OfNorthAmerica

mmesurly:

[this is something I wrote a long time ago]

Remember when this image popped up on all of our computers and then the Internet exploded? I saw it and was taken aback for a moment. My first thought was, 'Those are NOT mom arms!' followed immediately by, 'Oh! He's. Big.' And that was that. I…

notbeingimportant:

Sometimes I just want to eat cherries in bed while watching murder shows. Thinking about nothing but cherries and murder.

I finally remembr my tumblr password!!!!

nikkiwalter:

Hi! I’m Nikki and I am an addict.

Seriously!

I’ve struggled with various eating disorders since I was ten years old. I started skipping breakfast in fourth grade when Adam Johnston told me I was a “chubby weirdo.” In retrospect, the joke’s on Adam Johnston because he gained sixty pounds after…

Motorcycle Bar

-motorcycle bar-

Alan Jackson on the box

I don’t know which song

it’s a labour to sit here for long

 

eradication of the entire human race

that’s what I’ll work on

after I work off my outstanding
bar tab
What Stephen Hawking Said

-what stephen hawking said-

 

your dark eyes

are dark out

of memory

not like a black

hole trapping things

that move at light

speed, but brown

or blue

or neither,

just the way I

remember them

gabekawczynski:G

On twitter I follow soGMJWGMme really funny people. Some have many followers and others have little. And some have medium. Uh, that’s just common sense, right? The two funniest people i follow on twitter are @OfNorthAmerica @DavidKlein5.

Unfortunately i’m going to be a jerk and say who my top…

Poet Laureate
Poet Laureate
 
As Poet Laureate of North Manchester Indiana I received recognition 
from literally tens of people at the local coffee shop's open mic readings
The mayor awarded me (with pride)
two ten dollar gift certificates to East 
of Chicago Pizza, also I was allowed
to ride a bicycle in the towns
"Funfest" parade in front of the mayor's
convertible, and behind the Peabody
nursing home Aqua-Aerobics float
That kind of respect can't be found 
everyday, behind every corner
It has to be earned
Earned by my wit and charm and some might argue my devilishly handsome looks
The Manchester Daily Monitor called
me the Oscar Dela Hoya of literature, 
"Issuing hit after hit, in a poetic sense of course"
The online article goes on to say "God has blessed, 
not only North Manchester, but the entire world with his abilities as a word smith."
Market Street was honorably named Wagner Street temporally with paper signs 
and even though my true home town of Warsaw is a few miles to the north, 
I'm still some what of a home town hero to the folks in Manchester
-icons of the virgin-

Here is my 1st ever poem to be published back in 2003 

 

 

 

-icons of the virgin- 

 

icons of the virgin are painted in etceteras on the wall

surface, texture, erosion.

you don’t know that I can hear assembly line

efforts in your voice.

midnight sky of braille and arabic numerals

counting, falling.  dot dot dot dash,

immaculate Morse code for V,

not for victory or for varsity

or for virtue.

latitude lines on an uncreated earth

still have their degrees and intervene with longitude

baby born into a cartilage cage

a metaphor for the unspoken

benedictions for the perishing apostle

zodiac, monkey pox, increased rations

assembly line icons of the virgin

etcetera etcetera written on her face

I Grew Up

-I grew up-

in a town with 967 streetlights, not that I’ve counted.

the water quality was considered good to drink

but the goose poop and duck poop might make

you think twice about swimming in any one of our lakes.

my great grandfather told me that you could dip your hand into

the water while you were fishing and have a drink,

but you wouldn’t want to anymore.

he died in ’83.  he’s buried in the town cemetery near

the lake where he used to fish and drink from.

my dad worked at the Burger King where you can have a Whopper

an astonishing 1,024 different ways.

my mom was an underpaid nurse aid at an old folks home.

she had beautiful skin and blond hair when she started,

and wrinkles and white hair as white as her patients

when she retired.

when they die, they will be buried in a plot of land

about 30 miles out of town,

the only land they’ve ever owned,

well away from the welcoming glow of less than a thousand street lights