~ = tilde...

[shampoo]

...which is a completely random title not associated or attached to this poem.


Another one will do the trick.
Another one will spur addiction,
incur the ego's predilection
for self subordinating shit...shit!

What's the word for a need so crucial,
so inseperable from identity
that the only way to express it
is to drag your sorry ass
to
the
bottom
of
the
barrel,
then pour your soul out
(so it can be sold)
and make your way to that gutter
which leads to a hell
so devoid of hope, so detached
from light and truth and second chances
that expression becomes meaningless
and only at the final moment of remission
is communication then abandoned??

(That hell is inside you.)

How do you say that
so people will listen?
and so it won't have to be dumbed down
and the people babied through their meal
like capricious two-yearolds?
How can anyone become or hope to be
forewarned of such disjunction?
How can you say what requires
removal and scrutiny to say,
yet defies and prohibits any such effort?

The eye remains blind to itself
while sleep dust gathers,
and the fly ignorant
to the pestilence
it carries
on.

[drowning_fish]

i kind of like this.

[shampoo]

i kind of like this.

I don't think I ended it properly, but I wrote this last night at 4am after a cigarette. It's not about that kind of addiction...I've been struggling to see myself and find what exactly needs to be said to get my thoughts and creativity working again. Maybe that's about finding and correcting one's main fault...if that can be done.

[drowning_fish]

man the ending was the part i liked best. the part i didn't like was - the 2nd half of the 2nd paragraph confused the shit out of me. i feel like i got a gist of something but i'm equally sure it's right and wrong at the same time. the ending is good, just that part is really confusing.

yeah i realize that's the bulk of the point of the poem. haha. i still love the ending.

also. just make a thread to put all these in. it's so much easier to read without having to click back and click another thread. plus you get more views... apparently. make a thread title like 'PUSSY POEMS POEMS ABOUT SHITPUNKROCKGUTBUCKETS PUSSY PUSSY PUSSY' and people will come.

[shampoo]

man the ending was the part i liked best. the part i didn't like was - the 2nd half of the 2nd paragraph confused the shit out of me. i feel like i got a gist of something but i'm equally sure it's right and wrong at the same time. the ending is good, just that part is really confusing.

yeah i realize that's the bulk of the point of the poem. haha. i still love the ending.

also. just make a thread to put all these in. it's so much easier to read without having to click back and click another thread. plus you get more views... apparently. make a thread title like 'PUSSY POEMS POEMS ABOUT SHITPUNKROCKGUTBUCKETS PUSSY PUSSY PUSSY' and people will come.

You see, I have no real idea what I was trying to say there, but my mind wouldn't leave it alone. It was like trying to scratch my way through an iron door. I wish I had the word I needed.

[shampoo]

I was shivering near the window
outside
looking in at the warmth I wanted,
the very life that I had wanted
since I had first begun to want.

But no matter how I shouted
the person inside would not turn;
nothing could alert that man -
strange to his own reality
lurking beyond a dreamed up portal
that really wasn't a portal at all
but more a glimpse at igorance.

[shampoo]

More...


Bullets land where they fall,
babes as far as the cord stretches
and then some
after that is cut--
it's all really just
a matter of simple physics.
If you wan't to know why
such things happen,
and I really mean why,
not how,
it's not in the science books.
They can't help you.
I can't help you.
If you can't help you,
you're screwed.







Haven't you grown tired of
stretching your face out,
stretching your tits out,
stretching the hair over your head,
squeezing out one pathetic drop
after the next
rather than drawing deep
from the pitcher
and satisfying your self
(the one you got to pick,
unless you gave that option up
from day one)?

The life wears thin
when you stretch and squeeze;
the end comes ill at ease.







Pull, pull
with all your mighty might--
you've got to be
got to be
got to be
right.

But what's right
and what's real
and what's really right?

Reality is here
(points to head)
and here
(points out, spanning surroundings)
but really in between.

Can't tell you
where right is,
it never stays still...

...but keep pulling--
maybe your righteous muscles
will get bigger!








People make rules,
and the rules make people.
Then people break rules,
and the people are...torn.

No amount of word once worn
would cover all reality,
but still we stretch our logos out
and wince when something snaps.

[shampoo]

SHUT THE FUCK UP
YOU FUCKING FAGGOT,
COCK LOVING HOMO.
MY MASCULINITY MAKES UP
FOR ANY AND ALL FLAWS.
I AM MAN.
I AM STRONG
TALL
FULL OF VIRTUOUS BLOOD...

Oh shit,
that's phallic.
Maybe I'm gay...

YOU'D LIKE THAT
YOU FLAMING QUEER!

[shampoo]

Where the fuck are the lights in here?
And what the hell is everyone doing,
just sitting around?
Why's it so god damned noisy?
Can't hear myself think!
Why aren't you listening?
What's the point talking to you people?
You don't care!
Well, I don't care either!
I don't need you,
and you don't need me,
but I don't need you more.
Get the fuck out of my head,
and deal with your own problems,
you god forsaken hemhorroid
on the asshole of my brain!

I swear,
you just don't understand...

[shampoo]

AAAAAAAAAAAAAA
BBBBBBBBBBBBBBBB
CCCCCCCCCCCCCC
DDDDDDDDDDDDDD
EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE
FFFFFFFFFFFFFFFF
GGGGGGGGGGGGGG...

Fuck this shit.
When's recess?
inquires little Tommy the genius.

Teacher sends him to timeout
to learn how to be normal.

[shampoo]

Once I dreamed
of placing the largest wad
of sticky, adhesive gum
on the back of that bitch's head
who sat in front of me
babbling on about
how great her fucking boyfriend was
while the words of great men and women
passed by
like debris flittering
through the filthy street...
But I'm not sexist--
I wanted to punch that
motherfucker's jaw, too
(the boyfriend).

[shampoo]

Ahhhhhhhhh
whhhhhhhhy
theeeeeeee
fuuuuuuuuck
aaaaaaaaare
mmmmmmmy
thouuuuughts
soooooooooo
slooooooooow
shiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiitttttt.

This means nothing,
but I'm sure if you tried
hard enough
you could make something of it.
Have at it!

[shampoo]

If you won't listen
then I will make you
with words flowing
and overflowing
till tidal waves come crashing
and you can't help
but swallow the salt of it all
disagree with nearly all of it
vomit and purge yourself
of all this nonsense.

[shampoo]

The telephone is a bad call
The paper is old news
The television is blind
And conversation
Is damn near hollow.
Thank God
There's the internet.
We can cum-municate
Our passions!!1!

[shampoo]

The snow never comes
at the right moment,
but always, instead,
just after school
on Friday before
the weekend.

[shampoo]

rock my shit like an avalanche,
which ain't sayin' much--
5'10 and WASPier
than a spit out paper nest...
but while I dream,
they can be the best
since the best have nothing left
to dream for

[shampoo]

Why is it
that in this age
of advanced technology
and the sobriety of mistake
it's still the people who make
THE MOST DAMN NOISE
who get to decide
for the rest of the boys
whether we will
continue blindly??...

Time is oddly kind to the blind,
but only has truth for the mute,
or so it seems;
and though we try with all our might
our eyes remain now closed up tight,

intoxicated by avarice dreams.

[shampoo]

No breathing till it's over

And now I find myself screaming
like a scarlet-cheeked toddler
lacking what he wants
and the oxygen needed
to continue his angry strike for long
against the big bad grown ups
who never seem to provide
anything but the means of imitating
the anger painted on their own faces.

[shampoo]

Let's start the morning off right this time
and get out of bed bright and early
to a wonderful breakfast and the chirping of birds
and sunshine creeping over
like the warm blanket we left behind moments ago...
...FUCK, it's already 2 pm.
So maybe not morning then,
but a damn fine afternoon
with last nights leftovers thrown on toast
and the sound of a chain of cars
clanking against the mindless asphalt
(which almost sounds like birds
if we travel back to the Cretacious)
and there's always the sun
(except for when the clouds are out)...

Yeah,
fuck this.
I'm going back to bed.

[shampoo]

Give me something to believe--
I just wanna live,
but I don't wanna dream
when dreaming means
perpetual sleep
and nothing is achieved.

Give me something to believe--
I just wanna rest,
I just wanna breathe
this very eve,
exhale the things I cannot grieve,
beleaguered and besieged.

Give me something to believe--
I just want something more than to need
and just need something more than to want
forever more these things.
Forever more these things,
these evansecent things.
I just need something more than to want
forevermore these things.

[shampoo]

There are certain people
you can't get too close to
without their image blurring,
kinda like with televisions.
Unfortunately,
stepping back
won't always kill the headache.

[shampoo]

19 down
and not a comment.
I'm starting to wonder
whether you all
take this seriously
or not...

[shampoo]

Off with your head
I'm gonna take it for a spin
around the world and back again
then back to you, my headless friend.

Headless?

Heedless, more like it.
That neck of yours
is surely sore
supporting dumbed down dead weight.

Allow me to lighten your load,
ease your anxieties,
tune up your thought,
fill 'er up
and drop 'er off
better than before,
unless, of course,
you feel no need
to heed another's hortatory...

Well,
what's that you say?
There's nothing here can help you?
Not so.
Lend me your ears
along with the head
and learn to see things differently.
Maybe then you'll appreciate,
but if you don't, don't hate my way.

[shampoo]

Trapped inside these techno walls,
never knowing if the voices around
are the parroting of imbeciles
or merely the echo of this very fool
who writes for you now,
he never will understand
where the noise truly originates,
be it his mind
or the world surrounding
offering up,
no, mandating what be said
and what be heard.
He'd break the walls
if not for fear
of the entire mechanism
electrifying him
in one supercharged mass,
self induced lobotomy.

[shampoo]

In a place that knows no snow but some
that seldom comes and passes swiftly,

not even the animals suspect
a certain traveler following
the freshly frozen tracks, entact and telling,
and thus the traveler trails behind,
sometimes cold and others weary
but never demoralized while winter's weather
works its wonders welcomed warmly
and the tracks unfold a dazzling path
through which romantic moments find
the wandering mind we all would wish for
if we could ever lose the old one.