Posts tagged ‘BroHaus’

May 6, 2015

I used to live here, Whittier South

And those injured and suffering went along
Carrying bandaged faith and sore teeth,
smelling of sour mashed sweat,
rubbing tender eyes,

as empty cans and bottles littered
the Whittier South yard where they sauntered.

Harmless props save for the thought.
It was a weekend to remember forgotten.

Sunlight carried split-skull interactions,
churned ladles in their tender stomachs.

If only these plastic chairs could talk they would be perfect witnesses,
chucked into red-ash fire
at the utterance of a word.

Feet kicked aluminum to metal sound,
and “see over there—there’s the compost.”

Now, can I have a beer?
Can I have a piss?

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November 11, 2012

Oppressive Options (Now They want to be like Me)

Fans are setting goals in respect to my situation, and talking about words on occasion.  I am in good company; everyone that surrounds.  Complexion not mentioned, hardly ever, always abound.  Those who avoid regressive expression and let it out.  We are found.  We are now.  

Like DKR, Like my roommate.  Like we do.  Like in the BroHaus.  Over and Out.

 

However, I sit and think.  I think and drink on economy, prosperity, reality, and dreams.  How realistic they seem, and how to make ends of means.  I believe.

I guess I believe…

 

I turn pink because I can’t relate.

I read more, instigate, initiate.

 

Not to hate, not to hate.

I’ll extrapolate.

 

Dodge dates, girls wonder why I show late.

Or not at all.

 

Count your blessings.

There are 99 bottles of beer on this wall.

 

Not my fault; I was taught by condition to absolve and revolve.

 

Keep straight forward, on a mission.

Watch out for number one, and wash the dishes.

 

Breakfast in the kitchen; Guinness Extra Stout and Gravity Drip Coffee, eggs, lime, rice, and beans.  Be lean, stay clean, read Minneapolisscene.

 

Write like that, like this here.

Right here, right now.

To exist, not missed, somehow, and still get around.

 

Not so fast, chill out, sit down.

 

So clearly mirror what you are near that you disappear.

Steer clear of fear.

Drink much with peers.

 

Appreciate those you hold dear, and the lack of competition.

 

Wishing like they are fishing for a compliments.

Bitching, that’s how I vent.

Commonsense.

 

And they hold it in.

 

Get asked why I am so happy.

Probably because my smile says fuck you, and inside I want to flee.

Exactly, exactly!

 

Just to be free.

Just to be something like me.

 

So many options and no definitive answers.

 

But freedom and choice cause oppression and tension.

Just go with your gut, end of the lesson.

 

And in my other blog I talk about fucking, and she says its substantial.

Beat that Dane-imal.

She gave me a handjob and called me an Asshole.

 

The day was uneventful, so I slept through it.

 

***

 

Identity crisis, thoughts divided.

Self-minded, ever self-minded.

 

I love you Dane,

Good luck on your goal to out write me.

P.S.  Sorry for drinking all of your SnowShoe Grog Schnapps.  I’ll get you S’more Schnapps soon.

TS-