Fuck Yeah Derrick Brown

"I don't want to be the best lover you've ever had. I just want to be your favorite."

[fuckyeahderrickbrown]

[fuckyeahderrickbrown]

I just met Derrick Brown in person and he was kind of a self absorbed asshat. I know I love his poetry. How do you get over a bad personal experience to still appreciate the art for what it is?

I’e been thinking this over for a long time because I didn’t know how to answer. I still don’t. Not really.

I’m sorry you had that experience. It really bums out to hear that. Maybe he was having a bad day, but maybe not. Your experience is valid. How do you go on with appreciating his work after that? I don’t really know. So many talented and famous artists throughout history have probably been dicks; we just generally don’t know because we never met them. All I have to say is look at what you enjoy about his work and focus on that. You can’t fully separate the art from the artist, nor should you, but maybe you can use this as a positive for your appreciation of the poetry. He’s flawed. Does that make the work any better? Maybe it doesn’t. This is rambling. I’m sorry; this is a problem I struggle with a lot. Not about Derrick Brown, but just in general.

[theoryoflostthings]

You are a Sunday porch I could do nothing onand feel like everything was happening.

Derrick Brown, excerpt from Waltzing the Hurricane (via theoryoflostthings)

[utopologist]

Places You Should Never Kiss

12. 

During a conversation at a party full of comedy improvers, which you thought were going to be improoovers, which was to be a positive step in the emotional reconstruction of Derrick Brown, but every conversation is powered by the improv rule “don’t deny.” So yes, I WILL have another drink with dumb fruit in it; and everyone will yes, wear their church pants into the above ground pool; and everyone will yes, write about this night and capture Derrick Brown in an unflattering light, but yes, who cares, you are great material; and yes, everyone agrees that it’s getting too late for acid and edibles; and yes, that caramel is delicious; and yes… my hand…; and yes, you will drive us all home, or a place that has been waiting for you to name it home; and yes, you will nap lucid in a new un-cynical life of wet pants, bonus drinks, and learning to say yes. Put a towel on the seat. Get in. Take me home. I’m outta words. I’m blanking. Kiss me long war. Kiss me the opposite of cross fit. Kiss me Tennessee porch song. Kiss me assy. Kiss me dead as drugs. Kiss me lost. Kiss me gold in the sunrise. Kiss me all the way home.

[utopologist]

Derrick Brown

[fuckyeahderrickbrown]

Eat This Sweet Cream, Runt

Oh, you poor, poor people. Waaaah! Waaaah, I'm hungry and don't have any chances, waaah. How you moan like the teak flooring of my catamaran. You could have it so much easier if you would only try.

The American Dream is a wet dream. You gotta get wet inside. Flashdance bucket dump is happening inside me.

I never got help from anyone. I delivered myself. I made my mother push with a court order. That's how I willed myself wealthy. I sucked my own nipples. I saved my second wish and made my skin this color. I ate raisins and gravel and shit out my own roads. I drilled for oil with my marvelous dick and made my own power. You love this rich weird dick. I came inside myself and got a tax break; I'm family. I deserve to not know the poor anymore. They just want to want, chez laze, and take. They are privileged. They get all the cool songs. All my heroes are millionaires listening to poor folk ballads. Gandhi was bad in bed. Thurston Howell was a gentleman's God.

True, God gave me this ambition to show the lazy and poor that we are not all in this together, that I am cream; I am a nest to look up to,  I am cream because I rose, and they churn and churn and you may never be cream, unless you were meant to be. Sit the fuck down and be chaff. I lost my virginity at Sotheby's.

You think milk is expensive, try spending 5 grand on 10 minutes of helicopter fuel.

just to get some perspective. Fuck a Corolla.

Did you know that pre-Civil War the word God and trust did not used to be on our money? Did you know it's there now?

Jesus.

[jocie-k]

I dwell on the idea of who started the fires in hell. Who built such a place? I understand that it wasn’t the devil.

excerpt from “With the Guidance of Dolphins” by Derrick Brown (via autobibliography)

[thisconnected]

Lord, if I die an honest man let me first be honest with you. Men can take my life but none shall steal my pride. I wore your sport coat made of knives begging the world to touch me, telling everyone they were gifts… and oh how I wanted to open them all up. I never hurt nobody. I was the whisper in Eve’s mouth. I was a Christmas tree kicking presents into the fires of midnight. I was a war over Colombian placebo. I was a boxer that couldn’t stop swinging at shadows. I was tempted, but never hurt nobody. Temptation is a talented opponent, Lord. I knew the woman, only to help her at her request. My eyes were scissors etched with a yes cutting the child from the hem of her dress. I took her to the Mill to relieve her of child, but I did not know how to do what she asked. She told me it was easy and that she could guide me through it.. I did not have the strength in my hands to finish. I reckon she tried on her own. I am Luke, born in a trophy case that remained empty. I, created in the image of who? I was born in the year of the noose. I was born in the year of the butterfly knife. Lord, your cross is empty and how many more will have to carry it? Lord, this heart is a corpse that can not be killed, even when the night comes to bury it. Amen.

Derrick Brown-The Weapons Formed Against Me Did Prosper

This is a poem from a prose short story by Derrick. It may well be my favourite of his works. Incidentally, I would give untold treasures for a copy of Unapologetics, Derrick’s now-out-of-print collection of prose. Geesh, this story is great. Go read it.

[amyreblogs]

PLACES YOU SHOULD NEVER KISS 1. In a Men’s Warehouse, not the suit store. A warehouse where they make lousy men. 2. Conservative foam party. Not right wing conservative, conservative as in the soap is rationed so no one gets too fucky. 3. On the Peter Pan ride at Disneyland. Don’t kiss while fake flying. Notice how you move over the darkness. Pay attention to tiny London. Tiny London is paying attention to you! 4. At a gun range after happy hour. Everyone you love is one bad joke away from leaving you for good. 5. In a city that doesn’t get its own jokes. 6. Um. Never kiss someone who is searching for a word and tells you they are blanking. They will think you are putting words in their mouth. It’s much worse. 7. In front of someone in Malibu with a sense of humor. 8. Inside of a literal white Russian. It must break you. 9. At a vegan BBQ while everyone compares the glisten of their fake meat sweats around the L.E.D. campfire, embracing the future, embracing a lack of joy until that becomes joy. Do not kiss them until they admit they are meat. 10. In a gay western seafood bar called Fish and Chaps. 11. You should never kiss someone who is trying to enjoy a churro. A churro is just a donut with a boner.

Derrick Brown (via amyreblogs)

[fuckyeahderrickbrown]

i have been searching for Brown's poem, "“A List of Places You Should Never Kiss Someone." and i am having no luck at all. i was wondering if you have had better luck that i have had with finding it?

I did some searching and I wasn't able to find it! It might be something he only does in performance. Does anybody know if this poem is printed anywhere?

[whitepaperquotes]

[fuckyeahderrickbrown]

From poet Derrick Brown. www.brownpoetry.com

You can buy his books by clicking HERE. 

[666onmymind]

The Return of Christ

[howtoleavetheozarks-deactivated]

DERRICK C. BROWN

[howtoleavetheozarks-deactivated]

Stuff breaks down for a reason. Sometimes you should just let it be.

DERRICK C. BROWN, “How to Leave the Ozarks”

[fuckyeahderrickbrown]

Love must be magic ‘cause when my friends fall in it they disappear.

Derrick Brown (via fuckyeahderrickbrown)

[howtoleavetheozarks-deactivated]

"All Distortion, All the Time", Derrick C. Brown

[rarararambles]

When you told me about losing your virginity do you know I wanted to be there to shake you and say, ‘Wait dammit wait for me.’ I think of how I’d feel without you and I am ripped into freeway trash. I fell for you twice. You’re a big fat fuckin’ wow. so where do I belong? You used to kiss me mean and good. You don’t anymore. I don’t know what you know about me. I don’t know what you wanna know.

Derrick Brown

[howtoleavetheozarks-deactivated]

you guys should go to the write bloody page on Facebook today and take a look at the last thing d.brown posted and then put some positive vibes in the correct direction. It’s not posted on the tumblr page so I am directing you there.

Xoxoxoxo go be fireflies

[bodylonging]

She, a strange landlord, pointed to her chest and said ‘If you lived here you’d be home by now.’ I, the stranger with no deposit, pointed to my chest and said ‘If you lived here you would have to be very…tiny.’ I think of her smart hips and the days left before their unhinging. Our love was redder than the eyes of McCarthy. Our love was blacklisted and strong. Our love was a brawl in the street with spectacles on. Eyes of bayonet knives, Brass-knuckle sex, crowbar quarrels and the nunchakus of my mouth which I tried to use with great aplomb and theatrical flash but always ended up knocking myself unconscious. 'No, you don't look fat in that dress. Yes, that sentence does assume you look fat in some dresses.’ Kapow. Right in the face. This love remains a tongueless boy in a basement that you snuck graham crackers to. He loved to see the glaze of your hammer-and-nail-polish. You kept him alive. He paid you with a finger every time you arrived: One to clean your elfish ear. Then two to check your pulse. Then three to make an unbreakable Boy Scout oath. Then four for karate. Then five so you could rest each one of his loose fingers in between yours like couples do when they stroll through shitty carnivals. When we first met she told me of the brilliant in Israel and the erotic vision of the cynic. I tried to turn her on by talking to her about skinning animals. She kept hunting for a metaphor. I was actually just talking about skinning animals. Now I can’t stop thinking of how our baby would look in a perm with a massive elk for eyebrows and then in comes the Tel Aviv of her mouth of my dirty neck.’ Our mouths building a jangly, red swamp they will call weirdo Louisiana. This kiss spills her silent resume: She is the poster child for the Willy Wonka suicide camp. Her stomach is a summer full of black ice-cream-truck hijackings. Her eyes are highway fatalities you can’t stop staring at. Her skin is rehab for sandpaper junkies. She is my landlord and she lowers the rent, points to her chest and says, "Man, if you lived here you’d be home by now.”

Derrick Brown, Cheap Rent (via whale-bone)