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by Chris Auman

July, 2005


If your word is stone
Then my word is a chisel
If you're meat, then I'm bone
If you're already gone, then I'm already home
You're tabloid news, I'm a poem

July, 2005


I got more money in my bank
I got more gas in my tank
I got more steak in my flank
I got more pull in my rank
I got more fifty in my cent
I got more control in my rent
I got more pup in my tent
I got more exhaust in my vent
I got more ring to my tone
I got more bare to my bone
I got more danger in my zone
I got more shark in my loan
I got more cell in my stem
I got more Stimpy in my Ren
I got more mustard on my bread
I got more needle on my thread
I got more hot on my wings
I got more wild in my flings
I got more mood on my swings
I got more silly in my strings
I got more crime in my century
I got more blood in my history
I got more Greek in my tragedy
I got more fear in my factory
I got more bad in my apple
More juice in my Snapple
More grip in my grapple
More Paige in my Satchel
More flim in my flam
More god in my damn
More skin in my flint
More short in my stint
More spam in my box
More sly in my fox
More Hanoi in my rocks
More tube in my socks
More swain in my cox
More ship in my docks
More geese in my flocks
More tail in my ox
More hard in my knocks
More build in my blocks

I just got more

April, 2005


I think I know how it started
Whilst shaving
Creative Facial Hair Games are over
The goatee must be gotten gone
But wait--
Wouldn't it be funny?
A Hitler 'stache? A Chaplin?
Why not leave the whole thing on?
Wouldn't that be funny?
What would people think?
They wouldn't know what to think
And that's how we'll fool them.

But what about the ladies?
Will they get it?
Do they want 1982 all over again?
All over them?
Perhaps they'll wonder, as the t-shirt advertises,
Are Mustache Rides really five cents?

And what about our history?
Our fathers have been wearing mustaches for decades if not centuries
Aren't we just becoming them?
Aren't we just becoming who we really are?
Grow that mustache young hipster
Defy convention by conforming to it
Be as punk as Selleck, as cool as Kotter
Be who you are. Be yourselves!

"Too much mustache in the monitor!" someone shouted to the bass player at the Hot Snakes show
How prescient was that? How right on?

May, 2005


Tom Cruise needs to mind his own damn business
Scientology? You gotta be kidding me
You're not real, man. No way
You gotta kiss your girl in front of millions
You ain't real man. Come on
She's half your age, Chief
Let it go

Yo, Top Gun
How you gonna be tellin' people how to live
What pills they need
How they should feel
You need to take that Scientology bullshit
And shove it up your Cocktail, bro
That was a bad movie, man
What's up with that?

May, 2005


Step off bitch
You ain't gotta be standin' that close to me
Step off bitch
Do I look like I need help?
Step off bitch
Why you sweatin' me like that?
Step off bitch
I'm bein' for real here, man,
you need to step the fuck off

May, 2005


I heard Star Wars sucks, dude
How come you tellin' me it's all that
I heard Hayden Christensen blows
How come you said he's good in that movie

Somethin' ain't right here
You been talkin' 'bout this Star Wars bullshit all week
My boy tells me it's just OK
Something ain't right
We need to talk, man

If I'm gonna drop some cash on this flick
We gotta get this shit straightened out

June, 2005


What is your deal? Exactly.
I can't figure it out
And I'm pretty smart
What is your deal, dude? Exactly.

You and me go back a ways
A long, long ways if you ask me
But you didn't ask me
And so here we are
What is your deal, dude? Exactly.

I've got five dollars
That's it
Five fucking dollars to my name
But I will give you my five dollars
If you just tell me what your deal is

August, 2006


You don't know me

I had eighty dollars in my wallet last night
I got two right now. A bro would know what happened to that seventy-eight
If you don't know, don't call me bro

That girl ripped my heart out
Did it with a smile
What was her name again?
If you don't know, don't call me bro

You know that actor I don't like
That smug little prick . . . Colin something?
What was that movie he was in that I thought sucked?
If you don't know, don't call me bro

I am not your brother and I am certainly not your bro
In fact, I don't think I would like you even if I got to know you
So get this through your stupid hipster head:
If you don't know me, don't call me bro


August, 2006


My fortune cookie today says "Your problem lies not in a lack of ability, but in a lack of ambition." That doesn't sound like a fortune so much as it sounds like somebody bitching at me. I don't need that kind of a hassle after I eat, you know?

October, 2005


Multi-Family Garage Sale Saturday!!!

Stained stuff! Broke stuff! Out-of-fashion clothes!
Useless bullshit, crap and tons of total junk!
Stuff you don't need! Stuff we don't want!

So come on by and give us money and take away
some of our totally worthless bullshit.

No early birds. Eary birds get shot at.


You’re pretty funny
Not funny “ha ha”
But funny
Not funny like queer
Not queer like gay
Not gay like happy
Not happy like stupid
Not stupid like fresh
Not fresh like dope
Not dope like smack
Not smack like hit
Not hit like gold
Not gold like rich
Not rich like cake
Not cake like easy
Not easy like pie
Not pi like the circumference of a circle
Not a circle like the bringing of closure
Not closure like you’re shutting a window
Not window like this opportunity knocking
Not like knocking on wood
Not like knocking on doors
Not like knocking heads together
Not like your knees are knocking ‘cause you’re scared

You’re just funny



Don't let anybody wobble your stack
Or burden your pack
Or stomp on your back
Or make you lose track

Don't let anybody step on your buzz
Or shave off your fuzz
Or badmouth your cuz
Or when you wuzn’t, say you wuz

Don't let anybody bust up your urn
Or make your biscuits burn
Or make you lose your turn
Or overwater your fern

Don't let anybody kick your dick in the dirt
Or make your gonads hurt
Or put a pleat in your skirt
Or call you Burt (unless your name is Burt)

Don’t let anybody cancel your show
Or loosen your bow
Or tell you which seeds to sow
Or advise you to heave when you know you shoul ho

Don’t let anybody bang on your gong
Or make you go long
Or snap on your thong
Or Bogart your bong while listening to the Prong song “Prove You Wrong”



I walk like a boss
And I roll like a pro bowler
I go to work like a dentist on a molar
I make ‘em laugh like Amy Poehler
I spin with the wind when I’m not sunny solar

I walk like a boss
And I roll like a wheel down a hill
I give advice like Doctor Phil
I spread it out like an oil spill
 I pop it in my mouth like a pill

I walk like a boss
And I roll like a jelly donut
Bombing guts like a cronut
Melting cheese like a pizza in a hut
Focused like a golfer on a putt

I walk like a boss
And I roll like a marble down a slide
Like a switch that tans a hide
Like a roller coaster on a ride
Like a dude you can’t abide

Always floss, cutting loss, never gloss, ditching dross,
extra sauce, like a boss

I walk like a boss
And I roll like I’m jelly in a donut
I come on like a punch in the gut
Like a nutcracker on a nut
Like the putt putt king acing a putt

I walk like a boss
And I roll like a marble down a slide
Like a switch that tans a hide
Like a roller coaster on a ride
Like a lion in a pride

© Chris Auman