My mom thinks I’m sacreligious
Children’s bible defaced
Pentagram traced
All in the name of a cardboard cut out
Category: Uncategorized
Simplicity
My favourite words consist of loaf, agave, grotto, and fuck.
The favouritism stems from their versitality.
You can have a loaf of agave,
You can be in a grotto of fuck,
And how fucking nice does a Agave Grotto sound.
I’d swim there, I’d eat a loaf of bread there, I’d tattoo ‘Agave Grotto’ right across my chest, and show everyone with fucking pride.
I don’t give a loaf what anyone thinks about my favourite fucking words.
I’m sorry they are not words like eloquence, or opulent, or silhouette.
I guess you can have a eloquent silhouette.
And maybe the opulent shine of her eyes matched her eloquent nature.
But are these words really practical ?
No.
In real life it’s not like poetry, if you tell someone their silhouette is eloquent, all you will get is a confused look in their eyes rather than an opulent shine.
If you say ‘You look fucking nice today’ they will understand.
Life is simple.
Only if you make it simple.
Agave.
Trashed Tuesday
Drinking can be a bore,
Vomiting in foreign toilets,
With strangers holding our hair.
Then thanking those strangers like they are the grandma you haven’t seen in years.
If we all just got stoned none of this would happen,
We’d just sail away from our problems,
Never looking back.
Putting condiments on an undercooked hot dog,
And then proceeding to eat the entire thing.
Even though you are vegetarian…
Oops…
Well maybe, let’s not get stoned.
How about we all just drink tea together in the woods?
We could all wear little hats,
It would be ever so cute,
No one would vomit.
No one would break their vegetarianism in a hungry rage.
It would be polite and quaint,
Until you realize you have all been drugged…
Walking up face down in the grass,
With no memory of what happened.
Just an unintentional high blur.
Or we could just go to church,
Breathe Jesus right into our lungs.
Like a drag from a holy joint,
We could all sing Hozier and have a grand old time.
Until the minister kicks us out,
Claiming we are disruptive to the service,
“It says ‘all welcome’ on the sign sir, I mean father…”
Well maybe not church, and defiantly not tea parties in the abandon woods.
What are we to do with ourselves then?
Get into border line criminal shenanigans?
Drink?
Like every other teen does?
Industrial
To love with a knife is not love at all
With the threat of a sharp edge,
They will never grow.
Rip out all the feathers,
Hang it until the blood won’t drip.
Slice it until it has no bones,
Until it is no longer recognizable.
Serve it to the selfish and the proud,
Let it rot into the earth.
There is no animal in meat anymore.
In the beginning…
Hi. Internet dwellers? Kind friends? Jesus, is that you? Mom? Dad? Long lost goldfish from beyond the grave? No matter, welcome one and all. I write things and stuff for lack of better words (no irony intended) and I just want to share it. If anyone reads it at all I would be happy or if it simply just floats in cyber-land. Cool. I hope to see you soon. Whoever you are.
The Starrfish
Starrfishing 