and now i feel like everyone has left

and the mess is mine to clean

unseen blood down miles of forearms

slimy goo all red and green.

but im the brown thats in the middle

im the brown that no one owns,

bastard wolf dog alone and freezing

and no one hears his moans.

theres a fastball flung and burning high

a nightmare in my eyes

my guts got stuck in quicksand

and you all think it’s lies.

and the sunset’s grey

and everyday i wake up and walk around

and find im lost

and need a nametag

in my dirty own hometown.

both from the upcoming secret chapter of Blook II called Juvenalia, the early poems which currently is as cheap as it will ever be, and includes free shipping.

two poets walk into a bar,

the bartender rings a bell, two poison darts whistle across the room over the pool table under the Bud light and into their “hearts”.

they gasp, cover their chests and then faint.

now ive seen a lot of things in my day

i mean just the other day i walked into my roommate dans room

everything i say is true

and there were these three horny

i wouldnt waste my lies on

topless

you

and ive seen good

the thuds of the two bloating poet-bodies makes the wolf dog raise his head from his paws.

he gets up from under a table and walks casually over to the scene. he sniffs and looks over at the bartender who’s searching for a hand ax

like for example just the other day me and rene were at this Tawainese Hot Pot where all you can eat you go and get your meat raw from the back get your veggies bring em to your booth toss em into this hot pot thats boiling at your table make your soup while “barbeque-ing” on the aluminum foil that surrounds the pot

wolf dog sniffs the crotch of the larger poet who’s mumbling something uncomprehensible but in perfect meter i think he was saying help help help

dog positions himself in such a way i mean his hind legs are on this poets chest and his furry red sick looking is in almost entirely and he’s humping and he’s choking tails wagging and he’s looking at the bartender with mouth closed and then back up at the ceiling mouth open and then back at his repositioning front paws

and his buddy cant move and his buddy gets a woody its moving and wolf dog sees this

stops what hes doing tail stops wagging dis mounts cuz he thinks somethings alive in there but theres nothing alive in nothing these poets have ever done. maybe an automatic reaction. like getting a boner while your buddy gets mouth raped by a dog. maybe an automatic reaction. like writing a load of negative crap when youve got nothing to say no new stories to tell no new ways to tell em no new rhymes to bust out no new secrets to let out meat eater bottom feeder stealer of lies you even bore the poor youre a landing strip for flies.

from the upcoming secret chapter of Blook II called Juvenalia, the early poems which will skyrocket to $42 unless you act now.

theres a timebomb

in the front room

bored Death is filing his nails

a dog’s snarling softly

beneath the toadstool

and im just playing pool

“as soon as youre through

you’re coming with me

but if you like

i’ll take you now”

and i felt like drinking

ice water

and setting my head on fire.

Death stood up

and removed his hat

and walked his way towards me,

the light froze solid

beneath his black locks

and he looked like

he shouldnt be.

he looked 8 feet tall

and gorgeous,

his tits began to grow

his cape shrunk up

and his voice got high,

and he wasnt a guy no more.

so we popped in “18” Alice Cooper

and threw off all our clothes,

lit the candles, poured the whiskey

and we racked up all the balls.

“I never knew you

played both ways,”

Death he said to me

i said you never know now do ya

do ya

and as the sun began to rise

Death lowered himself

to the ground

and asked if i wanted a blow.

i broke, sank two

and politely

told that fucker

no.

from the upcoming secret chapter of Blook II called Juvenalia, the early poems which is available until monday at a ridiculously low price.