Monday, May 25
Saturday, May 16
A Poem I Wrote
Tattoos at Work
Colin keeps
a three stringed electric bass guitar by his dresser, so
he wants to get a bass clef on his back,
like a big dead eel.
I have a peach-sized
Skunk Ape face on my shoulder
that Colin think looks like Meatwad
from Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Jocelyn has 3 peeling stars
The color of toddler band-aids on her foot and her name on
the middle of her upper back with a pair of cherries
that she originally wanted to get done in black,
but was persuaded otherwise.
Sarah has cookie-cutter stars on her elbows and kidneys, and
“Mommy’s Little Monster” webbed across the back of her neck
in long, incensed strands of black.
Pete has both family trees (banded and flowered,
looking fresh from the internet), one on each
shoulder blade,and his brother’s lifespan
under glowing, disembodied praying hands
hovering dangerously close
to the tramp stamp zone.
Ron J has his initials on one arm,
and on the other,
“R.I.P. Booga”
Colin keeps
a three stringed electric bass guitar by his dresser, so
he wants to get a bass clef on his back,
like a big dead eel.
I have a peach-sized
Skunk Ape face on my shoulder
that Colin think looks like Meatwad
from Aqua Teen Hunger Force. Jocelyn has 3 peeling stars
The color of toddler band-aids on her foot and her name on
the middle of her upper back with a pair of cherries
that she originally wanted to get done in black,
but was persuaded otherwise.
Sarah has cookie-cutter stars on her elbows and kidneys, and
“Mommy’s Little Monster” webbed across the back of her neck
in long, incensed strands of black.
Pete has both family trees (banded and flowered,
looking fresh from the internet), one on each
shoulder blade,and his brother’s lifespan
under glowing, disembodied praying hands
hovering dangerously close
to the tramp stamp zone.
Ron J has his initials on one arm,
and on the other,
“R.I.P. Booga”
Tuesday, April 28
MANTICORE
you are always
flailing
flailing about
with your terrible
claws
your venom
is nasty
and nobody even
likes you
but manticores
like it better that way
RADIANT MAN
in the Huffin House bathroom
you are glowing every
hour of the night
you watch over me
when I am peeing
always with your
sad & honest eyes
eyes incapable of judgement
eyes just like
your still beating heart
Radiant Man
you are the patron saint
of urine
and we leave our human hairs
in the drain of the shower
as offerings
to your quiet splendor
I know you wish the world
were not this way
but I am glad you will still
accept me as I am
if not always
then for at least as long
as we leave you plugged in
SORCEROR
you are the root
of all my misery
always
watching with your
furrowed brow
your powers
are long and white
like the hairs
on your mage head
that is because
your hair
is where you keep your powers
people say
my poems are
formulaic
but nobody says that
about your magic spells
and when you think about it
those two are not so different
I know you see
a twisted future
when you look through
your demon oculus
the oculus
which you had enchanted
last week
I only wish I could know
your true intention
maybe then
my visions of you
would not haunt me quite so bad
often, I feel
we are nothing but chumps
in your metaphysical game of craps
every time we roll the dice
we roll two
thousand serpent eye balls
but somehow we just cannot
keep from playing
you watch me in your
obsidian orb
as I get home and
sit down at the typewriter:
"SORCEROR
you are the root
of all my misery,"
I write
X
Thursday, April 16
Thirteen
by William Orr
When I was thirteen Lily had a painting over the fireplace inside her parent's huge victorian house. The picture was a woman with a locket around her neck. She told me a story about the woman--an ancestor of hers. Lily said the woman was just sitting around in the parlor minding her own buisiness when all of a sudden a bolt of lightning came down through the chimney and struck her right in her locket. Right here, out of this very fireplace under that painting of a lady it came. After that the woman could not take off the locket ever because it was melded to her flesh for the rest of her life.
Before Lily met me she would masturbate with an electric toothbrush. She had moved on, though. At this time she did it by grinding her crotch into one corner of her matress. She still kept the toothbrush under her pillow as a keepsake. I tried once my luck with her and the toothbrush, but I was thirteen and could not understand such things--things like clitorises--so I was never any good at it. I just could not seem to get it in just the right spot.
I remember Lily telling me the morning after she made a black metal white boy masturbate in her attic. She made him eat his come and watched as he sucked it down, all before Lily was even sixteen years old. When she told me she had done it I was jealous because I knew in that moment she had known what love is.
When I was thirteen Lily had a painting over the fireplace inside her parent's huge victorian house. The picture was a woman with a locket around her neck. She told me a story about the woman--an ancestor of hers. Lily said the woman was just sitting around in the parlor minding her own buisiness when all of a sudden a bolt of lightning came down through the chimney and struck her right in her locket. Right here, out of this very fireplace under that painting of a lady it came. After that the woman could not take off the locket ever because it was melded to her flesh for the rest of her life.
Before Lily met me she would masturbate with an electric toothbrush. She had moved on, though. At this time she did it by grinding her crotch into one corner of her matress. She still kept the toothbrush under her pillow as a keepsake. I tried once my luck with her and the toothbrush, but I was thirteen and could not understand such things--things like clitorises--so I was never any good at it. I just could not seem to get it in just the right spot.
I remember Lily telling me the morning after she made a black metal white boy masturbate in her attic. She made him eat his come and watched as he sucked it down, all before Lily was even sixteen years old. When she told me she had done it I was jealous because I knew in that moment she had known what love is.
Sunday, March 22
Tuesday, February 24
Wednesday, February 18
Big Dick Fan Fic #1
By Janet Whitesides
It was 5:00 PM, and John Darnielle was writing in his diary. The afternoon sun was shining orange and yellow through the boughs of the old oak tree outside. John spaced out for a moment, admired the tree sunset beauty as he thought of titles for his new album.
"Maybe I will call it 'Dark Bird Brain'," he thought to himself. "Or, maybe 'Tiny Tinsel Toy'. Or, maybe I will name it after a South-African country." He had just thought of a really good one when his wife, Lalitree Darnielle, burst open the door to his study.
"Again you left the FUCKING top off the mayonnaise, John," she said. "Just what the hell is wrong with you?"
"Geez, Lalitree. I was going to put it away. I just needed a moment to think in my study, and then I was going to put the mayonnaise jar away."
"You have been in your study for three fucking hours, John."
"Well, anyway I just needed some time to think, Lalitree."
"'Needed some time to think,' John?"
"Maybe I would not need to spend so much time in my study if you were not nagging me all the time, Lalitree."
"Maybe I wouldn't need to nag you all the time if you could put the FUCKING cap back on the mayonnaise, JOHN!"
"Maybe I would do it if you just gave me the chance, LALITREE!"
"AARAKYRAAARD!" said Lalitree. In a fit of rage she threw the mayonnaise lid at John. It sailed in a curved hook like a flying saucer doing a barrel roll. It hit directly in the center of John Darnielle's forehead. John fell backwards off his chair, not as much from the force of the impact as from the surprise at being hit in the exact middle of the forehead with the flying lid of a mayonnaise jar.
"I HOPE YOU DIE!" said John as Lalitree began to storm out of the house.
"I HOPE WE BOTH DIE!" she said as she slammed shut the front door of their south-western ranch style house. The sound it made when she slammed the door was a sound like a nail being hammered into a coffin.
"Wow, that's a really good line," John thought to himself. He wrote it down in his diary. He waited a moment until he heard Lalitree peel away on her yellow and black Kawasaki and was sure she was gone for at least a while. "Now," thought John, "it is time to return to the closet where I hastily hide my little toys when Lalitree comes home too soon." As he approached the closet he could hear "Ghost...I know you live within me" wafting down the hall. John snuck up to the closet as silent as a cat. "Feel as you fly..." came from inside. John waited outside until "IN THUNDER... CLOUDS... ACROSS... THE CITY... HOW!... WE!... TORE!!!" Just then, John burst the door open. Inside, John Vanderslice sat up so quickly, his mouth made a distinct popping noise when it came up off Jeff Mangum's erect, throbbing member. J.D. knew Jeff was on the brink of climax. Jeff would always scream in a bleating warble just before releasing his warm boy juices all over his supple stomach.
"You little whore!" J.D. said, slapping Jeff across the face. Jeff turned his head and tried to cover up the red, throbbing outline on his face perfectly with his own hand. He touched it right where he felt the pain. The pain felt good. "You really thought you could get away with sneaking behind my back like that, Jeff? You worthless, tiny slut!"
"I'm sorry John. I have been a bad boy," bleated Jeff. "I have been an exceptionally bad boy."
"Well, Mr. Vanderslice. You know what we do with bad boys," said J.D..
"We punish them, Mr. Darnielle," said J.V.. J.V. beat Jeff about the buttocks as Jeff ran his boyish tongue up and down J.D.'s egarly waiting empty flesh tube, the tip easing its way in and out of Jeff's parted lips.
"I have loved you ever since you did that cover of my song where you couldn't really remember the lyrics," said Jeff.
Eventually they arranged themselves in a sort of vertical triangle up and over a sofa footrest, each boy eating another boy's butt. They sang "Two Headed Boy Pt. 1" Into each other's butts as they ate the butts. At "I AM LISTENING TO HEAR WHERE YOU ARE" J.D. and Jeff came simultaneously in what were the most beautiful and powerful orgasms of their adult lives. John thought he was going to shoot a couple vertebrae out of his dick. By this time the sun had long set behind the tree outside.
It was 5:00 PM, and John Darnielle was writing in his diary. The afternoon sun was shining orange and yellow through the boughs of the old oak tree outside. John spaced out for a moment, admired the tree sunset beauty as he thought of titles for his new album.
"Maybe I will call it 'Dark Bird Brain'," he thought to himself. "Or, maybe 'Tiny Tinsel Toy'. Or, maybe I will name it after a South-African country." He had just thought of a really good one when his wife, Lalitree Darnielle, burst open the door to his study.
"Again you left the FUCKING top off the mayonnaise, John," she said. "Just what the hell is wrong with you?"
"Geez, Lalitree. I was going to put it away. I just needed a moment to think in my study, and then I was going to put the mayonnaise jar away."
"You have been in your study for three fucking hours, John."
"Well, anyway I just needed some time to think, Lalitree."
"'Needed some time to think,' John?"
"Maybe I would not need to spend so much time in my study if you were not nagging me all the time, Lalitree."
"Maybe I wouldn't need to nag you all the time if you could put the FUCKING cap back on the mayonnaise, JOHN!"
"Maybe I would do it if you just gave me the chance, LALITREE!"
"AARAKYRAAARD!" said Lalitree. In a fit of rage she threw the mayonnaise lid at John. It sailed in a curved hook like a flying saucer doing a barrel roll. It hit directly in the center of John Darnielle's forehead. John fell backwards off his chair, not as much from the force of the impact as from the surprise at being hit in the exact middle of the forehead with the flying lid of a mayonnaise jar.
"I HOPE YOU DIE!" said John as Lalitree began to storm out of the house.
"I HOPE WE BOTH DIE!" she said as she slammed shut the front door of their south-western ranch style house. The sound it made when she slammed the door was a sound like a nail being hammered into a coffin.
"Wow, that's a really good line," John thought to himself. He wrote it down in his diary. He waited a moment until he heard Lalitree peel away on her yellow and black Kawasaki and was sure she was gone for at least a while. "Now," thought John, "it is time to return to the closet where I hastily hide my little toys when Lalitree comes home too soon." As he approached the closet he could hear "Ghost...I know you live within me" wafting down the hall. John snuck up to the closet as silent as a cat. "Feel as you fly..." came from inside. John waited outside until "IN THUNDER... CLOUDS... ACROSS... THE CITY... HOW!... WE!... TORE!!!" Just then, John burst the door open. Inside, John Vanderslice sat up so quickly, his mouth made a distinct popping noise when it came up off Jeff Mangum's erect, throbbing member. J.D. knew Jeff was on the brink of climax. Jeff would always scream in a bleating warble just before releasing his warm boy juices all over his supple stomach.
"You little whore!" J.D. said, slapping Jeff across the face. Jeff turned his head and tried to cover up the red, throbbing outline on his face perfectly with his own hand. He touched it right where he felt the pain. The pain felt good. "You really thought you could get away with sneaking behind my back like that, Jeff? You worthless, tiny slut!"
"I'm sorry John. I have been a bad boy," bleated Jeff. "I have been an exceptionally bad boy."
"Well, Mr. Vanderslice. You know what we do with bad boys," said J.D..
"We punish them, Mr. Darnielle," said J.V.. J.V. beat Jeff about the buttocks as Jeff ran his boyish tongue up and down J.D.'s egarly waiting empty flesh tube, the tip easing its way in and out of Jeff's parted lips.
"I have loved you ever since you did that cover of my song where you couldn't really remember the lyrics," said Jeff.
Eventually they arranged themselves in a sort of vertical triangle up and over a sofa footrest, each boy eating another boy's butt. They sang "Two Headed Boy Pt. 1" Into each other's butts as they ate the butts. At "I AM LISTENING TO HEAR WHERE YOU ARE" J.D. and Jeff came simultaneously in what were the most beautiful and powerful orgasms of their adult lives. John thought he was going to shoot a couple vertebrae out of his dick. By this time the sun had long set behind the tree outside.
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