Tag Archives: fuck you

Sometimes You Just Fuck Up

Sometimes you fuck up.
You just do.
It happens.

You can’t linger on it.
You shouldn’t shoulder it or
dwell upon it
for too long
unless of course
you have caused the loss of
innocent lives or
something of that magnitude.

Just learn what you can from it
and try not to do it again
because there is a very thin line
between a hero and a fool.

I make mistakes
every day
mostly small ones

I pour myself a bowl of dog food
water the cats instead of the plants
then realize that I own neither
become extremely confused
when faced with doorways and
pretty brunettes.

Nothing intentional or malicious
I would like to think that
I’m way beyond that (kill you).

But if nothing fucked up
there would be no newspapers
and everyone would become
profoundly insane
because of it.

If everything were to go seamlessly
as planned
all the time
it would eventually cause
great damage to the psyche.

Fucking up is essential to humanity
everyone must do their part
I hope that you’re doing yours

because I most certainly am doing mine



Town Drunk

When you’ve had enough
it’s not enough
until after a while
everything becomes
a violent smear of
voice and colour

There is music as well
you hear violins
must be Beethoven.

He was a fucking drunk too.

They all were
all the greats
except for Hitler
and look what happened to him.

What, you want to fight me for saying that?

Sure, let’s go out back
and I don’t care that you’re
a crippled woman dressed like
a Yiddish man.

Well then,
come disco with the devil.

This whole world and all the
abrasive wasteful mutts that inhabit it
has got you drinking the whole bottle
the whole week
because the way you feel
is all their fault
and you drink because
of the way you feel.

Does that make sense?
Here, drink this.

How about now?

And once again you’ve made
yourself look like an inept drunk
because of the fact that you’re an
inept drunk

Then finally you’re about to leave the party
with the midget you picked up
at the men’s shelter

But somehow
you underestimate
where the top step ends
and air begins
and your whole body
lunges forward
as though from the gallows
and all too soon you will be
making out
with the pavement
as the bottom step
rushes to greet you like
an anxious lover
and time seems to lag
so that you can
watch it all happening
like a nuclear bomb
or a nightmare
in slow motion

as the mad symphony plays on…