ANOTHER DAY, ANOTHER SUICIDE NOTE TO THE WORLD --- Fiction

Slack jaw, middle of a suicide, in that part of town, poor man's place to die, to be found, gun by the side, clenched in his hand, bottle of Jack nearby.

Where were the medics?

Nobody wanted to come to this part of town, if only he had died on the west side, the rich man's section of middle town USA, where each place had a pool to drown.

I was sitting on the sidewalk, watching the world go bye.

Or maybe by.

There was a bag in my hand, paint fume, huffing my cares away, killing my brain one cell at a time.

We had guns; or access to them, it was easier to get gun than it was food stamps.

Mary Anne stood outside the bus depot, selling her soul one hour at a time, later on, she'd stop by and see me.

"Can I have a puff?" she'd ask as I passed the bag to her.

We'd do harder drugs if we could get our hands on them, sitting there till midnight, one o clock, passing the time staring into the sky, watching the stars flash across the sky.

I had a place; an abandoned building over on Fifth street, where, if we could stand, we'd make our way to, crash hard onto the shit stained mattress on the floor.

We'd awake before noon to restart the whole process.

Back to the street grind, to find ourselves, to lose our soul, one brain cell at a time.

Sometimes a reporter from the local news would make his or her way "Down to the street" to see how the other half lived, those forgotten people, the street people; insane, driving away, ready to die on a call, whatever.

One showed up one day; Cindee, she was new, trying to make her face the answer to whatever.

"How long have you been on the street?" she asked me.

"Forever!!" I said, nodding, taking a huff off of my bag.

My mind was still there.

Jack, the local insane poet, laughed.

"We were fucking born here!!" he said, patting the ground, "Our mother, the fucking Goddess of Huff!! Like a hit? For a good lead into your story?'

She smiled and politely declined and moved on, to more saner grounds.

"Bitch didn't even ask me what my turn ons were!!" Mary pouted.

We all laughed.

We were like tears in the rain, washed away, never to be seen, if we were even there, washed away from existence.

But here we still laid, a shade of our former self, lost in our ways, but still here.

Neurotic Erotica - THINGS TO DO WITH A...A LETTER TO PENTHOUSE

Dear Penthouse,

Hi!

How are you?

I am fine, thanks for asking.

This is my third time writing you, my second time placing said letter into envelope and my first time actually putting it into the mailbox!

Email?

What's that?

Anyways, I am sitting here, at 8:08 pm on October 2nd, 2018, the laptop is in my lap and you know what is on my mind!

Playing a game of Hello Kitty Adventure Island!!

Yay!!

Sex?

Mama told me sex leads to all kinds of problems, like anal bleeding and warts, who needs that!!!

I imagine sex feels like rubbing your pee pee with sand paper and then throwing some vinegar on it.

My Uncle Clint, he lost his penis to sex.

He was just laying there minding his own business.

In a woman's bed that wasn't his wife.

Aunt Tilda storms in, breaking down the door and shoots old Uncle Clint in the penis, straight as a bird flies sober, like my mama says.

And the doc, old Doc Smith, just couldn't save it, Aunt Tilda used some buck shoot, done split the pee pee ten times to Sunday.

That's when I learned that a man's penis is very sacred to him cause old Uncle Clint just started crying and sobbing when Doc told him, WE CAN'T SAVE YOUR WILLY WHACKER!!!

So anyways, it ain't too bad being a virgin at 49.

Mama says I'd be a horrible daddy anyways.

Anyways, that's my letter, hope you like it,

Your friend in Jesus,

Hank

See - THE POUNDING OF THE DREAMS - A Poem

They gathered for the feast,
In that darkness,
To weep,
To sleep,
To fear,
That which,
They could not see.

They prayed,
To unnamed gods,
To feel their pain,
They cut themselves,
To see if they still bled,
Blood,
Not dust,
To feel their skin,
Not decay.

They walked into madness,
Their guns drawn to their chests,
To breathe,
To know they could still breathe,
Feet marching,
Sounds like the pounding of the drum,
The nightmares calling,
To try and flee,
To die,
Blood stained fields,
To die for that father land,
To die,
Souls wandering,
Foe,
Friend,
Alive,
Dead.

We cry,
We fear,
We lie in the fields,
Alive no more,
To hear,
Gone,
To never see again,
Dead.

LIARS IN THE FIELD - NEUROTIC EROTICA!

THE LIARS IN THE FIELD 

by

Andrew Snartz

CHAPTER ONE - REMEMBERING LUST ADVENTURES

The summer wind blew; fierce dehydrating winds coming from the south.

Margaret laid in the burnt, dry, brown grass of the field.

She felt Henry's hot breath on her inner thigh, moving up, closer and closer to that spot, his hands pushing her skirt up, exposing her to his gaze.

"Stop..." she moaned but didn't push him away, throwing back her head as his mouth met her down below, his tongue darting out, drawing in her nectar, driving her to move her hands into his hair, pushing him further in.

I wasn't part of that scene but watched it unfold on TV.

Cinemax to be exact.

My first time with a woman was more like; I paid her fifty bucks, she spread her legs, I removed my pants, ten minutes and a squirt later, I was putting my pants back on and heading out the door.

My second time was in college; she was a senior, I had just started my freshmen year.

She was tall; 6 foot 5 inches.

Blonde, those green eyes.

I forget her name.

I remember her legs straddling me, lower herself on me, her nipples, mere inches from my mouth, my tongue dancing with them, then her mouth pressing against mine.

It wasn't a "Romantic fuck" as described in proper terms of the words, though, by crude definitions, it was a fuck.

I guess my true "Romantic fuck" was with my fifth; it was a cloudy stormy day, it was our first date.

The car I had was a piece of shit for lack of a better wording, it had stalled up the tall hill outside of the town we were living in.

Sheila was her name; small girl, not a beauty by the set standards of society but "Fuckable" by the terms of the bar stool banter that flooded the town.

"To kill time," she said, "We could fool around!"

It started out innocently. We kissed.

Then I felt her hand moving down my chest, stopping at my crotch, her fingers slipped down my zipper, and exposed my stiffening cock to her gaze.

It was innocent up to that point; her hand grasping the shaft, and slowly moving up and down in rhythmic movement, I gasped out, feeling her, moving faster and faster, then her mouth soon replacing her hand.

Soon, in even less innocence, she removed her blue jeans, sliding her panties down as well, exposing her nakedness to gaze, and lowered her self onto me, letting my hard cock slide deep into her.

I did not hold out long; and within a bit of a few up and down motions, her moans filling the car and my ears, I came deep inside of her; filling her up with my seed.

A mistake I guess; I not wearing a condom and her not on birth control, it was like playing Russian Roulette with a fully loaded gun.

She smiled as she put her clothes back on, I did the same thing.

I finally got the car started and drove her home.

I'd like to say I made love to her repeatedly but we only dated for a few more times before she broke up with me for a guy named Steve.

Not too long after, I found out she was pregnant. 

"You know who Sheila's baby looks like?" my friend Anthony had said one night as we sat at the bar.

"I do not have an idea..." I said, sliding off into silence.

"Go look in a mirror, you'll see!" he laughed.

"Shut up!! She'd tell me if that kid was mine!"

WHAT IS YOUR GENDER? COULD I BE A NON-GENDER ALIEN BEING?

WHAT IS YOUR GENDER?

A random blog on a really touchy subject - COULD I BE A NON-GENDER ALIEN BEING?

So for awhile, I've been taking online surveys for pennies, gives me enough for beer and candy.

During the initial questions, it always asks WHAT IS YOUR GENDER?

Simple question right?

You'd be wrong if you answered YES!! I KNOW WHAT MY GENDER IS!!!

Do you?

Really?

Over the years I've had to fill out forms and such for different things and back in the day, it was an easy decision ---

[ ] MALE
[ ] FEMALE

Easy right?

Outie.

Innie.

Then as a confusing point to the whole "WHAT IS YOUR GENDER?" the [  ] OTHER box appeared.

Other??

"What the hell? Other? Does that mean they have their penis in their butt?" as my father would say looking at the question.

I had no answer as I checked male.

Then as the years moved on, the other was replaced with a multiple range of answers from non-binary fluid to I'm a kangaroo.

I've been told, quite angrily, "People evolve, drift away from stereotypes of male or female, an oppressive definition limiting humanity to what they were born as based on body parts!! Stop being such an old fashion enabler to an ancient system, CHANGE!!"

I then slap the person; call them a pig f*cker and wander off for ice cream.

No matter the issue, the ice cream will solve it!!

"Unless you're lactose intolerant!! ENABLER!!"

I think I'll go take a nap!! Wake me up when we hit [ ] I HAVE NO CLUE, GIMME ICE CREAM!!

BITTER MEMORIES: AN ILLUSION - A POEM

She stood in a doorway,
Lost in a memory,
Falling to pieces,
Trying to remember,
The time she had,
The moment she wandered,
Far from home,
To see the world,
A beautiful dream,
A peaceful moment,
Lost to a memory,
Drifting from pieces,
Realize,
The memory is dimming,
He's losing his mind,
She dances in the mourning,
The light grows dim,
Feeling the emotion,
She stands in the door way,
The tears washed away,
By the rain,
It falling down,
To the ground,
We see the illusion,
We feel the pain,
She grows apart,
The years roll by,
A distant memory,
Falling to pieces,
All a lie,
A mask is worn,
To feel no pain,
The distance an illusion,
She stands in the door way,
Lost in a memory,
Falling apart,
No grand illusion,
Just life itself,
In the world,
Spinning through,
A distant second,
In life itself,
A minute of peace,
Then a delusion,
A shattering dream,
Stark madness,
Cruising into the setting sun.

MISERY IN A DREAM - POEM

Like a dream,
Falling apart,
Seeing you there,
In that photograph,
And the memories,
Slipping away,
Into a place,
To find myself,
Dreaming of a better place,
And I see,
That memory,
Dancing free,
Into the setting sun,
Like a memory in color,
Falling apart,
Falling to pieces,
Seeing the dream breaking up,
Drifting apart,
Wondering where,
Why,
Tomorrow never comes again,
Today is today,
Yesterday is just,
A long ago dream,
Seeing a prayer,
Dancing in the rain,
All night,
To fear the time,
To live in misery,
Falling apart,
Dreaming of why,
Nothing matters.

Life is a dream,
Caught in a loop,
Wandering towards,
The edge,
Misery
In technicolor,
Forever in lies,
Painting black and white,
Living a dream,
Falling apart,
Into misery,
I sigh,
To the night high,
Life is like that,
Dancing in star light...

MISERY LOVES COMPANY - A POEM

MISERY LOVES COMPANY

A POEM

You don't know,
That feeling deep inside,
The one that makes you,
Cry without the tears.

And the seas were crying,
For life,
And the wind howled
For you,
To see the sun come rising up,
The misery of  life itself,
Coming up from the gallery.

And the sun sets on it all,
When the darkness comes a calling,
Will we see the light?

The howling of the misery,
Falling from the grace,
Tell the night to hold me,
To make it all seem right.

And the world keeps dancing on,
And on,
And on,
And my misery,
Keeps laughing in its face.
And when the morning sun is rising,
We'll be found,
Dancing in her grace.

Every day is a blessing,
A betterment of life,
Even when you're down,
You have to stand to see the sun,
A rising in the sky.

HOW I SAVED THE WORLD FROM AN ALIEN INVASION - or not!!! Stories from Area 51 and a half!!!

September 5th, 2018 - Louisville, Kentucky

Dear Reader, I decided to take a walk down to the Family Dollar store to buy tasty cheese burgers and spicy chicken sandwiches for dinner; it was a humid night but the walk helps me get my mind figured out as it has been a jumble of stuff lately.

As I walked; the usual hand out asking fellows approached me; pushing their hands out in front of me.

I try not to judge but being a broke ass fellow myself, I try to tell them to "Fuck off!" without using those actual words.

I have told my own story of being a homeless person in previous episodes; mostly I slept under a tree for a month and a half while working at a Safeway store; it was fun for about ten seconds but I wouldn't do it again unless some TV network wanted to pay me a million dollars to relive the excitement.

And even then I would want some hot co-stars to be announced later.

As I kept moving; I heard someone yelling towards me.

"Excuse me sir!" he said, approaching me, flipping his wallet out for me to inspect.

"My name is Rob, social security number ###-##-####!"

"Okay, hi Rob!!"

I was thinking I was being detained by a member of the Air Force in some weird sting operation.

"Could you help me in obtaining a meal?"

"Sorry sir, I'm living the dream myself!"

I would have continued my conversation with this fellow but soon he spotted another fellow; a man in a 'Latin Food Truck' and approached him, showing him his ID and repeating his social security number for some odd reason.

And that's how I saved the world from an alien invasion or something.

THE WIND AS SEEN BY LIFE - A BEAT POEM AS INSPIRED BY A READING

THE WIND AS SEEN BY LIFE - A BEAT POEM AS INSPIRED BY A READING

The wind swept through the lands; 

We were but ants spread against the shifting sands,

That life,

There,

Spread free, 

From the boat we ran,

Alive in our fight,

Some soon,

To be dead.

There was a silence among the ravens; the hills were bloodied; the spirits gone.

Who was standing against the rage?

The city lights burned brightly, 

Alley ways strewn with broken glass;

The business men;

High polished shoes;

Ties;

Catch the 4:45 to evening supper;

High,

In that blight;

I swim into the sea;

It is night;

Kings;

Flying free,

Degenerates in the flop;

Flipping off the man;

Smoking; 

Dusty roof tops;

The clock;

Tick

Tock!

A pawn shop; 

Down that street,

Falling downwards,

Into a spin,

I'm still walking;

Those electric youths;

Trying to find;

Themselves,

Falling backwards,

Into clockworks,

The gears of society,

Grinding them,

Into pieces,

Everyone was dead,

His soul was dead,

That soul,

Where did it go?

Plan man, getting on the plan, to see if I can find life; the fuck!

That is the plan; man; to fuck, to see, to get out, to get on, to fly into the sea!!

"Shit!!"

I was drinking with the brightest of the insane.

College students were pushed up against the wall; trying to kill those brain cells at $3.00 a shot.

"Fuck!"

The words slipped from his tongue before he realized what was going on.

A fist to his lips.

He dropped to the floor.

Wham!

Blam!

Was he dead yet?

Coke heads in the streets; trying to catch a cab to home.

"Screw off!" Sam yell; his unkempt hair sprawling off to all sides; the drivers flipped him off in return and then spat in his general direction as they sped off.

We were walking; the broken sidewalks tripped us every few steps with the chipped cement.

"We should go and see Sid, he's has the shit!!" Carl said; trying to catch himself in mid trip.

I nodded.

It was a mile and a half to Sid's place.

Fifth street.

Sid was a good clean kid but he sold the best stuff; whatever you needed he had.

We made it to his place; at his mom's house.

"He's in the back boys!" she said, smiling and went back to her rum and coke.

We moved back.

"Well boys, do we have a party?" Sid smiled and motioned to us.

We sat.

Two lines of cocaine for each.

Sleep.

Catch a break.

Silence.

Flee.

Feel.

Are we alive?

Madness,

Caught in the door,

Wandering through,

Fly,

High.

We found ourselves later; outside, down the street, trying to catch a cab.

They never stopped.

One of the few girls in the group drove by.

"Need a ride!" she giggled.

We all got in.

Movement.

Flying still,

That road,

Underneath,

Trying to make us fall,

From that Lord's grace...

"Are you okay Johnny?" I heard her saying, shaking me from some awful dream.

I felt okay; lying there in some drug induced sleep; booze infested sores inside my brain trying to move outside, to take over that scene.

I could smell her sex; and my own body tried to respond.

"Pervert!" she giggled, slapping me teasingly.

Call out;

Oh sinners of the streets,

Your fleeing moments,

Ripe to be plucked,

To be thrown into the muck,

If we do not die tonight,

May we live for tomorrow!

I told her that I loved her; she was my only light.

"I love you more!" she replied, smiling, almost laughing in evil delight.

I couldn't feel my body but still there I stood; looking into her face, into her soul.

The wind,

As seen by life,

To be felt,

Till tomorrow,

Which shall never come,

Today will never end...

WHATEVER DOESN'T KILL YOU - A look into a demented writer's head

Whatever doesn't kill you, makes you wish you were dead. 

Anyone else having issues with their life?

Yeah, me neither.

So here I am, sitting, wondering, looking, early morning, I'm usually not up at this hour writing, but it seems like a good thing to do, to push the poison from the system and release into the world.

Angry pelicans on the streets of LA, looking for a fix, or tuna, or maybe a halibut,

Maybe in another life, I could be someone awesome, instead of this, whatever I am.

Planets align, then drift back away, trying to find center of nowhere, which, if you think about it, is near impossible.

It's 6:53 in the morning, few people wander about, looking for egg and sausage biscuit sandwiches and a large orange juice, somewhere, someplace, people laugh, drinking strong coffee, waiting for the sun to rise.

Misery loves company.

So they say.

I reach up, stretch, trying to grab space, to pull myself up, emotionally, Heaven seems so far away.

I fail.

I might go for a walk; to watch, to see, to hear, to feel the ground beneath my feet...