the trolls

Given recent events over at nearlydefunctare.we, I mean, thisisby.us, I thought it might be instructive, or maybe even enjoyable, to post a poem here that I posted over there in January 2008 after a particularly bothersome outbreak of trolls. Enjoy a golden oldie from my vault, and remember, the troll you save may be thrown in front of my car:

the trolls

there are some trolls
out there in poetryland
wherever the fuck that is;
probably stuckuptheass
of some
overeducated, spoiled little fucks
smaller than the
i have every morning.

they are going to teach me
The Error of My Ways.
like some pseudo-Charlton Heston
waving his wobbly, withered dick in my face
and jamming his stupid fucking rifle in the air
pitchforks and oil-rag torches
filling the night air
they will come up the hillside
looking for my sorry ass
to teach me
The Error of My Ways.

stand back
you smarmy, squinty-eyed little pricks
before I open a can of whupass
the likes of which
You Have Never Seen Before in Your Miserable
Dick-Thumping Lives.

not only are these poorly-weaned little turds
Going To Teach Me A Thing or Two,
they are so
Ambitious and such literary geniuses
that they are going to teach a bunch of other writers
the same lessons they are going to teach me
and all of it for free
just because they care
just because someone forgot to take the keys to all the cells
and they are now in charge:
Masters of All They Survey
in their little 6 by 9 lockup in the Central Jail
where the crackpipe is still warm
the needles are all bent
and only blisters remain where their hearts used to beat.
so bring it on, you vile little vipers
you little bags of snot,
step the fuck up – puff out your sunken little chests
as best you can
sitting on top of your rock for a change
like a fucking cocksucking politician
trying to score --
looking for some ladies, maybe?
i got some of them for you too – nice girls
all of them clean
with stilettos, sombreros and switchblades, baby
the Big Three:
and any of them will cut off your junk
and feed it to you with a side of Scottish bonnet
and laugh while you write down your feelings
and teach me
The Error of My Ways
as you pass out from exsanguination
and Bolero plays real LOUD.

and you bother no one again.

* * *

(in honor of the publication of The Pleasures of the Damned: Poems 1951-1993 by Charles Bukowski)

January 26, 2008. Copyright 2008, Ricky A. Pursley. All rights reserved. Did you read that Bill and Lauren?


  1. Cadaver eyes upon me see: nothing.

    I'm glad you're here- you understand, on occasion, the triumph of vulgarity.

  2. Well, Buk did it far better than I ever will, but it was important for this homage. Thanks for dropping by, Larry.

  3. This was a lovely poem that I hope you'll one day recite as best man at some friend's wedding.

    Having recently watched a documentary on the word "fuck", my only criticism is that you should've utilized this prized profanity more. Still, who am I to judge?

  4. Good to know that you so earnestly approve, Aaron. Have you ever read Buk, really?

  5. I have read Buk, and just watched a documentary on him not so long ago. If ever there was a lucky troll on this planet, he was the guy. Never has someone so ugly been so saved by his own words.