deathandtaxesandpoetry - Tumblr blog

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

WANT TO BUY A BOOK OF THIS FORMER BLOG?

Is anyone still out there that remembers my weird ramblings and whatnot from more than a decade ago now?

I'm taking this blog and putting it in a book, so that I can then delete this blog. Plus adding a bunch of writing I did after I stopped blogging.

Since I'm going to print only a few books for myself and friends, if you are still out there and remember liking what I wrote, reach out to me and I'll have one printed for you. You pay the cost of the book and I'll ship it to you, no profit involved.

Write to me on here, or mfgeorge AT gmail DOT com

Note: if this note is still up, the offer is still valid. Yes, even if it's a year later. It's a big project but I'll eventually get it done. Thanks.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

DRUNK ON A TUESDAY EVENING

Go fuck yourself.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

ORANGE ETHANE LAKES ON TITAN

— after Christian Bök

Robots sent me a letter: My divorce has been finalized.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

searching for satellites

in a battlefield of stars

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

Three hundred seventy-six stars are visible through the spruce silhouettes surrounding my small bright red fire.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

O CANADA

They say... a campfire; a canoe; the abyss of the universe staring at you as you stare at it; the silence; ... these are the things that make you Canadian. And here I am. My campfire cooks my food and warms my bones. My canoe dries by the side of a still black pond. The abyss of the universe stares at me while I stare at it. And the silence... What silence? The dog barks; The babies cry; The neighbours laugh; The newly arrived set up in darkness; I say... Canada is solitude; ... and interruptions.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

I don’t write much anymore.

I feel sorry for myself and drink a lot mostly.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

You say you want a revolution Well you know We all want to control the world

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

All my lovers are ghosts

All my friends are funhouse mirrors

All my enemies are magic tricks

I am a circus of lies

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

SORRY

this is my last apology

for who I was and am

now I am free

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

I NEVER SAY I LOVE YOU

Because I'm waiting for the day it will crush you.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

WHAT DO YOU WANT TO DO WITH THE REST OF YOUR LIFE

I just want to sit. And cry.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

ON WHY YOU ARE HERE

for my sons

I was born to bury my mother and father. Just as you were born to bury me.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

Not writing poetry is the new writing poetry.

Matthew Frederick George

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

SMUGGLER

There's a baggie full of lies stuffed inside my anal cavity. Dear God, please don't pop.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

MY MOTHER. MY MOTHER.

My mother.

My mother and her sour womb and her death cocoon and her barren breast and God Knows Best

My mother and her favoured son and a venom tongue and her cries of jilt and her trips of guilt

My mother and her little pills and her unpaid bills and her botox injection and her detox rejection

My mother and my mother and my mother and my mother and and and and

My mother.

[deathandtaxesandpoetry]

Jesus Christ was nailed to a cross and he wanted to be free.

Ernesto "Che" Guevara was a murderer and he wanted to be free.

Ayn Rand was on welfare and she wanted to be free.

Matthew Frederick George is on tumblr and I want to be free.