Posts Tagged ‘dirty’

515d2d0d96eced1f305e854bdf102a64

You were the one with your brain of bone
You lie and you lie like a corpse in the grave
You steal and you cheat
Drugged-up delinquent
Haphazard hooligan
ADHD criminal
Don’t crunch my gonads
Don’t pollute my peace with your perversion
Don’t steal my shit, fuckwit
Look at yourself
Peak out of your poison mind like a craven turtle
Look at all the bad karma you generate
Do these words penetrate your alcoholic confusion
Enough to perforate your sump pump soul?
Don’t steal my piggies
Don’t beat me
Don’t pick on me
You in your dirty shot world with your perverted entitled personality
And victim mentality
With your tedious anecdotes of violence and oppression
Fuck you and your collection of dirty fits
Fuck you and your drug induced bionic paranoia
Fuck you and your painful polka-dot hallucinations
Fuck you and your endless addictive attitudes
Fuck you and your Jim Beam T-shirt and boganesque enthusiasms
You and your facebook friends can fuck off
Fuck you very much

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dirtyroom

Sometimes I feel like I’m living in a squat
A homes-westy kind of festering junkie den of dankness
When there’s crap all over the floor and dirty plates creating no stepping zones
The coffee table hasn’t been cleaned in months has black impasto layers of dirt
Just missing a couple of skanky junkie prostitutes nodding off in the corner
Now that would be cool

My sheets have a substantial amount of sand, dirt and guinea pig poo on them
Fortunately they’re black
I can never keep the doona cover on, so the doona is a dirty white slug on my bed
There are empty cigarette butts on the floor as I have been raiding my butt collection
It’s a miracle I get out of the place looking clean and moderately respectable sometimes
The wonders of showers and deodorant I guess

I wonder if I’d clean up my act for a good woman
Perhaps- anything is possible though not probable
I do kind of love my filth
I revel in many forms of corruption and depravity
So do the guinea pigs
They are piggies like me

loneliness2

Understand the solitary man
Burnt out tree lost in a forest of loneliness
Pebble under an infinite mountain
He puts on a mellow album
Smokes a couple of cones
Lights mandarin flavoured incense
Stares at the dirty plates and empty drink bottles surrounding him and recoils at how dirty the coffee table is
Considers doing the washing
Considers moving the dirty plates to the kitchen
Doesn’t move

His mental soliloquy:
“Oh my filth, my precious filth
No-one can tell me to clean up
At least I know where things are
Oh God ,I’m getting fat
My back aches when I walk
I’m going to die alone in a rented room
From a heart attack or lung cancer
Or I’ll get diabetes and someone will chop off my leg”

Paranoia, paranoia most foul in lonely rooms all over the world where excess men who nobody wants live out their pathetic lives
His personal space is small
No-one wants to invade it
His dreams are always full of women
But his life is empty of them
Too depressed to jerk off but soaked in longing
Waiting for death
Understand the solitary man

Buson_Nopperabo

Wretched creatures have
Wretched stinking lives
Dirty water
Sharpened knives
Wretched sleeper urges
Ugly wife through pain again
Dirty poison minds
Paranoia envelops
Dragon’s breath burns flesh black
Spittle sculpture rests on self-importance
Murderous blister pops a shoulder
Death reeks like dead fish
Maggot Brain squirms out of back alleys and out into consciousness
Nauseous Nuts shift’s his belt, farts and reaches for the remote control
Man who walks like a crab has an eye for asshole. It blinks.
Gibbon man with prehensile tail and knives for hands
Woman slowly mutating into a slug leaves a trail of slime
Woman with two vaginas giving birth to twin aliens
A birth defect so grotesque it is indescribable with human language
A deficiency of dopamine
Should stay off the acid I think

Living Room

Posted: August 12, 2014 in poetry
Tags: , , , , , , , ,

messy

Twisting Serpentine smoke corkscrews from a huge pile of cigarette butts:
Highlighted against the curtain by a ray of sun-light and I can’t take my eyes off it.
Smoke curls around inside itself, swallows itself then fades into the air.
A helix of smoke arises from an incense stick and mutates into curlicues and the herbal odour permeates the atmosphere.
Smoke seems to be emitted from everywhere in the room, everything smouldering between apathy and antipathy.
Empty beer bottles are like used condoms waiting for disposal,
Dirty plates all over the floor like land-mines,
Waiting to trip someone up or smash into a hundred pieces.
A month’s worth of opened mail on the floor, ripped open, envelopes everywhere,
Combed for particularly desperate bills- everything else radiates from a central point.
Dirty mugs, bowls, pens, papers and miscellaneous crap festering on the coffee table.
Fuck me, what’s it going to take for someone to use the bin around here?