No Respect For The English Language

A fight between second or third…
Or her first?

Constantly I’m commenting.

What I’m trying to do right now,
Apostasty-a-riffic. Throw me out of all the anal passageways of writing shit for meal.

Truely blessed. Serving time free speech. I can even write sdrawkcab. What are you gonna do? Nothing. There are no rules to get published. You don’t have to be educated or smart. Its all about what moves people. They’ll buy a book I bet, full of exclamation points, sheerly out of spite, celebration of writer’s block.

    And here I’m not even doing it.
Why? I don’t have enough time in between doctors’ appts. to keep me alive. By God, somebody else do it and mail me the check fot kudos:

         I/O A. Harrison
         10101 SE Bell
         Portland, OR 97222

  I would appreciate a $100 royalty if you, whoever you are, could procure a book. Exactly 100 pages long. Titled “!” by psuedonym “!”.
Preface reads exclamation points for exactly one and ¼ pages. Has ten chapters. Paragraphs cut to appear full. 100 pages. Very well then. I’ll wait for my check in the mail for legal© claim of invention.
$100 is not so bad. I’m done here.
I recommend finding a press out of Boston.

Secret Secrets

I don’t give a damn
If you have a secret
Even if you described it
I don’t think I could believe it
The Romans may have received it
Or maybe they’d put you to death
Is it better than best to be using
Or to be a fresh victim
Within a religion
Forced against a wall
Like a prison pidgeon
To pay the price like youre on meth
Even though youve done your best
Fleish Fritag, I’m a bullfrog
Dissect me. Then I think you’ll see
Every energy
All inside of me
Is reassigned in me

I arise the chosen winner
Bringing supper to the table
I am strong and I am able
Dressed in white and feeling fine

I would like to write a letter to
A friend from overseas
She’s a fresh and cool breeze
She’ll bring the cleaners in

There’s No Drug Testing For Writers

Nor Olympics, jumps, dashes or records! That’s good, because we really needed people like The Beatles, The Doors, Hemingway,
Poe, Shakespeare, Mozart… I mean, I’m assuming there was a contribution to their inspiration via concoction of ingestibles… if you know what I mean… that drew out the drawing of the sword that IS that MUCH mightier. Hahahahah! Busted!!

Unusual Sayings And Mysterious Meanings: A Tour Of Hell And Back- Pre-warning: A Bit “Occult”

I will give some sayings.
For ease of writing, I will write up against the left margin.
Not in correctness of English.
But syntaxually comprehensible.
And not reprehensible.
I am of an odd renaissanceness.
I am of syntax otra synergy
A syntax “sinnery” I hence…
…there fore run here.
This is my DAMN show.
This is my page.

I will strangle my ink to death.
I don’t hate it.
I love it.
I live in it.
I have a lustful passion
For suicide in its ideal expression
But homocide of the body
Is a disgusting defacation
What the hell?
People really think they can?
Without a mess and trauma?
There’s no goddamn passion THERE
Oh how depressed the man was
I get it
Im not talking about judging THEM
But its an EMTs job to pick em up
So his 48 hours is this:
Save a pregnant woman
Help a car accident victim
Broken arm only
Get a drink
Go to sleep
Go to work
Homocide and one wounded
Man is cussing
Money on the ground
The EMT puts $1200 in his pocket
To give to someone
Gang fuckers!
Another drink
Another call
Home suicide attempt
But its too much
EMT says, “Why bro? Why you wanna die?”
All calm.
28 year old man says:
I’m late on my rent
And I’m gay
God help me I go to church
But I cant stop
EMT says “How about I pay for your casket?”
Man says, “Hey… hey… I’d appreciate it. You don’t have to.
EMT says, “Its gang fuck money”
Man says, “Well fuck me dude. Not literally. You’re alright superman.”
EMT says, “I’m sorry I can’t save you. You know you took arsenic too?”
Man says, “You saved me forever”
EMT doesn’t but a casket.
Puts his body on a stretcher.
He doesn’t want the mystic pressure
Of pressurizing in someone else’s pressure cooker
But he says
A man is a man
What’s it matter where he puts his cock?
Don’t put it near me
No way no how
I aint bent like a woman
But you are my bro
I save people
Who gives a shit for secrets
Who gives a fuck and what the fuck is it business for anyone to make it their business what the fuck my secret is?
I don’t live in closets
I like women
A whole lot of women
But Im straight faithful brother true
Aint no father
What could I do
Never backed down
From a fight I believed in
Put all my blood in
Against evil
To extract the wrongdoer
And beat out the shit
So I could see the flesh
Of my brother
Brotha froma anuthah muthah
And accept him for what he is
A human
With a past
Leave it back
Then youre not a piece of shit
Call yourself perfect?
Even for a sister
You’ll burn in claiming perfection
You cannot take it with the you of you forever
Click click pop
You drop
Once you ain’t got a ghost…
What you was… you are not
Pop pop
Like in the day nothing was scary
Play pop a cherry
Find a motel room with AC and cable
Live to see a blacker day
You feared it
With tables and nails and knives
Didnt I mention this was about
The idea of ink bleeding
And suicide
How many reasons to live
I am a virtuous man type tendancy to do right but I feel like exploding and spreading it is not my normal mode but I wish to express what I hold back and even if only, partially in code
What am I doing?
I was so sick this March
But in February, my wife was so sick
With immunological difficulties?
That I planned in the back of my head, but none of it came to pass, nor will it now for I learned true SCORN for the ills of life is to live mostly
But she was ill
So to console myself
Since there are none to pay the bills
And she knows all this
And Ive lived alone before
Sick and suicidal
You see, she saved me
My family is selfish and melancholy
No matter how I reach them
No matter how often
Reciprocation is rare and lifeless
Like a dry leaf
I planned if my wife was to go
To be a deceadant
I would go to Walmart and get items
To make myself a deceadant too
So that the love we have had would not be fogotten
And my mother would be denied
Her wish
Her cruel wish
To take care of me again
It would be a cruel knife to the heart

All Of The Above Was Fiction Based On Reality. I Am Anti To Suicide. I Have Almost Died. It Is Only Scary And Not What You’d Ever Think. Don’t do it.
If this writing displeases you, apologies. Though viscereality is the best surface for other words to stick to.
So kiss my ass, critics.
Who am I particularly talking to?
Im just a Syntaxsinner
Blood is like cherry juice in the living, oil in the bleeding and liquid feces in the dead.
We had a suicide in our building. Floor two.
I was on five.
Glad to be.
Second death in 3 months.
Back when I was single.
Portland, OR
Eleven years ago.
First one was heroin OD.
All apartments are one person. Loner complex.
So they found her.
Corpse on the floor.
Floor 4.
Its like finding crunchy bad mouse sticky cheerios under your fridge. Organic. Bag it up. Put a blanket over. Roll out fast. Looks like a living payient.
Good job.
Thanks cleaners!
Coffee next time!
And donuts, creme-filled
(They don’t associate food goosh with body goosh. I don’t either. I do enjoy eating a chocolate bunny. You do have to make it predatory. Unless you are über-vegan which almost cries “serial killer” for your cleanliness of self. At least a prick to be around. Im kidn. Kind of.
This young man was found dead on floor two.
His apartment was quaranteened.
His girlfriend (more like spousal love) died. He went to his cubical apartment days later.

He decided it was the end. Obviously he loved her deeply. I did not know him. But what I find now is that I don’t care that either of them died. I wonder what they did for fun together, yknow?

What was so amazing and SO fun that a person would rather DIE than live one more moment without.

He was found dead after 2-3 weeks of decomposition. That’s almost 21 days. There’s the answer. Without her, no one was going to check on him or miss him. No one was going to kiss him or hug him. Or he didn’t think anyone would comfort him. Or he refused to be comforted.

The neighbors complained of the smell. Thats when investigators came in. A neighbor down the hall told me it smelled like (#2) and that if I ever felt depressed like that to come see him because he has (meth) drugs.

I initially like the place for its security, simplicity and view. That was all shattered.
I apologize if this comes across as distasteful
I assure you my clothing of choice, car of choice, woman of choice… is “fine”.
I just won’t leave the people behind who helped me to get to where I am today.
I am well off
At least in spirit
I was hoping
Through many of my herein saying you follosed
I could take you on a tour to hell and back
And leave you in one piece


What Is

What is planted in the sky-
And then blooms in the ground?
What has eyes on every surface,
Yet these are closed all around?
What reaches for the sun,
Then it goes and lays down?

                 “What Was”

What was will be again
And one and two will make a 
    “three”- a ship of friends
In and out and all around,
What will eatlessly make a sound
Of laughter, resting- joy and day

                 “They Will”


Wrap your arms around a dream
I am talking to you
No, you there…
The depressed one
No, no-
Him and HER…
What’s wrong with you all??
Move along
This is a special message
Do you think I don’t know??
Oh my god are you hurting
You feel like you want to live
You were depressed and thought
You thought of death
You thought you are bad
I wouldn’t matter if I said you are…
If I said you are good
The reason you feel bad is heavy
I once was in a state of mind
It was continous
But it only lasted half a year
Out of it I took my alcoholism
But I had hope again
Instead of going home alone…
I moved in with my parents
Even though I was still drinking
Mostly I drank at home
I’d crack the can open
The can of an 8.1% 24 oz. beer
I’d go to strip clubs to talk
Young women who were disrobed
Now I know how they get there
I was like them
I’ve heard “dancers” are mean
Never to me
Now I know it is disrespectful
Yes to seek viewing a nude woman
For money that is
Not immediately
Yes they have bills to pay
Needs are mutually met
But even one visit is a vote
A vote to say its okay
A vote to say “stay”
But if people aren’t there
At that conclusion-
I’m not here to judge
You just want to see hope
Something beautiful
Sure the body is art
Is anyone getting hurt?
I just know people need identity
Nothing is more identified…
Than gender
Who we are has to do with core
Its celebration of what we are
The pain runs deep friend
You don’t have to call me a friend
Maybe you are NOT in the crowd
In the audience here
But I care
Because I was lost
A woman came along
I believe in myself now
Nothing says you have to be alone
People can help you find your place
I cannot forgot how lost I felt
Like I was nailed down
But now I fly
Still wounds from the past
But I fly
And I focus on my wife
Also on my New view of a good God
Thats not for everyone I get it

Literary Balance

   Oh would ya look at the title of THIS one! People always seeking balance. Hahahahah! Hahah! Hahah! Uh… okay. Do you think THIS is going to be a balanced article? Well, according to MY estimations, “so far, so good”.

      What… …ever. Defiant tone. Mimic it. Defiance is balance. Shoot, say for example you want to talk about “chewing gum”. Well, I used to sneak out of church with my brother and go one block to the Albertson’s. Awful close to the Beaverton, Oregon library. Bytheway, Oregon is pronounced, “Organ”. Not “Orygun” like East coast buffoons hit it. Hell, I know Louisiana is “Leeziana” and “Louisville” is “Luavl” 1½ syllables. Well I got 1¢ gumballs at the machine. Now there’s religion!

     See- now the above shows an execution of literary balance. Hell- at its finest. It shows I was a decent kid by going to church. I did part of what my parents said. And I grew close to my brother, sealing schemes for Jesus’ day, celebrating the American freedom of manifest destiny- a White boy getting gumballs. I was autonomous at six.

     With all due respect, I do love Jesus and think Sunday School is a hokey Amway version of living. I believe God and his Jesus wants boys to behave and be free and safe. “What Momma don’t know”, right. Ha! Well the point is, I’m a refined yahoo, reverently irreverent, Doc Holiday helping the sick and shooting the terminally insane with radical ideas like “Church is usually a theological Amway farting contest blowing away one day out of your week in a lifetime.”

     One day of the week is 14% of your life. Moral of the story is go to church and chew gum. If they don’t like it, they suck. But church is cool. Singing is good for the body.

I Once Had A Dream

    Yes. I had this dream. I went to sleep with my heart pounding out of my chest. They call it an m.i. Newsflash- don’t get too into religions where they stress “feeling the presence of God”.

    I was having triple rate heart beat, no sleep for a week. No rest. I looked in the mirror and saw a person crying and I was mad at them.

    So #1… dont have heart disease at 19… and #2, don’t just start thinking God talks to you when you have a myocardial infarction. He probably is, but keep in mind even though you feel what you think is hell… it isn’t. Its a heart attack.

#3 forgive your parents for teaching you this religion where you are going to heaven and others to hell (see if I felt THAT and was going to heaven, well its a sign I have a foot in Hell and thats it

An m.i. is very painful when you are alone and dont report it. Mexican field workers have ignored m.i.s so theres precedent.
Add religion and ignorance and you get me, or the old me, dissociative in a mental wing

How is it recovering from an m.i. in a mental ward. Well, the nurse was hot and had a rockin bod. Other than that, broccoli and a roll and arts and crafts… horrible.

My dream. I slept with heart problems. Escalator to hell. No hope no salvation. Thats what Kip Kinkle wrote. So I have an m.i. and have a vision into the mind of death?

Im a mild mannered citizen. Im a different type of Christian. I don’t wish HELL on ANYONE. I dont have infinite power or tolerance, but Ive lamented a life where:

I found my blood results for illness hidden just last month from 1981. Why? OH… WELLL

I have been taking OTC for pain. I just got a new doc.

My last LDLp was 1670
Thats Crisco in your veins.
My doc is 75.
He looks at me and says after seeing people for 50 years…
Im lucky… to be… alive.
I told him about OBEs.
He nods.
Doesnt treat it like ghost stories.
Its like HE’S my dad now.
And Im 39.
Where has my life gone?
What has it meant?

Fearless Being

       It would make sense to me that there is and must be a fearlessness of being. There is no scientific basis  that unicellular beings are any less cognizant or “running functionally and responsively” than a human. That’s ” responsIVE”- not “responsibly”, which could be confusing so I wanted to make double sure that was clear.

      Also the type of cognizance in a unicellular being, like an amoeba, has a spirit I am assuming, so to warn you, I’m going to go off on a strange tangent of a huge amendment to the definition of life.
Here, self propulsion to and fro and reproductive capability do not apply. These are ingredients in defining biological life. I am not talking about pantheism or significant spirits of trees and rocks.

       But trees and rocks do have being. Stars speak. Have I lost you? Farewell. I have more to say. Organisms in a unicellular being have being and operational life and are relative to a spiritual plane. Atoms are working super hard and not one gets credit? Splitting one gets an angry reaction. We have it easy as people.

       God the father of creation has a head outside of it and wears the universe as living clothing. He moves everything because Christ himself is IN everything. This is an easy scientific “theory” to live by. Say out loud, “Jesus, guide me” and metaphysically, rather, nanophysically, he’ll here you. You are in his space.