From deep, deep in the cotton-pickin' red clay'd piney woods o' east Texas, I bring you the tales of my sister Bethzilla, hideous freakin' white trash welfare-cheatin' pill-popping, bowl-smoking, vodka-swilling redneck swamp thing what done crawled up out of the danged boggy bottoms of Uncertain, Texas and also of Momma, a transplanted, dirt-floored, rice paddy, hand-raised Cajun girl from the south Texas depression era. Take a look see. Go ahead, lookee.
Saturday, February 12, 2011
A Human Vacuum Attachment For The Crack Pipe
by James Jarvis
That drunk's grandson,
barely twenty,
doesn't look at baseball,
football or anything on tv.
He doesn't get women to come up to his room
which is right over mine so I know---I hear everything,
which is nothing---
because this drunk's grandson,
barely twenty,
has killed his dick already
with a crack pipe.
He doesn't want girls. He doesn't want tv.
He doesn't even want food.
All he wants is that crack pipe
and something to put in it.
He's worse than a death watch,
that drunk's grandson,
barely twenty,
leaning against the rail all night,
staring with dead eyes
at nothing;
wanting nothing
doing nothing
being nothing
but a human vacuum attachment
for the crack pipe.
I thought you'd want to know
how much progress we've made
in three generations.
Tags: viral video, social commentary video, web video, spoken word, poetry, poem, prose, anti-drug video, videology, vlog, vlogging, vlogger, Jolie Blond, crack pipe, crackhead, death watch, human vacuum attachment, James Jarvis
Labels:
crack motel,
Jolie Blond
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