Overthunk

You polished it, the wit, to wit You slid it again and again along every sharpening stone (criticism, disdain, judgement, unkind remarks) Virtually anything that could penetrate the marshmallow heart and poison the hot blood Could serve to make the born-blunt edge thinner, the better to slice you with You sat at the feet of the greats The funny arrows of truth, deftly nocked and swiftly released, reloaded Memorizing the melodies of cleverness, a template for First rehearsed replies, afterthoughts forged by repetition into a more and more accurate weapon, Then hardened into a versatile, agile original design, slashing deep at a moment's notice Always believing this was a method for seizing power, a coup against the lack of various stripes of privilege. And sometimes it is. A needed defense. Not often, but still too much, it's an unattended razor, wounding wantonly Cutting the unwitting, family, friends, slicing and dicing ones you love, leaving you with bleedin...

On the occasion of 10,000 tweets, August 8, 2011: -------------- As Vladimir said to Estragon, “Is Godot gonna show, or are we waitin’ for the bomb?” Estragon replied, “Vlad, I don’t know, didn’t the wall fall down many years ago?” “And what can we do, in this globe-warmed typhoon, To pass the time while we wait for our doom?” Vlad, thumbs a-flying on touchscreen sweet Fired up his wit and answered in tweets: “Swap hats, eat carrots, affirm through the day Anything to hold the terrible silence at bay.” “Not this evening, but surely tomorrow Prayer meetings and teabags will trouble borrow.” “From your bank accounts downturns continue to suck, Clutch your Cold War Certificate and cover and duck.” “I know as a toddler you learned to berate ‘Cause on your mama’s lap you watched Watergate.” “Against all manner of toil, death, and woe, We still keep waiting for our personal Godot!” “But Est: No matter what is comin’ to destroy ya, Let the gypsies sing out HOYA PARANO...

He wants this match started! Ram Man Johnny Evans standing guard on the outside of the ring, TJ the Bull hasAND THEN THEY GO! AND THEN THEY GO! They're goin' right back at it! They're all hitting the ring again! They're all in the ring once more! Everybody's in the ring; it's mayhem, once more! Oh my God I can't believe this; this is incredible! Soul Man Alex G! Beating on Prime Time Daryl D! Samurai Kid getting the worst... of the situation from the Miser! Bobby Wales getting beat on by TJ the Bull Jackson! Biiiiig Baack Body Drop! Unbelievable! Big Back Body Drop! The Soul Man sending Prime Time Daryl D for a ride! And they’re takin’ it to the outside! Ram Man working over the Miser! Power Press Slam! OHHH LORRRD! OH MY GOD! TJ The Bull Jackson with the bull rope! And Ram Man, they’re goin’ at it! OHHH! He takes that bull-k… that cowbell right across the head! OHHHHHHH he takes that cowbell right across the head once more! Samurai Kid gets a cowbell! Bobb...

And, more importantly, is she a dominatrix? What do y'all think? ----------------------------------- Mistress Muse Whenever I fail to revise or begin The tang of her leather falls across my skin Whenever I succumb to procrastination She provides me with vexing inspiration Repeated lessons in being humble Smart yet again as I continue to bumble Shuffling my way across this earth She delights in the torture of excessive girth As dogs eat dogs and barracudas shred Creative thoughts flow through my head To gain new power the antiquated hag Shoves down my throat introversion’s gag An abyss of deep feeling imprisons me Chained among careless society My heart’s lifeblood flowing down to the floor She ties my feet in my mouth and slams the door If of seeing the sun I begin to dream She lassos round my self-esteem She won’t permit a lick of pride Preferring my tongue on her heeled boot’s stride Though I might be gifted on one side of the score There’s a downside that amuses that sadistic wh...

Left the drinkable yogurt on the sink today, Came back from work and found bacilli astray. ça m'ennuie. Twista-haler sprayed powder 2 days later, Lucky, pharma-girl was a considerate trader. ça m'ennuie. Check engine lite came on cuz the gas cap was loose, Service open 'til 7 but only 5 for Prius. Only 2 trained techs for that rarified bird, Come back Saturday you hybrid drivin' nerd. ça m'ennuie Mind's all confuddled with the brand new pills, My high blood pressure never gave me these ills. ça m'ennuie -------------------------- "Last night what we talked about It made so much sense But now the haze has ascended It don't make no sense anymore." -- Arctic Monkeys

Tally ho, blogketeers! I hope you are all well. I know I am clinging to a quartered potato in my own personal home remodeling/end of school year stew right now, but as I was cleaning up my office in preparation for putting new laminate floors in just five short months after the toilet flood incident , I found an old piece of titleless lovesick screed (a poem) scribbled on a yellow legal pad. I offer its debut here for your perusal. Enjoy! ------------------ 3/1/05 So quickly, and yet an eternity Before something new began. Sadness lingers like Chopin's fingers Ghostly upon the keys Playing notes I cherish But which echo impossibilities. And now a newish melody Distantly enters my heart At this distance I can't be sure, But it sounds more like Mozart. Though I have broken with the past And want to begin anew My wittily pirouetting soul still fears Being messily sawn in two. -------------------------------------- "I couldn't sleep at all last night..." Bobby Lewis ...

Being the latest is capital when you're on television or vinyl, but being befuddled and all a-muddled, so entrenched in a puddle of your own morning stupor that you go three miles east when half a mile west was the required span, And in east Dallas, down in the grove you drove and drove Turning and turning to find your way back to the hackensack street That you somehow went past in your lack of directional aptitude. Finally back on track, not intending to slack but time keeps on slippin', your lid is flippin' thinkin' of how an H street Can turn into a B avenue in your mind's eye and in your eye's mind, even though you checked it time and another time, thinking it fine. You can't turn left on the one way H so you make your way down to another rue name of C, now you really gotta pee but soldier on you must for in work we trust, even if only to pay the wage. Cursing advancing age, you go past the churches and carnicerias, old ladies and all the taquerias dow...

for Charles Bukowski At a "professional" "development" day of exceeding boredom I had a few moments of blessed solitude I walked much farther away than required to relieve myself Alone in the stall I huddled Away from lines In blessed quiet, I sat Meditatively on the black enamel seat. "HEY ROY!" some entering professional female cried Her braying bouncing off the tile. "IF YOU HEAR ME GO 'PHHHBBBFFPHHHTTT!!!' YOU'LL KNOW WHAT I'M DOING!! IF YOU DON'T, YOU'LL KNOW I'M JUST PEEING!!!" she hollered to the "empty" bathroom. At the same time as this, I, of necessity, blew my nose. "OH MY GOD, ROY!" she went on. "THERE'S SOMEONE IN HERE AND THEY HEARD ME SAY THAT! I'M GOING IN ANYWAY!" she uttered, proceeding to the seat to make the aforementioned noises. Outside, Roy, a forty-eight-something man clad in t-shirt and trucker hat, cornered me. "How's it going?" he said, push...

People with placards All over this town People with placards Bring me down Come buy the leather Sofa that must go This is the final week For the twelfth week in a row Every item 6 dollars And splotched all with flowers Every item 6 dollars And it lasts 6 hours Hire someone desperate Forty-nine bucks a pop To stand in a cow suit On the corner block Ousting the unborn Out of the womb I'll never do it Do I have to look? If I didn't think Getting saved was required Is one verse on a poster Going to save me from fire? People with placards All over this town People with placards Bring me down

Click of keys and wail of song Working out whatever's wrong Throwing open my heart's door May they blaze on forevermore (Sure, you can get it tattooed on yourself somewhere in Gothic letters. No problem.)

When creation'd barely got its legs Applesauce with nuts and eggs.

I wink you or you wink me we trade some stupid pleasantry we choose some place at which to dine sip bucking stars or glug some wine then at this dump we laugh and smile words flit and jump fling pearls to swine and swiftly then like some black hex you disappoint i holler, "Next!"

it has been so long oh, how I wanted to come up to your place for some "coffee" but I knew that if I did being a slave to sensuality and my appetites and nothing like self-controlled i would just sit on the couch lean in ask you to kiss that certain place then 20 minutes later be doing the deed your hands touching me all over you know THE deed and the only thing that saves me from such a fate is having a rule so I have a rule no hoeing on the first date not with a long-handled garden tool nor with any other appendages because I think it's fair to make you work just a little harder for your journey to the center of the earth for your rendezvous with the fertile garden of femininity for your returning back to where it's safe and warm

worship me for my drollness or sarcasm, one of the 2 or both at once like a big yin yang thing sweet and sour tangy syrup msg for your tongue and brain

Although I can theoretically make up any new statement at any time like lemurs banging out Updike novels on word processors, I find myself saying the same things over and over and over. The dumb thing about this is I repeat stuff to people who know me intimately. "I just can't deal with a militaristic management style." "It has to be Hellmann's." "Just because I'm paranoid doesn't mean they're not out to get me." "I'd rather roll the dice." I try not to, but I still do. Evermore Wages the war 'Gainst being a confounded Colossal bore. ----------------------- Did you ever find yourself sad that a Little Debbie pumpkin cookie was gone? Well, I just did. --------------------- p.s. Go out and find acoustic F*** It Up by Towers of London. Drink lots. Play it. Secret of universe inside. ---------------------------------------------------------------------- With every breath, I thought I'd had too much. With every breath I...

If this was myspace, you'd be annoyedly scrolling down, trying to find the clickbox to stop the page's theme song. Today, it would be the song "Defender" by the epic metal band Manowar . Ride like the wind Fight proud, my pup You're the defender God has sent Why? For this, the tiniest of dogs, exploded into violent barking and enthusiastic lunging at this threatening sight: A rather crappy patio set -- loaned out, but then returned. Once empty patio I look up to you and heed thy call This plastic ends my search I'll live your dream now passed to me And I now wait to shake the hand of fate Like the dusk awaiting dawn So umbrella, flap your spell With no heart to do me well So its written, it shall be Trust me, it's a great song. And in no wise wussy. Great to swing a paladin sword by. Oh, and there at the beginning? THAT'S ORSON WELLES.