Slithering slouching slug

Pumped out this poem on my walk to work, check it out!

#???-Slouching Slug

Don’t mind me,

just a

slouching slug,

a scummy bug

slithering away

to a grave stone

with no name

on it.

Uh-huh,

just a bumbling

baboon

beating out

every bit

of hope I had inside me,

bleeding out any blessings

that lord almighty

might have bestowed upon me.

Slouching,

slouching,

slithering away

to a

nameless grave

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I don’t know what I’m doing, but I’m pretty sure this is poetry.

I haven’t posted in a while, so here’s something for all of my loyal fans who are constantly begging me to post more poetry….

#???-what do you do?

There’s some saying,

you’ve probably heard it

it goes

“You don’t have to do anything in life that you don’t want to”

But, my whole problem,

my schtick with this

is

What if you don’t know what you don’t want to do?

Or what you do want to do?

Or what if you don’t know how you want to do it?

Or when you want to do it?

Or where?

Or who with?

What if you don’t know anything about what you want or you don’t want

or even about yourself?

How do you find yourself?

How do you love yourself?

How do you do anything at all? Ever?

These questions will probably never have answers

And I’ll likely go on doing things

not knowing if I want to do them or not

Or if they where the right thing to do,

I mean hell, you can even take right or wrong out of it,

I just plain don’t know anything

And this, I think,

Will ultimately lead to my destruction.

.

#????-funny stuff

It’s funny

I can practically see

the time flying by

when I’m standing still,

It’s scary,

knowing one day

I might die

not knowing,

It’s strange,

how close we are

to so many different

strangers

that could be friends ,

but really

it’s funny,

itsfunnyitsfunnyitsfunny,

how all this

odd-ball-wacked-out-weird-shit

can happen,

and we don’t laugh

at it more,

it’s life,

ya know?

C’est la fou vie!!!

If I had some form of guidance I’d probably have a book published right now, but that’s neither here no there.

Enjoy!

.

.

.

#???- C’est la fou vie (its crazy life)

It’s terribly

important

that you

don’t und-

erstand ever-

ything.

Ya gotta

walk out

to the edge

and look

over it

and see

how deep

it goes

and wond-

er if that

fall would

kill you…

You know,

you know,

you gotta

get

real funk-

y, weird

maybe-crazy-

baby,

that’s the

kinda shit

you need

happen-

ing

round you.

Charlie and

the bum boys

are sketchy

characters,

but they talk

better then

Suzy from work,

you know?

You pickin

this stuff up?

What I’m sayin

is,

if you accident-

ally freak it,

and wake up

tomorrow,

dirty-poor-

ugly-hungover,

it’s all right,

what I’m saying

is, none of its

wrong,

ya know,

C’est la

fou vie.

It’s crazy,

life.

Not doctor recommend.

I’m not sure if this poem is about the price of organs or if it’s a love poem.

#???-Dirty heart surgery

I read somewhere today

that a human heart costs

four hundred and forty two

thousand dollars.

Now, I’m no doctor

and I’m certainly not

an organ dealer,

but I think I could fix your heart for much cheaper.

Now, now, before you get your hopes all high,

let me just say that my method for fixing hearts doesn’t work for everyone,

and it may take as long as a year before the process begins to work,

but my method is

much, much cheaper.

See now,

this is how the method works-

You give me a call,

I’ll go get us a bottle of wine.

We go down by the river,

and we drink that wine,

and we chat and we laugh and we see the river and the stars, and maybe we even skrew.

We do this now and again,

and mix in a regiment of me making you dinner,

and the two of us seeing movies and live music,

maybe throw in some road trips,

and of course,

hugs, kisses, late nights, and cuddling

are absolutely vital to my process.

So, anywho,

we do this for some months,

and somewhere along the way,

I’ll just give you my heart.

Now, my heart can’t replace your heart,

and it’s not the greatest heart,

but it’ll beat just for you.

I must warn that this may not be a permanent fix,

and could eventually cause more damage,

but in fairness,

the risk is just as great for me.

So, before you hand out

four hundred and forty two thousand

to some idiot doctor,

give me a call,

let’s see what I can do for you.

Besides,

I really like the idea

of my heart beating for you,

doesn’t that sound

kinda nice?

Your smile, your heart, and goodnight

Here’s some shit I wrote.

Enjoy!!!

.

.

.

#???-goodnight :/

I don’t need to tell you

why I love you,

just know that I do,

and I can be a dick

but I’m better

then he is,

and your better

then me is

but I just gotta know

what is it I gotta do

to make you loose sleep

over me too.

I just wanna lay

right next to you,

but your laying next to him

and you don’t care,

that

I’m aware,

staring at a lake of whisky,

and I’m going to dive in,

ahhhhhhh,

look at the time……

goodnight.

..

#???-your underwear.

Your underwear

wasn’t really

what I was trying

to see through.

I don’t

feel

underwear hides

too much;

It’s just some parts

we’ve

all seen

before.

Now,

don’t get me wrong,

seeing you

without your

underwear

would surely be

a blessing.

I imagine

if I were ever

in a situation

that I were

seeing you

without your underwear,

it would mean

something

good

for me.

However,

your underwear,

and what was

underneath it,

isn’t what I was

interested in.

It was more so

what was underneath

your skin,

inside your skull ,

the stuff you were really

made of;

that’s the stuff

I really wanted

to see.

.

#???-your smile.

You looked at me and said

“I love your smile”

So I said back

that I loved yours,

and your smile got real big,

and all of a sudden

I could feel my heart

beating

and I wanted to feel

yours too,

and I said

“I think maybe I’m in love with you”

and you frowned

and looked down

and said

“I’m sorry,

I can’t love you.”

And our eyes met,

and even though

I knew that you meant it,

I still loved you,

so I smiled,

and said

“its ok,

you don’t have to love me,

but I still love you

and your smile.”

And you smiled,

and I loved you,

and I didn’t want to love you,

and it wasn’t ok,

cause I wanted you to love

me,

and you didn’t,

but instead of walking away,

I just kept smiling

and loving

you.

Your smile, your heart, and goodnight

Here’s some shit I wrote.

Enjoy!!!

.

.

.

#???-goodnight :/

I don’t need to tell you

why I love you,

just know that I do,

and I can be a dick

but I’m better

then he is,

and your better

then me is

but I just gotta know

what is it I gotta do

to make you loose sleep

over me too.

I just wanna lay

right next to you,

but your laying next to him

and you don’t care,

that

I’m aware,

staring at a lake of whisky,

and I’m going to dive in,

ahhhhhhh,

look at the time……

goodnight.

..

#???-your underwear.

Your underwear

wasn’t really

what I was trying

to see through.

I don’t

feel

underwear hides

too much;

It’s just some parts

we’ve

all seen

before.

Now,

don’t get me wrong,

seeing you

without your

underwear

would surely be

a blessing.

I imagine

if I were ever

in a situation

that I were

seeing you

without your underwear,

it would mean

something

good

for me.

However,

your underwear,

and what was

underneath it,

isn’t what I was

interested in.

It was more so

what was underneath

your skin,

inside your skull ,

the stuff you were really

made of;

that’s the stuff

I really wanted

to see.

.

#???-your smile.

You looked at me and said

“I love your smile”

So I said back

that I loved yours,

and your smile got real big,

and all of a sudden

I could feel my heart

beating

and I wanted to feel

yours too,

and I said

“I think maybe I’m in love with you”

and you frowned

and looked down

and said

“I’m sorry,

I can’t love you.”

And our eyes met,

and even though

I knew that you meant it,

I still loved you,

so I smiled,

and said

“its ok,

you don’t have to love me,

but I still love you

and your smile.”

And you smiled,

and I loved you,

and I didn’t want to love you,

and it wasn’t ok,

cause I wanted you to love

me,

and you didn’t,

but instead of walking away,

I just kept smiling

and loving

you.

One poem about Yugen

I recently got the Japanese symbol for Yugen tattooed on my hand, and I imagine I’m going to have plenty of explaining to do. Yugen doesn’t have an exact english translation, and depending on its context can mean a lot of different things. Anyways, this is a poem attempting to explaining what Yugen means to me.

Enjoy!

#???-Im going to take many attempts at writing a poem about Yugen

Yugen is

when I read poetry

or write poetry

or listen to music.

It’s going on a hike

and noticing all of the flowers

and trees and bushes

and the life!

It’s gazing up

at the stars

or jumping into cold water.

Yugen is reverence

for everything that reminds you

that you exist.

It’s the beauty of hurting,

of pain,

of change.

Yugen is a profound understanding

of the universe

and it’s

every little thing

that keeps you

going.