Somewhere outside of a bottle of a tequila, a monkey decided to grow wings and become a fairy of mass portions.

Little Rock was dying, Tulsa was next, America was a scene, somewhere outside reality, as I sat there, after taking a few edibles of various strength.

“Is this death?” Mary shouted from the top of the tower, leaning towards the right.

I shrugged as the world span out of control into the sun, seconds at a time.

It would seem the world would end in 30 billion years or a month, matters on how fast it could spin, fleeing, into that fiery ball of enraged senators.

Henry Parker, the man behind the illusion of reality, was sitting here too. His hands grasped the bottle of tequila like it was a religious experience.

“I saw Jesus back there!” Mary said as she settled back in the back seat of the car. She was high or so said her agent as he put her into the car.

Vegas, land of the unholy wild chief iguanas was boiling in its own skin.

“Beer!” Mary roared as she fled into the casino.

We never saw her again.

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There in the darkness,
A light did try to slay,
The madness swirling around in their heads,
The world was still young in her eyes,
Fly the morning light,
To break that cursed pain,
To be seen,
To be heard,
To know the touch,
Of love,
Boiling deep inside,
There was no time,
Now that father is dead,
That scene,
Took his own life,
I found him there,
Hanging in the attic.

Prayers of Saints,
Do they even hear?
I pray,
I pray again,
Do they even care?

Ice cold beer,
What the fuck are we doing here?
Mother is dying, somewhere,
Maybe father knows where?

Trumpets blues,
Harvard and 9th,
Jesus died for somebody’s sin,
Who here is revealing sins?

July 12th,
World is pulling apart,
Reaching for the top,
While sinking to the bottom.
We were standing there,
Waiting for a bus,
Never comes,
Doesn’t say much,
For our transportation!

Rust,
Lost in trust,
Who here has a buck?

Gives a fuck?

Balloons falling through the waterfall,
We cannot see the bottom,
Trust faith?
Die before you hit the floor.

Type,
Type,
Words on the screen,
Jesus,
Who sees?
Who hears?
The blind lead the dead.


The year was 1997 and everyone was dead.
Welcome to the future kids,
Come on,
Stay awhile,
Everyone driving Buicks through the desert!
Welcome to the madhouse,
Nobody gets out alive,
The world is an oyster,
Flying through a cloud,
Distant memories, stacked,
Like cement blocks on our graves,
I love you Rio,
Bravo,
Cheap sheets on a broken bed,
Mama can you hear me crying in the storm?

The man was a great man,
So the pastor says as he performs the last rite,
He’ll be missed,
Dissed?
He’ll be something.
A writer?
Nah, too fat,
Writers have to be skinny,
Hungry,
Haven’t ate in days,
Weeks?
They should be high,
Write!
See the sea?
No?
Lie!!
The waves rolled in,
To the sandy beach,
And we all laughed,
Ha!
Red balloons falling from the sky,
Jesus ain’t here,
Come on Jack!
Come on back!

3/31/2022 –

Every so often I get friend requests over at Facebook. Most of the time these are scammers; they are easily spot able, aka they want to friend me and I’ll hit ACCEPT because well, there’s nothing on TV and sometimes I like to be feel wanted!!!

Meet Janny Hannah. Pretty right?

Her twin sister tried to seduced me weeks ago.

No, I didn’t use my real photo.

Thanks This Person Does Not Exist.

Janny Hannah

Janny Hannah

Facebook

You’re friends on Facebook

New Facebook Account

8:20 PM

Janny

Janny Hannah

Thanks for accepting my friend request. My name is Jenny I am from Little Rock Arkansas.and you

Enter

You sent

Duluth!!!

Enter

Janny

Janny Hannah

Are you married single or divorce

Enter

You sent

I am single. How about you?

Enter

Janny

Single too

Enter

Janny

Janny Hannah

Do you have your own house or apartment

Enter

You sent

Neat!! So tell me about yourself? I am 26 years old and looking for someone to be my life mate. I am studying nursing in Africa but hope someday to return to America to become a world famous movie star. I live in a shoe. How about you?

Enter

Janny

Can I see a pic of you

Enter

Janny

Janny Hannah

I am a professional hairdresser but I am not working yet because I had issue with my manager.

Enter

You sent

A photo of me after being released from prison in Santalanta, Nigeria on my 25th birthday!! May I see an image of you now?

Enter

You sent

Open photo

Enter

You sent

I shot my manager, hence the reason for me being in prison. Do you like cake?

Enter

Janny

Janny Hannah

Do you have Hangouts so that we can continue our conversation there now

Enter

You sent

No Hangout. I have a bean bag chair I like to sit in while I watch TV. Are you a scammer?

Janny

Janny Hannah

Goodbye

You sent

Goodbye scammer!! (Psst!!! You messaged me before, using some of the same pic!! Please try harder!! I guillible, trust me, and have fallen for youse guys scam!!!! Maybe next time!!! Don’t bring up Hangout, nobody legit uses it, not even the peeps who make Hangout!! Seriously!!

Btw, thanks for the material for a blog, wasn’t sure what I going to write about!! You guys are awesome!! Tell Reverend Lovejoy I miss him!!! Where you actually from if I may ask!

[END CONVERSATION]

And like that, the chance for romance was done; no Hangout, no conversation.

Those wondering why they love Hangout, it’s cause I guess it’s an easy scammer lair, not as easily traced and well, nobody who runs the app.site gives a poop so yeah, anyways, stay tune for the next episode of AS THE SCAMMER WOOS!!!!

Heaven is a chocolate bar.

Hell is no toilet paper after you shit yourself.

Pondering, early morning, as I watch The Andy Warhol Diaries, because it’s quiet in the house now; the monsters still sleeping, 5:37 AM.

I had a dream; no unity or mountain tops, no tables full of foods of all delights, just a dream, Andy was there, he told me I should make THE movie, about queer steers in Spain mocking angry young politicians.

He then told me had to go, early lunch with Ghandi. I bet you guys eat soup I say.

We both laugh. Then hug. You’ll be joining us soon, he says. Bring Spam. We’re running low.

I nodded.

By the time I write this, the world is still spinning. Jesus isn’t on the news. The world is still spinning. Jesus saves, popular tune.

Michigian to The Czar back to Portland for drinks.

Day is yet to break. Brake?

Merry Happy New Day, eat a chocolate bar, don’t shit yourself.

In a few years, I would be dead, a memory in some data bank, possibly even erased, to make room for those still alive.

The sky was gray; overcast, as I walked the two miles from my house to the beach, the wind hitting my face hard.

“Lyle?” a voice crept from my memories; July 12th, two years, maybe three years ago, I was seventeen, Aunt Tilda was dying; I couldn’t see her then, there at the hospital.

My mother was dying too, both of cancer. I tried to see them but I couldn’t, I was sick, the flu, I think, my father let me peek at them through the window of their rooms. Both laughed and waved.

I waved back.

When I die, I hope there is someone there to wave at me; a small glimmer of hope before the end.

I wrote a letter to mother; father gave it to her, please come home, I will make Chester pudding for you and father.

She never came home; died on the 20th of July.

Aunt Tilda on the 21st.

I sat there on the beach.

I did not think about death as the waves crashed to the shore.

I thought about life.

It was a good day.

LOVE: A Poem

Posted: March 22, 2022 in love
Tags: , , ,

Ever knew love,
You would find your love’s hubby,
A new job?

Ever knew love,
To the point,
You would give up your current love?

I have and will do it again!!

To the day, I shall see her face,
To feel her body against mine,
To hear her scream my name,
In Blasphemy!!

She is mine forever,
A love I shall never find,
I shall never know her touch!!

We flew,
To touch the sky,
To go where no one could touch us,
To bring us down,
To fly,
To sing,
Upon gilded wings,
We flew,
To find ourselves,
Among the clouds,
We saw,
The Heaven’s angels,
Singing to us,
As our wings brought us,
To that bliss,
Among the clouds,
So high above,
To softly drift,
Our life was ours,
To do as we wished,
To fly,
Dear ones,
To fly.

Mock bums, living life, in the eyes of social media stars,
Look towards the world; bright eyes dulled by reality,
Hard life, out there,
Going up,
Into made up names,
Swimming through broken lanterns,
I see impurity,
Beneath the sacred Church,
Called television,
Mother doesn’t know,
She doesn’t care,
She been dead a long time ago,
Cars honking,
God is on the street,
Pretending,
He is one of us,
Near the King of Neon,
Flashing threats,
Stop,
Roll,
The streets are dying,
Old hotels burning to the ground,
A toothless hag,
Her name is France.

Joey is dying,
Half past three,
Free,
Thrown in the garbage can,
Crawling out from our warm sacks,
Everyone is dying,
Minute by minute,
Hour to days,
Good night sweet night,
See you tomorrow!