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Showing posts from 2014

"Weather", "Tchaikovsky," "Ligeti," and "Gorecki":This Fucking Guy goes On About the Weather, and a Few Composers He Happens to Fucking Like

You know,
If I had had
Any fucking idea
What the temperature was
Before I motherfucking left for work
I would have brought my fucking bike helmet
And rode down here.
I feel like I really fucking missed out.

But I can't blame the motherfucking weather
I should have fucking checked the fucking weather
Then I would have fucking known

Ok, I just checked the weather
It's like 6, maybe 7 degrees Celsius
Colder than I fucking thought
If I had seen that before I left,
I would've been like, "Fuck that,
That's too motherfucking cold."

But it wouldn't have fucking been
It would have been a really nice motherfucking time
So what the fuck?
What the fuck should I have fucking done?

Yes, 'tis the fucking season
When I fucking find myself
Listening to a lot of Tchaikovsky

Now, I like that motherfucker
There are so many nice fucking tunes
In the motherfucking Nutcracker
That it blows my motherfucking mind
Every fucking time

I don't…

"Report": This Fuckin' Guy is Pissed Off About Some Fucking Bullshit

Report So a fucking Senate report comes out That is basically the same As the motherfucking Red Cross report from  Two thousand and fucking seven And these motherfuckers all over the fucking place
Are acting like this is fucking news?

Asking if torture is really fucking torture? Fuck you.

I mean, ok: It's not like I fucking go to the mainstream fucking news media
For fucking news.
I go because I like to know what people are being told.
And of course, people are being told bullshit,
Like that old fucking song:
"In Leningrad, the people say"
(Just fucking google it),
But it's fucking worse than that
We're all fucking being told,
"It's okay, you didn't know." Fuck you you didn't  know.

You don't have to read the fucking New York Review of Books
(You should, but you don't have to)
You don't have to read fucking Truthout,
Or The Nation,
Or the Progress Report,
Or whatever the fuck.
To tell you the fucking truth,
I don't read a lo…

"Cucumbers," "Block," "Spit," and "Assessment": This Fuckin' Guy Discusses Himself and His Process, Engages in Self Promotion, And Comes Up With Something, Maybe, While Listening to PiL.

Damn, my last poem was almost two fucking weeks ago?
Did you fucking miss me?
I fucking missed me.
What the fuck have I been fucking doing?

Well, my job, for one thing--
I do have a fucking job,
And a daughter,
These are matters of public fucking record,

But the real and actual reason
I've been a little missing in fucking action
Is I haven't had a fucking thing to say.

Or like maybe the things I might have thought
Would make good fucking poems
I'm not so fucking sure about anymore.

Like last fucking Sunday,
A week ago today,
I was at a fucking party,
And we were talking about cucumbers,
And I was like, "Fuck yes, cucumbers,
They are very  really fucking refreshing and shit,"
And so on,
And yes, I really do fucking like fucking cucumbers,
But even as I was talking about it,
As Ray's motherfucking party,
I was thinking, "Fuck me, This Fuckin' Guy
Is really scaping the bottom of the motherfucking barrel."
And I could tell that I wasn'…

"Scrape": This Fuckn' Guy Fucks Up.

It was bound to fucking happen
And it was all my fucking fault
And I feel pretty fucking bad about it
And I still want to do something about it if I fucking can
Or maybe I should fucking let it go.
But anyway...

So, I'm riding down Broadway, on my way to work
(Yes, of course this is another fucking Citibike story),
And I get to one of those really narrow fucking sections
Where the motherfuckers are doing all this fucking construction
So there's only one fucking lane,
And there's this cab in the middle of the motherfucking lane,
But then it moves the fuck off to the right,
Which looks good for me, because I'm on the left,
But then it fucking inches back, I think,
Or maybe it fucking didn't--maybe I just never had enough fucking room,
I don't fucking know.
But I hit the brakes, 
But I still fucking pass him
And in so fucking doing,
The fucking handlebar of the motherfucking bike
Scrapes across both doors of the motherfucking cab.

And I'm kind of a dic…

"Death [rev.]" This Fuckin' Guy Attempts a Rewrite

Death [rev.]
Considering how fucking old I am
I have not experienced a shitload
Of pull-your-heart-out-of-your-chest-
Some. One already this year.
But not all that fucking many.

But I'm about to.
I'm fucking about to.
I'm about to experience another fucking one.

And I've never, ever, ever in my entire fucking life,
Been able to even fucking, fucking try
To tell someone who was about to fucking die
How much I love them
How much they fucking mean
How much..I don't fucking know
How much fucking everything.

But I did. I fucking did. I fucking tried.
I fucking tried, at fucking least.
I fucking tried.

By way of fucking background
When we fucking lived together
Susannah Fucking Ryan taught me fucking mountains of shit
Including a shitload of mystical shit
She designed and fucking executed the fantastic fucking record cover
For the King Missile album "Mystical Shit"
We smoked pot, drank coffee…

"Bag" and "Gordon": This Fuckin' Guy Gets a Little Fucking Metaphysical in the Morning and Bumps Into an Old Friend in the Evening.

As I rode in this morning,
On a fucking Citibike, of course--what the fuck else?
I saw this on a fucking tote bag that a woman was carrying:
(I think that's what it said -
Her fucking arm was obscuring part of the fucking bag).

There can be some wisdom in motherfucking tote bags
Like the one with that John Waters quote:
"If you go home with somebody,
And they don't have books,
Don't fuck them."
That's pretty fucking wise.

And maybe this fucking tote bag
I saw this morning
Has some fucking wisdom to impart
But at first fucking blush, I was like
Yes--for me, now is better.
But it sure isn't fucking better for everybody.
And if I had seen that shit a couple of fucking weeks ago,
Or even, say, Monday fucking morning,
I would have been like,
How the fuck is now better?
Now fucking sucks.

And how about those motherfuckers with Ebola?
Or even all those motherfuckers
Who are fucking worried about catching Ebola
Because the motherfucking ne…

"Death": This Fuckin' Guy Cries a Fucking River

Considering how fucking old I am
I have not experienced a shitload
Of pull-your-heart-out-of-your-chest-
Some. One already this year.
But not all that fucking many.

But I'm about to.
I'm fucking about to.
I'm about to experience another fucking one.

And I've never, ever, ever in my entire fucking life,
Been able to even fucking, fucking try
To tell someone who was about to fucking die
How much I love them
How much they fucking mean
How much..I don't fucking know
How much fucking everything.

But today I fucking did. I fucking tried.
I fucking tried, at fucking least.
I fucking tried.

I spoke with her on the phone this morning
And heard her beautiful fucking voice
Like it wasn't 25 fucking years ago
Like it was fucking last week or yesterday
Or some fucking shit.

To fucking cry
And fucking think,
About someone you fucking love so fucking much,
I can't believe you're fucking g…

"Proof" and "Stapler": This Fuckin' Guy Links to Some Old Fucking Videos For Throwback Thursday.

I am fucking aware
That at least once, and maybe more than once
I have asked, rhetorically,
"What the fuck do I have to fucking prove?"
But clearly,
I was being fucking disingenuous.

Because when I was watching NY1 this morning
(Yes, I  still fucking subscribe
To Time Warner Motherfucking Cable.
Yes, I'm a fucking sucker. Fuck you.),
And when the fucking story came on
About the motherfuckers citibiking into work this morning
In the goddamn heavy motherfucking rain,
I was like "Fuck you. It's on."

I was already fucking smarting
("Smarting?" What the fuck kind of word is "smarting"?)
From having someone sing "Wuss" to me last night
Because I wouldn't take a bike home
From Carnegie Fucking Hall.

Which, for the fucking record,
Would have been a fucking disaster:
I got soaked just walking three fucking blocks
From the fucking Broadway/Lafayette
F train fucking station,
Even though I fucking had
A huge motherfucking umbr…

"Peace," "Endings," "Metatweet," and "Trip (With "Cake" Infuckingside)": This Fuckin' Guy Has a Fucking Religious Experience, Then Gets Really Meta and Petty and Personal and Small and Self-Indulgent and Tiresome and a Little Fucking Hard on Himself.

This fucking morning
Was fucking beautiful, and
As I walked toward the motherfucking
Citibike fucking station
For my first motherfucking bike ride
Since fucking last Thursday,
I saw a motherfucking squirrel climb up a tree:

The fucking light breaking
Through the motherfucking clouds
The fucking smell of Autumn in New York:
God damn motherfucking fuck,
There fucking are no motherfucking words.

The motherfucking feeling of timelessness
And fucking ecstasy and fucking oneness
And fucking nothingness
That fucking feeling of being there
And not fucking being there
And being fucking everywhere at once
And fucking nowhere
In the same fucking instant,
In that single motherfucking timeless moment

Motherfucking peace:
Not wanting fucking anything
Not needing to fucking know anything
Just fucking feeling, being/not being,
Knowing that the fucking moment will pass
But even being fucking fine with that

I stood there and watched the fucking squirrel
Until I couldn't fucking s…

"Mic" - This Fuckin' Guy Writes a Poem at a Mic.

So a couple of fucking hours ago
On my way to run some fucking errand
I pass by a sign that says "Open mic tonight,"
And I'm like, are you fucking kidding me?
So I walk in and I ask how fucking long it goes until
And the woman at the door say "10,"
And I'm like, ok, I'll fucking come back, then.
I'm thinking I can read some of my fucking poems
That I'm going to read
In fucking Los Angeles on fucking Friday,
Saturday and motherfucking Sunday.

But it takes fucking forever for me to finish
All of my fucking shit,
And I don't get back to the fucking place
Until like nine fucking thirty.
And I figure no fucking way
Am I going to be able
To sign up for this fucking mic.

I order a fucking sparkling water
I fucking love sparkling water -
This one's called Bolle,
And it's pretty fucking good.

And like three fucking minutes later,
The host, Eve, she fucking says,
 "ok, we have a fucking open slot.
The first person who wants go next

"Flat," "Scrape," "Tape," and "Length": This Fuckin' Guy Goes on Way Too Fucking Long for "Metatweet."

I took out a fucking Citibike this morning
As I am fucking wont to do
I save so much fucking money riding these motherfuckers,
For one fucking thing.
But for another fucking thing,
I like riding a motherfucking bike to work
I really fucking like it.

But I start riding this fucking bike
And I realize it must have
A motherfucking flat
But I'm figuring it can't be that bad of a flat
Because it hadn't fucking been reported broken
Which is an easy motherfucking thing to do:
You just press a motherfucking button
When you return the motherfucker.

So I start riding, south on Mercer,
As I'm wont to do,
And yeah, the bike's a little fucking wobbly
And a bit hard to fucking pedal
But it seems fucking manageable.
I could have just fucking returned it,
But if you return a Citibike
Even a fucking a broken one
You have to wait two fucking minutes
Before you can take out another one
So I was like, fuck that shit,
I can fucking do this.
Because I'm a fucking idiot.

So I&#…

"Flies," "Research," and "Rating": This Fuckin' Guy's Got a Few More.

Ok, so I was just walking out of the fucking garden
And on the ledge outside the fucking pediatrician's window
Two fucking flies were fucking

This was not like that time with the squirrels
I mean, it's the same sexual position
(Which, now that I think about it: so many fucking
Non-human animals fuck like that all the fucking time
(Not to mention human animals, who also fuck like that sometimes),
So why is it fucking called doggy style?
Is what I'd fucking like to fucking know.)

So, it's the same fucking sex position
But very different fucking methodology
(From the fucking squirrels, I mean.)
These flies looked like
They weren't fucking moving at all

Can a fly's dick just pump in and out
Without the fly moving his hips at all, or what?
Do flies even fucking have hips?

I don't know why I'm wondering
When I can just look that shit up
Which maybe I fucking will
In a moment or fucking two

But I'm fucking recalling
The last time I saw two fucking…

"Doc:" This Fuckin' Guy Watches a Movie.

I don't watch a whole fucking lot of documentary films.
My reasons are mostly fucking stupid, so I won't go into them.
But let me fucking say this:
Martin Fucking Scorsese
Is one of the most underated fucking documentary filmmakers alive.

We can start with "The Last Fucking Waltz,"
And mention "Italian Americans"
And then there's the fucking George Harrison one
And the Bob Dylan fucking one
And, although I haven't seen it,
He made one about Fran Fucking Lebowitz, for fuck's sake.
I mean, come on, right?

So, okay, last month,
I found out he just did one
About my favorite fucking magazine
(Or paper, or journal, or whatever you fucking want to call it):
The New York Fucking Review of Fucking Books

This fucking film is called
"The 50 Year Argument"
And I fucking watched it last fucking night
And I fucking loved it
I fucking loved it

It's got fucking James Baldwin in it
And Susan Fucking Sontag
And fucking Joan Fucking Didion
And fu…

"Accordions" - Because Why the Fuck Not?

Okay, it's Sunday fucking night
And for some fucking reason
For the last several fucking hours
I've been hearing fucking accordion music in my head
And thinking about accordions

Now, I happen to really fucking like accordion music
I often find it really fucking soothing
Like, if I was having a really hard fucking day
--which I'm not; today has gone pretty fucking good, mostly--
But if I fucking was,
It would be really fucking nice
To lie down on a comfortable fucking couch
Or sit in a nice fucking chair
Or, fuck, just sit on the fucking floor
And listen to some really nice relaxing fucking accordion music
That would be a nice fucking time
That would be really fucking splendid

But, now, to be fucking fair about it,
You can play a fucking polka on an accordion
And sometimes you really fucking should

There's a time to relax,
And there's a time to listen to a fucking polka
Or maybe some fucking zydeco
I don't fucking know,
I'm just fucking saying

"Rain," "Blabbermouth," "Weight," "Thighs" and "Arms": Some More Solopsistic Narcisistic Nonsense From This Fuckin' Guy

Today - let me fucking tell you
I fucking loved the rain.
Last year, when I was re-learning
How to ride a motherfucking bike
The rain would really fucking piss me off

But fuck me,
I can ride a motherfucking bike now, motherfucker
So this fucking morning
When I was slowly fucking weaving
Around those cars
And fucking busses and  motherfucking trucks
I didn't even fucking feel
Like I was taking my motherfucking life
In my motherfucking hands
Which fairly fucking recently
I did fucking feel like maybe I was

And so this is a good fucking thing
Because today, it's like
I actually want to maybe fucking live
That's fucking nice, right?

I'm such a motherfucking blabbermouth
You wouldn't fucking believe what I just wrote
I don't know why I want the fucking world
To know my stupid fucking petty shit

But always every mother fucking time
I get a fucking idea in my mind
I write it down and motherfuck, I want
To post the motherfucker in real t…

"Wedding," "Reception," and "Show:" This Fuckin' Guy Has an Excellent Fucking Weekend

That was a really fucking nice wedding yesterday
I wore the black suit and those nice fucking black shoes
And what the fucking fuck was I worried about--
Half the motherfuckers in the place
Were wearing fucking black

The bride, who I've known a pretty long fucking time
Was fucking beautiful and fucking hilarious
The groom, who I've only met a couple of fucking times
Seemed really fucking nice and good and kind
And they are both fucking brilliant
And both so fucking in love
I'm really fucking happy for them both
Mazel fucking Tov, you know what I mean?

And I had been fucking dreading the fucking reception
I used to be fucking scared to fucking death of that kind of shit
And I figured there'd be a lot of fucking rich motherfuckers
And I can get very fucking intimidated  by fucking wealth

And there were a lot of rich motherfuckers
But I talked to some of them, and they were really fucking nice
I talked to one motherfucker about jazz -
Mingus and fucking …

"Bump," "Bruise," "Ducks," and "'Duck'": This Fucking Guy Suffers a Minor Trauma.

Last night, I was rushing to get some fucking laundry
Out of the motherfucking dryer
And some motherfucker
Had left another fucking dryer door open
And BANG! my motherfucking head
And I mean fucking BANG!
And that shit fucking hurt

And I was very fucking glad
There were no other motherfuckers
In the motherfucking place
At that particular time
Because I slammed that fucking dryer door closed
And that shit swung back
And I slammed that shit shut again
And I did that shit like four fucking times
While screaming "motherfucking cocksucker motherfucker"
Or words to that fucking effect.
I don't fucking remember, exactly.

Anyway, then I'm folding the laundry
And the shit still fucking hurts,
And I look in the mirror
Above the fucking folding table
And it looks like there's a little fucking dent
Or a gash or some shit

And then I felt my head
And there was a fucking bump
And I smiled, because
If I'm going to act
Like a motherfucking fool like that
It should be ov…

"Shoehorn," "Shoes," "Suit," "Solution," and "Stink": Another Friday, Another Five Fucking More.

Goddamn fucking fuck, where the fuck is my shoehorn?
I know that motherfucker was right here, yesterday,
In the fucking shoes I was wearing in the motherfucking office yesterday
And yes, fuck, yes, okay,
I left in a motherfucking hurry yesterday,
But I fucking know that before I left the office:

I used the fucking shoehorn
To put on my motherfucking outside shoes
And I left the motherfucking shoehorn
In the motherfucking office shoes.

So, what I'm saying is,
Some motherfucker came in here
And stole my motherfucking shoehorn.

Yes, I know that is fucking implausible.
I know that didn't fucking happen.
But then, where the fuck is my shoehorn?

Goddamn these are some nice fucking shoes.
So, on Wednesday, I think it was,
I noticed that the shoes I was wearing had a fucking hole in them
So I got out these fuckers
And started wearing them
But then, this morning, when I was getting coffee,
I looked down at my shoes, and fuck me, these are fucking nice.
It's …

"Memory": This Fuckin' Guy Forgets Some Important Fucking Shit.

Last night, my daughter instructed me
To make a very fucking secret preparation
In the early fucking morning,
Just as soon as I woke up:
Boil some fucking water
Put some fucking vanilla in
And stir that shit, etc.

She told me not to tell a fucking soul.
(Now, again: This is artistic fucking license;
She doesn't really fucking talk like that.
Not yet.)
But I fucking forgot:
I woke up,
Had some fucking coffee,
And started exercising
While watching this fucking documentary
On Joan fucking Rivers
That I'd been meaning to fucking watch
For about a fucking week.

A few hours later,
When she's eating fucking breakfast
She fucking looks at me and says,

And I'm like "What?
Did I fucking forget something? What?"
(Again, AF fucking L, okay?)
And then I fucking remembered,
And I was like, "Oh shit!
Jesus, I'm really fucking sorry."
I felt really fucking bad
It was very fucking important to her
And she was very fucking upset

"Phone," "Fruit," and "Sleep": This Fuckin' Guy Writes Three Poems on his Motherfucking Phone.

I don't like writing poems on my fucking phone.
I mean, it's a perfectly fine fucking phone,
But I like to write with a physical fucking keyboard.
Sometimes, I like to really pound those fucking keys.
And tapping on a fucking phone can be really fucking unsatisfying.
But I deliberately didn't fucking bring my laptop with me today
Because I didn't think I'd have any fucking time.
But fuck me, I do have time.
So here I am, fucking tapping.
It's so fucking weak.
The medium is the fucking message
And this medium is fucking weak
So this fucking poem will probably be fucking weak,
If Macluan is to fucking be believed.
And I don't know if I do fucking believe him.
I didn't even fucking understand Understanding Media.
Fucking Macluan.
Fucking phone.
Fucking fuck.

Where I work
They leave free fucking fruit out
At 6:00 pm
For all the poor motherfuckers
Who have to work late.
And then they take it away again in the morning.

But sometimes, if I …

"Moose," "Horses," and "Elk": - Is This Fuckin' Guy Running Out of Ideas? Possibly...

The deer in that video
Was so fucking big
It reminded me of the huge fucking Moose
I saw that one time.

And, ok, first of all,
One fucked up thing about moose
Is how the fucking word "moose"
Can be fucking singular or plural
It's the same fucking word
That's fucked up.
How the fuck are you supposed to know
How many fucking moose you're fucking talking about?

So I was in Canada one fucking time
And I woke up and was walking around
(This was in Banff or some shit
We had done a festival with Mudhoney
And some other fucking bands

And Clelia thought it would be a nice fucking place
To have a vacation after the fucking festival
And fuck me, she was totally fucking right)
But, so I woke up and walked around
and fuck me
Look at the fucking moose!
Fucking big motherfucking moose!

Did I see one, or two,
Or a whole fucking shitload of them?
You don't fucking know.
You weren't fucking there.
So I'll tell you: there were a few.
Not a shitload, but a …

"Deer" Another This Fuckin' Guy Poem.

Oh shit!
Check this shit out
Look at this fucking deer
Fucking up this hunter over here
This deer is fucking this hunter up

That's right deer
Get that fucking hunter
Fuck him up.
We're here, we're deer, get fucking used to it.

I like how whoever took the fucking video
Didn't fucking help that fucking guy at all;
Must have been thinking
That's right deer-
Fuck him up.

Oh fuck yes.
That deer has that fucking hunter on the motherfucking ground.
Stomping a fucking mudhole in his ass
Fuck yeah
That is really, really fucking nice.

"Tree," "Stump," "Branch," and "Acorn" -- This Fuckin' Guy Just Keeps on Fucking Going.

Oh my god I fucking hate myself right now.
I wrote a fucking poem this morning,
And it's fucking unpostable,
Which really fucking motherfucking sucks.

I spent like an hour and a half on the motherfucker.
I really fucking tried to get it right.
And I think I fucking did, I really do.
But it is definitely fucking unpostable
I'm fucking sorry, but it really fucking is.

And it fucking sucked,
I was like, almost fucking finished,
And suddenly I'm saying to myself,
Wait a fucking minute,
I can't fucking post this.

So then I fucking get into
Why am I fucking doing this,
Why am I fucking finishing it,
Why fucking go on,
Why do fucking anything,
The tree will fucking fall,
And nobody will fucking hear it.
It will not make a motherfucking sound.

Instead, I'm over here,
Fucking telling you about the fucking sound
That tree just fucking made.
Fuck me, you should have heard that shit.
It fucking went BOOM!
I'm fucking serious.

Actually, I did send it to this one f…