Jibber Jabber from a Jim Jam Jabberwocky

eating ice cream out of skull,
empty eye sockets remind me to buy used condoms.

I take back all the things I said about clouds,
they don’t look like dinosaurs.

Then again you never believed in romantic artillery shells,
but who could blame you, being the product of too much soap.

just think back to the time when all elephants were happy in rooms,
a time when we were old and strung out on dental waiting room magazines.

I feel sorry for chewed gum spit out,
even when I curse it.

almost an article of contention/ nothing close to a rhyme/ these words suffer

Monsanto
filled me
with
genetically
modified
seed,

now I
speak
outta
my
asshole,

least
nothing
has
changed.

With Ph.D in nutmeg itching, I decisively arrived early for a meeting I was never intentionally invited to. Low and behold the buffet was out of order, someone had too much fun with the side salad and every tray had to be re-watched from a different angle. I wondered if this was common amongst water bottle enthusiasts who had gathered together in holy match lighting to converse on topics not usually found in the literature of bus schedules. A motley crew indeed was all I could say to a young mouse trap who asked me if my hair was naturally bald or if it was just the summer suns trickery. He continued at once to brush up against the wall while picking his nose with his left big toe. Of course I knew this was how a water bottle enthusiast says hello in this part of the parking garage, though I must admit two tickets to not being ready for the act in and of itself. I did try my best to mimic his motions but to no avail. A giggle came from the bosom of a woman who I may have slapped sticks with in a convenient closet located some years before. I am pretty, for sure, that she remembered how I hokey-pokey my way through her night table, when she gave me a great big kick in the nose and then a kiss on my zipper. A custom that I doubt is a custom for crystallized thing-a-ma-jigs, but her fine lips smelled sweetly of salt and when she proved her nationality and invited me into her wide birth undergarments at the head of the pack, I could no decline. Later, I ate two peanut and jelly sandwiches, read a few pages from a book with no words and wrote this to you dear papa. this way you know that my college drop experience is going in directions not mapped out by Triple A sports teams.

• 

  

  mademoisellechapeau replied to your post: Telegram of name change

  Reason for the urge to change?

I feel the use of ‘senor’ brings about the idea that I am Hispanic or I can speak Spanish. both are not true, all though i know a little Spanish but am not fluent in the least. I do not want to falsify an image of myself with a name based under false pretexts.

Owl: Nov 23 – Dec 21
Changeable and mutable as the wind, the Owl is a tough one to pin down. Warm, natural, with an easy-going nature, the Owl is friend to the world. The bearer of this Native American animal symbol is notorious for engaging in life at full speed, and whole-hearted loves adventure. This can be to his/her detriment as the Owl can be reckless, careless, and thoughtless. Owls make great artists, teachers, and conservationists. However, due to his/her adaptability and versatility – the Owl would likely excel in any occupation. In a supportive, nurturing environment the Owl is sensitive, enthusiastic, and an attentive listener. Left to his/her own devices, the Owl can be excessive, overindulgent, bitter, and belligerent.

Pretty dead on.

source:

http://nativeamericanencyclopedia.com/native-american-zodiac-signs/
http://www.whats-your-sign.com/native-american-animal-symbols.html

thinking about changing my url name to Mr.Gibbershroom[STOP] Haven’t decided yet[STOP]Writing would stay the same[STOP] What does everyone think[STOP] Does anyone really care if I change my name[Stop][Question Mark][STOP]

lil’ bit o’ pee
drips from slit
on tip of head,
down boxer legs,
and craving for
soggy soggy mush
Kellog’s Frosted Flakes and
mid-90’s animated
X-men Series, but
yet I feel no want
to move home or
backwards in
life, I hope
no one notices.

vegetable sweat pants/ forest ranger/ on the make

miscreantsandspiders replied to your post: Hire Me Pissing Blood In Free Fall Western Bagel Advertisements Luxuries

just thought id share another pissing poem haha

can never have too many poems refrencing pissing in all it’s golden glory.

I chose a job I loved,
but no one would hire me.

now I vomit tears and piss blood,
rip out my hair and eat it raw.

and applaud the Western Machine
of free fall economy capitalism.

a sore subject for those hiding in dumpsters,
waiting for day old bagel paychecks.

but we are united
in sore backs and tired souls.

united in hunger
for intangible luxuries that
we once thought
easily obtainable
as children. 

what idiots we were
to not read fine print in
television advertisements,
that writing on the wall.

childhood,
memories and dreams,
a smile in traffic,
in DMV line, at table
calculating debts, bills,
future expenses, homework
that matters with no grade or
pat on the back, if lucky
a full belly and nerves not in
complete havoc.

smoke ‘em if you got them.

you will need the strength of madness,
for tomorrow is a new old day.

                                            grown men,
                                          pissing all over
                                          the toilet seat.

                                                and
                                         we wonder why
                                         big government
                                         feels the need
                                        to hold our hands
                                             like kids
                                          attending the
                                           first day of
                                            elementary
                                             school.

                                         if we won’t use
                                            energy for
                                        the simple task
                                          of lifting up
                                            the seat,
                                       then how will we
                                       govern ourselves
                                      with decency and
                                          intelligence?

delicate-genius replied to your post: “It was John F. Kennedy who really put the kabosh…

god help us all

the conversation continued:

“and Jackie Kennedy made Pill Box Hats popular”

“not with me. A hat is not a hat unless it gives you some protection. Now what I don’t get is Alligator hats.”

“Alligator hats? never heard of those.”

“The actress wears one in Devil in a Blue dress.”

“oh. you remember that Bob Dylan Song about Pill Bx Hats.”

“no.”

“Leopard Skill Pill Box Hat.”

“No. Never heard of it.”

end of conversation.

“It was John F. Kennedy who really put the kabosh on hats.”

this was just said by my co-worker. Vut Da Fuq.

(I may use this in a absurdist poem)

digestible treaties,
conventional wisdom thrown in microwave (along with metal),
electro silohette’s,
as if watching Law and Order for the first time,
if life was only that simple.

jet lagged personnel flies into a rage over stale bread stand off,
an act perfectly acceptable among adults.

think about the children,
but don’t,
lest your name be branded with a red ‘P’.

perverts unacceptable,
even by assholes and liberals.

the coffee is cheap,
Dortio’s not so much,
click fingers,
nothing changes,
except the 80 cents missing from pocket.

a little quiet time,
before the long slow train to nowhere,
it’s the clock that is at fault,
it’s money that is the problem,
label every bill with letter ‘P’,

maybe then my backside won’t be tarnished.

                                                   Ants will 
                                                 be victorious

                                                     when
                                                   giants fall
                                                   helplessly
                                                   upon the
                                                     ground.

Genghis Khan’s nicotine addiction/ oh my/ Virginia

she was delicate barbed-wire,
a desiring back spin for young men,
neither gross misconduct or candied gratitude could
ignite the ferocity of her hand job legacy.

somewhere in the Mid West a farm was jaded,
too much corn and not enough saliva,
boarding on failure too communicate
all the crows went East instead of South,
an event that impacted the cows ability to moo.

She never dared to drink from public urinal fountains,
flourishing an ability to balance on hind legs when
no wind was gusting down central avenues from
pacific time zone,
all she wanted was to hear the radio play something good.

I tried, you tried, she tried, he tried, they tried,
tired of bags under eyes,
the bed too lumpy to make good gravy out of,
it’s sinister when you think about it,
books collecting dust,
vanished in a house fire,
all the while knowing that we were never destined to become
dinosaurs in the proper definitional terms.

When this lease is up,
I think I’ll try to wedge myself between
the Mountains and lakes of the North.

Wad blown in sink/ Alamo Remembered