Posts Tagged ‘crap’

Riding the high road to Hell again,
My soul drifting through a drunken fever dream,
Lost among the waves,
Hands held up,
Trying to find a way.

Life is just an unanswered dream,
An unsung song,
In that field,
As the disease rolls on,
tLaying in a dimly lit,
Hospital room.

Daddy’s crying,
Mommy’s dying,
Long time ago,
Sweet lies,
We believe,
We dare hope,
Are right.

Born to lose,
Oh why,
In Heaven’s name,
Does God hate me so?

Down into the darkness,
Of that last embrace,
Time stood still,
As the Heaven took them all away,
Memories reappear,
In dimly lit,
Looking through a broken mirror,
A dream,
A memory,
Lies from the mind?

Fuck this world,
I want to get off,
Shit happens for a reason,
Even when we feel like we want to die,
I am still alive,
Cause I didn’t want to die,
Too many people care about me?

Driving down a lonely road,
The wind blowing through my life,
Good night…


Another night, another movie review (the full review can be found here —- )

A movie I could not make it through to the end.

It’s just that good!!



Maybe tomorrow, I’ll post a poem or a better piece. But tonight — uh —- movie night!!!

Where’s everybody going??



A couple of weeks ago, I got bored, I didn’t feel like writing poetry, nor did I feel like writing a fictional story from the prospective of my belly button and my sites were feeling left out, so I decided to create a whole new project—– ONLY MOVIE REVIEW SITE YOU’LL EVER NEED!! (Click to go to the general site) So far, there’s four movies, of such greatness, you’ll be amazed that you have never heard of them.

This site has been decreed by Facebook to be abusive so it has blocked me from sharing the links (Dark Web kinda hacker site I guess. I do hit some ‘naughty’ pirate sites to find these movies, there’s no way I’m going to pay hard earned nickels and pennies to share my thoughts and feelings and mockery of said films.

Tonight’s movie fest was called Monster: The Prehistoric Project and it’s a classic from Tomcat Films LLC — a film company that is known for it’s wonderful take on big hit movies with a close enough name to confuse people into thinking they are going to watch Jurassic Park or something.

This film directed and acted in by Lisa Palencia is a masterpiece, a combination of Jurassic Park, Girls gone Wild, Blair Witch Project and X-File.

This should have been picture of the year at the Academy Awards 2016 but Hollywood is fickle pickle and needs its art spoon fed to them.

To read my “Full body synopsis/review” of this film —- click here —- and enjoy.

There’s even a link to the full 1 hour and 20 minutes of greatness that is this movie.

If you can stand the intense action that is!! Buhahahahaha!!!

I kid. The movie is bad.

But the acting is good!

Haha! I kid, just awful!!!

Internet Movie Database gave this movie like 1.5 stars out of 10. But what do they know!!

Go watch with somebody you love.

Like your mom.

She’ll probably hate you and disown you but who cares, you only live once right?


The world according to a junkie

Chapter one

The Part where I die

There I was, sitting in a club, 2079, people were around me, dancing, talking, blowing their mind, witness to the beginning of the end, razor blades slices up and down their arms.

“Polish fag!” A woman came screaming out from the bathroom, chasing some guy out into the street.

That’s how it was.

Nothing to see.

Move along.

Some shitty band played “disco is dying” up on stage.

I was dying, one second a time.

The screaming lady came back in, sat down next to me.

First time I met her, back when I first got here, to this city, I knew there was something different about her from the other ladies working the joint.

She was a guy, I could tell by her hands.

And the cock sticking out from under her short dress.

“You got any shit?” She asked, smiling.

“Up at my place…”

We both stood, leaving the place, for my dump up the street.

Cheryl was her name, a forty dollar whore, “lady” of the night.

But for some “candy” she was yours for a few hours.

I wasn’t gay, far from it, but all the girls, with cunts, all wanted more and later, as we laid in my stained bed, we would talk, about nothing.

It felt like a relationship.

“You ever think about…” Cheryl said, placing her head on my chest.

I could feel her cock near my leg, just there.

I shrugged.

“Future never comes, like someone else I know!” I laughed.

She pushed off from my chest, flicking my nipples with her hot red painted finger nails, laughing.

“I will come boy, I will come!”

I felt her hands wrap around my cock, beginning to stroke it back to full erection.

When I awoke, Cheryl, like always, was gone, back to her life uptown.

I once passed her in that life, straight man, working at a bank, as a teller.

“Hello sir, how can I help you today?” He smiled.

“Hi Jim!” I said reading his name tag, almost laughing.

It was an awkward moment, one I wouldn’t live down, three days later, my place.

“Don’t you EVER call me by my Slave name!” She growled at me.

“Jim?” I almost laughed, tears in my eyes.

“Yea! My mother, the bitch, named me that, after my grandfather, the same cock fucker who molested me from the time I was 11 years old till I sliced his dick off when I was 14 and ran away, to this place!”

I never called her Jim again.




August 30th, 2018 – Somewhere in the living room

It’s almost the last day of August, one more day of what we consider the days of summer, as we move into fall, then, with just a blink, it’ll be winter time.

It seems like only yesterday it was the beginning of 2018 and now, we’re past the midpoint, heading fast into the end.

Where the hell does the time go?

Anyways, I know I usually write a poem and post it here but I went to bed way too early for me; 7 pm, I saw my head hit the pillow before my usual time of like 2 am.

This means I was up by 2 am and with the cable company trying to resolve a major issue, means, no TV between 2 am and 6 am.

What does that mean to you?

I feel like writing something here; but no poem right now, maybe later.

Every so often, I get in the mood to just write, random stuff, my long time readers know this as EEK!! HE’S OFF HIS MEDS!!

So here I sit, at 4:42 in the morning, the laptop on my lap and my fingers gliding over the keys (sometimes hitting the backspace a few times as I misspelled THE tge!) in an attempt to amuse myself so I don’t go running outside screaming THE BRITISH ARE COMING!!!! which scares the neighbors enough for them to call the police.

I should write a better title, something like click bait, like DISCOVER HOW TO MAKE MILLIONS OF DOLLARS JUST BY READING THIS BLOG!!! (I just went back up and readded this to the title!!! )

I remember reading a “How to make $$$ fast by blogging” years ago, when I first started and the blogger, some Doctor of Business and Stuff, stated that the title was the most important factor in growing your blog into a huge success.

I am going to admit, I suck at titles and tags and such.

I try to go with content but I fail at that as well.

Damn my inability to make good content.

I just like to write or ramble on about nothing in particular, it keeps me out of the loonie bin.

To be truthful, I’ve been rambling on for most of my life.

Some have told me, I’m a good writer, but I’ve never seen that, my self esteem won’t allow me to be too nice to myself.

But only recently (well, 2008) did I start sharing my writings with the world, AKA placing them on a blog.

I do like to scare the natives though so it has worked out for me as long as I don’t become too popular and people expect me to appear on national TV.

I’d break the world’s TV!

(Psst. Not really!! CBS, call me!! Lets do lunch!!!)


Course, online, nobody knows that you’re really a french bulldog blogging as a cat and seriously, I don’t think anyone really cares.

They just want to be entertained, to read about the lives of people, even if it’s as boring as


On a now defunct blogging site, I tested this theory out by creating THE MOST BORING BLOG IN THE WORLD with such tidbits as the above as well as I WENT POTTY AT 12:45 PM!

I got enough followers to make $37!!

I think I used the money to buy snacks.

Very tasty snacks!

Anyways, I think I’ve rambled enough to make this blog postable!! I hope you enjoyed!! If not, there’s always Yahoo!!





Tonight, on another blog site I write on, I wrote this —  TRAPPED IN THE DARK WHEN THE LIGHTS ARE ON A POEM — sometimes, even when I’m happy, my sad poems leak out and get exposed to the world on the screen.

I am kind of depressed, not enough to go walk out into traffic in the hope to be ran down and killed by a passing truck, because well, knowing my luck, I wouldn’t die.

So anyways, I decided to write something here and share the link here for some added views. (Gotta make those pennies over at Adsense!! Giggle!!!) 

Not sure what this blog will be about, maybe nothing, or something.


P.S.  I’m not okay, I promise.


Here I sit,
Trapped in the dark,
With all the lights on,
That feeling,
With a fully unfolded map before me.

Am I okay?
Wearing that mask,
The face of a clown,
Falling up,
Spiraling down,
Depths to hell,
With full sight,
That voice,
Trying to scream out,
Madness deafening.

Tears in the rain,
Washed away,
That fake happiness,
On that face,
Smashed mirror,
Not to reveal the truth,
To hear,
The sound of silence,
To read,
A blank page…

Falling down into space,
To see,
How far the rabbit hole goes.

There I was, sitting on the side of the road, looking for life through a bottle of Jack I bought a mile back, taking sips here and there, flipping off the desert rocks across the way from me.

It was a good day to be alive, sitting there, the sun baking my pale white skin a hard burnt brown.

Crows swirled over head, cawing to the beat of a music only they could hear, the coming of a summer storm brewing west of here, a vague breeze blowing around to keep the scene alive.

Mary, my last girl friend, before I became a single road runner on a trip to the sea, was outside of Boston, looking into that same sky as I was, only she was in Boston.

I drank another gulp of that whiskey which was soon becoming warm and had to be consumed before it became hot.

Summer time would soon end, as every season did, but I would remember it as I finding America as I traveled down the road; that con man in Cinncy looking for a dime to buy a burger, if he got a quarter, he could also get fries with that.

$1.85 for a platter.

$2.75 add a milk shake.

Cindy Lou, the sweet young mother from Salt Lake City, trying to find herself before her child became a teenager and hated her guts for raising her wrong.

That’s what teenagers did, it seemed, being angry monkeys, flinging poo at their mothers and then, when they hit their twenties or even thirties, figuring out that their parents were okay and they, the teenagers, were pricks.

I wanted to fall asleep, under a tree, a weeping willow, to stare into the sky, to wonder if any life was out there, intelligent life, too smart to contact us, humanity.

But as I drifted into thought, dreams, some car drove by, stopped.

“You need a ride?” the driver shouted out.

I nodded and headed over and got in.

“Where you heading?”

“West my friend, towards the sea…”

And that’s where the journey went.

Hank was an encyclopedia salesman from Tulsa, trying to sell books in the information age.

“I ain’t doing well…” he sighed, taking a hit off the bottle I had with me.

“Yeah, I ain’t either!” I said.

We stopped at some town to replenish our supplies.

Gin this time and a few bottles of whiskey, a six pack of beer each.

It was 75 miles to the next supply stop, in some desert town, like this one.

I thought about leaving this caravan, to find myself in this one horse town.

It had a bar, two toilets there, and a mile down the road, there was an all night liquor store.

The bar served hamburgers.


All that matter but I stayed on, Hank was pleased.

“I thought you’d go after that blonde we met. Glad you didn’t…”

The car sped along, mile markers drifting by, we were drunk by seventy two, pulling over around midnight at some rest stop.

“Shit!” I yelled.

The gin was gone.

We both cried.

Then passed out.


Write some silly words, to that world, where the people dance,
Like silly children,
Staring into the sky,
Looking to be free,
Among those stars,
They stare up into,
Wanting to fly,
To be,

Silence, there, upon the screen,
The words come out,
To be heard,
To be testified,
They are alive,

The colors,
Spread across the canvas,
Into the night sky,
A sun rise,
Human revolution,
Evolution of the mind,
No skin,
Just the words,
To justify,
To hate,
To love,
Reach out,
God forbid,
No way in.

Run away,
Hide your eyes.
Children don’t look,
That senseless death,
By suicide.

Drinking gasoline,
A pilot light,
Sitting by the pool,
The mind released,
Heaven in sight,
There ain’t no Heaven,
There ain’t no Hell,
Except here,
This paradise,
This slum,
This endless hike,
This fucking place,
This beautiful place,
Let us rejoice,
Let us hate,
Let us be,
What shall be,
And nothing more,
Let us be,
What we can be,
Let us be,
Oh Ancient one,
Let us move away from here,
Let us be,
To rejoice,
To hear the angels’ voices,
To hear that beauty,
That song of life,
That song of death,
To hear,
To fear,

There in the moon light I saw her face, like the very first time, a mirage I thought as I sat there, the world closing in, ripping my flesh from my bones.

I cried to her, to come back, to hold me, if only for that moment, that I wished would last forever.

God was a miserable fuck, I thought, to be so cruel.

“It’s a test of your strength!” some friends told me.

I spit in their eye and said, it’s a test of your strength.

They didn’t laugh.

We are born dying; we are conceived for only one thing, to consume, to reproduce, and then, at a predetermined time, to die.

In some cultures, there is a reset, reincarnation for a better term.

We are reborn, to retry and beat our high score in the game of life.

In a previous life, I was told by my friend’s grandmother, I was a barn owl.

She didn’t really tell me that but she did tell me I was an old soul, possibly one of the original souls which meant I sucked at this game of life and really shouldn’t be allowed to play.

But nope, here I am, my 999,999th attempt.

“What’s the score?” I scream into the night air.

“How the fuck should I know!” God screams back.

I should have known.

I would try to go to bed but I’m not sleepy.

So here I sit, the TV turned off, the radio turned on, listening to music and randomly typing on the keyboard; click clack give the dog a bone!

In this life I have learned a few things; mostly don’t pee on the electric fence and don’t eat the yellow snow, it ain’t lemon!

I have learned that love truly does bite; no one should play that game but it can be rewarding, so why not!

When in doubt, reboot.

Nobody should play politics, nobody wins in that game, but if you like peeing on electric fences, you should become a senator.

If a war was held and nobody showed up, would that be peace or just a terribly short war?

Why did Mother Nature create ticks?

Do androids dream of electric sheep?

And did you remember your towel before we began this trip?

Why is this bus heading south, isn’t Seattle west?

I think I may be on the wrong bus, unless Fargo is my last destination, in which case, let us have a hamburger and chips at the next stop.

If not, I better get off and head in the right direction.

Good night my friend, I hope you are well, and not sick.




On the first strike,
We killed the Press,
On the second strike,
We killed them all.

We were dancing on a neon cloud,
A nation lost,
In the TV screen,
Club girls,
Fucking a machine,
As we flew away,
We dropped the bomb,
We saw the world,
Go aflame,
Like a bad disease
You know what I mean!

Jesus died,
For somebody’s sins,
But he sure didn’t
For my fucking sins!

We are the terrorists,
We are the disease,
Everybody here,
Is going to Hell!

Girls in the bathroom,
On their knees,
Sucking in a disease,
The new nation,
The creed,
Born from lies,
We all be dead,
But we just won’t care.


We lost.

The system, built on the backs of the people, visualized but never realized for the people, began to breakdown completely.

It did not go with a bang but a slight whimper, only noticed by a handful of roaches who sat at the bar after hours on 21st Street.

Did anarchy rule?

Not a chance.

It was a school night and all the kids were in bed, dreaming of electronic sheep, virtual drugs coursing through their neurons.


A coma-like state, the sheep, tucked into their shells, lines feeding their brains their preprogrammed dreams, with limited commercial interruptions.


Would the Media really lie to us? A visit to the future world

They launched the nukes, that final solution, on July 10th, 2065, the president’s birthday, a grand day indeed as declared by the media drones.

We had been at war with Eurasia.

We had always been at war with Eurasia.

It was the only solution, the killer of giants, the multi-headed dragon, rising from the sea, Sao Lu, leader and Great Mother of that venomous beast, her true name was Diana Dewitt, of Lutherville, Kansas but at the age of 16, she became a leader.

When she was 23, she was “taken out” by an ‘Agent’ of American forces known only as ‘Black 87’ an organization that’s official mission was classified and even the president was ‘Off the list’ when it came to clearance.

We tried to build a wall, it failed.

It was a planned failure, a trick, to control the opinion of the American brainless twats who were controlled by the talking heads on their touch screens, that ’20 second flash’ of news directed by directors of secret places.

“Sao Lu has nukes! She WILL use them first…..” the talking head of Jane Austen said from the screen to the viewers of Fox News live.

She crosses her silk clad legs, left to write, we watched intently.

“We can be nothing but great….” Charles Anderson smiled.

His peppered gray and black hair rustled in the fan generated breeze.

Both nod.


Sao Lu, standing in front of a parade of military vehicles is shown.

There are the missiles, the fangs of her dragons.

We all gasped in horror

“She must be stopped! We can be nothing but great, the victor in this aggression….” President Alan Franklin, previously a contestant on “So you think you can dance….”, sits at his desk, smiling, bright white teeth shining through a shit fake orange tan.

Lu has been dead for 12 months but by the magic of computers, there she stands, split screen to the President who would send Canada back to the stone age.

“They called my dancing crude and unoriginal!” he screamed at his generals.

Congress had been eliminated.

Deemed “Fake and unneeded” in 2022 by an executive order.

The “Majority” spoke.

The Speaker of the House was publically hanged on pay-per-view.

5 billion people watched.

The swamp was drained.

The President’s approval rating was at an all time high.

273 percent.

“He’s the greatest President we have ever had!!!” the masses roared and cheered.


None were available.

But unemployment was at negative twelve percent.

Would the main stream media lie to us?

They might, you silly rabbit, they might.

And we, standing there, rising over all, watched as the missiles launched, our greatest and glorious feat…