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Showing posts from September, 2014

"Accordions" - Because Why the Fuck Not?

Accordions 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

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

Rain 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? 9/25/2015 Blabbermouth 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 p

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

Wedding 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? Reception 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 j

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

Bump 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

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

Shoehorn 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? 9/12/2014 Shoes 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, th

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

Memory 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, "Daddy..." 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 An

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

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. 9/9/2014 Fruit 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

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

Moose 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! See? 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 wer

"Deer" Another This Fuckin' Guy Poem.

Deer 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. 9/6/2014

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

Tree 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,

"Age," "Birth," and "Time:" This Fuckin' Guy "Celebrates" His Fuckin' Birthday!

Age It is sad to think about being so fucking old, But at least I don't feel as fucking old as I am. But here's something that sucks: When I used to tell people how old I was, They would be shocked and say, "Are you fucking serious? I seriously thought you were fucking Ten years fucking younger," Or words to that fucking effect. But that very rarely happens anymore. Which kind of fucking sucks. Perhaps nowadays everybody that I fucking meet Just kind of fucking figures I'm too old To need that kind of fucking ego boost. They are almost right. I almost don't give a shit. Maybe next year, I won't give a shit at all. Maybe the older I get, The less shit I will give About how fucking old I fucking am. I certainly give a lot less shit today than I did this time last year, Which is some fucking kind of progress, I suppose. Happy fucking birthday to me. 9/2/2014 Birth I am fairly fucking happy I was born, And that is certainly a majo

"Cicadas," "Drugs," "God," and "'God'." Four more This Fuckin' Guy Poems.

Cicadas Jesus fucking fuck there's a lot of cicadas in the park today. On my way to fucking Stumptown, For a motherfucking cold brew, And fuck me, its a fucking swarm. A plague of fucking locusts All up in this motherfucker over here. I haven't seen a single one the whole fucking summer, But I sure as fuck can hear those motherfuckers. No fucking lie. Now, I seem to recall That the motherfucking 17 year cicadas Were due last year But they never fucking came I remember thing that was kind of ominous Like what the fuck happened to the motherfucking cicadas Like maybe it had to do with fucking climate change Or some fucking bullshit or something. I don't fucking know. As usual, I don't fucking know. But, so now I'm thinking maybe they took a year off For some fucking reason. But they are back With a motherfucking vengeance This fucking summer, Let me fucking tell you. No fucking lie Loud, creepy motherfucking fucking cicadas. This shit