the teenage girl in hell

the teenage girl in hell




we are doing desperate things
things to survive
living on the streets
we would go and see Mr. Jones
to buy some weed
he had two dobbermans
Roxy and Smith
there were all manner of things that Mr. Jones didn't believe in
except for the concept of servitude
his only profound belief
he dedicated his life to serving humanity
he had a lot to say about the relations between men and women
Mr. Jones wasn't a very ennobling creature
he always left out the better sides of his personality
never trying to justify his moral stand point
You were not my first love
Not the first frenzy in my heart
I had fallen in love before
Many times before you
The idea of it seems so outdated and inappropriate now
Love is an old-fashioned idea
Something previous generations did to appease social norms
Not the new modern world that has thrown away its superstitions
You are searching for your true abstraction
Wanting to break this power relationship
A manipulation of democracy
Plunging into a state of stupor
To say, a radical uncertainty
Absorbed by this permanent refraction
There is an obscenity in the functioning
I take your shirt off
There is a silence between us
You say that the silence is obscene
Eliminating any elective chance
Obstinate denial
You are a tree and then a flower
Only one is in danger of being attacked
A game of malicious foretelling
An eruption into the ironic mirror
You are supposed to be a willing partner
Constantly producing failure
Subtle is your revenge
I reveal your trickery
How you use the special features of the camera’s angle
Of power
Of desire
Of choice
The deepest desire
Your happiness depends upon the despair of your will

The pimp hat of oblivion

The pimp hat of oblivion



I am building the bridge
a bridge to evolution
not the highest accomplishment
there are no guarantees on your golden ticket
the last man is a image of disgust
no aspirations to peek his head outside the door
not wanting see what is real
he is afraid that his master stands outside
holding the ax of indifference
who he kills is not a matter of concern
death is his random friend who shows up from time to time
he knows that the last man has a weakness
this weakness keeps him inside
the four walls of his morality can not protect him
there are no guarantees to this life
people are what they are
some are easily made into a messy pile of goo
the dead are the higher example
they have learned to experiment with their lives
exploring the limits
making their deals with the devil
to that respectable street
each of us finds him in a different way
behind all the appearances of the world
the power over the idea
making the idea bend to our will
the master is also desperate
his fears make him the product and the victim
I don’t mean to put it all on your shoulders
It is not my intention to place a heavy burden on your back
It is my entire fault
I picked you out of a crowd
One rainy night
The choices you made led you to this point
This intersection between wills
My will was stronger than yours
You could have just as easily been the predator
I could have been the victim
In another reality, that is probably the case
You kidnapped me
Tied me up and beat me
Taught me to appreciate the pain
To channel it
To grow with the pain
You would love me with the pain
I count all the scars on your body
They represent a road map
Of where we came from and where we are going
Places where we have been
We took this journey together
I have cut you from head to toe
And the burn marks are too many to count
I have branded 666 onto your flesh
And there are hundreds of piercings all over your body
Strange jagged pieces hang from your flesh
It is magical how you have grown into a force to be reckoned with
I have created you to be a powerful force
I know you will destroy me
The creation always destroys the creator
Since the beginning of time
Glowing in the dark without protective clothing
Reading the mail order catalog
I can always use some more gags
And I go through restraints
They don’t seem to last
My best stuff is homemade
You really have to be somewhat of a do-it-yourselfer to get along
It takes an inventive mind
Not just application of theory
But, synthesis
Creating something totally new out of two different components
It is not like there is a manual for this
You have to make it up as you go along
Improvisation
Like a jazz musician
You know the basic framework
But you improvise
It changes as you apply the framework to new situations
New girls
Each girl is different
You go with the flow
See what works
What gets her off

The application of theoretical constructs to the destruction of humanity

The application of theoretical constructs to the destruction of humanity



No great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness.
Aristotle





There is no law to control us
We live by our own rules
Stuffing the shards down their throats
There is no expiration date
We have to guess on its freshness
I have gathered up all my promises
And compressed them into a small infinite mass
Collapsing everything in
Reducing the minutia
They follow after their fathers
Not seeing with their eyes
A perfect deviation
Spiraling down into metamorphosis
You turn the lights off and wait
Voicing the frenzied verb
Into the air of absolutes
As the room grows bigger and bigger
Inhale and exhale
I can see the ribs through the drywall
This living thing is a witness against us
How we forged greatness out of small things
Too bad we didn’t have the heart to continue on
As the assumptions surround us
And sink their fangs into us
Performing live in the Gothic cathedral
Coming out on the other side
Two little coke bottles
You are turning them upside down
Liking the process
Like souvenirs or postcards
Handing out flyers at the Fourth of July parade
Two windows reflecting each other
It is all by chance
Heads coming up out of the boots
Cutting it down the middle
Observing the change
Doing something about your red ant army
Selling your coke in China and Japan
Missing the bell
The mark, the mark
Counting the snakes that dart from your eyes
Gathering them up in a bucket
Testing your courage
Strange things seep out of you
And fly above your head
Silencing your prayers
I could not leave you untouched
That would be wrong on my part
I had to touch you
Change you
It was my calling
I could not squander my talents
Inspiration looked me squarely in the eye
And I reacted
I responded to the call
And made you
Created you out of nothing
With only a word
A whimper from your mouth
Transformed into horrendous screams
Ah those lovely screams
Poured out of your soul
It was stubborn
And didn’t want to go
Then there was the beauty queen
She had been the state fair queen
She was blonde and beautiful
I met her in a grocery store
By the sliced meats
I asked her if she liked meat
And she said yes
They always say yes
It’s the magic in my pants
meat magic
It is easy to forget how lucky you are
My visual hallucinations are joined with auditory hallucinations
My seeing believes and takes shape inside my mind
I am wishing for a change
Wishing for a change that will move mountains
Like an atomic blast
Melting the skin off their faces
She didn’t give a damn about nothing
There was no summation of the good
It was a relationship based on nothing
She put her trust on an ideology
I never could ask why
Not when she was around
She was so certain in all of her possibilities
No point of reference for the location
I’ve always had here best interests in heart
Wanting her to be more than she was
More than a pretty face
I always told her it was ok
Even when she promised me that she didn’t make a sound
I have her be quiet for days
You have to learn to control their tongue
It happens all the time
It happens now and then
Sometimes I fool myself into thinking I have control
That I can make it happen when I want
most people exist below the horizon
conforming to the demands of the machine society
they are simple humans
paralyzed by the neurotica
letting it simply coming out
coming back to what you are
something outside you
coming back to yourself
in the grip of something larger
it is a deeper human level
I am being filled with inspiration
I ponder my despair in seclusion
what I need is loneliness
I am overflowing with darkness
I am thinking of killing you
my life is becoming murder
let us be warm and sympathetic
awakening the potentiality in us all
it is time for us to do the dirty work
it is not because it has to be done
this rock could continue without it
but, things would be slower
more difficult to understand
there is only so much understanding for each age
I would watch her flex her muscles in a crowd
At a department store
On the dance floor
With some unfortunate soul
She would convince him to take her to the alley
And then rob the poor slob
I was behind the curtains
Pulling her strings
She was such a good puppet
I was convinced that I would never find anyone better
naked opulence on the floor
right or wrong, she was America
on top of me with her fur
twinkling like blood
the substantial cane never be washed away
narrative spurts out of her
she is on me like fate
I am reading her fortune
checking the length of her lines
her words come out as formless shapes
I am stuffing her with democracy
and throwing her into the revolution
She grew up in highland
fucking her in the park
up against Roger's car
and then again in the back seat
that night I got pulled over by the police
they were looking for someone with rhythm
Roger never would let me borrow his car again
the next day he put a for sale sign in the window
I made everything ok
Calming her storms
Making her walls crumble
I am never wrong
Sometimes it is hard to see all the connections
But, they are there
The real and the unreal
Our love was created through difference
It is through the stretching of borders
That love develops
Meeting her half way
We existed as an end in ourselves
In all of our actions
We had been abandoned by ontology
This is the essential and the general
A terrible translation in many ways
Never questioning our unity
The beautiful one and I were one
This totality of our being
We are not exhausted from the dominance
Even now undergoing a mutation
Growing more significant daily
It was in the beauty queen that I first started to see significant results
She was transforming
She gave me hope that I was on the right path
I had learned the influence of drugs and pain
Developing a science of the experience
It experience that determines consciousness
Experience unlocks the hidden powers of the mind
Through directing human experience, I have discovered possibility
Releasing the hormones
Charging a price for admission
Jumping out from the dark corners
With a ghost in my pocket
A smoking junkie
You know more about my children
More than I planned to tell you
Nipples sucking the wind
I built you with the instructions of the wise ones
You tasted like fruit punch
In the heart of your city
Looking for the shy ones
They try to cover up their stones
But they shine too bright
I can see them through the layers of clothing
Offering them marshmallows
Their legs collapse under the burden
Afraid of my passion
It is ok to live
To be free
Bringing back the forgotten
Your unrepentant waist
30 silver dollars
The slot machines repent
But not you
Feel me inside of you
I am always there
I have made all the promises that I’m ever going to keep
I have given you all of my masks
The shallowness of my dreams
Cannot touch you
Soon I will be inside of everyone
Not just the tv screen
People practicing my moves
Working on their knots
And sharpening their knives
Fillet all the bastards
Like a piece of fish
Flop mother fucker flop
Gasping for air
Constructing another altar
Worshiping me on three hundred channels
I didn’t mean to be their god
I was your god
Only you worshiped me
Now everyone worships me
I never asked for their love and adoration
Love letters in the mail
I would burn them all
If I could

The Old Man with the shotgun in his hand

The Old Man with the shotgun in his hand



I think we all have madness in us, it's just that I've realized mine and found a way to let it out.
John Glover






the sinister parts only show themselves to me in the first rays of sunlight
she was a big part of my naked lazy life
she was the one that always suggested something crazy
for her the life of the mundane was pleasant but dull
what am I doing here?
why do I seek the pain that is in her heart?
it would be some much simpler to let the past fade into oblivion
to worry about getting started
to fear that the world was already leaving me behind
I am only sixteen and yet I feel so much older
it is as if a much older spirit dwells inside me
he speaks to me in my dreams
and shows me where the connections exist
he shows me connections that I would never had seen by myself
I must give him a name, this spirit inside me
I feel that naming him would give me some sort of ownership over him
sometimes he seems like a saint and other times he seems like an animal
sometimes when I am fucking Mona
it seems like the old man is fucking her instead of me
it is as if he is living through me
a 50 year old man living through a 16 year old boy
how is this possible?
am I possessed?
how did this happen?
maybe I am crazy
maybe someday they will lock me up
untill then I will ride this thing out to its fullness
till the wickedness comes full circle
it will be a perfect circle
I can see it in my mind
this is a strange thing that means so much to me
I know you couldn't help it
it was your destiny
just as I had to follow mine
my heart would ache for you
it felt like it would explode
like I was breathing my last breath
she is learning new poses
getting stronger every day
I took her to a musical
the craziness is open all hours
I am always waiting for Mona to catch up
we kill without proper justification
mona takes away my citizenship
all the different circumstances
she is playing with my spider
it is black and furry
she took me around 10:30
she couldn't close my eyes
feeling mad and angry
and disconnected from myself
I want to talk to you
I want to explain myself
I took your to the roller coaster
and we shared the unpleasant experience
you make me crazy
trying to change my thinking
I'm never gonna laugh again
in the darkness forever
never going to feel love
it fills so good to yearn
sucking on your breast
zipping you up into the straightjacket
caught in the dream
sometimes I'm a good guy and sometimes I'm a bad guy
people just value lives
I don't understand why
I am preparing a special death just for you
with every breath let yourself go deeper and deeper
you have a voice
the corrupt fear you
you are washing my clothes in the bunker
safe from the bombs of the 1 percent
they are destroying the industrial heart
making everything empty
I can see the glitches in the matrix
cute and fuzzy mania
sometimes the weirdness gets too far away
and we have to bring it closer to home
when we are desperate, we cannot see the beauty
we can only embrace the terribleness in a great manner
making an effort with the aid of terror
becoming insatiable with is all
the madness, the terror, the limits of humanity
where did we go wrong?
how did we create such a mess?
your flesh is my fantasy
getting fuzzy headed
funky headed
it has been fifteen hours
since you last read my sensory book
I am a cuddly lion
feel my silky paws
I am soft and snuggly
a gift from Dr. Joan
you look pretty when you come walking through the door
it is not the end of the conversation
I cannot get you off my mind
as soon as I wake up
sometimes its morning
sometimes its not
I begin to think about you
then I ask myself, which you should I make today?
then a few things cross my mind
there are so many possibilities

the love of a nihilist asshole

the love of a nihilist asshole



you are asking me meaningless questions
making me think of things that I would prefer to avoid
you go to work on me with an ax
having a wonderful time of it
singing or rather humming some forgotten tune
sometimes it comes out just like you want it
the mere mechanical business
greasing all of my gears
seeing to it properly
the discomfort is an aid
or a bit of a stimulant
an electric cattle prod up the ass
putting juice to your demonic nature
killing the thinking animal
it is bad to think
I would rather have you feel
I'm not selling hope anymore
it doesn't last
as soon as i open the door
out it runs down the street
and gets hit by a car
then I'm in the middle of the street
crying because hope is dead
eventually I stop buying the shit
and I rip out that part in me
where hope lived
at our feet is an underworld
the first light of the death angel
new ranks are thinning
a hungry tug of desire
your claim for broken substance
standing against the wall
dark whispers reaching down
different words from god
violated by the madness
the stain of a dream
that has always been
a good kind of crazy
one you can sink your teeth into
together again
like dogs and angels
two people across the street
filled with doubt and self-pity
a helpless blue
painted on your heart
it beats a sticky pink
like the gums of angels
before sin enters in
all up and down
deep into the creature
out of the bottom
without a name
hot shooting in a cold medium
out your eye
around the curves
sick with fear
we all know the sleep
in the cemetery of the soul
the curse of death is in the blood
no more locks on your doors
a strange sense of love
your prison is self-made
the truth is your rejection
half torn and numb
a lifetime of mutilation
fight the possibility
beat it out of you
like the raven's quarrel
everything possessed of searching
an unfamiliar turn
in the bitter celebration
an empty victory with spread legs
appearing as if by magic
pushed up so high
the bodies move as a miracle
grinding into each other
higher and high
a child of two continents
death weeps at noon
something real and impossible
the waste of a loaded laugh
here every morning
the people have words to say
but no one wants to hear
we only want to listen to the pretty
dancing images flickering on a screen
burning into our retinas
fabricating a lie in our brains
it is a hostile condition
in their little dresses
carried and deposited by ancient angels
we play upon the frozen rock
it fell from heaven
tiny parallel lives
caught under the massive weight
pinning us down
short and tiny breaths
huge depressions
free reign over your soul
we are weak and swept aside
it is a continual battle
so hard to separate
with see-through eyes
a lovely dance filled with horror
my slaughter house memory
a few more left-handed shoves
hammer beating brains
as true as your insides
the blues into your cup
nothing I could say
someone had stolen my tongue
and it was boiling in a pot of water
sitting on your stove of hate
me inside of everything
my shell shocked and wounded heart
sucking up all that is left
every little morsel
not a crumb for a mouse
trying to hide from my hunger
thinking like a witch or a devil
leaning out your window sill
utterly pressed and depressed
busted layers of angel dust
they come alive inside me
growing through me
reaching the outside world
reaching you
with vacant eyes
using their knives
down sidewalks with beautiful looks
this is where you slumber
you look uneven
putting you on the floor
the lights are just right
accusing me of hypocrisy
someday you become a productive human being
just like superman
collecting all your gold stars
putting them in this feeling thing
a giver instead of a taker
you were invented
I was trying to be socially responsible
when I ignored you
and placed you in the straightjacket
pointing you towards the lie

Burning Origami

Burning Origami



she is sending me new contradictions
they are mine and mine alone
I will not share them with anyone
because she is beautiful to me
in all her faults
she waves her hand and they emit from her fingertips
life continues, but in a diminished form
the brightness has been dulled
she is still pumping it out
she is spilling it out
a group of teenaged girls with bleached hair
looking through black tinted windows
taking stock of their actions
rolling slow and getting a good look
a good look
I injected the cigarettes with the substance
and then resealed the pack
I am playing by my own rules this time
everything is anonymous and interchangeable
her bluejeans and yellow sneakers
I tossed them into a garbage can
she has become expressionless
a hostess at a Dennys restaurant
she greets the customers with a blue eye shade
her fingertips smell of maple syrup
an eager wrinkle on her eyebrow
she dreams of me
she can feel me when I'm not there
she is a part of me
She danced at Diamond Jim's across the river
her stage name was Kiki
she was a hard working girl
moving her ass up and down
rubbing her tits in your face
she was attending the local community college
majoring in pelvic thrusts
I am sure she got the highest grades
she made a buck for a lap dance
and 20 bucks for a private dance
she wanted to invest in my research
buy me all the drugs
she sent the girls at work to be my lab rats
she said certain girls' souls were loosely tethered
promoting the mind's evolution through the old bump and grind
under the roofs of sleepy little Dubuque
it is all beer bottles and ugly white seagulls
trying to steal her french fries
a little boy is kicking a ball
a red ball that looks like communism
her legs are sex symbols
they gleam at me like neon signs
her legs say buy fucker buy
it is a good time for some pussy
in the back seat of my car
in the municipal parking lot
two teenage boys peek through the car's window
watching us fuck
one boy pulls out his dick
and starts wacking off
he spurts his young wad onto the car window
this makes you laugh a long hysterical laugh
I'm used to your laugh by now
I have become accustomed to the hysterical
your laugh opens a door into another world
it is a world where only you and I belong
it was made for us
not like this world
in our world everything is perfect
our world is not acceptable for mass consumption
we are only temporal vessels of the light
there is only so much that we can hold
beyond that measure and we burst
I force the tube down their throats
and turn the faucet
they feel so alone in this world
alone and drowning in their sorrows
they couldn't find someone to love them
instead they were thrown away like trash
a useless piece of human trash
that everyone preferred to be dead than alive
I was the only person in the whole world
that could feel them
I could see them as they really were
are should I say are, because they still exist
not in this world, but in another
maybe their next life is better
not so filled with pain and misery
I was only happy to help them along
to introduce them to the next stage
peering into their faces
down to their last 500 dollars
robbing them of everything they got
they all live on the six floor
everyone in dubuque live on the sixth floor
the whole god damned city is in on it
charging rent for the legs and arms
I was trying to be a perfect gentleman
but, with them I was a brute
a real fucking animal
they all die so loud
it was all a lie
a fabrication between two great liars
we led you down that dark alley to rob you
I was going to beat you over the head
whack you in the head like some purple gorilla
I was ready to clobber you
cave your head in
like so many times before
bam and down they fall
you never would have seen it coming
but, for some reason I had a change of heart
decided to express what I am
to swim out to the sinking ship
and shoot all the survivors
it was my own salvation
each one was a vice that I saw in myself
they died a symbolic death really
they died for my sins
mine alone and no one else
I know it is selfish of me to say such things
but it is true
they all died for me
like when I took my first hit of acid in high school
all the goodness of the world came rushing in
it was like my mouth was pried open
and this heavenly sunshine poured into mehttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
and it came bursting out of my heart
that was a new beginning
I became born again
the world was strangely different
it was like everything became renewed
the child in me had to be killed
so I killed each and everyone of them
it was necessary for me to grow
to let the beautiful sunshine out
learning to obey my instincts
following the lead of my heart
jumping off the deep end
letting my impulses flow
that was a new beginning
washed in blood
I found a higher power
a higher calling
and I used it ridiculously
I beat it like an old dog
made it my slave
rode it all the way
bringing out what is unknown
seeing it for the first time
something that was 009/11/jealous-punk.html">inside me and hiding
it wanted to get out
I
and out it pops
I turn the tables upside down
and chase the bankers out the door

sherpa

1
everyday I entered the door of that place it made me sick
it was a sickness that grows upon you
day after day, making you more and more crazy
surrounded by nothing but stupid cocksuckers
you surely conned them all
into believe in your lies
they were so well crafted
and the delivery was fucking emaculate
I really have to give you a hand for that
such fucking wonderful deception
you really are a master
so many of us believed in you for so long
but, eventually we discovered your fraud
the cocksuckers worship
they have made you their head penis
you should wear special headdresses
something to show to everyone how special you
special is what you are
real fucking special
a special fucking retard
when I close my eyes, I can still smell the fraud
Mr Hemingway is impressed with seargent pepper
he prefers to listen to them when he goes clubbing
he has been looking for a camera
so he can film his victims
an ecclectic and special purpsoe
wicked and catchy
smoking his weed with bungalo bill
and thinking of how fun it would be to be little again
to live a life based on truth and love
instead of lies and deception
he watches videos of you dancing with your little girl
and it makes him laugh
and glad that there is love in the world
sometimes the truth can be a dangerous thing
peole are not used to the truth
and get confused when they see it for the first time
many a truthful person was killed because of the world's ignorance
Mr. Hemingway has learned to be a good liar
it has saved him in some tuugh scrapes
to be a good liar is a gift from god
god loves all liars
since he is the biggest liar of all
he builds his lies upon solid rock
when others build their lies upon sand
Mr. Hemingway dances like a 16 year old girl
he spins around in circles
with jerky motions
when he is tired, he sits in his grandpa's chair
waving his hands in the air to the music
he climbs up onto the chair
and grabs both ass checks
his mouth is open and he is breathing heavy
he falls upon the floor
and crawls on his hands and knees
he rises up and spins again
Mr. Hemingway collects wigs
he has hundreds of wigs
one of every color
some are curly
and some have straight hair
he piles them up on the floor
it is a great big pile of wigs
bungalo bill suggests that he thows
some gasoline on them and burn them all up
we are all delusional about something
most people are delusional about money
even with a big hole in their bellies
living on wishful thinking and bullet hole wings
Winkie was Mr. Hemingway's girlfriend
she was a holyroller with a six figure habit
every saturday night she gave Mr. Hemingway religion
she would borrow his wigs and walk the streets
looking for Jesus and the holy ghost
there are 32 flags pinned up on her bedroom wall
she wants to fuck the president of lost tacos
to show him her ultraviloet toenails
having a talk with the neighbors
she says the president of lost tacos is a big dog with hooves
winkie is worried that people are stealing her chickens
the president of lost tacos barks at the people
before winkie had the president
people were always knocking on her windows
they want her to find Jesus
but, winkie has become a republican
she doesn't believe in jesus anymore
she only believes in money
just like a good republican
the president of lost tacos paints pictures of birds all day
red bird, green birds, blue birds
nothing but birds all day long
the president of lsot tacos says that you have to watch out
for the blue birds
the blue birds will eat you
the red birds will marry you
and winkie we fuck you
that is the way things work in this universe
the president of lost tacos is always asking how to open the bitch
wanting us to speak a common language
Mr. Hemingway glows and beats himself up
he is angry with winkie
because she is too generous with her thistles
be strong or die


the ghost comes in and drinks the coffee
it tickles the noses of the people
who stop to watch and stare
we trust ourselves to instinct
a contemplation of our past
all of our impositions
Mr. Hemingway doesn't care about credentials
they don't help when you are jonesing for a fix
or arguing with atlking head on tv
a credential is just for idiots
he never comes up with an answer
he is only interested in starting fires
most of his fires are under Bungaloo Bill
worshiping your DNA
basking in the bullshit
it is such a brown glow
from profound assholes
his name is vanity
and he likes nothing better than to dress up like a duck
winkie likes to rubmayonaise all over Mr. Hemingway
Bungalo Bill videotapes winkie as she rubs it all over Mr. Heminway
this has a lasting value
the issue of credibility
bringing it up again and again
all the extra work to get the last bit of jizz out
winkie is a professional
she takes great pride in her work
bungalo bill does research on suicide
mixing his pills with his alcohol
the taste is comitment
drinking with a powerful incentive
pushing eject
bungalo bill is the conditions
he likes to play with the president's pawns
he is prjecting the cosmic sin
he requires everyone to suffer
making them submit
bungalo bill is a secret weapon
he is conditioning himself
evicerating the damage
sitting and kneeling with the barrel in your mouth
winkie always has to clean up the mess
there is a strict division of labor in this universe
she recomends using plenty of duct tape
death with dignity
advocating a crude method
sweeping up the shame of suffering
out of touch with dignity
a reflection of the classroom
programed into the status quo
bungaloo bill opposes everyhting
he is like a cold shower
shrinking your balls



The president of lost tacos wears t-shirts with revolutionaries
he loves his flamethrower
igniting the fluid as it comes out of his wand
he is all about equal opportunity
creating an equal amount of harm
shitting you out
just like a corporate mission statement
his mission is to procreate
to spread his dirty little seed
he knows that no one comes back
we all disappear and go away
he has no desire to stay sane
he is practicing his schoolyard bullshit
berating the workers
copying their nutty behavior
waiting for a traffic stop
to search you for drugs
if you are clean, he will make you dirty
the president of lost tacos watches you dance
his has secret cameras in your home
he works for an evil genius
two little girls dancing around the chairs
the chairs worry abou the outcomes
of the dance
will the dance inspire?
wave your arms winkie
we all wave our arms with you
while you talk about stuff
winkie has beautiful lips
we all watch her lips as she talks
the sound of the video is turned down
watching you
winkie wants the president of lost tacos to pay for her surgery
she wants to change her nose
she thinks that her nose is ugly
but her lips are beautiful
she fights to creat value
in her life and others


Mr. Heminway is a poet
many people think he is a polititian
or maybe a revolutionary
he could be a hero or a terorist
but he is only a poet
he writes poetry about the ladies
he loves all the ladies of the world
it doesn't matter the style or type
he simply loves them all
Mr Hemingway writes about his love for the ladies
how they think they know him
when they don't
he considers himself too complicated
to be figured out by anyone
yet they all do take their turn at figuring
the best that their minds can
for some it is all fight or fuck
and for some its all custard pie
they place their trump down
Mr. Hemingway love them and leaves them
there is a trail of broken hearts that follows him
they have followed him to Paris and London
broken hearts in Hamburg and Vienna
and even in Mexico City
he sold his stock in Microsoft
and trveled the world
he sailed abroken ship around the world
he can't stop talking about love
how his heart has been broken so many timeshttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
yet he keeps getting back on that horse
he rides her int town
as the town's women wave palm branches at him
he tells them he is not their savior
only a snake offering them his apple
a traveler of both time and space