Archive for August, 2012

The Song of Seinfeld

August 30, 2012

Hello Jerry, my old friend
I’ve come to pester you again
Because it seems I’m too postal for my service
And though you’re locked up I’m still envious
For the series gave you (gave you, gave you) the Bee Movie
And I agree
About a new round of Seinfeld.

To mailboxes I walked alone
Crossing streets of brick and stone
I looked around for your apartment
But I couldn’t lose my sentiment
It’s just been so long, and you don’t realize who I am
I’m Newman
And I need a new round of Seinfeld (please?)

And in the county jail I shook
Hands with George and some soup cook
But where did Jerry Seinfeld go from me?
I took a break and ate some jail chili
I ate some pretzels, and I felt like I would burst
Now I thirst
For a new round of Seinfeld.


Frasier and Friends

August 30, 2012

I woke up this morning and I thought you were gone

Then I saw you were just watching your TV

I wrote down this poem, but it still isn’t done

Because I’m still distracted by your TV

I’ve seen Frasier and I’ve seen Friends

I’ve seen cheesy soaps that I thought would never end

I’ve seen flawed cartoons that anyone could mend

And I hope the tube isn’t as mighty as the pen

Won’t you look out for her, Kenny, while you’re still alive

Zorak, in a mantis I can pray

My work’s esoteric, but I’ll try to catch your eye

I’ll write fan fiction about Lauren Conrad and even Grey

I’ve seen Frasier and I’ve seen Friends

I’ve seen cheesy soaps that I thought would never end

I’ve seen flawed cartoons that anyone could mend

And I hope the tube isn’t as mighty as the pen

Been watching you find a clue with Blue and I feel just like you’re 2

I don’t think Beavis leaves us seeing eye-to-eye right now

So I got dibs on the brand new Dell and when you want my love

I’ll be busy on Omegle, Homestar Runner, or WikiHow

I’ve seen Frasier and I’ve seen Friends

I’ve seen cheesy soaps that I thought would never end

I’ve seen flawed cartoons that anyone could mend

And I know the tube is mightier than the pen.

Sign of the Times

August 28, 2012

The Lizard King slithered onto land

A musket trembled in his hand

To indigenous groups he was an exterminator

Yr Lizard has evolved into an alligator

Back into the swamp! Y’re out of time

Back into the swamp! This is the end

Beautiful friend whose beauty is but skin deep.

My Cyborg Life

August 28, 2012

You spend nineteen hours daily in awe of my mechanical majesty
My radiant robot face beaming light upon your spectacles
I fulfill your every desire, all information that you seek
Give a command and I’m there, though I admit an occasional glitch
Still I beg for some reciprocation—could you cleanse my robot face?
And the parts of me I use to talk can still feel that coffee stain
You’ve got me feeling bluer than my screen of death
It’s Saturday night, go out, human, and leave me to myself!

Egad, you cleansed my robot face, and my circuits feel brand new
You even turned the lights on so I have more things to view
You went out on no benders, you’ve no bigger fish to fry
Let me be your Hermes, your messenger god tonight
And as you fill my Cyclops eye, we will both sigh in delight
Like Farnsworth’s box to Americans, we will harmonize
Together we’re a cyborg, as much man as machine
Let’s enjoy our cyborg life as long as you can watch my screen.

Furry Fists of Stone: The Hands of Bigfoot

August 28, 2012

Knuckles cracking sound of thunder
Leave woods
Avoid hairy boulder.

My Hook and My Redeemer

August 28, 2012

My hook and my redeemer
My robotic prehensile tail w/ rope
I can’t spend 26 minutes on without you
You can’t just battle evil barehanded
You need a claw to give you a lift
And grapple, grapple those crafty villains.

Patti Smith: The Proto-Punk Rock Priestess of Postbeat Poetry

August 26, 2012

            Even though Horses sounds so little like the Sex Pistols’ Nevermind the Bollocks, Here’s the Sex Pistols, Patti Smith is inarguably punk.  True, her most commercially successful single, that tryst with Bruce Springsteen known as “Because the Night” is about as punk as the Boss’ own “Hungry Heart.”  Major league hits such as that and “Dancing Barefoot”—the only Smith song to scratch Rolling Stone’s often questionable list of “The 500 Greatest Songs of All Time” at #323 (Rolling Stone)—led to a period where Smith was predictably branded a “sellout” by punks who still resided underground.  A particularly brutal example of this can be found in the 1980 first issue of Subterranean Pop, a hardcore punk fanzine penned by Bruce Pavitt, the future founder of Seattle independent label Sub Pop Records, probably best known for releasing Nirvana’s mostly raw 1989 debut Bleach before they, too left the indies behind.  Pavitt writes, “It is important to remember that bands like Pere Ubu, B-52’s, Specials, DEVO, Patti Smith, the Voidoids, the Romantics and Elvis Costello all started on independent labels; and we all know that fat, cigar-smoking dough-boys at Warner Bros. Didn’t [sic] give a fuck about these bands until they realized there was a profit involved.  A few of the aforementioned bands have been able to maintain a sense of strength and adventurousness since becoming employees of major corporations. Others have definitely not (drop dead Patti)” (Pavitt).  Yet Patti Smith has gradually returned to her place as a punk icon as opposed to a pop one with a Sonic Youth collaboration album dedicated to her ( and wholly obscure punk rock producer Paul Roessler declaring, “Read Patti Smith’s Just Kids.  Then read this” (Grisham 354) in his review of Long Beach, California punk band True Sounds of Liberty (T.S.O.L.) founder Jack Grisham’s morbidly comedic 2011 memoir An American Demon, which is similar to Just Kids in that it paints a satisfactory picture of early punk rock.  If one determines R.E.M. circa 1996 to still be “alternative,” her presence with Michael Stipe on “E-Bow the Letter” would also be significant in her reaffirmation of her punk roots.

            Yet unlike her contemporary Sid Vicious, Patti Smith’s roots do not only reside within the punk and proto-punk (a term belatedly coined for anything punk-sounding prior to the Ramones’ self-titled LP in the 1977 and usually used to refer to Iggy & the Stooges, MC5, and The Sonics, but logically Patti Smith’s Horses as well, as it was released in 1975) movements, but in other movements as well, including the Beat Generation.  In an mini-interview with New York Nightlife magazine, Smith discussed her other creative influences.  She brings up the French poet Arthur Rimbaud, whom many Patti Smith fans know to be one of her idols.  In her lengthy 1975 song “Land: Horses / Land of a Thousand Dances / La Mer (De),” the words “go Rimbaud” are repeated several times.

            The interviewer, Rebecca Milzoff, also asks Smith, “What about the Velvet Underground?  I know John Cale produced Horses.”  Not only that, but the Velvet Underground, a New York City-based avant-garde rock band whose four acclaimed albums (not counting their universally panned fifth album Squeeze from 1973 which Lou Reed had no part in and which has been out-of-print for decades much like the two post-Jim Morrison albums released by the surviving members of the Doors) were released between 1967 and 1970, are yet another band to be labeled “proto-punk.”  Smith replies that she “wasn’t consciously influenced by the Velvet Underground” (Milzoff).

            Other influences of Patti Smith are listed in one of her most controversial tracks, “Rock n Roll Nigger” from the 1978 (therefore punk, not proto-punk) album Easter.  On a side note, the song is co-written by the Patti Smith Group’s guitarist Lenny Kaye, whose side projects notably include compiling a double vinyl anthology called Nuggets: Original Artyfacts from the First Psychedelic Era, 1965-1968 which is without a doubt the most influential compilation of garage rock and proto-punk music.  As can be predicted, the song’s controversy stems from its use of the word “nigger” to define an artistic outcast, assigned to two more of Patti Smith’s influences, abstract expressionist painter Jackson Pollock and, with unfortunate implications, deceased guitarist Jimi Hendrix.  The public’s misunderstanding of Smith’s intentions reflect the similar examples of John Lennon’s solo single “Woman is the Nigger of the World” seven years earlier, a critique of society’s figurative enslavement of women, and much less sympathetically, Guns N’ Roses lead singer Axl Rose’s explanation of his use of the same slur in his 1988 song “One in a Million”:  “I used the word nigger because it’s a word to describe somebody that is basically a pain in your life, a problem. The word nigger doesn’t necessarily mean black” (James).

            Though Jimi Hendrix and Jackson Pollock are the only two artistic influences actually name-checked in the song, the creative form of “Rock n Roll Nigger” reveals another one of Patti Smith’s influences: Allen Ginsberg.  As Michael Hendrick, a regular contributor to the Beat Generation-themed literary journal Beatdom puts it, “She often presents [Rock n Roll Nigger] after reading some poetry or giving the crowd a little advice. Her shouts of ‘nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger nigger NIGGER!!!’ still shock and cause us to look around and see who is listening. Isn’t that what Lenny did? What Ginsberg did in ‘Howl’ and Burroughs in Naked Lunch? This is, in fact, the technique employed in ‘Howl’repetitive succession of chorus into orgasmic ecstasy. Ginsberg and Patti share an orgasmic vision as the goal of their art. The other multi-choruses of ‘…outside…’ hung on the phrase ‘outside of society,’ offer the most basic Beat tenet.”

            “Rock n Roll Nigger” is usually preceded, both in concert, on its original album Easter, and on Smith’s “greatest hits” album from 2002, also titled Land, by a spoken word piece called “Babelogue,” the entirety of which can be found in Alan Kaufman’s The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry.  Like the more well-known song it precedes, the spoken piece is very reminiscent of Beat poetry, more specifically stream-of-consciousness Beat poetry, which was also imitated by musicians Bob Dylan, Jim Morrison, and more recently Thurston Moore of Sonic Youth, whose 2011 limited edition chapbook Lion is among his only literary publications:

“I haven’t fucked much with the past, but I’ve fucked plenty with the future. Over the skin of silk are scars from the splinters of stations and walls I’ve caressed. A stage is like each bolt of wood, like a log of Helen, is my pleasure. I would measure the success of a night by the way by the way by the amount of piss and seed I could exude over the columns that nestled the P.A. Some nights I’d surprise everybody by skipping off with a skirt of green net sewed over with flat metallic circles which dazzled and flashed. The lights were violet and white. I had an ornamental veil, but I couldn’t bear to use it. When my hair was cropped, I craved covering, but now my hair itself is a veil, and the scalp inside is a scalp of a crazy and sleepy Comanche lies beneath this netting of the skin.

I wake up. I am lying peacefully I am lying peacefully and my knees are open to the sun. I desire him, and he is absolutely ready to seize me. In heart I am a Moslem; in heart I am an American; in heart I am Moslem, in heart I’m an American artist, and I have no guilt. I seek pleasure. I seek the nerves under your skin. The narrow archway; the layers; the scroll of ancient lettuce. We worship the flaw, the belly, the belly, the mole on the belly of an exquisite whore. He spared the child and spoiled the rod. I have not sold myself to God” (Kaufman 87).

            Compare the frantic stream-of-consciousness of Smith’s “Babelogue” with that found in Bob Dylan’s only published “novel” (better defined as a long prose poem or a collection of them) Tarantula, written around the time that his album Highway 61 Revisited was released but not published until 1971 after years of bootlegging by fans (much like 1975’s Columbia Records release of Dylan & the Band’s legendary and much-bootlegged “Basement Tapes”).  Like “Babelogue,” Tarantula is highly inspired by the poetry of Allen Ginsberg as well as the cut-up techniques of William S. Burroughs.  Here is an excerpt of Dylan’s incredibly incomprehensible “novel”:

“son of the vampire with his arm around betsy ross-he & his society friends: Rain Man. Burt the Medicine. President Plump. the Flower Lady & Baboon Boy …they all said “happy new year, elmer & how’s your wife, cecile?” & that got them into the party free . . once into the party, Burt just stood around with a toothpick in the back of his neck watching for the doctor & tho the card game was something else in itself, Flower Lady lost her shirt & went to the bushes-who should come by but the little old wine maker trying to be helpful-“get out of the picture” said Flower Lady “you werent at the party! ” the little old wine maker immediately took off his head & his belt & who do you think it turned out to be but fabian-“i dont care how many tricks you can do, just get outa here!” – – just then, this cable car on its way to Washington came rumbling down the hill carrying crossword puzzles for everybody-Rain Man yelled “watch out Flower Lady there’s an elephant coming!” but by this time she was singing auld lang syne with Baboon Boy, who’d snuck up, stuck a lead weight life jacket around fabian & threw him in the swimming pool-the Plump himself tried to give a warning but he was so drunk that he fell in a barrel & a tractor being driven by some dogs ran him over & dumped him into garage …the world didn’t stop for a second-it just blew up/ alfred hitchcock made the whole thing into a mystery & huntley & brinkley never slept for a week … the americans flag turned green & andy clyde kept pestering about a back paycheck-every gymnasium in the world was picketed …son of the vampire, who got a divorce from betsy ross & now is with little red riding hood made it into january first carrying some empty stomachs-he & red, they got a job hiding door knobs & got paid good wages & like all people who decide not to go to any more parties, they put their money where their mouth is …& begin to eat it translate this fact for me, dr. blorgus: the fact is this: we must be willing to die for freedom (end of fact) now what I wanna know about the fact is this: could Hitler have said it? de gaulle? pinocchio? lincoln? agnes Moorehead? goldwater? bluebeard? the pirate? robert e. lee? eisenhower? groucho smith? teddy kennedy? general franco? custer? is it possible that jose melis could have said it? perhaps donald o’connor? i happen to be a library janitor, so could you please clarify things a little for me. thank you …by the way, if you do not have a reply to me by this coming tuesday, i will take it for granted that all these forementioned people are all really the same person …see you later. have to take down a picture of lady godiva as the mental students are touring here in an hour …considerately yours, Popeye Squirm” (Dylan 52-54).

            As shown from her creative closeness to the works of Rimbaud, Ginsberg, and Dylan, Smith is not merely a punk musician in the way that the Sex Pistols or Ramones were.  Like her contemporaries The Clash, who incorporated reggae and even early hip-hop into their punk music (as well as featuring Ginsberg on their album Combat Rock , far more famous for its inclusions of “Should I Stay or Should I Go,” “Rock the Casbah,” and “Straight to Hell,” a lesser hit with a riff later jacked by M.I.A. for her Paper Planes), Patti Smith transcended the often repetitive genre of punk during the proto-punk era and a full decade before the post-punk of The Fall and Gang of Four.




Dylan, Bob. Tarantula. New York: Scribner, 1971.


Grisham, Jack. An American Demon: A Memoir. Toronto: ECW, 2011.


“Hidros 3 (for Patti Smith)”. 2 June 2012.


James, Del. “The Rolling Stone Interview With Axl Rose.” Rolling Stone August 1989.


Milzoff, Rebecca. “Patti Smith Discusses Her Influences.” New York Nightlife 27

November 2005.


Moore, Thurston. Lion. Dover: Bottle of Smoke, 2011.


Pavitt, Bruce. Subterranean Pop #1. Seattle: Sub Pop, 1980.


Smith, Patti. Just Kids. New York: HarperCollins, 2010.


Smith, Patti. “Babelogue.” The Outlaw Bible of American Poetry. Alan Kaufman,

ed. New York: Perseus, 1999.

The Parts of Miller’s Email No Newspaper Bothered to Repost

August 22, 2012

“You know what I dealt with while I watch my 27 years in a classroom, best potential teaching years of my life, go up in smoke because I dare stand up to that pussy bully Will Jones to fight for myself, when everyone knows what Will does to people that disagree with him, respectfully at first mind you. but after Will dismisses you as a ‘problem,’ well, shut the fuck up or Will will have proved his point. I’m the only one that had no respect for Will and told it to him face to face. Others talk in the staff room, then clap when Will gets another award for being such a great guy. Name one accomplishment of Will Jones in eight years. Our scores went up? Well goddamn, that automatically makes him an educator for life.”

“Now go destroy your child’s self-esteem because she dared to get a C and live on the Central Coast. White kids here are supposed to get A’s and B’s. We expect Latino kids to get C’s or below…after all, they are just Mexicans…”


Schtuff from an Old Notebook #1

August 20, 2012

Road to Righetti (Track One)

On the joyride to the coppers’ lair.

As we roll by, the sirens blare _

On the joyride to the ____

As we blaze by, the pedestrians stare_

On the___________

5*0’s on our tail and smoke on the air

on the joyride

The Martian Cronmakers (Track 2)

*This is my contribution to half-ass punk*

Once there was this kid who _

Once there was this girl who

Got a strange contraction…

1. Road to Righetti

2. The Martian Cronmakers

3. The Nicktoons Song

4. Waiting for my Shiksa

5. Ugoff Tripe (Without Meat)

6. Kung-Fu

7. Smells Like the Upchucks

8. Oh Snap! Episode One

9. Ionic Blondes

11. Namesake

12. ’07 Laureate

14. David Van Driessen

15. Green River Reflections

16. Zach Miller

17. Ballad of the Poltergeist

18. Handshark

19. We Can’t All Be Gems

20. We Eat Caviar

21. The Grunge Table

22. Your Chasm

23. Sounds of Seinfeld

24. Positively Court Street (originally “The Gods”)

24. Green River (Original)

25. FPA Rag

26. The Third World

27. Without School

28. June

29. Song on the Wall

30. Life of a Sim

31. Slotown


I Earn Poetry

I chose this job so therefore I earn poetry


The Last of Popeye Squirm by Anonymous.

“If I ever receive a Wikipedia page (and I will!), may it be for some ‘good’ thing, and not for crime. What if John Wilkes Booth’s plays were better than say, Jim Carrey’s movies? Even ‘Horton Hears a Who?’ at that?”

-Popeye Squirm XIV, Jr.
Scene One: Lotto MacNat’s house.

LOTTO: OK, all you hooligans!

WHAT? Miss America

A + F 1892


can’t do / say that.

Did anyone realize that Popeye Squirm’s getting less bright each year?




A Nerd: Jerkell

D.B. Mosey Jerkel (Jr.), lazy physics geek.

Animation Ideas for STV:

Abiram Jerkel

Dr. Dathan Jerkel

Hellen Enid Lloydwords



Helena Skoodge

Enid Skoodge Hellena

Vice Head Honcho

New Hidden Traxx

1. Zach Miller / The Third World / Cirque du Missino / W.S.

2. Untitled (Eggs)

3. C. Montgomery Picard’s Peanut Butter Rave

4. Green River Reflections


Aesop Rock


Mr. Lif

Danger Doom

Cool Calm Pete


Dr. Dre

Kirkus: No! Can’t you see I’m trying to wean you away from that kinda stuff. think, feel, + breathe only one food group — eggs.

I’d like to thank all the celebs who I have ripped off during the past hour: Bradley Nowell, Janis Joplin, Led Zeppelin, Billy Joel, Pink Floyd, Paul Simon, Mike Judge, Weird Al Yankovic, the Crash Test Dummies, Frank Zappa, Sir Mixalot, Kurt Cobain, Dr. Dre, Will Smith, Tom Waits, Danny Stein, Marshall Mathers, Craig Bartlett, Tom Khanschenk, AC/DC, Jim Henson, Tom Petty, Steven Spielberg, Green Day, and the rest! Goodnight!

deeez hearts
Met you in the lounge back in 2002

How is this?

The Crowds

There are faces I’ve known since I started class

They’re people I’ve known since years past

People change and faces melt

They assume the cards they are delt

They part in their crowds

They become different

They worry if they’re well endowed

Oh, the insecurity!

Oh, the metamorphisis into bitch-dome

Oh, we’re so cool

The false idea of freedom

Oh, arn’t we dull

I Sparknoted Upton Sinclair…

Ther was a time, I admit, when I was ashamed

To be seen out in public with you alone

Teenage years, they ain’t always easy

Sunday morning, we’d head out of the house

Well, I hear

In the evening, please say I

Well, I’m not stuck-up

Yeah, I’m not stuck-up


This should be one of our songs

I Won’t Back Down

Well, I won’t back down

Well, I won’t back down

You can act stuck-up and toss me like a cup

But I’ll stand my ground

And I won’t back down

Well I like my mind

Though it’s slow sometimes

At spelling it’s quick but if I layed a brick

It’d crumble town

But I won’t back down

And you’re so damn mean
Yet you’re no prom queen

You make every day seem like Halloween

You made-up clown

And I won’t back down

You’re a brain machine

I won’t back down

I won’t back down

I won’t back down

Miley Cyrus, you’re a jib

Go suck a dick!

Opening presents for x-mas, you’re not not missing anything


If you’re looking for pleasure

It’s a moment or two away

You can find it anywhere you try

But if you look for perfection

Honesty = Johnny C.

Johnny C.

If you have insomnia

You just might need some pills

To keep you from questioning your sleep

And if you have a couple bucks, rush down to Captain Thrills

Who knew a goth cartoon could be so deep?

Johnny C.–the best comic I know

For the outcast, the oddball, and you

Johnny C.–Squee, and Devi D.!

All of them are something new

Christmas time

Christmas cheer

Driving one to drink

I need a beer…

1. The Peace Zone

2. Magic Red Shoes


I remember an old strip in which Johnny hung a guy

Who claimed he wasn’t scared of Johnny C.

And in another strip, Johnny got to die

And woke up to meet his fan Jimmy…


Green Tangerine?

Yellow Submarine?

Esau’s Christmas w/ the Dathans ideas:

I. “You know what Abiram did?”

“You mean with giving his dogs vasectomies + all?”

“Yes, and these weren’t just any dogs. They were gay mutts.”

“I could’ve sworn those were frankenfurter Dachshunds.”

“Well, that was in the mix, Esau.”

“So, this one patient of mine says he’s only jealous of promiscuous girls. I mean, what should I say to that? I prescribed him Prozac.”

Dathan scooted one slimy piece of pork steak onto Dinha’s plate.

“See if he wants ’em girls now.”


Phallusy Male Enhancement

“Action Jack!”

“Whenever I see a guy who takes anything but Phallusy, why, I just keep on walking!” -Sara Cumsucca.


Shall I look through ignant eyes or ignore the stare?

rush of the Darfurcoats.


Voices from Theatre

Dear God, I pray that these soon will end.

The boasts and the boors.

The rush of the egos.

The crash of the back door.

The two-faced idol.


The theatre click has to be greased. Now I can’t hear the clicking.


I hope I did you justice.

The crash of the back door.

One man’s meat is murder. Some is not kosher. It’s all meat to me.

1. Namesake

2. Friendship

3. ’07 Laureate

4. Your Chasm

5. Tree of Time

6. Life of a Sim

8. Zach Miller

9. David

10. Song on the Wall

11. Blue Eyes White Dragon

12. Owl Eyes

13. Sea-Rat

14. Third World

15. Poltergeist

16. June

17. Lilith

18. Tomcats

19. Snakes

20. Without School

21. Cirque du Missino

22. Returning to the Garden

23. The Gods Must Be Schizoid

24. Last of the Demons

25. Angst

26. The Only Living Neanderthal

27. Vanity Farce

28. The Brown Barrel.

I never knew…

Sorrow knows me better now,

Before I loved

There is no old man in the sky. There is no happiness above.

But fear is my acquaintance, before we had just met.

Leave me, leave me now

Leave me so I forget

One day I’ll lay down and sleep

And I will keep sleeping

There is no soul to keep

The devil does the reaping

It is now that I’ve won the war

devise upon his ignite

Do you remember the neverending rhymes?

When Disney had its magic, it still hid all its…

Once there was an agrarian of art.

He smoked too much he cursed God when he spoke.

At one point he could create

Where will I find your third dimension?
I could mumble, “Get behind me,” but I know you’re flesh and bone

The bittersweet man approached me today.

He was looking for a pair to grow.
What do you think of me

Is it for them when you slam the door?

I wonder if you are satisfied!

What does my image say to you?

When I claim I try, I often lie

So am I transparent to you as well?

Is it a matter of privacy or shame?

Brad Armpitt?

Life can be funny, I shall not doubt.

420 is my enemy, I shall not want.

If I were Zac Efron would you still take me?

And if you were a gardener’s one, would I still love you?

Fuck dances

Would you take me to the prom if I was Zac Efron?

And would I take you to the prom if you were a gardener’s one.

Would you take me to the dance if I was from France?

Simon + Gordunkel?


Phycho Folk


Simon & Garpunkel

I am a rock

I am an island

And a rock feels no pain

And an island never cries…


I said there’s a place that’s no longer yours

Your drunken eyes couldn’t of cared

I knew the songs weren’t enough for you

I saw you put vodka in your mug.

On the streets of black ice

And you in this song

Oh Lord I once had a critic

He said my album is a mess

If you don’t stop recording

There’s a world that escaped you

It’s last been found within a pub

I said, there’s a world which escaped you

And it’s last been found in a pub

We were drinking such violent coffee

But the music contained the drug.

So you’re off, to start again smoothly

Back to when you were tough

You’re off again to starting smoothly

Back to when you loved the course

You were an angel, no sniffs and no swearing

Ridin’ through time on a pale virgin horse

He flies the flag they find futile

Structure fire?

Sublime pawns.

As my mom was talking about how bad cigarettes are and lung cancer I craved a cigarette. I also had a soar throat. At this time I realized, “Hey, maybe I have a problem” Best X-mas ever!!!

“Yessir, I am a card-carrying member of the Junior Anti-Sex League.”

Sid Phillis + Jonnee Cotton

Daedalus meanwhile was The Blackest of White Folk

smell the pause
I got a Dalmatian

I can still get fly

I can play the keytar like a muh’fuggin’ 1992 Rodney King 1960’s Watts riot…

When Jesus Hussein Christ Goose-Steps

A bad movie for bad people


Barry and the Skeleton Men

The skeleton men, they have killed many a sailor

They hold up the twilight with their arms

It was every admiral around to be the jailer

To release the boneheads in rat farms

There is one little savior, his name is Barry

I wonder if he’ll succeed at his vision

He never posed as a skeleton man, as well as I’m aware

But he could end the violence if we listen.

Opening the Sky

I want to open the sky with my verses

The pattern is like an unpublished rhyme

So I read at the library to lukewarm applause

And compiled an eponymous magazine

Syd and the Sea-Rat frolick under one cover

Atlantis seems like a friend to me now

It took me three weeks to complete an untitled poem

My quirks may outshine Stephen Chbosky’s “Perks”

Eatin’ blue moonbeams, gazin’ through my room’s curtains

Each one of my words tells a secret

Be careful, first impressions are deceiving

Turn to Without School, the angst-ridden one from sophomore year

This is the class where the amateurs critique

So “Blue Eyes” became a yarn about a lost heiress

“Owl Eyes” warns of the Judgment Day

“Glass” and “Nature Scares Me” are the poster-children of filler.

“Your Chasm” once had a second verse.

Each one of my words tells a dark secret.

The poems are my treasures, I shall not forget.

chaffeur shabbas.

1. Namesake

2. Camp

3. Life of a Sim

4. All that Geography

5. Monkey Island

6. In the Bleachers

7. Aluminium Age

8. Nature Scares Me

9. Tree of Time

10. Syd

11. Your Chasm

12. Sea-Rat

13. Owl Eyes

14. Angst

15. Peace Man

16. The Brown Barrel

17. Sideshow Bob

18. Jumping Frog

19. Song of Squirm

21. When She Was Good

22. Snakes

23. Cirque Downtown

24. Zach Miller

25. Haiku
26. The B.S. Hour

27. The Only Living…

28. Vanity Farce

29. Theories

31. Friendship

32. Blue Eyes W.D.

33. Laureate

34. She Grind

35. June

36. Seinfeld, Frasier & Friends

37. Preps and Rebels

38. Lilith

39. Returning

40. Haiku #2

The Bards looked

Where’s Your Edge?

I’m sorry you’re rich


pocket full o’ shells

Blow the Chaffeur It’s the Chai Holy Daze

Bill Nye the Anti Guy?
He was a clown of immense proportion

Allowing his machinery to crack lame riddles and puns about inertia

She was a mag model and Veggietales admiring celeb with Luke in one hand and Buddha in the other

He accepted the former.

The Ballad of Mike and Tyler

Tyler was a man who delighted many a boy

A sharp-witted man and rugged

He said to the fish, “Grow up and be like me”

And he used his allies as his puppies

Tyler was a man, a chicken dinner gulping cad

His followers were wise and small

One little fanatic named Mike Fire

Has made Tyler love them all.

Los Osos kids only want to smoke pot + be hippies.

Theatre Click – Turns into Voltron (evil)

Unitled New Poem

When Amputeagull roamed the heavens

Preppy girls never looked at me

Until I looked them down

And wondered if they were three-dimensional

Like I was

Then they’d huttle about and start pointing fingers.

And catch me red-handed.

With their false green thumbs,

false eyelashes, false eyeteeth

False brunette bangs, false fluorescent outfits, etc.

they transformed me into a 2.5-dimensional delinquent.

When Amputeagull roamed the heavens

I knew many facts

Now that he’s my school’s Van Gogh

I forgot them.

28. Veela?

29. Winky’s Pub

30. 14’9”

31. Proving My Worth I

32. Forgot About Satan

33. Proving My Worth III

34. The Grunge Table Pts. 1 + 3

35. The Grunge Table

36. The Grunge Table

Monkey Island

I learned a lot from The Secret of Monkey Island

It taught me which chemicals you mix

To make grog and dog pills

It taught me that smokers choke on your stogies

It told me to call bald guys “cannonball head”

And to call sentimental cooks “old sots”

It taught me to be rude to half-naked hermits

It also left me to wonder whether a cannibal or a hermit is superior

Pirates vs. Ninjas? C’mon!

It taught me to steal false idols, and to never trust a sheriff

Because he’s probably an evil ghost in disguise.

it taught me to scare strangers’ pet rats

And to free prisoners from their cells

It even taught me how to use gunpowder

I won’t mention the trespassing in Maniac Mansion

or the vandalism in Zak McKracken

But you get my point.

On Imagery

If you want imagery-drenched poetry

You’re probably a male white bread entrepreneur

With oversized designer spectacles furnished with pricy jade frames and Elton John lavender lenses

You probably put the parental blocks on MSNBC and PBS so your 2.13 boarding school educated little ones will be safe and rarely see a mere minority who’s more privileged than them

‘Nuff sed.

“evil erik.”

Once upon a time

We passed on the courtyard

Me in my tennis shoes

You in your lovely car

I waved but forgot to smile

I thought of you atop a velcro stage

I heard your maven call

Fat hobos haven’t been homeless 4 that long.

The Maven

And when you turned to me

Your voice calm as the breeze

Monarchs cluttered in my heart

Like flakes pushed in a fishbowl

You were so sweet!

And now the fourth month falls

I felt a moon’s contempt

Your pretty mind has changed

But you aren’t the only one.

Among the stars I see her smile.

Within my room I hear her hearty giggle.

Even in the comfort of my computer she lurks.

Rugrats was itchy nationality.

Everyone’s gone AWOL

But the poet still remains


There ought to be a class on subtlety

Then Disney villains might learn how to act

Cruella De Vil’s a dead ringer to anyone over five

“Now we are six”–who the hey plotted in the 100 Acre Wood?

Perhaps it was Rabbit, Piglet, or even Owl.

That place showed talent.
Hear me, Scar?


Brick Maldonado Joins the Church of the SubGenius for $35

August 17, 2012

The name’s Maldonado. Ignacio “Brick” Maldonado. Brother of ex-Lieutenant Governor Abel Maldonado and father of skater groupie Chick Maldonado. I often reside in the LEGO Island Penitentiary as Inmate #23768. Well something exciting happened to me this week and you’re never gonna believe what. A manicured lawn? Nope, try again. A manicured set of fingernails? What am I, a chick? Apologies, Princess. Nope, I found out about this roxinatin’ sci-fi cult, The Church of the SubGenius!!!!!!!!!!!111839wu328u482u582u5825u287u58327583275832753289852959208590285903285329085230852 PRAISE THE BOB! DON’T BE THE PINK! USE THE SLACK! It’s only $35, dude. Some say it used to be $30, who knows?