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Normal Human Being

by Justin Blackburn

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  • I wrote this book and it is awesome. It is the real, embrace of practical raw, heart felt ode to living your full of love and loving the bullshit, fear, the sadness, and understanding it is all one. You can overcome and transcend anything. You can buy it and feel amazing about me and you and the whole world and laugh and laugh and feel inspired and loved all at the same time. So much helpful wisdom to make the days lighter and the joy more practical. Love yourself! Buy It Here.... www.lulu.com/shop/virgogray-press/you-are-not-a-normal-human-being/paperback/product-20340796.html
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1.
You Are Not A Normal Human Being You are not a normal human being I know you. You know you You have beautiful dreams you are fulfilling You wake up everyday on the ceiling And inspire your desires to radiate your feelings You are not afraid to be yourself Despite anyone else You know who you are You are not a normal human being You are not the cheesy cliché character in the corner of the bar Telling horror stories about how marriage is a dead dark dishcloth cemetery You can get married and love your spouse forever and still be free You can get a job, make lots of money, and not be a selfish, egoistical prick No matter what happens to you, you can be happy You are here to remember, not forget You are not a normal human being You do not suffer from the chaos of your own delusions You are not ruled by the desolate confusion of other people’s illusions You are not brainwashed by the mediocre mass media You are the real heartfelt, breathing, bloody, soul filled essence of life You are not a walking, talking robotic encyclopedia You are a tender burning gentle loving light You are not a television set glued to a graveyard You transcend Middle America like a dark sky overflowing with bright stars You are not a normal human being You did not come to Planet Earth to work for green paper and die You came to satisfy your soul, to search yourself whole, You came to serve this beautiful world You came to feel the joy of why You are not a normal human being You do not sit around all day gossiping the gospel from one tragic play to the next You do not live your life for the sake of regret You do not put your fellow brothers and sisters down You do not waste your time Your voice is a gentle, relaxing, indigo sound That enhances and expands the space within everyone’s mind You are not a normal human being You are not afraid of your creator You are not going to die and spontaneously begin an eternal burning You are not waiting for a savior You are here now and you are aware and you are learning You condemn no one to hell Instead you invite everyone into heaven You understand and you are understood You forgive and you are forgiven You are not a normal human being You touch the angels, you scare the demons, and you inspire the sun You have no one to blame You are not a normal human being Why? Because there is no such thing as one This poem is from the book "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com
2.
Busy Day Of Ease Today is the day all my dreams came true, walking round thinking bout that sweet lil gal with that old sun shining my shoes, today is the day I look at the sky shaped like your face and know just why I forgive you, children bicycling from dollhouse to dollhouse, sparrows singing smiles across the avenue, today is the day I awoke and knew just what to do, I see what I love and what I see loves you. Ain’t nothing we trying to do but be happy. Ain’t no one we trying to love but ourselves. The only reason I was bitter towards my father was cause I didn’t think I was my own man. The only reason I cried over my ex-girlfriend was cause I didn’t think my mama loved me like I think she can. Ain’t no place we looking for we ain’t been. Ain’t no joke been told we ain’t already laughing in. Today is the day all my thoughts realized they don’t even have to think, dancing dogs dining diamonds down by the lake, wild geese waddling and crapping along the bank, today is the day my heart wakes just to give thanks, talking ‘bout the weather with old elementary school teachers, cracking Jesus jokes with funny southern Baptist preaches, today is the day I picked up the heart I left underneath the bleachers, a basketball bounced my way so I took a shot and missed, a cardinal flew by my eyes to tell me my fly was unzipped, today is the day I realized why we all exist. Ain’t no angel gonna let you die alone. Ain’t no road that ain’t gonna take you home. Mr. Business Suit you way too cute not to be always shining take off your shoes, your money ain’t worth nothing no more here, go over there and give your brother a kiss, you ain’t got no reason to be scared to be queer. Ain’t no thing you can be that everyone isn’t already. Ain’t no thing falling gravity ain’t keeping steady. Today is the day I cash karma’s check and all my bills get paid on time, got angels sending me a million messages today and I’m catching every one of them with my mind. Today is the day that makes me understand there ain’t no me that ain’t mine, garage doors gently opening, cars dressed in proper gentleman attire, frogs croaking and joking, friends giving me hugs that set me on fire, today is the day I silence my voice in the rat race choir. Ain’t no man I can’t run from with grace and ease. Ain’t no woman that ain’t beautiful to me. Native child dusky dream jewel just because I am white don’t mean you have to act proper around me, let your worldly fire fly, set your hungry motives free, jump on my table, dance on my breakfast, pump your passion and scream! Ain’t no place you can be you ain’t meant to be. Ain’t no Justin Blackburn that didn’t say “love everybody!” This is a poem from the book "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com For an amazing, heart lifting, sky high live performance check out this video https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Xa8Q7NHmQI Thank you. I love you.
3.
Learning About Women Tender, tender, tender touch, naked tub of warm water bodies, wide wonder wide sky open mouths. My eyes shine her skin. The future, the past, and the present breathe there. Every war is won there. Every star is born there. Every animal runs free there. Every man bakes cookies there. Her jealous ex plots my death. The boys in the bathroom brag about dirty sex. The men in the bar offices check another nothing off their sadness. Her smooth-tongued voice sinks all the knowledge of my heart as the ship sets sail into the sunrise. I realize I have learned the wrong thing a million times. She puts my head underwater. I allow her spirit to relocate my mind. Inside her heavens I discover the ways of the wild wind to the woman. I clear everything from under my mind, breathing through feet hands follow hearts souls sparkle hair ghosts touch face misconceptions gracefully disintegrate. "That's pretty, what is that called?" I ask, "Clavicle," she laughs back. Lips descend to neck. Bodies vanish into air. This poem is from an upcoming book out in Jan. 2013 "Child Be Wild" published by Inner Child Press.
4.
Child Be Wild Child be wild! You are ahead of your time. Take advantage of your innocence with your smile, discover your heart and you will never have to search with your mind. We do not need anymore of you to grow up. We already have enough boring adults meandering around, unable to get lost or found, acting in grown up dramas during the day, getting stuck in the play at night unable to lift their dreams into flight, waking up ruled by rules cold, starved, and lonely. Child be seen! You are the one and only person who can create your dream life, remember if someone is being mean there is a great chance they are not right, so never stop shining your light! We need you out here in the ever changing world to help us remember who were as little boys and girls with pockets full of joy and eyes full of pearls. Open our minds to the wide winged wonder and run into our arms at the exploding sound of thunder. You have so much to teach us yet so much to learn and we have no reason to reject you or to ever be so stern. Child be heard! You can hear the songs the flowers sing to the birds. Award us your sweet voice and share the words. Give us your favorite color. We are too caught up in the superficial politics of father and mother, too drowned out in the lifeless arithmetic of sister and brother, our imaginations can’t remember we are imaginary so of course we are going to tell you the world is scary, we fired our angels and stepped on our fairies, we burned down the magical garden and turned it into a cemetery, we took the world’s perfect beauty and made it a burden to carry. Child be free! We miss ourselves nervous but only longing for our childhood memories so help us by being yourself, letting yourself be, and remembering no matter what we say you are always perfect in every way. It is from a book "Child Be Wild" coming out in Jan 2013 published by Inner Child Press!
5.
Unlearning Hitlerature Jobs are for rednecks. College is for cutie pies. Money is impotent. Problems are lies. All people are lovable. Judgments disguise. All people are suicidal. Stupidity tries. Getting offended is awesome. Feeling embarrassed is sweet. It’s as easy said as done. Anything is impossible. I am an idiot. Great minds don’t think. Your God is whatever you want your God to be. Politicians are the most popular porn stars. Death is a disease. Knowledge knows nothing. Perception is everything. Aliens are everywhere. Everyone has angels. Every pun is intended. Every thought is infinite. The world needs all her flowers. It’s punk as fuck to love everyone. The depth of our natural beings can drown any shallow story. Some lesbians don’t need to use dildos. Its so far out the way out is in. White is the darkest color. Every one normal is insane. Everything works out perfectly. Testicles are beautiful. Compassion is key. Emotional attachment is murder. There is no road less traveled. Every out is the easiest. Everything you look down on you will fall into. Everything you fear will be the reason for your death.
6.
The Taste of Her Own Pussy She liked the taste of her own pussy like a bird enjoying the lyrics to her own song. She is gone, and it is cold outside and all I can think is how pretty I will never be touching myself thinking of her. This poem is from a lovely unpublished collection "Amorphous Boyfriend Material" If you would like a copy contact me at justinblackburn111@yahoo.com Thank you.
7.
Cliché Poem To A Poet Poem Write from your soul eventually your soul will start writing from you. If you do not have a soul don’t worry, find the most masculine muscular man closest to you, kiss him square on the lips, after he beats your ass, call your mother and tell her to write everything you say down. Congratulations, you got your first poem. For God sakes don’t stop there, whatever you do don’t listen to your teachers that is why they are teachers, they don’t know shit so they don’t know you. The real poets are poets. You won’t meet them until you become one until then hang out in the forests, the alleyways, the wrinkled faces, go fishing for birds, feed your stomach clouds, rip dollar bills off trees, play football for the coach, study trashcans, and live in a yellow submarine, hang around pretentious professors pretending you are incredibly deep while making fun of yourself out loud in front of their family’s God. You are confused. Life is war to you. That is perfect. You wouldn’t have it any other way. No one understands you. Great, you don’t understand yourself. Don’t worry about it. All you need to know is you don’t need to know. Keep loving, keep fucking, keep sucking, keep living, keep giving, keep laughing, most of all keep writing. Realize the best poems are written by the air in the tragic part of the night, by the waves of the ocean, through the minds of children, by the Beatles, and on the Drive Thru menu at McDonalds. Now that you know this see everyone is a poem, kindly write them. If you find everyone criticizes you and thinks you are fucking crazy, take it as a complement, that means you are on the path to greatness. If you are not receiving the love you desire, if you are finding yourself mediocre and bitter, eating your way into winter. Don’t kill yourself. Smoke weed by the fire. Take your pen to a book store. Change the titles around. Make a beautiful stoned hilarious poem of it. Laugh at your poetry. If that doesn’t work, find a person in a wheelchair. See the overwhelming beauty in their preciousness. Follow them until you have written fifty poems. Once you got your poems congratulate yourself. Now invite all your friends to a coffee shop to listen to you read them. When no one shows up give your poems different personalities and read them to the wall. Now walk out of the empty room like Lou Reed. You are doing perfect, now it is time to give your poems to everyone you can, I am talking parents, gas station employees, the thunder, the lightening I am talking hot chicks, famous fuckers, guilty prisoners, rising rivers. Most importantly find the highest esteemed bullshit licking literary journals. Send your poems there along with a letter to the editor explaining how every poem you write is because you want to fuck his son. When you get the rejection letter glue it to the refrigerator, buy yourself roses. You have passed with flying colors! Now it is time to find a lover. Someone fifty times more fucked up than you are. Someone who knows from the start the joke is on you. Someone who can shit out your heart without ever tasting it. After she fucks all your friends lay in the darkness for two straight weeks. When you come out you will be broke, empty, talking shit to intimate objects and exactly where you need to be ready to face the next demon head on. For this part of the journey you will need the fungus that grows off cow shit. Don’t be scared it is like pussy don’t think about the taste just let it become you. Now the feeling you are getting like there is more life than you could imagine yet less then you could ever comprehend. Write that feeling down, that feeling is the place to be. Become the grass write about how grateful you feel to be walked on. Become the wind write about how grateful you feel to kiss a tree. Become the demon within write about how grateful you are to die. Become the human being write about how grateful you are to ask why. Now kiss the ground, fondle the sky, you are ready to love everything. Now you understand the real reason you chose to be a poet. It is a quick nonstop route to your spirit. Now let everything be beautiful. Now speak it, feel it, write it, live it, hear it. You are apart of everything. Nothing else matters. I love you, young poet. Take my advice or don’t. I don’t give a fuck, either way. It is your life. Live it however you like. I love your life regardless. All roads lead to where no roads can go. Namaste This poem is from a collection Virgogray Press published in 2009 entitled "Farting Fire"
8.
I Retired From America In The Third Grade Laying in the grass, watching you sleep it is not a mystery to me why I am who I chose to be. It all seems to fit, the way I bitch the way the ambulance drives the way fear eats me alive as if it loves my life the way beauty grows from inside the way I could have it anyway as if I would not have it any other way like a bird opening her mouth like a beautiful song shining out. I retired from America in the third grade with one day’s worth of lunch money and a box full of crayons, wearing the sadness of a million angels, drenched in the fear of a thousand liars. I was never a child crying in my mother’s arms, I was always on fire like a star; I was always in trouble like a storm. I tried to have others kill me, no one could, my heart would never let me live in the illusion of myself. Since the day I was born, my beauty has always been so heartfelt only mountains can stand it, my love has always been so real only God can feel it, my joy has always been so magical only mermaids can breathe it, my sadness has always been so deep only stars can shine it, my self has always been so me only I can express it. The land lost inside your mind is where I was born, don’t worry you are not my mother just my creator, you are not the result of my thoughts just my savior. This poem is from "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available on www.virgograypress.com
9.
The Life Of An American Plan When I was a child my perfect plan was to lose my virginity candlelight prom night to everyone’s favorite limelight volunteer Johnny American Straight A Football at a Four Seasons listening to “American Bad Ass” by Kid Rock. Instead I was raped on my thirteenth birthday in a Michelin Building by Tim The Tool Man Taylor at a Jonas Brother’s Concert listening to The Real Slim Shady. It is from "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com Wow. Thank you.
10.
Being It 02:21
Being It I live art. I was never born. I am dead. I am a dragon. My breath is my freedom. I was never lost. I bleed colors, grown ups, spit, spirits, and tar until I can kiss my mother on the mouth without taking it too far I am led by death, mystery, poetry, comedy, and imaginary hearts. I never cost a thing. The world comes my way. I can never die. I was never dead, never wounded, aching in the summertime. I am easy. I live high, exposed on all levels to all galaxies, angels, oceans, devils, and curtain calls. The sun is always in my sky. I will never stand. I will never fall. No God created me, never have I had a dream, never learned a thing. I was never named. I am too real for you to feel. I kiss what will never exist. No woman alive is kind enough to touch me. No man is intelligent enough to be aware of my existence. I was never bought, never had a thought, never worn by skin. I will never begin. I am the prize behind door number infinity. I will never end. I am a child of the soul of the womb. I am a flower who will never wither or bloom, with the universal power to unconditionally love even you. This poem is from "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virograypress.com
11.
Kicked Out Of The Orgy By My Girlfriend Recently the great Satan himself has been showing up out of nowhere to fuck me raw dog, straight up the asshole, in front of everyone, no matter where I am. The other day I was in line buying a ticket at the movies with my girlfriend, Satan shows up, bends me over, and fucks all the fire out of me. Everyone at the theatre laughed at the comedy occurring in front of their eye except my girlfriend it turned her on. Yesterday I was in the food court at the mall and he fucked me right in front of the Chick Fil-A. Everyone watched in silence, amazed, the cow finally began to spell words correctly. Do not tell my family but I think I am beginning to enjoy it. My girlfriend sitting pretty on Satan’s lap at an orgy, my jealousy shows me to the front door, and puts my pen to the page. Let the world know I write poetry while the people are getting laid. Let the world know I write poetry while my girlfriend is without me at an orgy. Let the people know Satan does not hold the keys to their shackles unless they are willing to learn how to pick locks. This poem is from "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com I love you. Thank you.
12.
Break Up 00:39
Break Up It took me 367 thousand years to break up with her; and now, I finally feel dead. As if the one lie keeping me alive out smarted me from the inside. How magnificent it feels to have nothing to live for…. no reason to get out of bed in the morning. This poem is from "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com .
13.
I Do Not Feel Like I Deserve Love I do not feel like I deserve love. My heart half assed me here. My shadow burns me up. I want to cry baby shampoo tears. I do not feel like I deserve happiness, still I eat carrots and run around the block, still I yell and scream about how you should love, still I refuse to kill myself or shut the fuck up. So quickly I kiss the rose, so furiously I melt the snow, so unconsciously I breathe, so harshly I try to think myself to know. I do not feel like I deserve what I desire. I am a mansion on the hill with dead kids inside. I am an angry mob attacking one idiot liar. I am the soft lips of a closeted homosexual afraid to kiss the gay loving tears I cry. I do not feel like I deserve myself I am not delicate enough to be as beautiful as I am. I am not wonderful enough to be as dumb as everyone else. I am not strong enough for my thoughts to know who I am. Love is all I ever wanted to be but I am just so impatient, stupid, and weak, all I can do is dream to die and awaken from this deadly sleep. This incredible poem I am performing is from "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com This incredible song I am speaking over is "Crystal Ball Broken" by Coma Cinema from the album Blue Suicide. Wow, how amazing are they? Check them out! http://comacinema.bandcamp.com/
14.
Compassion For My Grandmother Lost In A Pharmacy Each western bone in her deserted desert dry body is an orphan buried under dirt for centuries, no one is searching for her face like her father’s first catcher’s mitt. It is as if her skin is dead and her heart beats barely by the sad thoughts in her head that think she is still alive. I drive her to the pharmacy to get her prescriptions filled. What is left of her eyes lights up like a meth-head who randomly finds his face on a hundred dollar bill, a dead child in a candy store. She looks up at me with a missing teeth searching smile, “I need this for my nausea, this for my headaches, this for my fevers, this for my diarrhea, this for my decomposing skin” “Grandma, what the fuck?” I hastily implore. “You do not need any of this bullshit. Your addiction to all these goddamn pills is why you only weigh seventy five pounds, why you can’t sleep, why you are depressed watching soap operas all day, and why you are dying a slow miserable death. This is what is killing you, you need passion, joy, beauty, you need life.” “But Justin….” Sorrow sinks her long cylindrical shaped sailboat. I look up at the pharmacist. “You are killing my grandmother, you new world order illuminati machine servant of mediocre madness.” I walk out to the car scared to death of my multi layered reality, turn Coma Cinema on and wait… wait for anger to leave my liver for blame to swallow his teeth for pain to jump off the cliff into the river, I wait for the great gentle feather of compassion to drop on to the hood of my car while remembering my grandmother chasing my childhood into the ocean. How can the most beautiful people become sick enough to die? Compassion for the fattest, stupidest, stickiest man alive. Compassion for the prettiest girl with the most beautiful eyes. This poem is from "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com
15.
Suicide Eyes Prettier Than The Last Days Of Summer Will you meet me down by the riverside before you take your own life? A dance floor will be waiting for us, I will spread laughter all over your body, you can splash water on my skin, we will smoke cigarettes, sing our favorite love songs, and we will dance, dance, dance like we have been given the gift of a second chance even if we you do not want to take it. If the sun’s bold light body appears, if the night ends and you happen to go with it I will kiss your face and say “I love you!” then spend the whole day meditating as softly as I can envisioning you in the holiest angel hands. I hope you know when you are gone; I am going to cry tears into every spider web, scream my fears at every narrow head, stand still in the light of death and whisper "you are beautiful!" This might be too much to ask but before you go will you do me a favor, will you please make it clear to me how much you love me Lately I too have been feeling like an old broken Hollywood grandfather clock, I can not stand that degrading feeling especially when I know somewhere inside we are so alive together, caring about each other like warm rain pouring on a forest fire. Do not think twice. I do not blame you I have not changed much since my teenage suicide pact with lust. You can blame me though if you need to I will still let you come to me in dreams, we will be friends again, it will be like you never killed yourself and I never wanted you to myself. When you are gone I promise you wherever you are if you keep your eyes open I will keep my heart on fire and you can marvel at it from the otherside, you can feel the joy of true love, the peace the people on earth could not give you enough of. And if you are ever ready to come back to earth, let me know through the wind’s midnight whisper and you can come back as my daughter, I will fill your world with knowledge and love of your beauty from the first day you are born. If you decide to take your life, I promise you will always be in my heart and on my mind. I love you so much. I always have. I always will, no matter the space you are trying to fill. I honor you forever. . This poem is from the incredible "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" at www.virgograypress.com
16.
Me And My Girlfriend We are just two scared kids holding on to each other for dear life, naked in bed underneath warm covers of uncertainty. Snow falls inside us. Our fear rises to meet it. Gods move mountain slow. All we can do is our best to keep warm by the fire of our love for each other glowing in between the beaten wings of our hearts. We barely have a clue to who each other is, barely a clue to who we are. Questions climb the spiracle staircase of our minds… Do we truly love each other? Will we be together forever? How will it end? How did we come to be? These two beautiful beings with hearts as wide as the differences they make with wounds as soft as the silence sparkling in the night sky above, holding each other ever so tight hoping to find love inside of the life inside of each other, hoping the seasons will always know where we need to go and put us there together. This poem is from a collection of unpublished material "Amorphous Boyfriend Material" if you want it, contact me justinblackburn111@yahoo.com Thank you. I love you.
17.
I Love You 04:34
I love you because I want to, because I need to, because I love myself, because it is the best way I know how to be for you, for myself, for the world! I love you because there is no one else like you, because I am here on this beautiful planet with you, because I am one cheesy dude! I love you because I have been lonely, confused, hateful, tired, in need, in need to love you! I love you because I know how it feels to refuse to love you! I love you because the sun goes down and I am not afraid to cry in the darkness! I love you because I forget the most important things about life all the time, because I am an idiot, because you are too! I love you because I will die, because you deserve my love, because I can feel the perfect beauty which is you! I love you because I am alive, I will die, because you deserve my love, because I understand how hard it is to be human! I love you because your heart beats, because you breathe, because you have cheeks, because I can’t sleep, because I dream! I love you because you are a part of me, because of the infinite we, because I believe in you! Think of the most ridiculous reason and I love you for that very reason! I love you because one time Abraham Lincoln envisioned a bagel for breakfast! I love you for no reason at all! I love you because you were made ridiculed in middle school, because I was ridiculed in middle school, because silence told me to. I love you because I don’t want to be afraid of anything, I don’t want you to be afraid of anything, I love you because God loves you! I love you because you love, because you find cats cute, because you make me smile! I love you because I am teaching myself how to, because I do what I want to do, because your beauty inspires me too! I love you because you know why I should, because how could I not, because you because love is forever and we know it is from our soul! I love you because we are in this together and have always been and will always be whole! I love you because my love is under my control and I choose the most beautiful life I can for us all because I truly love you! ---- Justin Blackburn is an Intuitive Inner Healer, Poet, Author, Comedian, and Director www.justinblackburnlovesyou.com
18.
Evidence 03:48
Evidence The gorgeous, exotic brown haired goddess angel holding my hand in the passenger seat, the uneducated best friend midnight moonlight, Steven Page’s voices singing from the broken radio, the police officer who died for this highway, the life breathing, all of it is pure evidence to me that God must love me or I must love myself or I’m doing something right or I’m putting enough soul into my body down at the universe factory. Of course depending on whose side you’re on… it doesn’t matter much to me because I’m on my side… the raw, make believe, super moon wet dark blue sky pussy side… the evident side. I don’t have to take a serious sip of coffee and think. I don’t have to hire a psychic detective. I don’t have to tell you a story. I don’t need a scientist. I don’t need to be told I have a big dick. I don’t need a million dollars. I don’t have to try to solve the murder of the missing ghost to know what my heart desires most. The evidence is everywhere. The proof is in this feeling. The killer is dancing naked in every open field. The murder weapon is my spine. What could you possible search for? There is no need, no river like fire. You are perfect God already. Why would God search for herself? The trees have all my answers. The burglar is always the truth and nothing can ever be stolen. Lay your love lights inward. Love is unreally really real for real. Destroy the seeker. Be silent with me. It is from "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com
19.
The Transvestite With Flowers In Her Hair A grandma peeing in the ocean, a college bro coming home from class popping open a cool bag of potato chips, crickets on ecstasy, the transvestite with flowers in her hair. Everything to me can be beautiful it seems when I try to put my finger on how or why the beauty begins to lessen. The truest beauty is in not knowing. The purest beauty comes from the mystery. The beauty is beyond being beautiful. A grandpa brushing his teeth, a soccer mom pulling over to order a hot fudge sundae, birds high on crystal meth, the marvelous transvestite wearing a friendship bracelet. Fear not yourself, perfect people. Everyone is beautiful! This poem is another zinger from the pleasing "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com
20.
College 07:39
College In college I got stoned to cheat on tests, sat on stairwells and used poetry as a bulletproof vest. I pretended to be crazy so I did not have to fit in. In college I would get shit faced, fucked up off speed balls and run into the woods to talk to a tree like it was the girl from home I had to leave. I missed my high school friends and drove around drunk. In college I climbed rooftops at night to feel strange under stars, slept all day, watched Soap Operas all evening, and made out with ugly, fat chicks while listening to “Teach Your Children Well.” I never had the heart to tell the actors they were acting. In college during freshman math class I laughed, shit my pants, had an irrational, rigorous nervous breakdown, took all my clothes off, and ran around the parking lot baffled by Pi. I was forced to move into the ghetto to live with my drug addict grandmother and go to community college. In college I fucked random one night stand drunken sorority, slut girls then cried into their arms exclaiming how deeply I desired to kill myself. I screamed at spaceships far away and tried out for the theater. In college I did not know too well when I met aliens, I hallucinated thinking angels were waiting for me outside my dorm so I huddled in a fetal position in the community hall shower for two days. My parents picked me up and asked if I was on dope. In college I talked shit to professors, wrote nonsensical stream of consciousness poetry thinking I was Bully fucking Collins, ate a lot of meat, did a lot of drugs, and had a gun pulled on me 40’s in the ghetto by Desert Storm Army Veterans. I stole this sexy ass girl’s panties from the laundry room and masturbated with them. In college I would go into other dimensions by dreaming, lived on a consistent diet of weed, mushrooms, acid, peanuts, and enjoying the comedy of the entire scene. I walked around on train tracks and made fun of God. In college I pretended to be sick so I could drink more codeine, thought I had AIDS and never studied. I smashed my television on the sidewalk and played chess. In college I drank a ton of Purple Jesus Everclear Juice, tried to jump a train but shit myself and passed out, woke up rained on with a hard on. I dry humped girls on the dance floor and loved it more than you can imagine. In college I listened to Blood On The Tracks for a liquidated two straight months, made fun of my roommate when he wrote cheesy songs for chicks he was trying to bang. I never learned how to play guitar. In college I wrote wildly adventurous, imaginative, bizarre, short stories that never ended about a blind guy in a wheel chair looking for his contact lens. I never found my contact lens. In college I sang Beatles songs on the streets with my friends, demanded a cleaner ceiling in my roommate’s brain, and watched movies in my mind. I threw away orders from my soul. In college I drank lots of vodka, vandalized Christmas Trees, picked fights with people who wore knives, pepper sprayed myself and fell to the floor. I thought life was fucked and believed in war and chaos. In college I sucked on sweet virgin Christian tits, got prostitutes to come to my dorm room, and when they refused to fuck for free I got them drunk off cheap bourbon and watched them throw up on each other. I asked hot ass stuck up sorority bitches on dates and got shot down. In college I purposely smelled the shit of people from the Middle East, pissed in elevators, laughed at the Chinese, and freaked out every time I saw blind students walking across campus. I found out my friend got raped and told everybody like I was Oprah. In college I talked about the one from home that got away all the time to any sad idiot who would listen, came home every chance I got to argue with the sky. I stayed up for days writing poetry about my imaginary OCD’s. In college I occupied my time inside my mind, thought about having a daughter, and acted like Arnold Schwarzenegger on the telephone. I fell into a pile of shit and did not get out. In college I hid my friend’s car in the woods for three weeks as a joke then parked it by her door so she couldn’t get out of her dorm room, and pretended to agree with the cop while in handcuffs in his office when he said it wasn’t funny. I missed my family more than I wanted to say. In college I tasted sex while girls smoked cigarettes, broke into a girl’s room and called her ugly because I hated myself, freaked out the freaks, and asked the dirty teachers for better grades. I jacked off in front of my roommate. In college I met wonderful ignorant students and threw up on them, fed those dirty pigeons money, and got the shit kicked out of me in the middle of the woods. The beauty of Mother Nature scared me to death. In college I wore a blindfold around for fun, laid on the concrete, fell asleep on benches, and asked stupid people stupid questions just to get my kicks. I turned off the lights and woke up three days later. In college I never cried with my broken heart putting clothes on a clothes line, hanging around pretentious people who did not know me, looking at their scared art, and pretending to understand it. I let a witch live under my bed for a month. In college I started a good old fashioned fight to watch people bleed, lost my virginity to my best friend’s older sister, got a black eye, and caught rainbow trout. I was certain I knew who I was but I never had a clue. In college it was always three am, eating pizza and guilt sandwiches for every meal, dying with the movement of every slow day ignoring the cry for love in other people’s bullshit problems. This pretty girl and I played with her stuffed animals together and had a better time than when we fucked. In college I danced when no one was around, fell in love with every girl I met, smoked crack and felt guilty because of my mother, stole books and sold them back to the bookstore, played drums with plastic forks in the cafeteria pretending to be homeless. I made all the wrong choices that turned out to be right This track is from a collection published in 2006 called "It's Hard To Get There When You Are Already There" available on amazon.com
21.
Everyone Is A Dreamer In This Mirror Everyone is a dreamer in this mirror. All the stars point in every direction, shine for anyone who notices. If you are happy and you smile the mirror happily smiles you, if you are scared in your dream you dream yourself into a nightmare. There are no thoughts or emotions out there only what you choose to place upon it for all form is completely formless but I sure do think you look cute in your purple bonnet. You might think you are a big deal but to the mirror you are only staring at yourself, you might even think you are real but you are simply dreaming like everyone else. Dreams won’t make you beautiful only beauty will, the mirror does not make you ugly only the way you think you feel. Perception is everything, you are simply looking into your own projection. Your mind is made up of nothing but other people’s impressions. How do your perceive yourself, well boys and girls that is how you see everyone else and all the rest of the world. This track is from "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com
22.
My Savior 05:14
My Savior My savior awakens through the sun reading a dictionary by the pool at an apartment complex where he does not reside. My savior is tired and horny but way too graceful to ask the pretty girl passing by to fuck in the bathroom. My savior quiets his rushing waterfall mind, hardens his nipples due to insecurities he has with his man breasts, looks up at the sky, brews the breeze, allows the sun to be his servant, and understands why he calls karma darling. My savior has worked four months in the past four years. He has finished five books, two of which are half assed published, one of which got him in trouble with the US Government, currently my savior is writing a book he is convinced will be Oprah’s favorite and raise the awareness of the people of planet earth. My savior is twenty five and lives at home with his parents. His mother probably thinks he slightly retarded. He masturbates an awful lot and has kidney problems due to a slight fear of letting go of his childhood. Every day he plays with angels. Every night he drives around the empty golden headed dark deep streets playing air guitar to This Is A Long Drive For Someone Who Has Nothing To Think About pretending he wrote the album back in ninth grade. My savior would love to get laid but he knows God will let it happen when it happens. Right now my savior is preoccupied with his seventeen year old muse Madeline. He writes moonstruck poetry about their toothbrushes making out with each other. He begins each poem with an “I hope I am not creeping you out” disclaimer because a creepy old man is something my savior never wants to come across as especially when all he really wants to do is hold her hand and smile. My savior has nothing to hide. He is an empty coloring book. He hands the world crayons and lets everyone draw all over him. If anyone draws outside the lines, my savior smiles like a freshly baked banana nut bread. My savior is not afraid to love you and when my savior is afraid to love you, he is not afraid to tell you. My savior will start a fight and try to dance his way out of it. When my savior is about to get his ass kicked, he will call himself a pussy and run away laughing like a little bitch. My savior dips your ego in his soul and eats it. Anytime my savior thinks negatively about anyone, he knows he is only projecting his deep rooted pain upon another. My savior knows his healing is your healing; his love is your love. Sometimes my savior has a difficulty turning shit into love, he walks around heavy and stinking, speaking in different languages, asking people to clean his feet. My savior can be quite pretentious and other times very ignorant. My savior can go to a funeral and forget what death is and then ask everyone why they are so sad? My savior dresses like an alien, dances in department stores, hibernates in electromagnetic waves, and prays to end all human suffering. My savior is filled with laughter in churches, harmony in temples, merriment in mistakes, and flowers in his heart. My savior believes politicians to be hilarious, mathematics to be difficult, strippers to be flowers, and God to be love. My savior makes people feel uncomfortable, beautiful, luxurious, confused, scared, wanted, relieved, remarkable, honest, and holy. My savior buys alcohol for underage kids, ejaculates in lavish restaurants, meditates in graveyards, and loves every single person from the bottom of his heart. My savior is genuine, scared, emotional, loving, incredible, compassionate, paranoid, pretty, unstoppable, and down right thankful to exist. But only a fourth of the time does he realize he is my savior, most of the time he thinks he is my slave, friend, enemy, grave, twin, father, lover. My savior races rockets with Jesus, shops for frozen pizza with Shiva, plays hopscotch with Joesph Campbell, merges with higher love, weaves a luminous bridge of light to his soul, and breathes a golden glow from the top of his head to the never ending bottom of his infinite universe. My savior is here to save himself and can only save himself. Check Out this hilariously amazing video for this poem from the book "Farting Fire" published in 2009 by Virgogray Press. http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QWFqTTpefc0
23.
Good Old Fashion Saturday Night Rejection I can laugh. I can celebrate. I can piss people off. I can awaken as a baby in your arms, as a sparrow with a song. I can fly. I can dance. I can sing. I can love. I hurt you me. I hurt you me so. I have been excommunicated from every church. Fired from every job. Ridiculed by every camera man. Left dead by every dog. Rejected from every college. Cornered by every ghost. Crowded by every thought. Let down by every person. Every celebrity thinks I suck. I can laugh. I can celebrate. I can piss people off. I can awaken as a baby in your arms, as a sparrow with a song. I can fly. I can dance. I can sing. I can love. This poem is from "you are not a normal human being" available at www.virgograypress.com
24.
May You Always Be Grateful And Filled With Love And Joy May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy while shopping for socks at Wal Mart. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy as your sister screams “you are a selfish asshole” to you on the phone. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy upon awakening naked and hungover in an ugly unknown’s bed. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy as your wife tells you she does not love like she used to. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy as the results come in, as the fire dies out, as the show ends. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy while at war, while at home, while watching yourself think. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy while confused and unsure of the point, while pointing your finger. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy while people read what you write and think it is bullshit. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy as the arguments erupt, as the opinions think they matter. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy in North Korea, in New Jersey, in Cowpens, South Carolina. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy as the canoe springs a leak and you sink to the bottom of the sea floor. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy as your best friend fucks your girlfriend and blames you for it. May you always be grateful and filled with love and joy when you do not know how to always be grateful and filled with love and joy. this poem is also from You Are Not A Normal Human Being available at www.virgograypress.com

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released October 31, 2012

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Justin Blackburn Oklahoma

My name is Justin Blackburn and i am author and poet. This is a collection of performance poems entitled "Normal Human Being" Lots of these are from my latest collection of poetry "You Are Not A Normal Human Being" available at www.virgograypress.com You can buy it and it will make your life better. Lots of wisdom. I love you. You are wonderful. I hope you love yourself. ... more

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