I don't usually pull this stunt, but I pasted a group of poems I posted on Craigslist Literary and Writing Forum over the last month.    But first, I need to break loud wind about what has become a sick, hostile climate for low net worth writers.    It sucks being poor, and in addition, the business of being a writer has been completely enslaved by corporations, oligarchs, elitists, Marxists and a monopolistic media establishment.  On a time line a plethora of new platforms, social media, came into existence, enable artists and writers to sell their media...and that then it all went in reverse.   It became impossible for the majority of people to make money on the internet, or anywhere else.   It's impossible to sell self published novels downtown while squatting on the sidewalk.  Please enjoy my latest poems published on Craigslist:

0% of this handle's posts in the last 31 days have been deleted.

up to 50 posts from the last 31 days for AdamPugsly:

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--- Literary & Writing (context)
After Much Fracking < AdamPugsly > 2026-09-23 17:07 +5




holy heaven earth cracks vaginal
Mr. Balls falls eight feet down the chasm
the toxic peter pan screams for his weasel life
why you down the fracky hole
he is jeered to
by a stout
and powerful
tribeswoman
Pull me out doomed hiker screams
she says no
you in a fracky she warns
urinal cake she calls him
she squats
he winces

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Real Monster < AdamPugsly > 2026-09-23 13:26



he has toes like a trombone playing tree sloth
a prehensile foot abnormally long
a rope-like oscillating wang
one foot so normal you'd cry
the other tootsie a badger fourteen inches
needs two pro keds in different sizes
one gigundo
and the Balkan Prince Sparky
is built

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The Mean Compost < AdamPugsly > 2026-09-21 13:03 +1



a bubble in the fountain grew
it had been a likable element
narrow lapels
a fluid pale as water
like a compound can be subllme
it's the cast of a Broadway extravaganza
soap hatred formed that prismatic film
the bubble of gas
decaying matter
maybe a decaying woodchuck
spontaneous combustion
gas explosion
earth flatulence
gross natures
and I always wanted beauty

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She Wrongful Packer < AdamPugsly > 2026-09-17 02:52 -5



It is more than the way you load the nganga,
Wanda
it isn't the bill you receive from Hammacher Schlemmer
I am not the Johnson Smith catalog
I pack the musket with stardust
the kind that erodes from stars
witch, wrongful packer
No pyre on this quarter acre lot has Ohio sparkler nonsense
you called me an ethnic prince during that ceremony
soon that fissure cause an old lady to die
it was your poorly assembled nganga that allowed the fissure
thirty feet down that poor old lady fell, terrorized
landing to her death in a mine shaft
witch,
you are a wrongful packer of talismanic objects

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Witch Unpleasantness < AdamPugsly > 2026-09-17 02:39


couldn't bongo
should load the nganga with talismanic things
lite the pyre
Wanda encroaches upon voodoo
hers
mine
theirs
and with the goddam identity things up asses
you'd bongo shitty too, witch

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--- Literary & Writing (context)
Wising Up A Little Somewhere < AdamPugsly > 2026-09-13 06:13 -10+2




Maybe I'm as vicious as anyone else, and these things are circumstantial in nature, being a sweetheart one year and a bastard the next. might say it's happening at the federal level, the ICE raids for instance. but I'm talking about interpersonal problems.

A dear friend of years back had a simple way of saying a million things. In one conversation at a diner in R.I. I said "I'm a nice guy."

He said, "You're a prick."

I liked the guy way too much to be insulted and ages forward the universal truth, people are pricks when they are, and at other times sweeties, changed from one single card in the deck to all fifty two cards. Any card in the deck can fuck you in a game of anything, and my pal knew that from hard knocks and the advice he got growing up in the Bronx. A guy could choke on too much cultural diversity.

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Rant < AdamPugsly > 2026-09-12 09:44 -5+5

Gather 'round, hunters, gatherers, cowpokes, jamokes and hard cases. It's time for ya'll to listen to me moan. I moan audible. Not loud. You can hear me doing it. That's what matters. What moves mind and body from material to supernatural sensations. Faith holds congress with belief in sensuality.

I moan for the death of common pool halls. I sure as fuck don't have an eight foot slate billiard table here in my own private East Buttfuck. There ain't no pool halls left open for business in this sorry miserable place not deserving of it's pompous jackass-sounding name. I'm not naming where this violent pestilential behavior is spreading gloom and collective torpor. But there's no chance of operating a pool hall in this district, and most other districts, without assholes shooting someone over a squabble.



People aren't playing pool, I'm not playing pool, and this is only one of the most far away reasons Poorly Rotating Earth is going to shit.

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reading with music < AdamPugsly > 2026-08-31 17:09 -5




https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AFcW18Suxkk

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Headless Man < AdamPugsly > 2026-08-31 16:26 -5+5





break a tradition with trident
pull bayonette from steel sheath
let your hernia pain you sharply
oooh-eee when a whole century
chiseled your form into Mr. Hairy Lardo
your ears beveled for irregular circling
insanely heavy and lofting with ridiculous ease
too easy talking to historic amazons
one-breasted spear fighters take your suggestions
next month
they are letting men have sex with them
the praying mantis kills males used for mating
wise bitch

 

Brains don't come  with instruction manuals.    They are fickle auto-didactic lobes and crinkles.  The cognitive spaghetti of global domination.   And rocket technology.   Data centers are being built everywhere to store the infinite guano that is human thought and all records of  all other places, moments on earth, on film, digitized, recorded, stored in a neat clean techno wasteland.   I am a great fan of the DSM 5.

Statistics have never been prettier.  Diagnostics are a breath of air after centuries of stupidity towards people sick in the head.    The capital M stands for 'manual.'   A handbook.   That's some wholesome motherfucking shit.   Handbooks are...fuck home base...handy things...useful.   The DSM 5 is an instruction manual.  

People are sick.  Not wrapped too tight.   Missing a few spokes.  That's why everyone should be mailed a free copy of the book.   Maybe do it like Welcome Wagon.  Include a sanitary wrapped thin mint, Narcan, a complimentary hundred Haldol pills and a MAGA strait jacket.  Or a pro-democrat strait jacket.  It will look nice.

Bestiality: the new perve celebrated in the media

 Bunny farts, my dear men and women who read this blog.   Asked 'what's invisible and smells like carrots,' a wise man said, "Bunny farts."  In many social strata human flatus is archly considered, likely enough when spoken of, and the more demonstrative sense manifests when  a person walks into a room and lets rip a one hundred eighty decibel ear shattering  fart.

In the 1950s all it took to create a media scandal was an appearance of a possible dalliance.  It looked like two people were fucking without a license.  Once the public tired of weak innuendos, it was necessary to get a person on film committing an abomination, any will do.  

The most recent and long running curse was pedophilia, especially friends and other affines romping on what used to be Epstein's island.   Sin city.    Long before that story broke there had been a satanic panic that gave the world the McMartin case and other famous witch hunts.  True crime shows reveled in ritual exposure and capture of perverts on the move.  Chris Hansen was a new Sherlock Holmes.   But now there's a whole new dance step:  People are being investigated and prosecuted for having sex with animals.

I hate perverts and don't associate with sex offenders.   I dislike witch hunts, too.   Maybe John and Jane Q Public should mind its own fucking business and find productive ways of plodding to oblivion.  No dog and cat molesters will ever be welcome in my private, law abiding nether world.  

I am taking solace in observing people from a safe distance.    Ecce Homo, if you don't mind me quoting a foreign phrase.    I call  it keeping farting distance away from possible antagonists, all billions of them.   A person could count on prayer beads all the bases upon which people don't care for one another.  OTOH, who's counting?

Not for nothing, Anti-Natalism must be brought to open talk in public. It's the only practical thing in Envirnmentalism.

 

Okay, here’s me again being a big fat stupid blowhard about shit that doesn’t really concern me.   I’m a lone flesh Temu appliance among Rolex watches and Maseratis.   Thank you for ambling aboard.

It’s the city’s proposed mandatory paid parental leave.   It will put people out of jobs and out of business, and will deter creation of new private small business, desperately needed here. I’ll shut the fuck up about this in a second, not my fucking business, and I respect the privacy and personal agency of people all over, many of whom want to have baby brats at the expense of society.  Soon as I finish talking about an aniti-natalist agenda I’ll shut the fuck up about the way stupid people insist on having children as the Earth drowns in human waste.     Anti-natalism is a tiny political movement at large with  an agenda to reduce populations by reducing the birthrate, voluntarily,  effectuated through education.  And it takes a healthy pile of gray matter to comprehend my point:    I believe the best and most practicable environmentalism individuals can practice is to have fewer, or no, children.    

It is my opinion that after decades of ‘reducing carbon footprints’ individuals maxed out their options for reducing damage to Earth and atmosphere.  At the same time corporations have continued contaminating Earth, air and water.   News has it the data centers will double demand for electricity.   City power grids have been at risk of overload for decades.   The ways, all many, of producing electricity can be dirty as a vagrant’s underies.   Fracking has damaged the ground and atmosphere no end.   As pollution from one source is abated, new sources come in tow with advancing technology.   

My position here is that the only thing individuals, randos, peons and commoners can do to save Earth from slow annihilation is to quit farting out ugly, stupid obnoxious and tiresome babies.  Stop having babies.   Babies are a pain in the ass. Less people, less ugliness, poverty, ignorance and disease. Are we blind to how ugly babies are? People have been aware forever of overpopulation world wide. Stop producing greedy consumers. A baby could grow up to be the next Hitler. People suck. People are in a global ethics crisis. Less is more.

Artificial Intelligence and the Power Of Positive Thinking

 

The new manic depressive disorder is called dystopian/utopian attitude problem.   It is mostly AI that is effectuating this semantic and performative change in the language of living with technology.     Happy people see that artificial intelligence will provide them all goods and services free of charge as robots do all the work, 24/7, happy as electro-mechanical pigs in shit.  

You all know me as a rollicking rowdy free spirit...who loves to play pool

 

Gather 'round, hunters, gatherers, cowpokes, jamokes and hard cases.   It's time for ya'll to listen to me moan.  I moan audible.  Not loud.   You can hear me doing it.  That's what matters.   What  moves mind and body from material to supernatural sensations.   Faith holds congress with belief in sensuality.

I moan for the death of common pool halls.   I sure as fuck don't have an eight foot slate billiard table here in my own private East Buttfuck.   There ain't no pool halls  left open for business in this sorry miserable place not deserving of it's pompous jackass-sounding name.   I'm not naming where this violent pestilential behavior  is spreading gloom and collective torpor.   But there's no chance or operating a pool hall in this district, and most other districts, without assholes shooting someone over a squabble.

People aren't playing pool, I'm not playing pool, and this  is only one of the most far away reasons Poorly Rotating Earth is going to shit.   

 

Do you hear the sound of amelioration?   I do.  It is like a Niad singing while doing the back float behind Cleo-fucking-patra's fucking barge.  I realized there is no such thing as a good politician.   The be-bop coolness of what used to be representative democracy has given way to dance club synthesizer pulse, flashing dance floor oligarchy.   Like a calypso singer, who cares?   Shoo-wop-diddly.

There is no liberal.  No conservative.  No Dems.  No GOPs.   No pathetic stupid third political party, that everyone should already know splits tickets and loses elections.   Third parties can accidentally or nefariously cause one of the two other parties to win. 

This is about acting on the basis of ethics.   Vote quietly, don't campaign too much.  Little is best.   Absent of honest happy representative government the best thing voters can do is to write to legislators and newspapers and magazines and television stations, asking they support the agendas you hope to realize.   That aside, I suggest, quietly, docile-like, radical politics of recent yesteryear appear to be sobbing in the powder room.  Quit the rough stuff, do power of the pen.