d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet profile picture

d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet

Oh For Fuck's Sake! Don't come in here!

About Me

Jack Henry sprang to this earth in the early 1960s. Sold to a traveling circus act, young Jack became known as pumpkinhead, due to the enormous size of his skull. Freakish and frightening, small children cried and screamed whenever their parents dare pay for entrance to his sideshow act.
He lived peacefully with the BEARDED LADY and THE MAN WITH TWO LEFT HANDS. For several years he traveled with the circus, from NYC to TIMBUKTOO and points in between. On or about his 16th birthday Jack fell madly in love with one of the SIAMESE SISTERS, Lulu, but their relationship fell apart when Lulu caught Jack cheating with her sister, Lala.
As attendance dropped for his PUMPKINHEAD attraction Jack found himself working as a barker on the midway and later at the Tilt-a-whirl. A tragic accident forced him to stop working altogether, at least in public. His mangled face proved too fearful even for a sideshow attraction. Reluctantly he began working as a crewmen, setting up and breaking down attractions. He also drove a truck, washed dishes, cleaned up elephant shit, and changed diapers on THE BABY THAT NEVER GREW.
Fortunately young Jack found love with the SNAKE WOMAN. With no arms or legs, Jack became he way to the world. He took care of SNAKE WOMAN, Agatha Numchance, by name until she died tragically in a freak snowmobile accident. Distraught, Jack left circus life, FOREVER!
For many years Jack drifted, finally ending up in Toad Suck, California, working as a day laborer and trash collector. He had a small house on the outskirts of town, across the railroads tracks, near a variety of seedy low rent brothels and taverns. Eventually Jack got a job as a bouncer at the TACKY KAT SALOON and WHOREHOUSE. He married, Nala, a Venezuelan prostitute that lost her ability to perform sexual favors below the waist in a freak chainsaw juggling accident.
After the surprise birth of twins, Jack decided to get a real job and became a postman. He worked this job for thirty-six years before retiring to a ranch in Northern Kentucky where he cultivates marijuana used in government research. His twins are fully grown. Yaya, works as a translator in the US Consulate in Botswanna. She is fluent in nine languages, including Tutusi, French, Canadian, Russian, and a few others. Nana, works is Governor of Alabama, has a husband, and nine children, all with names that start with Q.
Sadly, Jacks wife, Nala, died in a freak boating accident that involved no water and several Chinese Polo players. But he is happy in his home, writes erotic fiction about tennis players and french pastry chefs, volunteers at the Limbless Aid Society and dances on Fridays to Victorian Punk Rock.

My Interests

deadbeatpress

I'd like to meet:

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Sekou Sundiata 1948-2007
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=H18mBu9LI2Y



Sekou Sundiata - Def Poetry
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IWhnZPeW644

Music:

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Flogging Molly - "Seven Deadly Sins" Side One Dummy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=plfVQV-klZo



Flogging Molly - "Drunken Lullabies" Side One Dummy
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pDwlGbEcJ6Y



Social Distortion-Story Of My Life
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IuKOc_Mpumc

Social Distortion Story Of My Life Unknown

Movies:

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Television:

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Books:

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Heroes:


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charles bukowski 'the man with beautiful eyes'
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kpmBu_kFBzU

My Blog

whatever

i fall from gray cloudsthey no longer hold mepieces crack and tumble awaymy skin peels from too much sunexhaustion will not allow my sorrowi no longer carebleeding fingers dig my gravedust clings to m...
Posted by d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet on Fri, 02 May 2008 01:06:00 PST

rendered irrelevant

rendered irrelevanttear my ribbreak it freetake them alllet them dropto charcoal pathwaysmy beating heartstilledby crystal daggersone by one by oneclatter to gray&blackfirei am rendered irrelevantold ...
Posted by d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet on Tue, 22 Apr 2008 11:07:00 PST

unborn/undead

unborn/undeadto start againi am unborntarnished not by the wordsyou speakbut those left behindburied under rubbish, debrisand rotten fruitat the bottom of youtrash heapi find myself dilutedby timecirc...
Posted by d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet on Tue, 22 Apr 2008 11:06:00 PST

thank you, fuck you  its all the same

thank you, fuck you  it's all the samei stand alone at the edge of white topped cliffsclose to where heaven's shores beat tidesacross barren rocks, sirens sing and remind meremind me of times and tor...
Posted by d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet on Tue, 22 Apr 2008 11:05:00 PST

morning crush oleander delusion

morning crush oleander delusion let the day begin day begin, let the day&start the callmy morning differ from day to daydepending on the night beforeand its nefarious anticstoday i awake with a...
Posted by d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet on Thu, 17 Apr 2008 02:00:00 PST

when you scream fuck you, youd better mean it

when you scream fuck you, you'd better mean iteaster Sundaydown at the midnight missionwalkin' 'round 'causei ain't got nothin'but timeblack/whitedon't matterwe sit togetherscreamin'shoutin'eatin'fina...
Posted by d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet on Mon, 14 Apr 2008 11:20:00 PST

the price of living

the price of living there's a price to livinga cost to life sometimesthey mix and matchneatly but not always i knew about this recessionway before high pricedwhite collared yakkity...
Posted by d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet on Sat, 12 Apr 2008 12:44:00 PST

office

officei have an office filled withshitdust covers paperand voices never soundempty bottles and cansare scattered aboutin an abstract algebraof livingbrown wood desktopdisappears as clutterfills each s...
Posted by d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet on Thu, 10 Apr 2008 01:15:00 PST

broken smile

broken smile / for nicolei'm not therewalls crackfold, fall turn to dust- railings of rebarlimp against remains- outlines cast in chalkvestiges ofbitter memorybroken smilebrittle lovei'm not ther...
Posted by d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet on Sat, 12 Apr 2008 12:10:00 PST

sobriety

sobrietyit's been three weekssince i took a drinktomorrow marksanother daytrying to rememberto forgetall blank pagesin my phone booksequestered in a bugfilled nightthey are drawn to my lamplighti reme...
Posted by d/e/a/d/b/e/a/t poet on Sat, 12 Apr 2008 11:52:00 PST