donate to ya boy

Wednesday, January 26, 2011

,

i love when people you know think they still know you,you can change overnight if the stars align,if a light shines down into and threw your soul,as you pray at the top of your lungs you overcome...im not even afraid of death anymore,therefore,i have no fear to live.to love again is the ultimate goal,but for the second its pure logic and the road,crusin down interstates like stratospheres on the mission for the roses and golden dreams that ive had since infancy,now instead of money its proving the kids from my past life have no right to tred on my new dirt road,i travel it with one more. i have homes across the united states,only one real lover,and she resides in her name sake,jesus how the days constantley rotate and perpetually stay the same,i wish i could blame some one else for hurting myself,but then again I never go top shelf,always bottem floor bottles that are covered in dust and spells cast by wizards with a brerewry out of their home. im a home body,i live on the pavement. I sleep with the homeless in caves and dens. I steal and do less drugs then I used to,but still money over comes all of theee above. You need to pay for that...you need these friends to forgive and forget,oh brain you have no room to speak,but right now my heart feels funky like your grandfathers feet,toeless and sockless,wandering on broken glass from picture frames of the family that use to inhabit your heart. now they wont talk to you,they think your dead...wether they think your in denver or texas,it dosent matter...theyd break your teeth if they saw you agian,theyd smash your hands threw stain glass. theyd spit in your eye if they had the chance,but instead they smile and shake your hand. their not fake,sadly,its the persona youve become,this precieved reality has been created and controled. they dont see your doing it for them,its another selfish act in a long line of others...no one cares until they get a letter in the mailbox,filled with thousands of dollars in cash,and then they pay off their student loans and preach about how good of a man he is. but hes dead,dead inside and to the world,dead from all these rules and regulations he broke,dead from all the souls who provided him with good deeds in times of need,but his heart is open for all to see,to come inside and sleep,have a hot meal,to clean in steam. taking for granted every little peice except the heart and love that he always decreed was his best way to pay you back,he wasnt trying to hurt you,he was just trying to stop living. drop out of society,die in his sleep,but his heart presses on,on,ON and upward threw the stars,past the milky way and mars.alone for a second in the cheeseburger nebula where he can finally cry,where his friends dont have to see his eyes,where no women have to see his smile,toy in their minds about playing with his heart for a while. where the clouds avalance onto a heart so cold it burns up into a phoenix,tearing down these govermental walls, oh fall with me,down to the rocky shore,call and scream to me every word you wish youd vomited out the last time we fucked on the couch...it was all for show,you got what you wanted and now you take more. funny how life works,funny how time flies,funny how when you leave for a second your out of mind...hmm...i love that you could go home,but me haha oh no...NO NO NO...no fucking homes,no fucking beds,nothing but books to fill my head...no close friends,no close relatives,no one even gives a shit anymore about any of it,so why would I quit? you burned my bridges for me so now ill dance in the ashes,reciting poetry until my lungs collapse,laughing as a ghost of all the time i worried about cars or clothes,every dollar i spent on anyone else who though i always owed more...oh bore,oh boo hoo,oh how times change and children become doomed,repeating the same cycle that everyone else likes to do...haha all i can do is laugh at how discusted by modern times I am...all i can do is think about austin...well gimme another beer friend...keep me talkin...keep me listening..andrew boeglins dead...the doctor is in

dave chappelle yelling wutang in season one episode 2

the gravel pit is swarming with killer bees,
enter chamber 16:
ol' dirty bastards tryin ta fuck with my jigga jigga GENIUS,always forgetting im on point like the end of a switchblade swiss army scissor
razor sharp with words and adverbs,you can smell me cookin up some marveolus chef shit in the mournin
mention im on the ghostface tip,on some now you see me now you dont buisness,
inevitably some wigs will get split,
and yoU-GOD must be crazy
,because word is bond,and the inspektah has been in the cut for a minute lately
making this prison experience a vicious act of terrorisim,worst then a half hour of chelsea daily when the remotes missin.
bitin styles like a con artist in the great depression,least to remember that the kids apart of a dream team of all stars with visions of C.R.E.A.M singin cant it be so simple,in the rain storms of downsouth bethel park PGH,PA.
breathin out so much sessamilly the children of the corn would think diffrently about being creepy
because knots put tons of kids to sleep on these neon warmed streets in winter
boiler makers and menthol cigarettes keep this blood warmed,and the faygo smell on my clothes sends loves to the juggalos who I used to run around with back home. best buds in town those clowns pushed,they did
now I spend my time with the GDF.takin kids so far out they drop off the deep end
speechs begin after jugs of wine and drugs are done,
N64 is on lock down when I have the Golden Gun,
now im comfortabley spun
eating little debbies crumbs off my pajama bottoms
the shirts gone...lost to the laundry...

Tuesday, January 25, 2011

I have long hair,
a long beard and I rarely shower or make an attempt to be a sexual prowler.
Generally every half hour im smoking a cigarette in this house
every fourty five,some sort of cannabius. grape ape in 15 minutes.
I move to much,thats the complaint from my family,
and my boys from high school just think ive gone off the deep end completly.
Everyone in denver hates me because of all the money I owe,
VA is for lovers,but fuck it,Im no sweet soul
pittsburgh is for me...but so is the road.
so onto ohio where the darkstar shows will either cement my legacy or tear down my soul
hope is as worthless as hole in your solar plex
leaking out every internal organ until your eternity is spent spun
at the same party
with the same kids
taking the same drugs our parents did.
lets kick it to a new scene
no screen play
just free sex, and measuring pots full of eveything i need for these heads
hopefully my kids wont even need weed.
but as for me...
give me a smith and wessin
and barrel of whiskey
armed with sharpies and prisma color fine tipped point colored pens
i wonder how fast lightspeed is...
come waste some time and find yourself with me
its so easy learning everything the hard way.

updatez HAWZ

we three prosecuted the prominent figures of this small hamlet
only orders and ordeals persisted to be permanent in the productions we were aussured
were productive in every sense,but as sensless kids we pretended we were vatos
hiding knots in our XXXL roca wear starched out grey panchos
pirating every ounce of money wed need for the festival seasons,while simotaneiously depleting each and all resources,that werent really meant for us,but regardless we trudged like worn out samauris without kingdoms,or swords to respectfully demise
in the streams where the cherry blossoms stain the soil as much as the depletion
of every resource that we had comeneared up until the last few breaths of the breeze blew across our sweat and scar riddled corpses
the living dead,not nessicarily zombies,but rhyme spraying,lost and dope riddled delenquet teens whos drivers license claim their old enough to drink,approach every learch on the street.we need more newports...more O.E...possibly a doctor,or some sort of psychiatric treatments.
labodamies were never out of the question,we just didnt generally think about the removal of the frontol lobe,I mean we 3 would never speak.communication was a series of grunts and pointing.
hand signals and nodding.
studies have shown that increased psychadellic use can turn into telapathy,so if thats the case...I imagine were free..
to wander and speak with any and all human beings that we meet,
free to drink from the rivers that the factories dump into to deplete,
able to climb mountain peaks while strung out by all the ammendments,
even free speech isnt worth it to these three,they ramble on until their tires blow
and axels grind down the undercarriage to the floorboard of the car
so we burn all the evedince and dissapear into a forest,burning thousands of dollars to stay warm in the beast coast air

Monday, January 24, 2011

fuckin science

I have fifty dollars in this nostrel
opiates amongst the receptors
firing off orgasims in my frontal lobe
my bodys a pill bottle,so heartless and raw,so old and has peered down so many roads
dodged so many 5-0's,sequestered by a few more
I do a rail off the breast of my brown eyed doll.my lover
we fuck,get stoned,smoke menthols laced with crushed up methadone
consume more cyboxin,xanyx and adavant,rereading all those old tales we wrote
that deal with breaking and entering or camping out in model homes,taking drugs next to the fake apples until the realetor comes
yo,its time to bolt,skip town
chew on this beautiful clitiris of hers for hours
I love her auroma. I love that taste.
the way my tounge spells out a universal alphabet understood by all classy ladies
whom let their love spray like old faith.
its a new hour,rerun of a day
sitting naked eating old birthday cake while we huddle up and touch each other as children would in 7th grade.
Im wide awake from the uppers and downers,painstakeingly scrippling down poetry
as my penis is attended to by my lovely co-worker.
her mouths so warm,my body pops and my mind is yet again a universe
metors crashing into alien worlds.
No stress though,or the conventional wisdom i was born to live past
fore,
this false sense of enlightenment is really a cloud and perpetual daze of this once sane mind.
I lay in my lover,drenched in her body heat
my primitave brain gets what it needs,batting her eyelashes as her smile is reflected off of her teeth,shes the most beautiful nymphomaniac up east.
no more rockie souls,just orchads of apple trees.

Sunday, January 23, 2011

so im asked,"what have you learned?" I think and think...and then its hit me...dont let anchors tear your hull open for the great white whale,no mater how beautiful the whale or the water is,they'll suck you dry of life,and life is more important than anything or anyone.

sid

space fucked with lion mouth into next galaxy we travel outloud,best not to mention hope on a night like this,a sound so clouded could cause anurisims
or seizures
we drank the bass nectar and danced threw the reverbarations of the proud florida moonshine.
mouths wide full of words not meant to be said to strangers...at this time of the evenings!? do we strike you as gentleman who enjoy cannibus!?
I cried as i laid in her lap,if only because of her pharamones
or how soft her leg hair was
I groaned around the campfire as the cars on the other side of camp burned
I would ask her to marry me if I wasnt in jedi/beast mode
Insted I watched her hoola hoopp move,the cruves of her body become one with the wind
and dirt..
wait
fuck that,I opened every hole and consumed more drugs than the local cvs could support,i was so dirty and stinking I was ready to beat brains into oblivious mush,let me work for a second,sell my soul,every thing will be fine if im not arrested or od'd in these the otts! shit weve made it this far
smoke pours from my lungs until the next bacongreencheeser calms my soul
and the jug of water saves my body from unceartinty,its a travesy how calamities are common place an uppercut of music sounds and free love..no more sluts...their all at the camp with the cute dogs and grand narcotics,soul searching and laid back like a pillow on a sofa.
only rolled cigarettes and a woman to share the benzos with the next morning.
assasination of charecter is overblown

hills

giant robotic avalance trance as we pounced on the punched out skeletons in clothes
broken bones,broken bones.lovelove and all that other thunder cums
broken cities like a haunted village,im spittin funky rhythm to the pretty citizens
always using the right venaculur and defenitions
disrespecting every perscription drug as if it wont kill me
so every doctor should mention their out of ammunition,they need new pens or somthing
us sweet stick up kids stashin silver or a ten spot
juggin and spangin'for every single double cheeseburger i have in this stolen back pack full of legal documents and buisness plans, trazadone and vicodin.nicotene and cold weather clothes,a few stolen cans of corn and chili
i think it went something like this:I dont get hugs,I give them...the end.
I know you dont give a shit so I began again..becoming a kid discusied as a man
rarely having to reread the luxury session,or get a tan
no more gorilla juice heads dear lord! please no more cocaine!
my nose is crusted over from last sunday...lasy complaints,as I sit in a lawn chair under the smogs rain,tv said hurricanes coming
I said it aint the worst fucking thing
four more pitcher of beer,
kick off your boots weary traveler,were home again.
we dine with thomas edison.

gracias!

i sprung it out of the dung yesterday morning
the headys were mourning,no hurting any more,just kedamine and open needle sours
her heart poured into my pimp chalace for hours until our mouths melted
into each others salvia incedents,
laced with way to much acid and amphedmaines snorted over the tips of switch blade match sticks
I wore a doctor doom mask only during naps,sleeping with a back pack full of rhymes and knots that were unloaded so its empty barrel could watch my back
some times i feel like im on a war path on an audio daily double duelin out my govermental scum rebuddles,listening to champion ship games threw headphones while only smoking in the tunnels.pittsburg rough and tumble,tramps goin ham,hum bums are humble till the night rolls around,thats when the wolves go out.
Pirate ships are all over the citys kid,you just have to know hot to hot wire,steer and use the peddles,no finger prints for the 6-UP to get ya,just more tequila shots and vomit. You can have anything in the world if you want to.

Wednesday, January 12, 2011

UPDATE

YO.So lemme bring you into where Im at.13 days into the new year most people have broken resolutions,or simply got back into the routine that was last year. For myself,last year was an extremly bittersweet time for me...aka it sucked,but some good shit happened,though it was only for a little bit of some of the work I do,I set out a mission. 13 days into the new year I find myself in Charlotesville VA,sitting in front of a fire drinking a corona about to retire for the first time out of a car 12 states after Denver. Anyway the concept is "Dogyear." A dogs life,from what ive heard,consits of years much as ours,but the loveable K9 ages faster,7 years to each of our one. Well I decided to write a diary about living in a car,or hodie,or motie,couch,ladies bed,parents house,friends house,squating,wherever for the next year,in what ever state or country I choose. Though this is a great oppurtunity,it means i cant update this as much as Id like. I,Willy Bonnie, here by swear to try to update weekly from the road with new poems,and love notes.

welp see ya later