Hey!
I arrived home from my west coast trip safe and sound on Thursday. I must say it wasn't the most pleasant trip I have ever been on. I blame that on my cousins in-laws. Maybe it's an east coast thing, or maybe my upbringing, I am just used to being accepted for who I am and I just figured it was getting to be that way all over. On more than one occasion at the get together after the funeral my aunt Lynn and I were referred to as those carpet munchers from her side. I am so glad that I don't have to deal with those ignorant, bigoted, drunken bastards anymore. Lynn and I did have a few laughs at their expense, so I guess I will call it even.
I am honoring a request this week. Instead of having a boobie break this week, I was asked to have a booty break. So here goes!
I did go to a concert this past Friday with KW. We saw Gillian Welch at The Egg in Albany. We both loved it. It was a of fun and the music was awesome! We had great seats, and more than once my imagination took over and I tried picturing what she would look like nude. LOL I don't know why I do that, it just happens. Her partner, David Rawlings is an incredible guitar player. I was in awe! Hey, I told you before that I am a total guitar fag! He is quite a cutie too!!
We have 2 more concerts coming up in the next few weeks. Brandi Carlile and then The New Riders of The Purple Sage. Woohoo! I can't wait. That's one thing I do love, going to concerts. Especially at a smaller venue.
Bootie break 2:
I have a difficult choice to make this week. I have two poems that I am very proud of and I am trying to figure out which one shall I post. Well, here's this weeks choice. I will post the other one next week. I really do hope that you enjoy it.
Street Babbler
Phonetics in Necropolis dont amount to nothin. Hogwash and pig latin. Ixnay on the upidstay. Simple
numerals in the textbook of the gardeners. The kindergardeners. Killdren. Kindred lil' kiddies
eating boxes of Cheerios and saying Cheerio! while holding fibrous circles of healthy,
ultra-puffed oat rings over their eyes. No added sugar. No fat content. Only
microscopic little specs of oats. Soggy when wet, soggier when
orphans suck on them like pacifiers. Those poor little scum, they
never even stand a chance. But they do their best, yes?
Overachievers, really. Considering all of the sad
underlying baubles of fear they digest,
lil raconteurs when they age.
Test their fluency and
raise those lil
apples.
My, my. Such a sad world we live in. Almonds. Walnuts. Peanuts. They are all the same in the middle,
iconic really. Consider the riots weve seen in those countries. Zoot-suit suited single-breasted
cancer survivors, men and women mind ya, screaming on street corners and throwin
rocks at totalitarian vehicles like they isnt there to protect but to harm. Idiots.
Often I wonder, what kind of nuts might they be. The crazy kind? And I
salute their attempt to change the government but its all just a
colorful rainbow turning grey in the end. Simple math.
Octagons and parallelograms. Nothing close to
pi. March 14th is supposed to be special
in this country, but all I feel is
central heat in Winter.
Summer brings
infestations of cockroaches to their beaches. N what about their breaches? Their coats? Moth-balled
like Swiss cheese. Excuse my cough. Goddamned handkerchief, covered in blood splats already.
Icicles of silica, Ive been told, dwell in my lungs. Its alright though, Ive always had pain
clouding my point-of-view. Arthritis and such. I coulda been a fuckin Olympian.
Omniscient. Buddhist even. Blast it all! Those bloody wankers with their
violent obsession with striking. I coulda mined coal. Raised my
older brothas and sistas and given em milk money. I
love m family, yknow. I coulda given em pet
canaries, maybe even woodpeckers,
and bread to feed their lil baby
ninnies. Their eyes wide
open at the site.
Carnivorous meals even! And I do mean, carnivorous! Meat on the table daily and nightly. Plates with
opaque slabs of pulled pork and fat sticks of butter. One for every person in m family. Simple
noodles and cabbage water dont pay the bills for long. Yknow what Im sayin, yes?
I just want to help. Dont mind my judgments. I know that chicken broth n gravy
over mashed potatoes is not something to complain about. But lets put it
simply. Ill die soon. It really wont be much of a help, but when
I do, could y give my groceries to those orphans
seething in their saliva overseas?
I arrived home from my west coast trip safe and sound on Thursday. I must say it wasn't the most pleasant trip I have ever been on. I blame that on my cousins in-laws. Maybe it's an east coast thing, or maybe my upbringing, I am just used to being accepted for who I am and I just figured it was getting to be that way all over. On more than one occasion at the get together after the funeral my aunt Lynn and I were referred to as those carpet munchers from her side. I am so glad that I don't have to deal with those ignorant, bigoted, drunken bastards anymore. Lynn and I did have a few laughs at their expense, so I guess I will call it even.
I am honoring a request this week. Instead of having a boobie break this week, I was asked to have a booty break. So here goes!
I did go to a concert this past Friday with KW. We saw Gillian Welch at The Egg in Albany. We both loved it. It was a of fun and the music was awesome! We had great seats, and more than once my imagination took over and I tried picturing what she would look like nude. LOL I don't know why I do that, it just happens. Her partner, David Rawlings is an incredible guitar player. I was in awe! Hey, I told you before that I am a total guitar fag! He is quite a cutie too!!
We have 2 more concerts coming up in the next few weeks. Brandi Carlile and then The New Riders of The Purple Sage. Woohoo! I can't wait. That's one thing I do love, going to concerts. Especially at a smaller venue.
Bootie break 2:
I have a difficult choice to make this week. I have two poems that I am very proud of and I am trying to figure out which one shall I post. Well, here's this weeks choice. I will post the other one next week. I really do hope that you enjoy it.
Street Babbler
Phonetics in Necropolis dont amount to nothin. Hogwash and pig latin. Ixnay on the upidstay. Simple
numerals in the textbook of the gardeners. The kindergardeners. Killdren. Kindred lil' kiddies
eating boxes of Cheerios and saying Cheerio! while holding fibrous circles of healthy,
ultra-puffed oat rings over their eyes. No added sugar. No fat content. Only
microscopic little specs of oats. Soggy when wet, soggier when
orphans suck on them like pacifiers. Those poor little scum, they
never even stand a chance. But they do their best, yes?
Overachievers, really. Considering all of the sad
underlying baubles of fear they digest,
lil raconteurs when they age.
Test their fluency and
raise those lil
apples.
My, my. Such a sad world we live in. Almonds. Walnuts. Peanuts. They are all the same in the middle,
iconic really. Consider the riots weve seen in those countries. Zoot-suit suited single-breasted
cancer survivors, men and women mind ya, screaming on street corners and throwin
rocks at totalitarian vehicles like they isnt there to protect but to harm. Idiots.
Often I wonder, what kind of nuts might they be. The crazy kind? And I
salute their attempt to change the government but its all just a
colorful rainbow turning grey in the end. Simple math.
Octagons and parallelograms. Nothing close to
pi. March 14th is supposed to be special
in this country, but all I feel is
central heat in Winter.
Summer brings
infestations of cockroaches to their beaches. N what about their breaches? Their coats? Moth-balled
like Swiss cheese. Excuse my cough. Goddamned handkerchief, covered in blood splats already.
Icicles of silica, Ive been told, dwell in my lungs. Its alright though, Ive always had pain
clouding my point-of-view. Arthritis and such. I coulda been a fuckin Olympian.
Omniscient. Buddhist even. Blast it all! Those bloody wankers with their
violent obsession with striking. I coulda mined coal. Raised my
older brothas and sistas and given em milk money. I
love m family, yknow. I coulda given em pet
canaries, maybe even woodpeckers,
and bread to feed their lil baby
ninnies. Their eyes wide
open at the site.
Carnivorous meals even! And I do mean, carnivorous! Meat on the table daily and nightly. Plates with
opaque slabs of pulled pork and fat sticks of butter. One for every person in m family. Simple
noodles and cabbage water dont pay the bills for long. Yknow what Im sayin, yes?
I just want to help. Dont mind my judgments. I know that chicken broth n gravy
over mashed potatoes is not something to complain about. But lets put it
simply. Ill die soon. It really wont be much of a help, but when
I do, could y give my groceries to those orphans
seething in their saliva overseas?
VIEW 7 of 7 COMMENTS
LittleK15
I've decided I'm a fan of booty breaks