The state of love, trust, and opportunity |
When i get cancer and there is no oneto take me to and from treatment.
Until then, no regrets
I will beget the soldiersteel his shoulder.
Recede, puking headstones, until my name is forgotten.
&n...
Posted by Church of the flying A-hole on Thu, 22 May 2008 05:12:00 PST |
Sodomy Number Countless |
Saturday evening
Three A.M. in demandporno P.O.V. sluts number three andthe woman in the second scene
had your smile.
I dreamt you came for a visit to smokedrink some beers and catch up.
The sky, clo...
Posted by Church of the flying A-hole on Wed, 16 Apr 2008 06:48:00 PST |
(I) ( X ) 8===D ( ) |
You can break his tickertape the man together by mortarshell out the wet cementbetween her granit legs.
She is a dyke.
I am the dutchboy.
She would rather a flood....
Posted by Church of the flying A-hole on Mon, 31 Mar 2008 02:01:00 PST |
Joyce plays checkers with an animated vagina |
Six days ago I resolved to tell a story that happend 2 days ago. Quickly thereafter i fell asleep. I dreamt i was awake but when i awoke i was asleep. Caught between Barak and a hard...
Posted by Church of the flying A-hole on Sun, 23 Mar 2008 04:34:00 PST |
notes to self on some damn poems or other i may or may not write |
this is unintersting quick notes for me, if youre reading it, ill laugh at you cause its nothing really. I like making notes here because im loathe to use paper anymore, and my memory is shot, sort of...
Posted by Church of the flying A-hole on Wed, 19 Mar 2008 05:31:00 PST |
101 |
She had the heavy-wide fingers of a blondeenglishman minus the droll charm and lectured:
"The job of a poet is to use thier subject matter,be it a tree or an empty wine bottle,to connect with thi...
Posted by Church of the flying A-hole on Sun, 16 Mar 2008 09:06:00 PST |
Should i have shaved? |
I stood in a papergown, eyes forward,while his gloved hand cupped my balls.
Afterwards, we chatted on politics, the weather, and that patchof blood at the seat of my underpants.
I left with a prescrip...
Posted by Church of the flying A-hole on Mon, 03 Mar 2008 04:19:00 PST |
S. Elizabeth Corning and the Hairless Man |
There is a lingering moon to laybeneath. Cool grass enmity as dampunwithered and pillowed tongues of night quiet themselves. She incubates her thighswith three throw eiderdowns. She is twentyfive, bli...
Posted by Church of the flying A-hole on Thu, 21 Feb 2008 12:29:00 PST |
Rumble Strip |
1.You are slate-smooth drivenhighway kissing the dawn.2.The trees whipped passed the edge of a valley. Blurs of green, yellow, red, orange traffic lights and horns.There is no stopping the right of wa...
Posted by Church of the flying A-hole on Sun, 20 Jan 2008 06:39:00 PST |
Dropping a plugged in toaster |
The elegance of languagelays contrast to the beaten path.
I could remove pieces of every finger and still sit intwo inches of bathwater imagining poetryabout jerking off into...
Posted by Church of the flying A-hole on Sun, 13 Jan 2008 06:04:00 PST |
