Wat’s Carbon Water-N-Stuff Thread - Concepts In Iron And Wood!!!

[Wat_Tyler]

I wonder why the whiner's even bother here? Perhaps it's just another thread where they can vent their self-righteous indignation.


And get their Bro Patrol to validate their bullshit cards.


No matter.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

 

[Wat_Tyler]

 

[Wat_Tyler]

 

[Wat_Tyler]

 

[Wat_Tyler]

Life Sentence​

By: David Lerner​

I am an angry man
no longer young
my dreams have been out
in all the weather

I used to
make up highway exits as I went along
and rattle my fever
at strangers

I am an angry man
no longer young
who turned out to be a genius after all
what a moron

sometimes I get so tired of
so many different things at once
I panic

I am an angry man
no longer young
the wire gets higher each day
and I know the gun is loaded

sentenced to the sky

preaching a desperate kind of arithmetic
which won't be gathered
until the clouds are full of hungry prisoners


The prisoners are starving because all they have had is Kool-Aid.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

From 27 July 2024:

• #11,595

You stupid cunts will fuck around and we'll get ass-raped with more Trump and it will be 100% you fault for snatching defeat from the jaws of victory.


That's when the wheel fall off, as you fear. And it will be your doings.


100%


You did, and we did. Of all the totally preventable shit, and you lot limp dicked it. Wat won't forget. You won't like what that looks like, either.

 

[coati]

Of all the totally preventable shit, and you lot limp dicked it. Wat won't forget. You won't like what that looks like, either.

[Pats on head] Yes, yes. We are all so very, very afraid of the wrath of Wat, the ammosexual blow-hard.

Feel better now? Now go feed your pussy cats, BadBoy.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

 

[Wat_Tyler]

 

[Wat_Tyler]

 

[Wat_Tyler]

 

[Bigtitsbitch1000x]

Life Sentence​

By: David Lerner​

I am an angry man
no longer young
my dreams have been out
in all the weather

I used to
make up highway exits as I went along
and rattle my fever
at strangers

I am an angry man
no longer young
who turned out to be a genius after all
what a moron

sometimes I get so tired of
so many different things at once
I panic

I am an angry man
no longer young
the wire gets higher each day
and I know the gun is loaded

sentenced to the sky

preaching a desperate kind of arithmetic
which won't be gathered
until the clouds are full of hungry prisoners


The prisoners are starving because all they have had is Kool-Aid.

Very interesting. I was the first publisher of David Lerner in San Francisco in the mid 1970s.

He appeared in a writers' group drawn mainly from the circles and disciples of these authors:

Penguin Modern Poets: C.Bukowski, P.Lamantia, H.Norse Bk. 13 https://a.co/d/f5rt6ZH

The three had status as "underground" authors. Bukowski and Lamantia originated on the West Coast and Norse in New York. The latter two were close to W.S. Burroughs.

( O O )

 

[Bigtitsbitch1000x]

[Pats on head] Yes, yes. We are all so very, very afraid of the wrath of Wat, the ammosexual blow-hard.

Feel better now? Now go feed your pussy cats, BadBoy.

Wat Tyler is a sardonic fellow with a sharp sense of irony. I and my Big Domme, who work productively in the film industry, would love to get to know Wat better.

We are happy that my delving into this fetid dump produced one useful human connection.

André Breton shot owls, and his great comrade Benjamin Péret stood on the firing line in the Spanish Revolution in the ranks of the anarchist militia.

Great writers of extreme sensivity and depth, living at the heights of culture, were and remain devoted owners and users of firearms. Ammosexuals.

Stay away from Sedona, Trash Panda.

WWPD? What would Pynchon do?

( O O )

 

[BAstoicguy]

Life Sentence​

By: David Lerner​

I am an angry man
no longer young
my dreams have been out
in all the weather

I used to
make up highway exits as I went along
and rattle my fever
at strangers

I am an angry man
no longer young
who turned out to be a genius after all
what a moron

sometimes I get so tired of
so many different things at once
I panic

I am an angry man
no longer young
the wire gets higher each day
and I know the gun is loaded

sentenced to the sky

preaching a desperate kind of arithmetic
which won't be gathered
until the clouds are full of hungry prisoners


The prisoners are starving because all they have had is Kool-Aid.

I used to be such an angry young man. Then I became a soldier and a brute. A cop turned English professor challenged me with college when I challenged him with martial ability and hostility. I leaned to become an educated brute. Bunbi itchi. That is a lethal combination at any age. As the song's lament goes, "I wish I knew then what I know now."

 

[Wat_Tyler]

Very interesting. I was the first publisher of David Lerner in San Francisco in the mid 1970s.

He appeared in a writers' group drawn mainly from the circles and disciples of these authors:

Penguin Modern Poets: C.Bukowski, P.Lamantia, H.Norse Bk. 13 https://a.co/d/f5rt6ZH

The three had status as "underground" authors. Bukowski and Lamantia originated on the West Coast and Norse in New York. The latter two were close to W.S. Burroughs.

( O O )

My dreams, too, have been out in all the weather. My dreams are like some of these old cars I collect. Some were collected and left outside too long. They leaked rainwater in places and it collected, wearing off the paint and speeding the decay of the body. The old car people call it cancer, that kind of rust. It's hard to make a good one without making it from 2 or 3 carcasses. The dreams change. Two or three seem to combine. There are those which rusted away. Some sit and wait the craftsman's hand to pull to pieces, massages the bits, and reassemble them to be used and driven. Taking them to shows is optional.


I need another horse, too . . . .

 

[Wat_Tyler]

I used to be such an angry young man. Then I became a soldier and a brute. A cop turned English professor challenged me with college when I challenged him with martial ability and hostility. I leaned to become an educated brute. Bunbi itchi. That is a lethal combination at any age. As the song's lament goes, "I wish I knew then what I know now."

I went through a spell where I knew I was Bad News. So I thought.


When I learned what I didn't know then, as was told to me by a man who used to do collections for The Outfit in Chicago, I realized that I wasn't such Bad News after all.


I was more a Menace to Society.


However, I have continued to learn, and to practice . . . .

 

[BAstoicguy]

Shetland pony. They can be quite the "nag."

 

[BAstoicguy]

We remain mostly armed menaces to ourselves – very scary to others. I think that it is the lack of warning labels and shrink-wrap. We do not look fresh "out of the box." Mississippi half-stepping into the grave, ghosts of culture past, ignored and forgotten like history.

 

[Wat_Tyler]

We remain mostly armed menaces to ourselves – very scary to others. I think that it is the lack of warning labels and shrink-wrap. We do not look fresh "out of the box." Mississippi half-stepping into the grave, ghosts of culture past, ignored and forgotten like history.

I cunt agree more - menaces to ourselves who were just smart enough and paid close enough attention to survive. In Words of Iron, we were fortunate enough not to get ourselves killed. We just didn't charge enough machine gun nests. I'll leave the judgement of that tidbit to Allah, as he has seen more and is capable of making more reasoned and objective judgments.


Allah got too damned much for His Favorite to do to be callin' him home too damned soon.


After all, there are all these heathen libturds to outlive.

 

[Bigtitsbitch1000x]

My dreams, too, have been out in all the weather. My dreams are like some of these old cars I collect. Some were collected and left outside too long. They leaked rainwater in places and it collected, wearing off the paint and speeding the decay of the body. The old car people call it cancer, that kind of rust. It's hard to make a good one without making it from 2 or 3 carcasses. The dreams change. Two or three seem to combine. There are those which rusted away. Some sit and wait the craftsman's hand to pull to pieces, massages the bits, and reassemble them to be used and driven. Taking them to shows is optional.


I need another horse, too . . . .

You're a better writer than Hank Bukowski was. But i have very, very high standards.

Bukowski's main thing was The Rage of the Crushed Man. That is, what the 19th c French called "l'homme raté." Man crushed by urban, industrial nullity.

It went well with the mimeo press milieu of which he was the great representative.

( O O )

 

[Bigtitsbitch1000x]

I cunt agree more - menaces to ourselves who were just smart enough and paid close enough attention to survive. In Words of Iron, we were fortunate enough not to get ourselves killed. We just didn't charge enough machine gun nests. I'll leave the judgement of that tidbit to Allah, as he has seen more and is capable of making more reasoned and objective judgments.


Allah got too damned much for His Favorite to do to be callin' him home too damned soon.


After all, there are all these heathen libturds to outlive.

These were admirable at charging machine gun nests:

As to Allah and death, Islam holds that the hour is fixed. The Pen Is Dry. Only the judgement is open.

( O O )

 

[Wat_Tyler]

You're a better writer than Hank Bukowski was. But i have very, very high standards.

Bukowski's main thing was The Rage of the Crushed Man. That is, what the 19th c French called "l'homme raté." Man crushed by urban, industrial nullity.

It went well with the mimeo press milieu of which he was the great representative.

( O O )

I think I have learned a bit of your standards. Having read some of you/yours, I like your style and find it what I would call Imminently Readable. Thank you for the kind complement, too, about my abilities. I really do need to come up with a method for getting words to paper. Like Nike says . . . .


I think that Hank wanted to have low expectations, live like a pig and to get away with it. The Crushed Man thing is simply rationalization and justification for his pigletishness - I won't even give it status as full-blown piggishness. Besides, I may be insulting pigs. What I appreciate about him is that he wrote all his adult life and stuck with it. He may have taken poor care of his old car dreams, but he drove them regularly and at least changed the oil sometimes. He didn't leave them sit to rust.


Anger is the emotion of the younger man. It turns to bitterness in many - just look around here and listen to the tomfoolery. The judgmentalism is the big tipoff.


Getting over oneself is Priceless . . . . There is Hope.

 

[Bigtitsbitch1000x]

I went through a spell where I knew I was Bad News. So I thought.


When I learned what I didn't know then, as was told to me by a man who used to do collections for The Outfit in Chicago, I realized that I wasn't such Bad News after all.


I was more a Menace to Society.


However, I have continued to learn, and to practice . . . .

If we're talking Chitown we should be talking Norris, Farrell, Algren, Bellow, Wright.

( O O )

 

[Wat_Tyler]

If we're talking Chitown we should be talking Norris, Farrell, Algren, Bellow, Wright.

( O O )

That was the incidental but important guidance from a man called Bob. He was in Chicago when he was young and crazy. Last I heard, he lived near Denver. He may be dead by now. He was pushing 80 when I last saw him, and that was 10 years ago. He and his "crew" were an awful lot of help to people like me.


It's always about the rudder. First, is there one? Second, is it in the water? Third, is anyone manning the tiller? Fourth, is that person some kind of lunatic or idiot?


Allah steers better than I.