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Lucifer's Condiments
Esoteric drivel for the fast food Philistine.
ebook
First published June 8, 2013
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About the author
Whiskey Britches
2 books2 followersWhiskey lacked
this is true
Just ask anyone
that he knew
Foot in mouth
wherever tread
and courage flown south
(Dread! Dread! Dread!)
Friend to none
seeking fewer
He saw life as
an infinite sewer
"Life is only full of sadness and pain!"
he often would exclaim
"But there is so much more!"
many did implore
Targeting the gutter
and there he did hit
His mother muttered
"Well, shit"
But he truly met his demise
in a devil with angel's eyes
Who quickly put him in his place
having only to wear black lace
Now pummeled in Hell
where he'll forever dwell
He often wonders why
his soul is condemned to eternally fry
After all
he thought he was such a good guy
this is true
Just ask anyone
that he knew
Foot in mouth
wherever tread
and courage flown south
(Dread! Dread! Dread!)
Friend to none
seeking fewer
He saw life as
an infinite sewer
"Life is only full of sadness and pain!"
he often would exclaim
"But there is so much more!"
many did implore
Targeting the gutter
and there he did hit
His mother muttered
"Well, shit"
But he truly met his demise
in a devil with angel's eyes
Who quickly put him in his place
having only to wear black lace
Now pummeled in Hell
where he'll forever dwell
He often wonders why
his soul is condemned to eternally fry
After all
he thought he was such a good guy
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Displaying 1 of 1 review
June 9, 2013
A surreal montage of apocalyptic nihilism...oh, who am I kidding? It's masturbation. The scribblings of a lobotomized anarchist. The Garbage Pail Kids all grown up. It is a rare and ambiguous experience, to say the least, and can remind and convince one of Enrico Cialdini's reflection, "Remembrances embellish life but forgetfulness alone makes it possible."
The writing is on the wall, folks -- Whiskey Britches isn't content as the pallbearer of Western Civilization, he's the sweaty necrophile shooting nervous glances from the rear of the funeral procession.
The writing is on the wall, folks -- Whiskey Britches isn't content as the pallbearer of Western Civilization, he's the sweaty necrophile shooting nervous glances from the rear of the funeral procession.
Displaying 1 of 1 review