Friday, February 03, 2012


Interesting exchange between a writer and a publisher:

“Publish me no m@%@#@%r,”
“Publish you! You are no piece of ass. What can you lend me?”
“Publish me, no m@%@#@%r, I have got a mouth to feed,”
“Publish you! You ogre, you stink of c$m and grease.”
“Publish me, no m@%@#@%r, I will write incest porn for you.”
“That shit is not ethical, even if your son is j@#$%#g off reading you.”
“Publish me no m@%@#@%r, this world is coming to an end.”
“You have balls of steel, son but it’s my pen, which is on fire.”
“Publish me no m@%@#@%r, I will bring money from the mafia.”
“I think you missed the plot, I am the mafia boss here, investigating every drop of your c$m.”
“Publish me no m@%@#@%r, else I will get you bummed off.”
“IN-timid-DATING meh, I will call the cops.”
“Publish me no m@%@#@%r, I will find you the best prison lore.”
“You are no f%$%$^g MANDELA, and Sodomy is not this season's flavour”
“Publish me no m@%@#@%r, at least let my son j#$k off.”
“Publish you m@%@#@%r? Go do some drugs, you peddler.”

The Toss

How deep he dived for a coin,
was really the depth of your faith,
tossed from your fingers
of your hands hanging from a window,
in your struggle
to pray against the speed of the bus
crossing the rickety bridge
on the Holy river.