Saturday, January 10, 2009


I hate Great Britain
Yes, I do
Hate Canadians too

Non-American white people suck
They don't even have any trucks

They talk funny with an accent
And they usually tell us to get bent

Harrison Bergeron?

Why must I be made to do anything?
They're not my boss
It is the only way I do something
It's how I fassad my way
Into doing shit I don't want responsibility for
No choice
How I wanna operate
Am I weak? For wanting no say?
I want a say, but no consequences
Rather have a choice
Wouldn't want to Wrinkle Time

Lou the Jew*

*Ode to a Semitic Lifestyle
*The Chosen People

Lou the Jew, oh, I wish I knew you.
You play soccer, and with the ladies, you're a talker
Being rich ain't new... to Jews
But Semites they're overall pretty nice
That's Lou the Jew
Tennis sucks, but he don't care
He even doens't like his new hair
Unassumingly, he must be taken in in bits
So moody, I'm unsure if he's got the schitz
Lou, whatta pudgy, puday man
He nor his Semitic friends are at all tan
Smartie pants, wiht knowledge as a lance
Tuba, guitar, violin, saxophone, or any other instrument known.
Jew pride? Somethin' he'll never hide
Lou, you're Jew.

[Really, Nick? Really?]

The Weatherman: The Old Man is Snoring

(I decided to do a poem that was an ode to "The Weatherman" with a tone of a fan with an over-zealous, damn-near-stalker mentality. "Billingsley" came easy to rhyme. It's jus for fun, nothing else.)

Frank Billingsley
You never knew you were killing me
Doing your reports on the TV
On the Kay Pee Are Sea.
Oh, Frank Billingsley.

Frank Billingsley
You neve rknew you were killing me
Weather done so beautifully
"It's raining; it's pouring"
"What a wonderful morning"
Oh, Frank Billingsley.

Frank Billingsley
You never knew you led me to killing
Just because of that floor warning
What is the key?
That is what I ask of thee.
What is the key?
What is your key, Frank Billingsley?

Friday, January 9, 2009


It's like nothing you've felt before
It's like being cool when you're a dork
It's like knowing everything when you know shit
It's like crawling on the ground and passing those running
It's like you're both David and Goliath
It's like talking eloquently but really being a bore
It's like doing everything well without any work
It's like a burning candle that's unlit
It's like Odysseus without the cunning
It's like a true story constructed from a myth.
It's like...
It's like...


3 Haikus Which Make No Sense

I do not like you
Why do you think I say that?
Cuz I don't like you

That is a fucking big word
It is not a word

Remindton 20-Gauge
Nosy squirrel on
My lawn where you eat my trees
I will end this now (Don't do it again)

Apathetic Zeal

I wuz tryin' muh best to stay on muh feet
Cuz if I didn't, it'd only spell defeat
All the glory, if I outlasted
This phuckin' throwin' a punch. [?]
I'm just thinkin' about baskin'
In all the glory stories during Monday's lunch.
Uh ring of people cheering, but what do they care?
They have no idea this all started with uh glare.
Why is this happening? I don't wanna continue.
I cain't stop; his skin's like glue.
Everything I'm throwin' out there is hittin' his face.
What a phawking disgrace! [???]
How am I doing all this?
I wish I could say
Maybe once I should miss
But then I'd pay
Then out of me, I'd get hte shit kicked
By maybe a few licks
I'm ending this now.
This guy is going down
I will not allow
Ne1 to ask how.


Oh, tan man, how I adore thee.
Sometimes I have ot remember you are me.
I remember while we've workin' in the field,
I do this for fun, but you're in it for a meal.
I do feel like a fake.
Cuz I'm gonna end up with a house on a lake.
Zach says you're the "People of the Sun,"
And I know your misery ain't even done.

What do you buy?
Cuz I got the pie,
'N you get the lies

Oh, tan man, how I adore thee.
Sometimes I have to remember you are me
I try to call myself Latino
Knowing I'm only gonna see you at the Camino
School ain't something you'd even consider,
But ignorance ain't makin' you bitter.
Viejita, should I get up from my chair?
Or do you even really care?


Split Down the Middle / El Infierno

Split Down the Middle
¿QuĂ© necessesitas?
No te puedo dar algo

I can never give you shit
Cuz I gots iz two bits
Don't look at me that way
Don't ever think you may
It was never okay

I am poor and all I can say
It's hard to help you cuz mi esposa wants more
And between you two, I'm torn

El Infierno
I made a deal with the Devil
I asked to be hot
I asked to have a lot
I asked to hang out with famous people
Now Look at me!

I'm in Hell, shackled to Hitler, and I have a lot of misery.
That Devil is bad.

An explanation of the posts to follow....

[Editor's note: Okay...I'm going to take a pause from inserting my usual moments of inspired brilliance to delineate this tangency I'll be taking in order to be both a catharsis and a self-discovery and completely & utterly embarrassing and self-effacing but also revelatory to my captive audience.]

So... my mom just moved into a house after living by herself in an apartment for a year after her quick divorce from my step-dad. (Don't worry, it wasn't one of those difficult divorces you always hear about. It was like ripping off a band-aid. So don't pay that minor detail any mind.) The apartment complex was a good one. It was a two bed, two bath unit where she also paid for a garage and a covered parking space. I think she ended up paying $1,500, which isn't a lot for Houston (for those of you readers from a place where real estate is actually valued).

Anyway, so she moved into a new house in the middle of nowhere and finally got to the task of throwing things away/parsing through all her worldy possessions/separating my sister's and my things from each other, which had previously been strewn together in only one room in the apartment. Among the many things I found included in the collections of my memorabilia was this notepad with these "poems" I wrote the summer before freshman year of high school. I figured they were funny enough to post, yet bad enough to laugh about in a light-hearted manner.

My posting these written pages from my past has also been done with a notebook from the 2nd Grade (i.e. the 1993 posts) that I found. Hopefully, I'll figure a way to scan those pages too some time in the near future. In the same vein of discovering and laughing about my past will be my slow but steady posting of journal entries from a journal I kept when I was 8 to 9 years-old (i.e. the 1995 posts). I didn't even remember writing in this journal, so it's funny to look back at what bothered me.

So yeah, I hope you enjoy it.