Aww yer nailin me, kewl!

Fed up, like a cop on the top floor, I’m sore to the core, got bored of not being able to stop from wanting more, had to duck to the floor just to get through the door without gettin stuck in the fore-head, of course I’ve knocked my noggin before, I’m quite the lil knucklehead, clumsy and lost, but I know my side objective is more head. Blowin minds including mine, and it doesn’t gotta be in a bedroom, no disgrace to where it takes place- we could hop in your car and park in your boss’ parking space, take it in the face please I just don’t want my carpet glazed, mouth all the way to the base I’m amazed that she wasn’t harping or phased. Get blazed at an asylum and show you a nutcase, release your closet slut ways like monkey see monkey do, feelin like the goose on the wild chase, namsayn, smashing vases when they flower leanin like Italian towers, nothin like a warm shower when you’re a snowplower. No Grammy needed to achieve celebrity star power, live in my own world where it’s always my hour, like my chowder with clams- the man, smile at your girl stealer from ya like Bill Cowher and fake chow her, a thousand miles an hour my mind always wanna holler it never shuts the fuck up! Stuck-up! like a boner in sweatpants tucked in the elastic waste band, and mainly, man, these veteran rants got me wantin to flee this drastic mainland of a wasteland.

Lyrical wet dream

Escaped the maze, I can smell the cheese, the last phase of the rat race, I went this way instead of that way but I’m still eatin, agreed to it I’m a thrill seeker. To alpha dog ya gotta kill the leader, cut the tag and make the deal sweeter. Patty Mayo, no Funny business, like Doug’s homie I’m quite the skeeter; the right component of a Hertz Donut, fuck’er lights out- never paid the meter. The ups and downs like totter teeter, holdin whiskey- feelin neater, an avid reader, long lost believer, Bahumbug like Ebineezer, Scrooge this, fuck that, huge tits, ass fat, dame dame don’t go away, come hither if you wanna smash. Hatless, all across the atlas, all the girls in the world- that would be my last wish. Steady smilin in my sleep in my casket in a while but not right now, talkin way later, stay dialed in Grim Reaper flask is a blood vile, pipe down, been goin around been comin round, like spherical jizz droplets I can be a dick when I spit. Make the angry beaver grin when I lickity split. One man wolf pack roamin holy fields, Evander, howl at the moon like I’m fuckin Steven Glansburg, my hands hurt from chucking n heaving cans of dirt… life’s a game of skins n shirts.

(Photo taken by TDolbs in 2012 on the way to buy my boat with $10K cash in a fanny pack.”

High There. 👋🏻

Here’s a group of words I put together that I thought was pretty sexy. I thought of the following group of words while smoking my 6th cigarette-or-so in probably the last hour, but making it look what I think is pretty sexy reason being if you think of it this way->>>>>smoking cigarettes is the number one cause?judges? for a pretty gnarly bunch of diseases and illnesses (I’m not a journalist, I’m just out here being and writing down some words that only make the right sense if they’re read through and interpreted correctly, in harmless nature with the sole purpose of paraphrasing as many thoughts as efficiently as possible, the words don’t resonate in the bank forever- words are thoughts before they’re anything, and luckily I’m firing on all creative pistons at the moment so I know going left at the fork won’t be a dead end this time) and knowing that ahead of time, which you wouldn’t know from looking at me -but ya see, my friends, sexy isn’t all look, it’s look and touch- so if you take that bit and plug it into the heroic insanity it requires to actually put yourself out, beyond thoughts and words, what I’m sayin is I’m a badass genius because I’m cool with assuming the risk of dying in exchange for immediate gratification received from puffing a faggot and I’m totally picking on myself here- ahhh shit- dead end. Shoulda went right.

Anyways. Here are those words I liked:

ok… thought I had it, Well, I couldn’t reword it how it sounded in my head, so::

“Something about there being truth in most jokes and the activating ingredient is having the courage to tell it or something like that.”

I lost the scent and gave up trying to find the missing baby. I could have retraced my steps and searched for longer, but the baby is dead already and will still be there tomorrow, wherever it is, waiting to be found. At least I tried looking for it, and isn’t it just such an unfortunate pain in your figurative ass when someone you’ve never met makes a comment about ‘what you should have done instead’ to find the baby sooner so it could be pronounced dead faster while they themselves didn’t take part in any shape of help to find the baby? I almost deleted this part but it was such an extremely perfect example of an almost-unheard of scenario, the point is, worry bout yourself. I didn’t delete it because I can only tolerate a certain amount of sanitation and self-censorship. Oh, and in that scenario, if you thought I was cold for writing about the whole dead baby thing, I should also include a couple other details – it was like 2AM and 20 degrees out, and we had already been out searching for 8 hours, and an hour and a half before retiring for the night, the search party had already decided that even though they said they were going to make just one more pass before they called it quits for the night and started again tomorrow, they mustered up the courage it took to spend another [said] hour and a half in the dark cold trying to find the end of a thumbtack in a bale of hay. Then a couple weeks later when they got asked about what thoughts/words were going through their head, a major confession from 6/10 members of the search party, when they too admitted to thinking “what’s the use in freezing 10 men to death over 1 dead baby”, and on top of that, since they were in Canada for this completely fictional scenario, they also had to worry about wolves and oh yeah the they used to have 11 members but a fuckin wolf ate one of them last week and people are scared shitless looking for a baby they had no relation to while some of us scoffed without reading it through to the end, in other words, they told the truth and yeah the truth hurts sometimes but sometimes we only hear what we wanna hear and stop digging right when we hear it. Sometimes, when we talk honestly about what we are digging for with other diggers, we may find out that other people are digging for the same thing. We on the same team all along!?

Ok.

Check engine light just came on.

This post is intentionally written the way that it is by complete accident.

Here’s a cliché motivational poster that applies to my sentiments. I have no idea who G Douglas is.

5am lyrical puke

Explain sorbet, the word not the ice cream. A different orange like a tangerine. Now take ‘pervert, make it look like sor-bet it’d be spelled porvet, the English language is out of orbit. Make ya laugh till your core’s fit, till your pants are shit, I’m Smokin cancer sticks even though I wanna quit, a funny lil hypocrite with a big dick, blowing o-rings makin oh-faces when I hit, Office Space legitimate. Consider the inconsiderate and get rid of it, these disgraceful legislators don’t deserve to hold their places. Horse with blinders on their faces, when you gonna jump the fence and run your own races? Ditch the jockey- playin tonsil hockey, got the g-spot key, knuckle puck in the net ya can’t stop me in the Flying V? Copy? Can you cop E? Inconsiderate! They never had a jigger big enough to deliver the killer dose of Kryptonite it’d take for me to kiss the rose; they never had it figured that the kid could bluff, my liver’s tough, the world’s corrupt, tank on he had to filler up but I’m movin now, had a couple kinks in the hose, if your lips are tight I’ll tell you some things that hardly anybody knows. Pay the price though, or else fold, or else go, in other words- make like Jack and hit the road. I’m really not that cold, I might just be gettin old, just like this joke. Almost all my words should be in italic bold. Almost all of you birds don’t seem to have a soul, only sing when the sun shines. These advertisements and poster child’s, jokers bullshit stacked higher than Gomer Pyle. Any mathematician would admit it’d take a while to acquire that volume of shit. Single-file with my style, not much like it, no denial there, been known for my wildness, wildebeest in the wilderness would kill for this, my will to win could fill a gym if it were a crowd, and the louder we get the more we’re not allowed, gotta serious problem with this that’s why I smoke loud, lost in the cloud till I come back down, another day another world spun round. Floating tryin to stay grounded.

Slackin But Stackin

We let too much slide. I’m guilty of it myself, but I’ve realized that we are all flawed. Some of us more so than others, and some of us hardly at all, or whatever- you know what I mean. But why should it be my responsibility to go out of my way to correct others? Can’t we hold ourselves accountable by following an innocent conscience? Why do we have to be saturated in a world of guilt? It’s not expensive to be a decent human being. It costs zero Bitcoin to treat someone you don’t know or someone you do know with respect. Why is it my job to clean up your mess? Why do we have to pay for janitors? Shouldn’t we be cleaning up after ourselves? “Eh, someone else will get it, they get paid to clean up after me.” Knock it off.

There are some great people doing great things behind the scenes, setting great examples but because of this world of advertisements and hoopla, these things go unnoticed and unfortunately are not as trendy. We are all flawed in one way or another. It’s okay though, you don’t have to work to improve yourself, somewhere there is a guy paying a person to clean up your flaws. And please don’t just think of this from a custodial sense of the term. Think beyond cleaning up the puke in the sink of a 5-Star restaurant restroom as if it were a primary school shithouse. Think beyond hanging onto your beer can for 2 more minutes when you see a trash can instead of just throwing it on the ground or into a bush, a living, growing plant that provides. Think beyond the effects of a war-stricken country that’s getting explosives dropped on its main infrastructure and the innocent people suffering the consequences. Think about that.

I write this frustration-laced language out after a 10-hour bartending shift at a bar included on a list of checkmarks of places to stop for a 1,000 person St Patrick’s Day Treasure Hunt pub crawl. They say the real shit comes out of ya when ya drink. I’m not sure how I feel about all of this. It’s a scary thought. I enjoy the job and the money and all the other perks that comes from working hospitality, and I love to provide great service to people who appreciate things for what they are, but mannn oh man, some of y’all, I don’t care who you are, but I really just wish some of y’all would just stay home. A chill night with okay money or a chaotic night with great money? Right now- I’ll take the money- but as soon as I don’t need it anymore, I’m stepping down so someone else can deal with you. I’m over it.

Let’s flip the skrip. I could give a cats ass about a holiday, honestly, if I were St Patrick and I saw all this shit I hope I’d be like, “y’all need to chill, roll some joints, sit down listen to music and talk about some cool shit.” But if I were St Patrick then he’d be me… woah… what if I AM though. And he IS me! And I’m him but he-me said “y’all need to chill and celebrate differently cause that’s not how I roll”? What if that happened and it was right now? Am I Saint Patrick? I’ll never tell. No, I’m not. Or am I? “No, you’re Nick.” We all started out swimming in our dads nuts. That’s what all of us were at one point. A fraction of a dot on the scale of being. Have any of you ever smoked DMT? I’ve heard good things about it.

Accolades reached today: 100 mojitos, probably. Goodnight. This won’t be posted until tomorrow (today, but since I still have to go to sleep) so good morning or afternoon also. 🖖🏿

What I’m tired of is what I’m talm’bout

Wood fuh wood. No edit. No add. No subtract. First word to thesis to Sounds Good period.

I’m just bored of small talk and corporate success and high taxes and illiteracy and war and terrorism and how the fuck are we still falling for this bullshit? I’m tired of sports, professional sports, endorsements and advertisements it’s blatantly obvious the problem we have is collective ignorance. I’m tired of of being called crazy for using sound logic and for treating people with respect regardless of their pay grade. Our faces buried in our phones doing whatever it takes to get likes and conning the poor bastards who keep falling it. I’m tired of being confused and contradicted in every sense of the fucking word. I’m tired of of talking about banning this, banning that, because ‘this many’ died from it and “you don’t need it” so you can’t have it because we said so. I’m tired of the prayers, I’m tired of the fucking faith in God. Have some faith in your ambition, stop praying for shit and just go do it. I’m tired of the pity party, the belligerent drunks egged on by assholes disguised as friends. I’m tired of of disguises; filters. Fuck you Snapchat, the only filter needed is the square jaw. I’m tired of a bullshit degree being the kicker on a bullshit resumé. I’m tired of the lack of accountability. Why are we $20T in debt, I’m tired of hitting potholes and coming out of pocket to fix when my taxes go towards $2B/day to kill people because of these rich fuckwads calling shots. Fight your own wars, you fucking cowards. I’m tired of fake news, I’m tired of no justice. I’m tired of holding all this in, I’m tired but I still lose sleep over this, I’m tired of that. I’m tired of the struggle, I’m tired of digging for hidden answers. I’m tired of lazy people. I’m tired of being lazy. I’m past that shit. I’m tired of holding doors for people who don’t know what giving thanks actually means. I’m tired of Netflix, I’m tired of being bull-shitted, and in a coma from bullshitting myself. I’m tired of of turning the other cheek, and I do that because there’s not enough time in the fuckin day to call it out when bullshit is seen.

Pick your battles. Win your wars.

SOUNDS GOOD.

Ode to Shrooms

V1:

“Ive got some mushroom chocolates”, the booms, the 1-2, that’s how the night started. Momma thinks I’m retarded- probably- I know I would be if I were her, but if I were her then she’d be me, ya see? But I’m not trying to be somebody I’m not- white collar blew and blue collar blows too, not gonna do this till I rot in the ground- I’m- pound for pound the nicest white Kid around. Stay on my good side and enjoy the ride, but if you’re too needy too greedy please believe me when I say I don’t need ye. I’m on a mission of discipline, clinching my fists again, I’m pissed off trying not to punch my fuckin wrist off; the way Uncle Sam raises kids, the shit’s soft. I wanna kick a kickball in his dick till it’s raw or till a lightbulb flicks on- whichever comes first, it doesn’t matter to me, I could be Blitz’n in the mass of the pack with my sights set on Rudolph’s back and won’t be happy till I guide the sleigh- it sets my mood out of wack.

V2:

Leaps and bounds, leaps and bounds, been lost and been found- almost didn’t plan on sticking around, yet here I am on the mound- and here comes the pitch- when I call you ‘bitch’ are you astounded? You the type to snitch and get your brother grounded? You tellin me the tag on the Jag was invalid, and you still went whippin round in it? You sayin to me you were up later than me, Luke, the Darth Vader in me, killed an army of storm troopers and ya don’t know what amount you did? What the body count is? My V-A card is my light saber, sorry ma’ for my behavior. Been callin bullshit as I see fit since way before they said he was my lord and savior. The only difference is, well nah, I’m the same Kid, this is just the result of all the steam blowing off my lid. My wit is sick, I’m sick from wit, and these Nootropics still have yet to hit! What a handsome horizon ahead lookin back where I’ve been, bout to put it in cruise if I gotta stop im’a skid. Grandpa was an auctioneer, so naturally, I’m ready to bid- put up or shut up, the boss is here, yes it’s actually Nick Nack Diesel Packed, the Kid.

Closer:

Just like my life, this one took a weird turn. So familiar with thinkin twice and still not speakin, I’m just here to learn- learn from the past, holding true, n some of you don’t even have a bridge to burn! Some of you can’t discern your elbow from your asshole, pussy lookin good ‘tude smells like tuna casserole, the massive hole-in your face is leakin, ain’t passable but pass the bowl, try to get as high as possible, the laughable factual assassin’ll matador through all the bull, even if my red knife is bloody dull. Bashing skulls with lead pipes if my words were a weapon, get a clue, Miss Scarlett poppin it in the Ballroom, sounds like heaven. And if I slay em, all I have to say to em–“you probly had it comin to you, prolly had to pay it to you.

The pied piper.

It’s been a while but I realize music saves my soul when the saving is needed. Why not write some lyrics and record some new jams? Doin what makes me happy and this is the release. To any out there struggling to find happiness, don’t ever give up till you find it. Words from the wise. Out.