My whole life reeks of sorrow,
but I've learned to enjoy the smell of my own farts.
Only others sicken me
as they get closer;
with their generic music, and half-hearted digressions
into art.
Is it just me?
Or are there actually forces I can fall back on,
the Devil, the government, some
new world order,
that explain everything; assuring me none of this
is my fault?
My door opens outward like the Dude's.
I stand there, and look up at the stars;
you can't see them in the city like you can here.
Nobody ever watches my room.
I could shit right in the doorway if I wanted to,
but instead I just take a piss.
Posts: 337
Threads: 203
Joined: May 2013
rowens, i like this poem even though it is making be more lazy, which is hard to believe. I like the fact that the narrator's world viewpoint relies in the world he lives in. i tend to stay away from popular culture, this poem highlights why. thanks for the post!
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
--mark twain
Bunx
Posts: 12
Threads: 3
Joined: Jul 2013
Perhaps it shouldn't have made me laugh but it did. Sums up not giving a shit & hoping for a reason to give one, very well.
Now when I use my backyard as a toilet at night, I cover it with leaves. I've heard they make robot flies that have cameras in them. But for all I know, the leaves might have cameras in them. They might even stick cameras in the shit. Or cameras might be sneaking into me when I'm out there. But I don't think so....They may be recording my late night monologues with tapeworms. So I figured I'd might as well write them down and post them online, save them the trouble.
Posts: 337
Threads: 203
Joined: May 2013
indeed. your life rowens, simply beyond.
Only one thing is impossible for God: To find any sense in any copyright law on the planet.
--mark twain
Bunx
Posts: 69
Threads: 9
Joined: Aug 2013
(08-10-2013, 12:10 AM)rowens Wrote: My whole life reeks of sorrow,
but I've learned to enjoy the smell of my own farts.
Only others sicken me
as they get closer;
with their generic music, and half-hearted digressions
into art.
Is it just me?
Or are there actually forces I can fall back on,
the Devil, the government, some
new world order,
that explain everything; assuring me none of this
is my fault?
My door opens outward like the Dude's.
I stand there, and look up at the stars;
you can't see them in the city like you can here.
Nobody ever watches my room.
I could shit right in the doorway if I wanted to,
but instead I just take a piss.
LOL
