by Osama Ghoul
Two doors down from a strip club, I get my options together.
You're waiting to hear that the kids
finished swimming lessons and that the dog went running while
trying not to obsess about biker chicks.
We had such a splendid outing in
her backside and I'm hoping she will call but,
I'm scheduled to have
my truck repaired and plan on hitting the road
the first week of May.
don't know why most of my time
feels simultaneously numb and provided.
Maybe I've lost what life pretends and now I
just keep going, simply being feared like a beer or
like a pouch.
- ► 2010 (221)
- SUDDENLY GONE, THE ENVELOPE OF SLIVERS OF WHAT I H...
- LOST, LOST LIKE PHOTOGRAPHS CLUTCHED AFTER DISASTE...
- in retrospect, maybe we are all Buddha’s
- there was a blanket on her eyes so I left her in t...
- Linda’s Place Again
- Poetry is my Fetus
- TWINKIE TWINKIE TWINKIE
- THE LOST ENVELOPES OF MEMENTOS
- THE LOST JEWELS, THE LOST ENVELOPE
- it’s still a good deal
- some advice for aspiring poets
- nice guy
- dialogue of faith and highway
- Moby Dick’s
- WHEN I LOSE THE ENVELOPE OF WHAT MATTERS
- drunk at the kitchen table with my grandmother
- the bum feeder
- not all women are cunts
- a dull lady with big calves
- Quicksand of That Good Woman
- MOONRISE, HERNANDEZ, NEW MEXICO 1941
- WHO’S NEXT
- that's entertainment
- no laughing matter
- THE IDIOT
- Shallow Dating Pool
- erotic asphyxiation
- Port In A Paper Bag
- Posturing Leprechaun On An Acid Trip
- The Landlord
- The Reprieve
- the doors of hell have numbers on them upside down...
- THE HOLOCAUST (3)
- THE HOLOCAUST (2)
- THE HOLOCAUST
- ▼ October (43)