Hello everyone! This isn't a new bio or a poem, just an old letter my brother sent me while I was going through boot camp. Some of you may find it humorous, and well, some of you maybe offended by the contents. What ever your standing is on the "Easter bunny" or the holiday in general has little to do with the story I'm about to share with all of you. The story does involve the Easter bunny himself, but not the holiday or any religious mumbo jumbo. This story is graphic in nature, it deplics violence, the use of shotguns and cute innocent girls that love soft, furry and cute animals like bunny rabbits. Please, if you have small children, dogs, cats or other innocent creatures in your midst, ask them kindly to leave the room. I will NOT be responsible for any mental anguish this letter may cause them! MUHAHAHAHAHAHAHA
This letter is typed as is. So please don't criticize the spelling, punctuation or the run-on sentences you will encounter in the letter. Take a deep breathe and start reading, if you pass out, finish it later. Use you brain and correct the errors in your mind please! I don't want to hear about it and NO! I'm not going to correct it ENJOY!
" C'mere cute little Easter bunny, oh you're sooooooo cute. Boobsey come
here and look at the cute bunny. Grab the shotgun and some shells on the
way will you? Oh it's going to be a wonderful thanksgiving! Oh, Boobsey
you got the twelve gauge. That's wonderful, and double ought buck. Do
you think it's big enough? There weren't any slugs? Darn!"" Now I guess
I should tell you at this point of our saga of Boobsey and the Easter
bunny that Boobsey is a ten year old girl who wears frilly pink dresses
and has tea at precisely ten o'clock every morning. Frug, her father, is
a psychotic fashion designer who uses these funny little incidents in
their lives for ideas to design with.
We now return to our regularly scheduled program. Oh so where was I? I had this strange dream. Rabbits and dresses or some kind of shit. Anyway, you're in the marines, so remember the lesson of the Easter bunny. He's a mean rabbit fucker who doesn't give a damn! That's how you gotta be, kick ass mother fucker and don't give a fuck who's ear you bite off. Got it? Take care and I'll see you later.
This is a short poem my brother Gordon wrote his sophomore year of high school. If you all could see the picture that went along with it, you'd have a better idea of what it's about. Since Gordon is no longer with us, I can't say for sure what the poem was really about. My translation suggests that he was taking about how "everyday" life was repetitive, yet the challenges life presented him and his friends on a daily basis and the work that was involved made it all worth while. The moral I see before me is, "Don't see life as repetitive and boring, look a little harder and find that new challenge! Get off your ass and open your eyes, there are always new challenges being presented to each and every one of us, but you must put in the work and be dedication to see the finished results. At the end of the day, look back on the events of the day and ask yourself, "Did I accomplish anything new?" Analyze what was done during the course of the day. You maybe pleasantly surprised to find out that life isn't so repetitive and boring after all. If you can find nothing in the course of the day, you need to look at yourself in the mirror and ask yourself "Is it life that's boring, or is it me that makes it boring?"
Gordon was a very accomplished artist. Most of his works were based on his imagination or his feelings. After his death in May of 1984, all of his works were returned for Douglas county high school to our mother. To this day, many of them can be seen hanging on the walls in the house, unfortunately many of his art pieces remain unfinished :/
For the working class
Here we sit
A shot and a beer
After another hard earned day
Here we sit
A shot and a beer
After another hard earned day
My brother Jay wrote this poem in 1993. I don't have a lot of his works, but if you like it and want to see more, let me know and I'll see what I can dig up, or maybe I'll just go bug him for more. I'm not entirely sure what its about, but I'm sure if I read it a few times and keep an open mind, I may figure out what Jay was writing about. Jay currently resides in Fort Collins Colorado. He has a master in English and a minor in math. His dream is to become a college professor and teach creative writing to students that are interested in expanding their minds. His love for writing has motivated him to write a book and get it published. I think the book is about our entire family, which spans 28 years of foster kids and two loving individuals, which everyone of us, call mom and dad. The book is complete, now if he would get off his lazy ass and go find a publisher!
We Were An easy passing answer in newspaper. Children But they weren't quite there. I remember the scrub Oak were deep green in cold morning. The sunrise dew birth from frost rusted fences, wet Our legs to our knees. Yucca spear's pale flesh in dew, metallic Slanted birth sun, fallen silver before after before passing on The morning Hair resting dark silvered sun sparks Coins in an impossible well I wish I wish I wish I never stop beneath brown grass. Every where else she was wet Still warm everywhere else and weeds. Bruises risen ripped skin. Sun and coins across frost hair. On this prairie no time for time Clocks. She still had her Stop Still had stop Eyes open. In newspaper she was an easy hooker answer. (no bare footprints two answer. Miles down the muddy road) We stopped, never passed by, always stop Always goddamn stop
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