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Matthew Kastor
Absolutely Charming, Ridiculously Glorious
Absolutely Charming, Ridiculously Glorious

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Matthew Kastor commented on a post on Blogger.
"Cas could just imagine Tomato’s response, she’ll probably shit a brick when she sees his message. He was sure she thought her ‘loverbear’ had left the internets forever. And now seeing a hand typed note directly from such a Glorious son of a bitch nearly made her cum on herself. He was sure she couldn’t wait to go on whatever mission he decided she was worthy of."
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Matthew Kastor commented on a post on Blogger.
Did I ever share this? I probably should have when it was relevant.
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To the Pooets of Shameful Pen:

They've all got something to say
Uniquely repeating public domain.
There, the cut and paste "look at me"
Adorned with rivers, pain,
Like a pothole patched with trite.
Their road apples collected lazily
An open hole waiting for the drop,
Now overflowing on my internet stream.

Nobody cares

Real poets live real lives
And know when to shut the fuck up.

But thanks for the spam
Ye Eco-Poets
And so many irrelevant pictures
In piss poor Photoshope

[Sarcastic bow, maestro like middle finger]
Your Hero.
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Dear poets,

It has been so long since I've been actively engaged in any of our communities, and I don't even know whose still around. From the looks of it, most of my favorite people have gone quiet. I'm thinking of starting a new project in the next few weeks. So if you're still around and you're interested, send me a message on hangouts and we'll get a group going.

Your hero,

Mr. Kastor
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Slip knots and doughnuts woke up
It's five in the morning and
There are tears and snot in poetry
Don't read that shit

No really
Don't read that shit, keep scrolling

There's bound to be a photograph
Some loosely thought image in high contrast
Comparing the squishy sound of semen hitting a whore's back
To the palpitations of a loving heart

That shit,
Oh definitely read that, it'll open your eyes
Just be sure to bring proper prophylactics
I suggest boots and goggles

The real gem is a pyrotechnic straw man
Some poet writing after the fact
Way after the fact and
Only convincing you to give a shit

But it's one in the afternoon
And I'm not fucking convinced

[This is the poem about poems that isn't a poem about poems at all
+Leanne Hanson​​
+Afe La​​
+iHop Borders​​
+Giovanna Elisabeth​​]

Faith faltered on hot coals
Felt the searing burn of standing there
Smiling like an idiot
While a devil licked it's lips

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Odd to see strangers inside
When inside us still stranger lies
Weave their words into our voice
Until we no longer speak...

For +Pauly Freeman​, some stranger scribbling on the stream:

On Dust, Lint, and All Manner of Dirty Metaphor

Feather duster fondled fractured walls
Lifting lint was always within his wheel house
This though...

He started at the stain pondering it's existence
Wondering what it's origins were
Egg, maybe?

Not stupid,
He knew it would take more than feathers
Knew the consequences of elbow grease on walls

He looked her straight in the eye
She hallucinated some ridiculous crown on him
Some feathered scepter

He opened his mouth
She heard something else, but he said
This is ridiculous, get the mop
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