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06/1/26   
We love the ‘80s

Peace Frog

by Laurence Trundle Lawrence
bio/email
November 15, 2004
There's blood in the streets,
there's meat on these sheets.
What am I, sleeping with a butcher?

Napping on crazy wax paper
wrapped in crap vapors
dreaming of walking on gongs
past a sleeping pitbull.

Goddamn is this song loud
carpeting the air
like a plumber who woke up
and forgot what his goddamned job was
and just started carpeting everything.
Crazy fuck.

Chicago's overrated.
I once dated a girl from Chicago
and she wasn't that great.

Birds swoop down
like marionettes on a string
in some kind of puppet show
about birds or something.

Blood stains the palm trees
like a toilet brush
from a bloody toilet.
Jesus, how did that happen??
Yuck.

There's a trash can
full of homosexual Easter candies
if you're interested.
What if there were a holiday
called Homosexual Easter?
Would you take the day off work?
Or would you just show up anyway
and work so nobody thought you were queer?
That s a tough one.

I once rode a boat
through a river of sadness.

Man did that suck.

But I wrote a haiku on the ride:

I once kissed an overweight Eskimo
Don't ask, it's nobody you would know
She smelled kind of crappy
and she looked sort of Jappy
come to think of it, what kind of chick is named Elmo?

Shit, that's not a haiku, it s a limerick.

Gotta remember: the Japs eat the fish, the Irish drink like fish.

Christ, it's still raining blood out there.
What a perfect day to call in sick.

I wonder if I could still get paid if I say it's Homosexual Easter?


Quote of the Day
“Yawn and the world yawns with you. Fart and you fart alone.”

-Dr. Filbert
Fortune 500 Cookie
Stop taking it so personally when everyone tells you how ugly you are. At least you're getting noticed. That breakfast cereal you made out of Tic Tacs sure has helped your breath, but next week our crystal ball shows a diagnosis for cancer of the everything. They say dogs are a good judge of character, and even dogs don't like your screenplay. This week's lucky Tims: Tiny Tim, Spazzy Tim, Him Tim, Tim and Tim Again, Phantom Tim, Tim Saved in a Bottle.


Try again later.
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Archives
Dromediary
Long and hairy luminaries hang from the sky and dangle scary fingers downward in repose just itching to twitch and pick my nose. Prescient crescents— the cartoon moons fill the sky to seven deep with beauty to cause my golden weep as I... (10/18/04)

Ray Manatino's Half-Remembered Classics
Jack Sprat could eat no fat but his wife was a big fat bitch. Shit could she eat, she ate all my beets and my pickled pig's feets. Next week poker's at your house, Jack. The itsy, bitsy, spider crawled up the water spout. I almost fucking died,... (9/20/04)

Whistlepig
Loud and sweet, the howling of the whistlepig erects my nipples like sails taut in the wind. Sailfish taught me to win by cheating at cards, like a cardinal at charms or an oriole with arms. Whistlepig, whistlepig, let me in, caught by... (8/23/04)

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