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12/25/25   
Red Bagel schlepped here

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
“How does it feel? To be on your own? With no direction home? Not even an amber alert? And nobody's bound to look in this van, so keep quiet and just try to enjoy yourself.”

-Bobby Molesterman, now doing 15-25
Fortune 500 Cookie
Nobody thought it was funny when you said you snorted your dad's ashes, so it's best not to mention going bowling with your mom's skill—your first instinct was right, nobody gets your sense of humor. Tough love is not the only kind of love, except in prison, so you'd better learn to like it. Lucky Strikes—smoke 'em if you got 'em.


Try again later.
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