                                    --Life? feels like nothing plus a little occasional something.
                                    

Family values


Family values

it was wrapped in shawarma
stinks up Maggie’s wiffie’s spaghetti temple
so Ted won’t get all up in her business.

Chanukah Celebration
Tie dye roll in the hay
Mom + Dad holding hands.

Exciting children tear
open presents
like heart surgery.

A marriage’s memory is measured
by the weight imbedded
into left side of the bed.