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Damn Licorice!

Wed, 06/04/2014 - 06:58 — FreeRadikal

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Wafflemire

Tue, 06/03/2014 - 12:58 — FreeRadikal

P

Olive Juice.

Wed, 02/05/2014 - 15:12 — FreeRadikal

I don't tweet, I chirp.

Tue, 01/14/2014 - 14:28 — FreeRadikal

I tilt back the coffee mug the top covering a crime. I tilt back the coffee mug with one thing on my mind. I know my coffee is blazing hot. I know where my coffee is not. I think I drank it half way down. I tilt my mug looking for that delicious brown. I tip back the mug further and sweat beads on my neck with fervor, but the coffe won’t come I’m afraid there could be none. But I fear the more I tilt, the prophecy will come to bear, a tidal wave of scalding drink will sear my face and leave no hair. Coffee Poem Could there be a fragile bubble, An iridescent dam of evil? My anticipation starts to double as I wait for it to burst my ego. Is there any coffee at all? Is an esoteric question. How long will I wait for it to fall? I should leave it for history to mention.

Another thought…

Tue, 12/03/2013 - 20:42 — FreeRadikal

What if you sit down to wipe your butt and you just dunk your entire hand into the water and you pull it out and it's covered in your own poop, okay it didn't happen exactly like that but isn't that the worst with the low toilet. How much clearence is standard...and how long do you sit in ameeting before you rip one and realize you just laid a big silent killah in the room?

Monkies!!!!

Sat, 11/30/2013 - 21:49 — FreeRadikal

I often sit in the John at work and wonder if I accidently went into thew women's restroom.

Vitamin K is an unsung hero.

Tue, 11/12/2013 - 20:57 — FreeRadikal

There is someone behind me.

I turn around and no one is there,

maybe he is on my back

on maybe climbing in my hair.

Just out of my view,

just around the corner,

just scampering behind a bush,

or scratching at me from behind the wall.

He whispers in my ear,

he can see in my brain,

he tastes my thoughts and strokes my fears.

I scream at him but he never answers…

he just listens and watches…

biding  his time…

I scream at the walls

and it echoes down the halls,

the cracks have started

and the plaster falls from above

my face is powdered white

flecks fall like snow as my walls crumble.

He sits at the foot of my bed

just below where I cannot see

but I can hear him laugh

he he he…

Do you ever think of an artist like Kenny Loggins? You say to yourself that his popular stuff was alright, but his newer stuff, you know that’s really experimental, that’s the stuff that is really awesome. You tell your friends about it and burn them copies on those ancient things we call compact discs, which hardly seem compact anymore…I digress. Yeah his new stuff its crap it’s like the new guns and roses stuff, its crap like fingernails down a rotting chalk board covered in baby vomit kind of crap, it’s not even like a screeching it’s  your finger nails sliding down digging into a slimy foul smelling gunk getting crammed under your nails and stuck in your cuticles. It’s so much crap that the smell makes you hurl onto the board and you get angry that it’s so much crap that you start flailing on the chalkboard like a crazed drunken laid of flight attendant high on crack, whiskey and slushies, yeah you got it the red fruit punch slushy in the 32 oz container, you vomit and flail and dig and dig and dig into the crap until you whittle your way to the other side and bam you are out you went all in and BAM that’s it no more Texas Holdem you threw you chips in like a dumb chimp drooling over a giant banana just cause you thought you could get away with a two and a four…you went all out just like you did with your friendships riding out on Kenny Loggins experimental music yeah Kenny does it better…no Kenny don’t…Kenny just don’t.

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