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FreeBird1969
08-17-2005, 05:42 PM
Maybe somebody could help me fit a name to this upchuck.

I shit all over my last/sheet of typing paper/early this morning/much to my toes' surprise/The janitor was called up and I had to tell him he'd be working/late again/He found no commas/nor any question marks/and I was/abruptly informed/that I would never make it past first base/Who's playing ball I asked/and where/but the hoboic master of ceremonies told me/to fuck off/and left with my blood-soaked pen/My typewriter still had no paper/so I called up my brother/for which I got a good shaking/You're lost he told/me No I told him/but the telephone went dead/or so he said the next time I ran out of paper.

Buckets of Cheerwine thrown out to sea
Water turns red like a cup of Boston tea
Bodies a-floating, frozen in glee
Hands stretch-ed forwards for an allimony plea

Young girls come running, their pant hoses run
Old bench-ed men sit watching for fun
They all hang from nooses, shading the sun
Needle wounds longing to taste of someone

Digger168
08-18-2005, 03:17 AM
there is somthing very Burroughs about this woman

What kinda typewriter ya using?

HHHMMNNN................

FreeBird1969
09-04-2005, 03:10 AM
You don't know how much of a compliment that was. :) I'm reading Naked Lunch right now for the 2nd or 3rd time. It still amazes me how so utterly honest that man was. I sometimes think maybe that's what made him poetic.

Underwood. :) She is the subject of many of my pieces.

Orsino2
09-04-2005, 03:15 AM
The first word I happened to read was "Cheerwine"...

Though the first is horrendously beautiful.