Drunk 'n' Cutz

“Wound”

Share with me your wounds
I will share mine with you

Inanity is of no consequence
Neither is awareness

Interruption is the source of our fury
Patience is the source of our strength

Libations and Ambrosia are our last respite from this storm of stupidity

“Random”

If you ever found a way to know me
What are the chances I’d ever know
Do you see me notice as you pass me
My face painted with a scowl
For this
That
The other thing
Whatever occupies my mind
Sometimes I don’t wonder what you’re thinking

“Scowl”

She scowled at me just then, just when I told her she was wrong

But she was! What am I supposed to do

Deny truth for love?
But I thought the two were synonymous?!!

Do I kill one for the other?

Or are the both already just rotting corpses?

Her scowl was an answer in and of itself

“Corpse”

I’d like to eat your sense of self-security
Suck it down into myself
And be like you
Leave you a corpse
Of your former lie
You’re everything I’d ever want to be
But I see that corpse is nothing but a shadow
And you’re just like me
‘cept maybe a bigger liar

“Suck”

I suck. No really, I fuckin’ suck harder than Linda Lovelace, but not in any way nearly as close to her level of productivity

Nor do I get paid to suck, which is an important distinction

No I suck in the most common of ways, much like your common barnacle or remora

But that’s beside the point
I suck so bad that
I am actually forcing you to read this!

Dipshit.

“Productivity”

Here we sit
Writing verse in the back of the bar
Drinking and being elitist
Like a couple’a true poets
Truly productive in the “art” sense of the word
We’ve made comments about you
And I know I harbor the secret desire
And I know that so does he
That maybe you’ll think we’re really fuckin’ cool
And come back here to talk
But in the end
We’re just a couple’a drunken artists
Now that’s fuckin’ productivity

“Harbor”

Where is the safest harbor?
I know all the places I THINK it lies are just traps

But it only traps me to a point, if ya know what I mean

The drinking, the smoking, they only make me feel safe, to a sharp point!

But I know better
And it still doesn’t
Help. My safest harbor is a prison

“Sharp”

“That boy ain’t too sharp,”
Commented one teacher
To another
“‘Ain’t’ ain’t a word,”
Answered her companion.

“One”

Unity, symmetry, darkness
All wrapped into one?

What if darkness has
It’s own vibration?

Wouldn’t that preclude a dawn?

What if the purest symmetry,
The symmetry of the one,
Total, ineffable, all–was
The source of itself

Darkness and light are but an allusion to the one

Nothingness becomes a lie
Only to those who chose
To fathom its bottomless pit

“Pit”

I went into the bathroom of the bar
And all the urinals said “Mansfield”
And I couldn’t help but think
Which had more dicks in it
That urinal
Or Jayne Mansfield
How many star-struck-fucks braved that pit
Who would have had the resolve
To turn his nose up at the smell
Makes me think of a few
Lovely ladies I know

“Dicks”

Dicks! Well, I sure got one!

I wish that was the only one that ever existed though

Not only would it make it easier for me to get a date, but it would make my 9-5 grind a hell of a lot easier

But like the guy on the “hair-club” commercial,
“Not only am I the
Prick-president, but I’m
Also a client!”

I’m just as much of a cock-sucker as the rest of them!

Not only do I have a dick
But I personify it like the worst of ‘em

“Worst”

I saw another
A’them “world’s worst” shows on TV
Where they glorify someone’s
Grandest fuck-up
Put it on the boob-toob
And make a quick buck or two
I remember one about the guy
That jacked off in the coffee
Much like the things you can buy in the porn-shop
But this one was on prime-time
For the kids to see
Speaking of kids
I think some kid died in this one
But I don’t really remember

“Buck”

Buck was that guy from
National Lampoon’s European Vacation

I remember when his dad caught him in the strip-club, and he stood there, looking “dad” mad

But buck would have none of it

Surrounded by a naked bevy of French booty, he raised his glass and said in a nonchalant, yet not ungallant way, “Oink-oink, my good man!”

Then all was right with the world, both dad & lad had a blow job
And all was right with the world

“Remember”

I remember back in the day
When me and Jimmy
Would catch crayfish in the creek by his house
We’d take them home and feed them to his turtle
Sometimes, we’d cut the claws off, so they couldn’t fight back
Sometimes, we’d just smash ‘em with rocks

“Rocks”

Rocks off, blood-pressure subsides, the cuddling begins

What should we talk about
“This” time?

Why not the weather!
Would that be too contrite for post-coital bliss?

Not to mention, it’s nighttime

But there’s rain dripping
Outside our window, leading me to know better.

I decide to just listen to you breath

“Breath”

I like to breath!
That’s right, you self-centered
Drama-queen
Pseudo-artist little fuck!
That’s right, I write poetry
Like artistic things
And, oh!
I don’t want to die!
I guess that ruins the stereotype you try to live up to
You want to die?
Sometimes I think the world would be a better place
If you weren’t full of talk

“Want”

I sat in my “pop-culture” class listlessly listening to the teacher teach

“How many of you,” he
Astutely asked, “Know what you want from life?”

No hand raised beyond
Head level, not to
Fix a bobby pin, nor to
Preen a dredlock. Al is
Awkward silence

“Well then,” he stammers
“If I were to ask you,”
He inquires, “How many of you would want to make money, and how many would you simply choose happiness, what then?”

“Let’s take a poll!” he then declares

“How many want to make lots of money?”
All hands were raised
But one

“And,” almost as an afterthought, “how many want simply to be happy?”

The lone simpleton raises his hand, wanting simply to vanish

[Laughter]

“Simpleton”

Did you ever think about that simpleton?
Did you ever spend a lot of time wondering about his purpose
he can’t hold a meaningful job
Can’t find the “woman of his dreams”
Only to lose her to passing fancy
He can’t do things that
You and I
“Social beings”
Can do
Did you ever wonder about him
Do you ever wonder if he bothers?

“Bother”

Am I bothered by the stupidity of my fellow imbeciles? Not since I’m so obviously one of them!

But that’s the thing,
What’s the difference
Between ignorant bliss and truly, unadulterated,
Zen Buddhist bliss?

Not much, that’s the truth of it!
May the learned falter
And the idiots transcend

“Unadulterated”

“I don’t want you up all night, jizzing on my food-monster,”
He said
Pointing an accusing finger
At the lodger
Who didn’t really know what to say
He just nodded
And lay down for
For some unadulterated
TV-expunging
And copasetic sleep

“Accusing”

My only accusation would be to shake my finger at the bartender.
Why must you succumb to the antidisestablishmentarianism!?? My drink is half empty! Nothingness is a cheap whore! For whom I have no prophylactic capable of protecting from her disease!!!

My drink is gone and so are we