This Fckin' Blog

Gym At the fucking gym (Yes, I fucking know. I don't seem like the type to go to fucking gym. I know I certainly don't fucking look like I go to the fucking gym), At the motherfucking climbing gym, (I know, I fucking know), The guy I was climbing with, Asked me about the fucking show At Shea Fucking Stadium, Which is a nightclub in fucking Bushwick. Where I'll be doing Some fucking poems With King Fucking Missile, On June 27th, And Schwervon is fucking playing too. So he says, "I've been climbing with a motherfucking rock star," And I say, "I prefer the term 'has-been.'" And then I said, "Better a has-been than a never was, I guess," In an effort to make myself feel a little fucking better. An effort which fucking failed, Because I don't even fucking know If I'm a fucking has-been Or a motherfucking never was. Oh, fuck me. I'm just in a motherfucking mood today. It will fucking pass, Jus...

IRT On the IRT express going downtown this morning, A motherfucking Mariachi trio sang Besame Mucho And I noticed that I wasn't fucking pissed off at all. They were right fucking next to me And really fucking loud But they sounded great. Or maybe I was just in a good fucking mood. Anyway, I gave them a fucking dollar, because, Why the fuck not? Then, when I changed for the local at Chambers, There's this fucking clown, An actual clown, With a fucking red clown nose, and a big fucking bag full of clown shit. So, I was like, fuck me, I've got write this shit down right now. And I pulled out my motherfucking phone And wrote it down before we got to South Ferry. Fuck yes. 5/21/2015 NBC Then, on the way to the fucking office, I pass the fucking Walgreens, And there's a poster for "Red Nose Day," Some fucking thing that NBC is sponsoring, And I look at the date and it's fucking today. So I'm like, Maybe that fucking clown on the 1 train ...

Rude It's really fucking rude of me To be sitting here, watching Fin Divilly And writing this fucking poem Instead of giving him my undivided attention. I mean, I'm giving him some attention, But it's fucking divided: My time is divided between the lovely fucking performance Fin is giving right now, And this stupid fucking poem I'm writing. I mean, Fin came all the fuck from Ireland, And he's singing some really lovely motherfucking songs, And I'm writing this shit. And that's really motherfucking rude. But what's even fucking ruder Is that after Fin finishes his performance, I'm going to go on next, And read this poem, And maybe one more, And then I'm going to have to leave, And probably not watch any of the other performers. I mean, that's really fucking rude. I'm really fucking sorry. It's just I've got this class in less than an hour, And I've got to get over there. I'm really fucking sorry, I really shouldn't b...

Back? It's been almost five fucking months, and a shitload of shit has happened, But I  haven't fucking felt like fucking writing. That's not exactly fucking true--now and then, I've fucking felt like it. But I fucking didn't. Like, when Winter went on and on and on and fucking on, I thought I'd write a poem about that, But then I fucking didn't. I just fucking didn't. And when Spring finally fucking came, I wanted to write some shit about that as well: I had a couple of fucking epiphanies While looking at some motherfucking trees, And I thought to myself, I'm a motherfucking nature poet, It would be the most natural fucking thing in the world For me to write about this shit. But I fucking didn't. I kept fucking telling myself, Maybe I will, But I fucking didn't. This morning, I was going to get on a motherfucking Citibike, And ride into work like I fucking used to do, But I saw some motherfucker Taking the las...

Weather 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? 12/15/2014 Tchaikovsky 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 motherfuck...

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 y...

Cucumbers 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...