suburban absurdities.

Questions and/or comments [email protected]

[stripper-locker-room]

[suburbanmike]

i have mixed feelings  a rash on my hind quarters  and Law & Order is on 

the infants always cry the loudest  when mother is away  and father is incognito 

we run and we run and we stop

twisting away into an empty glass  chardonnay applesauce and all as the bubbles sink to the bottom

let the children run the world  and the trash blow away she howled as the moon winked back 

[smallgoob]

[suburbanmike]

I’d put this on my jacket in the beat of my heart.

[creepyyeha]

[suburbanmike]

be my valentine

[suburbanmike]

I wrote a poem I’m looking forward to reading somewhere soon.

[baseballcardvandals]

I believe you, creep. 

Own this BCV original. 

[suburbanmike]

same

[suburbanmike]

Bell Bottom Blues

I fell in love today, as I do everyday. How could I not when you were in those bellbottoms; the ones that hug yr hips and inner thighs like they’re the only buoys in the raging Sargasso Sea. Shit, on that warm Autumn evening, the only thing raging was a part of me that shall not be named. 

You were a goddess, walking across the eight-lane thoroughfare without a fuck to give. I was hoping you had at least one more. Maybe you did, maybe, somewhere, somehow, someway, you had one last fuck, hidden deep near yr ankles, waiting to break free. Maybe yr act of pedestrial defiance was that final fuck, and I, alone, was there to witness and receive its glory. I alone was asked by some higher power to record yr posterior for posterity. 

Regardless, you walked right past me, as if I was never there. You never noticed my ice cream cone dripping on the asphalt. You never noticed my aquifer-blue eyes gazing at all that womanly heaven that you quietly proclaimed to be “manufactured in the good ol’ US of A”. It didn’t matter to me then. It doesn’t now. I’m just proud to be an American. And I’d die fighting for one shot of removing those jeans and curing these blues.

[recycled-garage]

[suburbanmike]

When I was 18 and a freshman at community college, my father sold a house to a man. This man was a pornographic film producer. His company was named Ducati Productions.

Mr. Ducati offered me a job I would be stupid to refuse. So I accepted his offer and worked from home for six months, making more money than I ever would in my life. All because I said I was a “filmmaker.”

Every dang Ducati bike I see reminds me of him and his military crew cut and herniated bellybutton, along with everything else I learned about “filmmaking” and other sorts of “making”.

Good times.

[bplaval]

An erotic drawing a day.

[lookedlikelaughing]

don’t live in the real world don’t really live

float transcend evaporate

appear on blades of grass just as the dew sticks to a dog’s paws on a sunrise walk

don’t work become vulnerable don’t fit in become invisible don’t exist become unconquerable full of vim and vigor piss and...

[suburbanmike]

another poem i really like

[bplaval]

An erotic drawing a day.

[suburbanmike]

Wheres the shitty/crazy poetry?!

it's locked up my ass and i swallowed the key, but i'm trying to throw it up as we speak my index and mid right fingers are pressing on my larynx and if you'll excuse me i'll be right

[suburbanmike]

i'm back and i'm sad and i'm still connected via ethereal vines and sebaceous dreams to a past that is as real as a Family Guy cut scene so real to me and real is all that matters like a defaulted loan or a hot Yumbo™ in the mouth of a fille de joie on a break from reality in a fast-food restaurant in my mind GOOD LORD i need a punch a in the face and a journey to the center of the Earth and then maybe just maybe please o please o please maybe then i'll figure out who i am and what makes me tick and how to turn my uselessness into CA$$H maybe it's because i'm at an elevated locality instead of where i belong SUBURBIA O SUBURBIA my birthplace currently devoid of all dreams and green grass and idolization so i welcome the deluge let the rains fall and the tires skid and the birds fly whichever way global warming points them JOI GIN

[bplaval]

An erotic drawing a day.

[amelia-rayshen]

To everyone who needs this tonight

You are strong and you are beautiful and you will get through this. Keep your chin up and fight on. 

[lookedlikelaughing]

something happened to a clock or was it a watch either way time decisively stopped giving a fuck

regardless the wind was teasing the pale longing for a home to lay as was i  whipped and wandering  in the umbra of an amber outlined  mid-week sun 

my thoughts were listless  evaporating with every breath  my holed soles day dreamt deep  as i struggled to convert  body language  into tangible ethos  as i do now 

as i do always 

[suburbanmike]

I wrote a poem. I haven't done that since October. 

I feel like this is a big step forward for me.

[azspot]

Eastwood seemed to link (with subtle condemnation) the Bush administration’s deliberate obfuscation of our reason for being there to, what else, 9/11. In the film, Kyle joins the Navy Seals because of a prior bombing of an American embassy — he wanted to fight for our “freedoms” — but watching the 9/11 attack unfold on American television that horrible morning redoubled his commitment to assassinate terrorist “savages” — although Kyle is unmistakably oblivious to the lack of any link between Iraq’s savages and 9/11’s killers. As I saw it, Eastwood was only employing metaphor in American Sniper: Kyle’s confusion was the American public’s. Like millions of his fellow countrymen, Kyle never comprehended the real crime of Iraq, which was our own. That’s what Eastwood’s film said to me. I saw no cinematic treatise on martial heroism or war’s dehumanization. I merely saw incomprehension.

The clarity of “American Sniper” (via azspot)

Great, now I want to see it.

[theinternetsanimals]

[suburbanmike]

daddy doggy