Here goes another one:
Love Park being read on Youtube
Here is a link to the original post:
Boiling Point (Visual Version)
28 MarIf you would like to actually see bad poetry read, you´ve come to the right place!
Boiling Point being read on Youtube
If you are really into self abuse and would like to read it as well, here is a link to the original post:
Thanks for checking this post out! I hope you are safe and not going too batty locked in your homes!
Ryan
Pardon Me (Visual Version)
26 MarI am stuck at home (like most of you) and bored so I made a few videos of me reading my terrible poems. If would like, you can see this one on Youtube at:
Here is a link to the original poem:
Some Assembly Required pt. 2
25 Mar
Artie realized the gravity of the situation. He was trapped. His leg was in agony and he thought it was surely broken. Above all, his chief concern was that his beer buzz would pass without him watching his Netflix shows.
His cell phone vibrated on the kitchen counter. “Help!” he meekly shouted. He tried banging on the floor, trying to get the attention of the tenant below. His efforts were met with a few thumps back from the handle end of a broom.
He felt himself losing consciousness. He decided it was better that he let the feeling take him away. Either he would wake up to a possibly more favorable scenario or the sweet relief of death would alleviate the situation.
An amount of time unbeknownst to Artie had passed before he came to. He people talking. He tried to cry out but he had no voice. His vocal chords were not damaged; just nothing came out despite his better efforts. He also had no response in his limbs. “Oh my god” he thought, “I´m paralyzed.”
The voices were clearly talking about him. There was no urgency to help. They seemed to be gossiping about Artie. Nothing they said was flattering. In fact, it was hurtful. Artie even tried to cry, but no tears fell. He slipped back into unconsciousness.
Artie was startled when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He was still encased in the darkness of the armoire, yet the arm seemed to just pass through the wood.
“Artie, are you all right?” the voice asked.
Artie came to and saw his neighbor. The armoire was still in the upright position it had been before the fall. The ladder was capsized on the floor. Artie had smashed his head on a pile of lumber.
“Artie, I heard a crash and I ran up as fast as I could. I found you here unconscious! Good thing you keep your door unlocked.”
“How long ago did you hear the crash?” Artie asked.
“A few moments ago. The time it took for me to get up here”
“Wow, great!” Artie was relieved that it was only head trauma that made the episode feel like a long time had passed. He was happy to know the window of buzz was still open for optimum Netflix viewing.
The end
Some Assembly Required pt. 1
14 Nov
Artie carefully slid the box cutter down the taped seam as to not damage the contents of the intricate packaging. He was excited, yet nervous. He was still unsure if he would be able to assemble the armoire by himself.
In his anticipation he had watched hours of YouTube videos about putting this monstrosity together. He made a list of do’s and don’ts cultivated from perky, over caffeinated, wannabe internet celebrities. He had his unused and fully stocked tool bag and he was ready to go.
The first thing he noticed was the quality of the wood. It was extremely thick and heavy, considering how little he paid. After all, he had spent hours reading reviews and they all spoke highly of the quality materials so he shouldn’t have been surprised.
After a few hours of fervent assembly and dutiful beer drinking, the armoire started taking form, as well as his buzz. He marveled that the once pile of wood was transforming into an actual piece of furniture. The alcohol increased his amazement even further.
All was going smoothly until he got to a piece of trim that he couldn’t for the life of him figure out where to put. His determination and attention to detail were starting to float away with each gulp of cold beer. He was starting to get antsy and wanted to be done so he could watch another episode if the Netflix series he was currently on, while still buzzed.
He thought he figured out where the piece fit, on the inside of the opening for the sliding door. He had to climb in to screw this piece on. He saw it was a little high up so he propped the ladder on inside of the armoire. The screw hole was just out of reach but Artie was too much in a rush now to reposition the ladder.
As he reached over to insert the screw, the ladder slipped from under him and as he fell to the floor and the heavy armoire fell with him. It laid over him like a tomb. To make matters worse his leg was smashed and pinned under the internal drawers.
The first thing he thought was to reach for his cell phone. He was in a lot of pain, entombed in the armoire and completely stuck. A wave of panic washed over him when he realized his cell phone was on the kitchen counter. Charging.
To be continued…
A Speedy Recovery Part 5 (Final)
4 Nov
Months went by and although business was gangbusters, Carl had a lot of questions. First, where was Dustin? Second, how did his business go from almost going under to breaking all previous sales records if basically nothing had changed? He sold his entire stock every single day since the promotional party that Dustin threw together.
One Saturday night, as Carl was sweeping up, Dustin appeared, from what seemed like out of thin air, walking from the kitchen into the dining room.
“Hey” he said, startling Carl half to death.
Carl was at a loss for words. On one hand Dustin had, for lack of a better term, pulled a Dustin. On the other hand, things were going great and quite possibly the promotional party that Dustin had produced may have played a role.
Carl sighed “Hey. Where have you been?” he asked.
“You’re never gonna believe this” Dustin answered.
“Try me”
“Well, let me show you” Dustin said, before vanishing.
Carl demonstrated his shock with a loud “Huh?”
Dustin appeared again. “Crazy isn’t it?”
“What’s going on?”
“I’m dead Carl!”
Carl just fixated on Dustin without blinking or saying a word.
“Well, I owed someone, like, a lot of money. So I decided to sell our stash to pay it off because they were going to kill me! But, the deal went bad and I got “got””
“Oh my…” Carl said, putting his hand to his mouth, “That’s why you disappeared”
“Yeah, but check this out. Apparently, on the other side, where you go when you die, you get to call up a favor. Even a scum bag like me! So, I felt bad, for like, fucking you over, so I asked to help out the shop with my favor”
“I’ll be…” Carl just stared at Dustin, even passing his hand through him.
“I know you said ‘no fuck ups’, but I made it right, didn’t I?”
They talked through the night until Dustin had to go. Carl told of the success of the shop and Dustin told what he was allowed to of the other side. Dustin also told Carl that the shop would only continue to have success if Carl personally ran it. As soon as he stopped or tried passing the shop along, the favor would not work anymore. It was part of the “Rules”. Dustin promised to visit Carl as often as he could and that made Carl very happy.
The End.
A Speedy Recovery Part 4
28 Oct
Weeks past and business boomed. The store was crowded from the time it opened until the last call. No one had seemed to be the wiser about the special ingredient.
Carl was very conscience about trying the sandwich himself. After all, he had watched the movie Scar-face and rule number one was “don’t get high on your own supply”.
Dustin was good about keeping the supply of product flowing but was a little flakey about actually coming in and working as per the agreement. Carl was okay with that as long as he had his special ingredient.
Carl didn’t worry much when three days passed and Dustin hadn’t shown up. On the fourth day, delivery day, he became rather upset when neither Dustin nor product showed up. In fact he panicked.
With the prior stress of being in the financial doldrums, mixed with the new stress of his illicit activities, he was already having small panic attacks. Now that his special ingredient, the chi of his success, dried up, he was experiencing full blown anxiety.
He needed an escape. He wanted to feel better. He wanted to at least feel different from what he felt currently. He decided to eat a sandwich to see if it would make him feel good. Thousands of local customers couldn’t be wrong, could they?
He sat down at a table with a root beer and thought to himself, here goes nothing. And that was exactly what he felt after downing half of the sub. Nothing. He thought he should eat more but he could only put down another half because he was so full.
He felt no different, except that he was stuffed. He was perplexed. The bread was made this morning. He went to the vat that held the remainder of the secret ingredient. He scraped enough to make a pretty decent sized line and laid it out on the stainless steel prep table.
He cut a third of a straw off and snorted the substance. “What the fuck?!” he yelled aloud, eyes watering. He knew nothing about drugs but was an expert in baked goods. It was nothing more than manioc flour.
“I’m gonna kill Dustin!”
To be continued…
Pardon Me
25 Oct
Does the writer write the story
Or does the story write the writer?
Does the sun really shine
Or does the Darkness make it brighter?
Are we at the center
Or are we the satellite?
Are we really Angry
Or do we just like to fight?
Am I wasting your time
Or are you wasting mine?
This was only a short jaunt,
I think we’ll be just fine.
Please read me as well: Another One
A Speedy Recovery Part 3
19 Oct
A few weeks later on a Saturday afternoon, the place was packed.
“It worked! You really pulled it off. How did you get D.J. Cyanide, one of the biggest DJs around to agree to do this?” Carl asked Dustin.
“Well, I’m a fan of his and he’s a fan of a certain product. I just called in a favor” Dustin answered.
“I’ve never seen so many people here before. This is bigger than when 94.1 ZROK did a remote from here 15 years ago!”
“And everyone’s eating sandwiches!” Dustin added, rubbing his hands together in a sinister fashion.
The place remained at capacity until closing time. Dustin and Carl had to practically beg a few stragglers to leave so they could clean up and count the day’s money.
“We did well, Dustin. This is by far the most successful promotion the store has ever done” Carl said as he sorted debit receipts from credit receipts.
“This is nothing, bro. This just gave the public a taste. The real “W” will come when the people are trying to smash down the door to get more”
“Your mouth to God’s ears”
“Ha! God…I’m not sure He’s gonna be a big fan of this endeavor”
The next day Carl saw a crowd in front of the store as he pulled up. It was only 7:00am and the store wouldn’t open for another three and a half hours. He was there to make the day’s bread.
The crowd cheered as Carl stepped out of his car.
“Sandwich man!” a man in the crowd shouted.
“We’re hungry!” another voice shouted.
“Folks, we don’t open until 10:30!” Carl said “I still have to make the bread”
“I’ll take some dough raw!” a voice cried. It was followed with a salvo of “Me too!”
Carl had a sinking suspicion that he may have gotten himself in over his head.
By Ryan 