Index for posts concerning Parental Advisory

Bieren’s Morning Poetry Series #23 by Bieren Skidels
1 comment

Dear Girl sitting in front of me eating dates and knitting pt 2 by Bear
5 comments

Dear Meaning, by Bear
13 comments

P.S by Bear
2 comments

Dear girl sitting in front of me eating dates and knitting by Bear
2 comments

Hm. by Bear
12 comments

are you that man? (part 1) by Bieren Skidels
1 comment

the blind water from her hands (Great Hormones at Bedtime) by invot
1 comment

“He didn’t even stick up for me.” by Dark Poet
10 comments

Beatrix and The Art Of Drinking Coffee: The Bum by Bear
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Bieren’s Morning Poetry Series #23

Posted on February 24th, 2010 by Bieren Skidels.
Categories: Poetry, Comedy, Parental Advisory.

“Coffee”

my coffee may taste like shit, but
when it’s gone
I still miss it

a life is not corroborated
unless
it’s companionated

eggs and bacon are more than just neighbors
they’re collaborators

and in the mouth of nazis
it’s still breakfast

truckers in a diner at 3am
all wait for the same drunk waitress
all order the same special dish
and all drink the same
dank
coffee

but I don’t have any coffee

1 comment.

Dear Girl sitting in front of me eating dates and knitting pt 2

Posted on April 22nd, 2009 by Bear.
Categories: Death Penalty, Ethics, Abortion, Constitutional Law, Terrorism, Philosophy, Republicans, Parental Advisory.

Wale is not a delicious meat. You shouldn’t eat it, because most people would consider that cannibalism due to the fact that you’re fucking huge. It’d be like me saying “Yeah, they don’t have laws in Japan about peopling, but I understand because people are delicious.”
Wales are awesome. You’re not.
Fuck you,
Sam

5 comments.

Dear Meaning,

Posted on April 21st, 2009 by Bear.
Categories: Parental Advisory.

Fuck you. You don’t matter. None of this does.
Yours Truely,
Sam

P.S- There ain’t nothin like a Brooklyn girl.

13 comments.

P.S

Posted on April 13th, 2009 by Bear.
Categories: Parental Advisory.

Who the fuck is robotic taco?

2 comments.

Dear girl sitting in front of me eating dates and knitting

Posted on April 13th, 2009 by Bear.
Categories: Stories, Parental Advisory.

Stop it. Stop looking at blogs about knitting. Stop dropping your ball of yarn. Take the fucking care bear bandana off your awfully dyed multi-color hair and stop eating those fucking dates. Your hoodie with patches of birds and leaves on it is dumb. Your spiked chin piercing is the most obnoxious thing I have ever seen. Your glasses make you look like a professor in Harry Potter, and it isn’t a flattering look. Fuck your black nail polish and the mole on the left side of your face. You’re stupid, and I don’t like you.

Dear kid sitting behind me looking over my shoulder with the badly dyed blonde hair and the sex appeal of a hippopotamus,
Fuck you. If you’re gonna fall asleep in class, don’t snore.

Dear professor,
I can’t understand you. You’re so Chinese it’s unbelievable.

I hate this class.

2 comments.

Hm.

Posted on March 31st, 2009 by Bear.
Categories: Philosophy, Religon, Parental Advisory.

A wise but semi-schizophrenic man once told me there’s a difference between remembering what we’ve lost and remembering what we once had.
Turns out you can do both at the same time… what a head fuck…
He also told me that love was not God. Whether God=love or not doesn’t really matter to me seeing as how I’ve never personally talked to the guy, but the fact that love can be considered a divine and all encompassing thing that is neither good or bad, ugly or beautiful drives me nuts. Something that is everything and nothing at the same time. Like black matter that can double as a sexually attractive psychologist. This physically emotional clusterfuck of a mixed drink with every single string (ever) attached.
You are/were never God. Only love. Now what kind of shit is that?
It was like Miles Davis for the first time. All I remember thinking was “Well that’s it then. I’m not going to be the same after this. This is what falling off it all and not caring a single bit is like.”
So you are/were never god. But Miles Davis always/still is. That guy…That guy is forever.
So what, after all the other questions, is forever?
I guess that’s the trick. Living long enough, or rather, not dying before you find out.

Fuck it. I wish I was a sea-lion.

12 comments.

are you that man? (part 1)

Posted on March 10th, 2009 by Bieren Skidels.
Categories: Stories, Parental Advisory.

Some ecosystems are fueled completely by bat guano (that is, droppings - shit)… Whereas, obviously most are fueled by the sun (in fact the bat droppings are fueled by the sun)..! An ecosystem is an “enclosed” system in balance, the elements of which function in an economy of balance, giving and taking proportions in check with one another. Us humans may have moved a little ways from balance, as evidenced by the recent collapse/recession, however - more interesting than how our knowledge of ecosystems applies to our monetary economies is how it applies to our relational or social economies.

Think of your friends or an average night together - a long night together. Think of how the night may start with stories from one and finish with another - or maybe even the group fragmenting into different purposes. Think of how dynamic and yet flowing such social entities are! One subject or desire of one individual flowing into another and out later into their fragmented group, maybe landing finally in a complete strangers mind (who knows!?)…

Now, consider the case when it all works out perfectly, or at least really well. Think of the nights that you wake up the next day and think “wow! that was amazing, everything was “just enough” - and it stayed good, got better, and finished just perfectly!”. Now remember the ecosystems I mentioned, many factors in balance.. just, working… and think of how a really good night… a really good mix of many people involves the same elusive balance.

In college I experimented with this phenomenon. I added bits of one substance or another, made the drinks a bit different and served them at a different frequency. I matched the music and lights, matched the conversation with the people and moved things toward crescendo. In fact, I got pretty good at it - given the right recipe of social stimulus and subjects, I could concoct a 7-course night of jubilee, building and leveling, finishing in oblivion - just right in a way that can’t be perfectly remembered - Just right!

The question is then… why?
the question is then… what if?
the question is always… who, where, why, and what…
but the question now is: have you really embraced this?
should you?
if not, why and when if ever?
if yes…

If these questions don’t have clear answers I reckon you’ve never really engaged in this ecstasy. You’ve been an observer more than a creator - and while you might “know” what I’m talking about - it’s like pictures of distant planets (or stories of cities you’ve never visited)… it’s just there.

Well… sometimes there’s a man… sometimes there’s a man… are you that man?

[to be continued…]

1 comment.

the blind water from her hands (Great Hormones at Bedtime)

Posted on February 27th, 2009 by invot.
Categories: Orig. Literature, Drugs, Parental Advisory.

“Of all the people I’d expect to see sitting in front of the dollar store…”

My attention shifted to the man standing in front of me. “Why not me?” I said hapharzardly.

“You dissapeared pretty quickly. And now you poof right back to Belgrade. What are you doing back here?”

He really didn’t have the right to be asking me that question. Actually, he didn’t have the right to say anything to me at all, not after all that’s happened. However, the phrase “love thy enemies” stumbled past my mind perfectly in step with my desire to smear this man’s face into the curb. I threw my gaze into the giant sky and replied, “…Bible college.”

He laughed out a white cloud of breath.

“I’m going to be a youth pastor.” I tried to say this as seriously as possible.

“Where is this Bible college?”

“Bozeman.”

“I was going to be a youth pastor too.” It was clear that he didn’t believe me. He continued, “but I dropped out. I decided I’d rather smoke pot.”

“Really now?” I sighed. “Nowadays, I didn’t know it was a decision between one and another.”

“So you still smoke.”

“No.” I gave up trying to sound serious.

“You just haven’t had the chance with all these Bible people around you. That’s why.” I listened to the words I’ve told so many people, including him, time and time again. “You should come over to Rick’s this evening. He’d be happy to see you. We can reconnect, smoke a bowl, and enjoy life.”

“No thanks.” I gave up trying to sound pleasant as well, and watched the traffic intently. The thought of seeing Rick sourly enticed me for a moment, I have to admit. My hands emptied from my pockets and I reached for a pebble lying near my foot. I studied it’s form silently, each second an annoyance for the man who stood in front of me.

“You should be in California where you belong.” He said, to break the silence.

“You should be dead.” I said quietly.

“And you shouldn’t be?”

I looked him in the eye. “You should thank me. If it wasn’t for me you’d be dead right now. You’d be decaying underground instead of harassing people outside of the dollar store. You have no idea…”

“You’re so full of shit, Jared.”

“You and I both, Matt. But I’m not making this story up. There’s no reason for me to.” A car pulled into the parking lot and I forgot what I was saying. After a moment, I sat back down. “Mars hates you, you know.”

“You and Mars both. So what?”

“So, she hates you because she thinks you were the one who stole from us. And I just happen to think that too. You need to be careful, you’re not safe in this town. Especially Bozeman. She wants to see you die.”

Matt smiled. “…so that’s what, eh?” With that he pulled out a cigarette and jokingly offered me one as well. “How do you even know this? You barely knew Mars at all.”

“I know her better than you think.”

“You obviously don’t.”

I thought of all the things I could say to him: all the days her and I spent together, how much I loved her, the chaos and the harmony that was our lives… I thought of how he didn’t deserve to hear any of it.

“Her name is Heather.” I blurted out suddenly.

Now it’s I who observed the silence, waiting for the man standing in front of me to respond. His posture changed, and I recieved the feeling that he suddenly believed what I was saying. At first I think it’s strange, that this random fact, that I could just as well have made up, was what stifled him into silence. But then I realized, he knew her name too. “Heather.” He repeated to himself strangely.

“Her name is Heather.” I said again.

“No.” He muttered. “Her name was Heather.”

“What?”

He attempted a smile but failed. “So you might know Mars, but still not as well as me. If you did, you’d know she died last winter.”

“Fuck you.” I stood up and turned to leave.

“Is that the kind of language they use in Bible College?” He shouted.

Without turning back to face him I replied, “You’re so full of shit, Matt.”

“You and I both, Jared. But I’m not making this story up. There’s no reason for me to.” His voice subsided as he continued. “They found her body in Livingston pass. She just started walking, nobody knows where she was planning on going. The police found her naked, she took all her clothes off as she walked. Nobody knows shy she did that. They say she died of hypothermia.” I observed him through the reflection of the store window as he continued to talk. “After that everyone went into hiding. We stopped selling. The whole town pretty much shut down as far as I’m concerned. She was the reason we all did what we did.”

I didn’t know quite what to say, so I turned to face Matt. His whole body looked crunched up and tired, like he just ran a marathon. There really was no reason, except the way he looked right then, for me to believe a word he said.

“So… she’s dead?” I asked strangely. “For real?”

Matt sighed. “Something you don’t know about me and her…”

“I don’t want to hear it.” I said, and quickly paced away.

1 comment.

“He didn’t even stick up for me.”

Posted on January 22nd, 2009 by Dark Poet.
Categories: Prose, Local, Parental Advisory.

I went out to my car to get a couple of books for stuff I am going to work on for school. As I went back I heard a woman crying on the shoulder of her friend, saying that “He didn’t even stick up for me…” *sob > sob > sniffle > sniffle*. I immediately began to criticize the guy. “He doesn’t even know what he stands for, so how can he stand up for you?” I should of said to her. But that would have pointing the finger at him went it should be pointed at me;
It was childhood, but maybe the some of attitudes of that time went on and on through the years. Darth B’Strad was fighting and losing to the neighbor’s boys a couple of doors down. Instead of standing up for him, I parked myself at the fence. Dumb fucking move. Years of torture for my brother could have been avoided if he KNEW I got his back, rather than me saying I got his back (when and if I really would have done got his back). I am truly sorry, please forgive me.
In truth, in many ways I am becoming what I really am: unreliable. If is not somewhat obvious at this moment in time, then, I assure you, the attitudes are there and festering more and more. But talking about only me is not the point of this post.
‘Strad, I want to become a big brother to you, to see you succeed, grow, and develop your own unique way. Money is bull squash for proving I got your back, so I want more to prove so you KNOW I got your back. I feel somewhat bad for breaking the promise to our Arizonian bro, that I would go snow boarding with him. I worked the 4 am instead. I was planning on working the 4 am on the 8th; FUCK ‘em bitches, I’m taking a personal holiday, calling in, or just not showing up for work.

10 comments.

Beatrix and The Art Of Drinking Coffee: The Bum

Posted on January 20th, 2009 by Bear.
Categories: Philosophy, Parental Advisory.

Never have I been a very spiritual person. I don’t really believe in a God, or a Buddha, or anything to that extent. I do however, believe in karma, or more specifically, cigarette karma. While I may not be the most avid or addicted of smokers, I’ve noticed there is a very select and important set of rules and guidelines with cigarette karma being at the top of the list. If you’re a dick about your smokes, and guard them with your life, chances are when you’re really in need of a drag, no one will come to your aid. Don’t blame it on the selfishness of others… blame it on the universe…
But, the interesting thing about the rule of rules is that there are a few sub-rules, if you will. First, never ask someone for their last cigarette. That just goes without saying. If you’re bull-headed enough to take a man’s last smoke, chances are you don’t deserve it. Second, don’t try to keep track how many you bum out and how many you receive. The universe will work it out for you, don’t worry, you shall be repaid. Finally, keep in mind who your asking. There’s a strange art to figuring out who is going to keep the flow of smoke going, and who is the ass-hole that doesn’t believe in this stuff.
Strange the things we can unite under. I think that if we’re going to be killing ourselves slowly, we should be willing to do it together…

1 comment.