http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction Reversing an American Trend - Taking back Literature from the litter (Now in armagedon Orange Flavor with 30% more Sodium!) Tue, 23 Jun 2009 22:44:25 +0000 http://backend.userland.com/rss092 en So - I have lots of new material to post here, but right now, I have more stories than time.... soon, to, come,  new shit, here ~~ http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction/2009/06/16/updates/ St. Louis is a city of beer and baseball   I've always hated baseball, so I stuck to beer   then I moved to California   The palm trees swaying and standing large in my memories from childhood   and in time I realize, like everything else, how overrated it all is   and that discontent is a gift for us all   and ... http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction/2009/06/16/untitled-4/ hmmm, my fingers are cold   I sit writing this story, and fall leads the day on in the most beautiful gray and in between sips of coffee, I write this the walls shake, things go thud with noon's tide and all I hear is screamig, and now it’s the ambulance's scream   I tried ... http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction/2009/06/16/carl/ Hey man,   It’s Easter, 2009, and it’s been awhile since we talked last   It’s the holiday, I guess   That, and a machine-gun mind that rarely settles for anything like peace   I was thinking of you and how we used to skip church and get high and that one Sunday we waited two hours for church ... http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction/2009/06/16/letter-to-a-friend/ I’ll gladly tell some jokes   or feel at home in the dark   or maybe fill you in on life’s little happenings   like my mother in the asylum LSD and Zen being tackled by the cops the Slayer/Manson concert last summer staying up late and getting up early armed robbery and intimidation heroin and many brief love affairs with woman who ... http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction/2009/06/16/untitled-3/ Poetry is a funny little thing   it seldom pays the rent   and at it's best it's nothing more than a broken-glass lullaby   an atomic rat-trap something like a sup-prime rose a thorny siren's tongue and an expensive flat-tire   and what makes it funny is,   there's a lot of people that write it and there's a lot of bad poetry   most of it ... http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction/2009/06/16/untitled-2/ this is only a test... http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction/2009/06/16/testing-new-categories/ There used to be excerpts from older stories here, but I took them all down, because I can.  Check out the 2009 short story category for new and improved work~ http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction/2009/06/16/it-is-time-to-talk-of-many-things/ And when you want to do anything but go to sleep and the waking world holds little interest you find yourself here, trapped in between midnight and before you know it, it’s already gone. It’s 1:26 in the morning and you know you have to get up for work in ... http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction/2008/09/18/what-green-grass/ The day pulls on not as harsh as being quartered maybe just split in two and the minutes run by and I am robbed I am robbed of the by the butchers that just exist and in thieve's cant they remind me, they mock me they fire nuclear torpedoes at my grass thatched hut but its okay I've been trying to break free ... http://bphouse.com/poeticdysfunction/2008/09/02/robbed-and-quartered/