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Saturday, July 29, 2006


Though the man without eyes was blind
Oh the magical things he would see
Visions and thoughts of otherworlds
Not appropriate or right for you and me

Visceral plains of carnival creatures
Shoulder blades cut the fog filled air
Inbred monkey men with feminine features
Crowd like sardines inside the humid lair

The winged skeletals hover above this city
Their screams come out like a baby child's wailing
Eyes, like fire, light up the dark sky so pretty
They prey on the weaklings in ships below, sailing

The weaklings, made up of scales and fishbones
Wash ashore on the black sanded beach in pieces
Skulls and fins and eyeballs in black tones
Mix in with the sand and water in creases

And on the land set far away from the water
The man without eyes sits whistling a soft song
His mouth full of teeth and lizard tongue's slaughter
Commiting crimes inside his head against the human throng

-AP 07-28-06

Friday, July 28, 2006

Zombie Love

On a concrete slab sits Undead Ned
His veins emptied, hollow and dry
He carries with him a stone bone head
Tears of dust drip from his baren eye

He walks along with a sideways tilt
Stifled and sore like a grudge fucked gimp
Always hungering for the flesh of guilt
Whoring out zombie girls like a feverish pimp

His tophat askew and moldy old
Turned down quick to sheild the skies
His heart is grey stone and winter cold
Empty cracked holes exists for his eyes

In a three piece suit, he gleefully walks
Eyeing the night for his next prize
And with his bride, he partakes the waltz
Never flinching at the buzzing of flies

Undead Ned and his blushing wife bride
Lay beneath the blanket of grass
The sun has risen and here they'll hide
Patiently waiting for the new day to pass

-AP 07-28-06

Thursday, July 27, 2006


Lips Twitch
Sickness Glitch
The House Fell On
The Wicked Witch

Hopped Scotch
Skinned Blotch
Blatant and Obvious
Kick In The Crotch

Broken Sweat
Kitten Pet
Murder Falls
Without Regret

Sticky Mess
Godly Bless
Souls Will Ride
On Ghostly Express

Lights Dark
Blackened, Stark
In Big Empty
Godblast Massive Spark

-AP 07-27-06

Wednesday, July 26, 2006

Reverend Herman's Whiskey Sermon

Remember ol’ Reverend Herman
and the power of his whiskey driven sermon?
Casted out the devil more than once, occured
Question him twice about existence, obscured

He brandishes a smile and flask of metal
The voice he breathes tastes of wilted rose petal
Slamming the good book while screaming a preacher’s prayer
Reverend Herman’s new nickname: “The Devil Slayer”

The church is filled to the brick with those
Who would give up their children to keep their clothes
They praise the Reverend before them, seen unflawed
To them, he is the incarnate of their almighty God

Reverend Herman lays awake on his musty bed
Whispering incoherently from his wounds, that seep blood red
Cavity ridden decaying toothy smiled grin
He knocks the whiskey back to keep the Devil within

-AP/MH 07-26-06

Tuesday, July 25, 2006

Lunatics Lymerics

The tired bafoon sits humming a tune and spits in the hungry mexican saloon
Asleep and deflated like a brother unrelated, he hisses like a rubber baloon

There's the dark room joker throwing cards like poker
Aloof in the midst of the smoke breathing toker

The flimmy flammy shamrock Sammy drinks bottle after bottle of irish whiskey
He skinny dips with sharks off the coral reefs of sadness without the thought being risky

And alone and tired, the robot boy is rewired and stands in the corner in trouble
He remains unheard like a mute humming bird, awaiting for God to pop the bubble

Thursday, July 20, 2006


Peg legged Al
Has a sassafrass pal
And they live on a ship at sea

He eats shelled up fish
Yet never uses a dish
And his nails sting hard like a bee

There's whispers in his head
There's odors of rotting fish, dead
And the seawater is black like oil

The boat rocks like grandma's chair
And creatures live in his hair
They'd be at home, buried beneath the soil

-AP 07-20-06

Friday, July 14, 2006

The Coming Storm

It starts off with a rumble as the edges of the sidewalk crumble
A weed may take a tumble but the bumble bees still sting

And the crowd of people seem to be thinner than your hair
As the parked cars' horn honks become louder in the air

The rumble turns to shakes and behind you comes the marching earthquakes
Their fangs are mashing along with parked cars crashing as their mass moves forward

They are tall monstruous brick house ogre beasts with death in their eyes
Their bellies aching for a feeding and your flesh is the prize

Cars become crushed metal like bike petals in a junkyard pile
The fang mashing giants edge closer like a storm with a smile

Your feet are brick and mortar along with the bent concrete mass
Lay down slowly, bleeding air from every pore and become transparent like glass

Before you know it, the world is succombed by this dirt smoked death blast
Rumbling like the tumbling teeth mashers amidst the emptiness mast

Everything grey black and full in it's emptiness as the blood train moves on

Tuesday, July 11, 2006


I'm creating new scars with these thoughts in my head
Ripping open my flesh to let the heart faucet drip
Tangling sinues and ligaments alike
Swingling like wires I'd want to stick in the spokes of a bike

Unconnecting my bones and throwing this skin jacket away
Sloppily moving through the haze of the day
My muscular structure falls apart at the seams
And it feels to me like another one of those glaring red dreams

Burning fire amongst the occular slate of my eyes
The heart faucet seems to be losing it's needed suppliment
I try to hop, skip or take a flying leap
But I soon forget what the hell that even meant

Brain juice inside a bottle necked man
Trying so desperately to calculate his life span
Seeking solace and love is a futile condition
And there's a growing life puddle beneath his feet

The scars I've created have all got their own names
Like those obscure and sleazy beer drinking card playing games
It seems like I'm close to the end of my twine
And the thought of sleeping without dreams suddenly seems so divine

With a flash and a smash, everything seems to crash
Bones, blood, and muscle lie together, like potatoes in a mash
And my mind seems to be the last functioning being in the sludge
Just leave me alone here because I'd be happier not to budge

Saturday, July 08, 2006

The Letter S

I woke up reminded of being the other man
It's a syndrome that makes my eyes itch like ivy
It's become sort of routine and trivial
Like brushing teeth and then the mouthwash
I don't like it but don't know how to operate without it
It's a feeling like a hole but not that cliche
And I know it's happening and I can't stop it
I can acknowledge it and pet it like a cute little cat
Make fun of it from afar and disown it in the company of others
But the feelings still exist there behind my back
And they like to smack me in the back of the head at times like this
They whisper and scream words like, "STUPID" and "foolish"
It's a Saturday and it's a She and it's a name and it's a place
I know things I wish to not acknowledge but they root like gofers beneath my soil
These carrots of knowledge are being plucked and I'm trying to not pay attention
Come tomorrow I'll pretend like I never even wrote this
Come tomorrow I won't be the other man, at least I'll be the actor pretending
I'll smile and nod and be that silly guy
But it will all eventually come back to this thing
This Saturday and this She
This name and this place
Pull the plug and let it flicker
Toss it out the window and let it smash
I need it to be purged but I need it to stay with me
Keep me company and break the walls
Take advantage of me and keep me safe
Pluck my eyes out like grapes and feed them to the monkies
Without these itching eyes, perhaps these feelings will go away too...

Wednesday, July 05, 2006

Clown Goes Boom

Face caked makeup
Place baked with stakes up
Dirty sheeted tent town
Juggling rotted fruit
Dirty deed doing sad clown

Eyeballs a blaze from smoke and booze
It's really hard to walk in those big red shoes
Juggling fruits from the neighbors yard
Just like the Joker from the Devil's card

Hopping robotic from toe to toe
Much obliged to the average Joe
Makeup dried with dirty lips
He wears those gloves to keep a grip

Tossing fruit and throwing knives
Watching the clouds move like passing lives
Hopping robotic from toe to toe
Much obliged to the average Joe

Sunday, July 02, 2006

The Belt Buckle Floor Show

Welcome to the Belt Buckle Floor Show
It's a place where the folks like to dance their dance
Naked in clown makeup and feathers
Adorned with bells and whistles
It's a crowded place, full of booths and popcorn
There's a place in the corner too
She likes to hide there
It's where she does the thing she says she doesn't do

It's the Belt Buckle Floor Show, of course
A place where he likes to giggle like a sheep
His belly is filled up with butterflies and beer
His nostrils flare like Fridays here
There's a toothy grin appearing on his gritty face
His teeth, brown and golden
This place makes him shine like an old fashioned movie marquee

You'll find it here at the Belt Buckle Floor Show
A plethora of corn syrup and jewels
The children run a plenty
Sugar highs and monetary lows
Their laughter, screams, and cries blend together like smog
Unfulfilled wants and needs come out like burps
And before they know it, it's naptime
This place makes their bellies ache from shoe shine saccharin

It's closing time at the Belt Buckle Floor Show
We hope you enjoyed your stay
Please man the doors and wipe the floors
Purchase your saturated pocket fillers now
May your ego feel temporarily boosted
May our cash registers feel boasted too
For we are closing at the Belt Buckle Floor Show
Thanks for the friendly invasion, please come again.