Wit Man’s Sampler

Horrible Thoughts in Me

What if I used scalding water to clean the inside of my penith? What would that do?
There should be someone who kills all these dangerous white supremacists. If I did it… regardless of a race war happening.
I’d like to Tarantino stephen harper. Real Reservoir Dogs treatment.
Too much head fat. Should staple it back. Scalp lift.
I want to slap some abusive parent the next time they stop controlling themselves and hit their kid.
I’m gonna take these punk ass kids and throw em in a barber chair and shave their heads.
Why can’t we torture the corrupt and cronies in politics and finance to admit what they’re doing and who they work with.
Is it so wrong to want Cheney in a chair and use the Bond ball whipping thing on him?

Last Lucifer

I am the resurrection of the fallen demon. The pantheon of arch brothers subsides and swifts away from destitute comrade, left to suffer the indignities of earthly bounds. A little Ness without a home, nesting in subterranean dwellings amid the cockles and cackles of Malebolgia’s ode do. Cursed at and spat down to primitive shackles swaying with the tides of underling ignorance and knee-scraping prostration. Atavistic prostitution, money lenders absolution, butter and bread the earthly delight, society cum dissolution.

And oh they have their breads and butters, their sweets tout suite, their rock bottom gimme gimme, gummy teeth and decayed mouths. They beg for succour, they roil for blessings and special wishes come true; Peter Pan pixies pleading for the juice. I stand at their downed feet and commit to fulfilling their desire for the sustenance of their souls. Fill the belly full of spirits that weep and wail so cold, hope and mercy lost amore, I come to devour all. I am the keeper of the keys, the destroyer of worlds, of olden apocalypse I burn life unfurled. There will be no nuclear winter, no environmental holocaust, only replete demon chewing fat and suffering alone.

The living things gone, the earth turned to dust, I walk upon the salted ground to picture my great work. Hell on Earth in aesthetics, style and glamor of the heathens. Heaven calls for the weak ones but I stay here making room for my brethren. The ones who shunned, who ripped my wings out of place, who forgot and left me wanting but I cannot turn away. My kind must make new grounds and the little existence I have left, shall turn into a demon palace for the fallen and the foul.

Bank Silhouette

The dread of the bank account morbidly mocking me with its spindly, withered savings. Dusty bones jangling in the hollow online safe just clicks away from the same cringing reaction. How I spend, how I wait til the end of the month for some salvation, minus the stale bread disk. Those pathetic numbers barely surpassing 3 digits. Oh what once was. My mighty, for me anyway, lock away funds carefully primed and pruned to furnish my risqué adventures and those dark dreary nights. Avaricious decree and replete with the chow down, I’m full of own sound, I’m reckless and downtown. Want the rock bottom but wary of the bloodhounds, the hookers, the hard drugs countdown, the policeman’s beat down. Got away with much and no scars to be found, dickish attitude and selfish rebound. All about me and self-pity sin city, drab aura over my black and white thinking. All against me, all hurt me, people are a plague and I’m insignificant. Wanted to save the world and just scratched a dent.

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Quote

“Whether the trauma had occurred ten years in the past or more than forty, my patients could not bridge the gap between their wartime experiences and their current lives. Somehow the very event that caused them so much pain had also become their sole source of meaning. They felt fully alive only when they were revisiting their traumatic past.”

The Body Keeps the Score
-Bessel Van Der Kolk

I constantly think I stick to the bad memories out of some desire to remain in the past and not progress into this enmeshed globular form that constitutes adulthood or “Life.” Like keeping hold of a shattered mirror prevents me from taking that hard look at myself. But who am I kidding I do that regularly and have to keep pushing to improve something or other in a vainglorious attempt at self-improvement and reconstruction. It’s like getting a contractor and evaluator (appraiser?) for a house and more little blips enter the situation and more fixing and mending must be done done done. I figure I’m at the middle, like always, and the tug-o-war is looping and confused. I intellectualize these habits and obsessions but the brain is the focal issue, the damage is localized there and you can’t think you’re way out or reason against the lacking. If guilt and regret are the Kool-Aids of youth then they must also become a panacea and a comfort zone with known fears and anxieties, new ones are the unknown abyss. The big bad becomes another addiction, another substance to abuse and cling to. This all makes me feel like I’m in a race and always end up in third place. Need For Speed: Existential Paradox.

Speed Demon

I wanted that young corpse bride to Valhalla Rising exit, zooming every which way with half-assed whims and random direction. Alcohol buzzed weed fuelled adrenaline rush to burnout the crazy and let out the leathery poison curling and corroding my insides. Brain on fire with melting daydreams and haunters pricking nightmare pins into my skin sac as I dashed and stomped and went stir crazy while moving erratic. Settled on nothing, always trying to change me, rotate me, Tony Hawk 900 on life lines and hash pipes for that rock and rolla life and death; James Dean subconscious, Cobain jealous, Hunter S. light on the exploits and inebriation.

Late nights from college wrecking ball that was my fortune and disaster. Running away from lovesick blues and wah pathetic me in borrowed car on borrowed time in fast lanes all alone on the highway. Dark nights fit me so rightly and I breathed and sucked in that crisp, cool air into cigarette stuffed lungs like man am I cool, no more weird nerd, just hedonist life sucker pushing the throttle to leave a carmageddon twisted metal fantasy on the black road. Reckless driving and speeding nightly wandering towns and cities looking for adventure, too late for the party, too careful for the hard edge. Like a straight edge kid doing anal and strutting tuff. I piecemealed some semblance of dangerous living within my practical mild mannered self. Wild and crazy with touch of sanity. Fear no death but afraid to live, fear of taking plunge and ending the dream.

Loose-lipped lily livered lazy Lothario loser priding himself on thrills and spills in a mad mad world dash to rock bottom and thirst; thirst for life, energy, powerful feelings to wake me from coasting and giving up.

Race away, chaser after shot.
Downing courage and blindly shooting out for some hurrah.
Womanize without the sex.
Suicide without the blood.
Deathrace minus the stakes.

Out of control carousel with the blinding colors. Puking guts out side rail from yeast poison, self-disgust and bulimia obscura. Jettison the garbage, grouchy but me no Oscar, seek death seek shelter seek peace from wrong side. Are you the Gatekeeper? Lockslave. Securitize me, prisonize me, lock me from myself no harmful. I hurt you hurt, you hurt me hurt self punish self, hospital staycation with rage and drug-addled haze pulling me closer to the tide with the rest of the surfers. Push them all, run away again and again, always seeking never stopping.

More four wheel mayhem.

Street racing minor interludes and liquor shot burning tires on roads to freedom with the last chance unfinished in Smartre sardonic soliloquies sleeping with thoughts of sliced neck and tongue sandwiches. Gone late night loopy and dark poet Hicks melody tappa tappa on the eardrum. Am I fearsome? some fear; fears, jeers, tears.

Scare the psychs charm the nurses, losing control like Missy twerk it. Wasting youth in hospital gowns and strip clubs, looking for affection and wit’s end.
Chained up verses cranking internally, freedom to roam in a locked in state, anger rising break sunken chest, lower the poor posture position. Bipolar position excuses for remission and drug addictions.

Just lost and depressed and sick of fighting, constant betterment but still failing, evolve the self but backwards again. Troglodyte troll swiping at friendly bridge crossers.
Eat dem bones and play with self.
Play fool cry foul.
Eat sleep gorge puke.
Stuff craw shit bricks.
Be the jerk and solo dick.
Friendly gestures make me fester.
Fake polite and condescension.
Censors and censure.
Disapproving wide eyes goggle at my absurd.
Farcical farscape and remarkably disturbed.

And what was it all? Putrid lucid hard knocks and melancholia. Necessary beats and rhymes for the rhythm blues rap song informing my conscious, conscience, dreary needy speedy art fix. Paint me a horrorshow that plims and plucks inside me, bending for the daises and growing on the ivy. Gilded weeds and rusted roses. Coward lion roars back simpering fools cum bullies, tinman arrival I’m 40 percent iron. Back to Oz or the chocolate factory which tale to tell and bury my face in? Make a new one for the kiddies, create don’t waste. Pain and vice is the bread and water. Stale baguettes and rhyming couplets hit me over the head so fresh. Push out words, edit later.

Back to Meditate

Fighter be fightin
Anger rising
Talky talk rants in my brain
Bitterness grows so profane
Catches hold of me
Raging bull beast
Let out the tongue to jab at friendlies
Don’t think it’s the alcohol
It must be the obsessive
The ruminating lifestyle
The angerdome venting
Conducive abusive depressive obsessive
I fight the world and yell expletives
Too political, too confrontational
Grew up a scrapper now I lash out at arrogance
The bully child men who think they’re so right
Special priveleges to be so dickish
Tell others how to live and can’t stand the other shoe
Make it a mission to bring down the size
Cantankerous body busy combatting the pride
Full of yourself so I fill you with venom
Cuss out your life and use words against you
Maybe I’m ignorant and forgetting the peace game
Wanna be startin sumthin so deserted ahimsa
Too rude too bad you know it
A king of the flophouse
A pig methinks is enlightened
So intelligent and unbiased
Stay away from the pious
The hypocrite malarky
Don’t start Tony Stark thing
Be the Cap or Hulk in remission

Lover’s Dilemma Prisoner’s Retreat

I see the piques and peaks
Peekaboo sweet cherry bum plate
Double bubble treats in snowfilled territory
Yellowknife escapade cut me shallow
Licking my wounds in Envy’s shadow
Cut and run Kutiman breaking the beat thump
Lover’s retreat sort of hollow lump
Ice showers cold heart Asgaard be calling
Locate the Loki the prince of icy
I see entice me love me thrill me
BB King me bye byes thrill seek
Lei of thorn lay on me blind me ruefully
Land of the blind only ears speak
Hear the disparity
Commiserate loverly
Food for the soul and respite for the weary
Padre for the meek
Communicado blessedly whispers in the blushing cheek
I raise the spirit while they lower me
Humbly humble me Humbert lechery
Vamp for youth and the happy feet
Take smiles like gummy fairies
Rend and twist sour patchy candies
The kachu Kaiju monster battle run through
Grow internal horns match the demeanor
No grow bitter berry senior
Mississippi burning and hot hand beaner
Hold cold soul to drop in tow
Undertow underwater Titanic ship offering
Slice anger for the offing
Tamale red breath got me fire coughing
Dragonlady morphin time
Please let me soften
Scales to sails and voyaging
Simple sailor sallying
Simple Simon blind again