|
|
|
|
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 2/5/2008 11:12:57 AM | “I am in this race to tell the corporate lobbyists that their days of setting the agenda in Washington are over. I have done more than any other candidate in this race to take on lobbyists — and won. They have not funded my campaign, they will not get a job in my White House, and they will not drown out the voices of the American people when I am president.”
— Barack Obama, Speech in Des Moines, IA, November 10, 2007
today is the day you can affect some real change in this country where ever you are get out today and vote for this guy... he will change america and make us all proud to live here again....
 | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 2/29/2008 7:19:28 PM | Touch....
I still feel your touch
I still see your face
I reach out
You disappear
I cry, alone
I feel your hand again, wiping my tear
I hear your voice
"You’ll be ok" it’s your whisper
I smile
I reach out
Empty..Alone
Have I gone crazy?
Am I insane?
I trip
"Be careful" it’s your whisper again
I reach out
You disappear
I run for the door
I try to open it but I’ shaking
I feel you grab me and hold me tight
Saying "its ok, you’re alright"
I open my eyes and reach out
You smile
I feel a tear glisten and roll down your cheek
Are you here with me now..????
| |
|
mmmmmy
|
Joined: 2/11/2008
Msg: 53 | |
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 2/29/2008 9:45:53 PM | Disturbed Ashes
Unknown destination
Zone unknown
Mind default
PC down
Just another
Compcrew Clown
Life is dark
Get me up!
If I am down
too long
Shit sucks!
Get me up!!!!!! | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 3/1/2008 2:36:59 PM | very interestng and compelling writes here Hash. Look forward to reading more.
I noticed the quote from Fear and loathing, have you read the book by Hunter s Thompson. both book and movie based of his real life. crazy shit. they have also just started to republish the once out of print Gonzo Journals both volumes.
   | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 9/14/2008 5:30:04 PM | stormy
suddenly without warning they come
raiding the sky with unwelcome uncertainty.
Lingering with purpose they tease, tricking
us into denial, a flash, a flicker, a false dawn.
Yet they stay, freezing themselves into
a fixed position, and so, darkness leaks
into our lungs every crack is filled,
the plasterer moves with frenzied haste.
Our movement becomes aged, bones lose
the will to move the mind no longer motivates
appetite drinks iteslf dry. The face thickens
with the neglect, the windows of the soul
becomes misty, view becomes distorted.
Daily we hope they'll lift, that light shall penetrate.
At first a little ray may seep through,
a fleeting feeling of hope, a smile as a child
looks within you. until we are hit by the shower
of sheer joy. The will returns, the bones ease.
the face begs to be smoothed, as the stomach
craves the taste of food.
suddenly without warning we return
washed up and weary.
The clouds have broken order has returned
we resume our routine,
watching the clouds, with a face of expectance | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 9/14/2008 5:36:46 PM | insanity
What is life but a cycle, of hate, love, and loss.
We are all but pawns, around the board we are tossed.
Yet we don’t care, we live our lives on.
We stop and we stare, at someone who’s wrong.
But why can’t we look past, why can’t we see.
I say insane people are the ones who are free
Follow the shining light, young one.
Follow it, and everything will be all right.
Pay no heed to the darkness around you.
So full of lies, hate, and evil.
Keep those feet moving, and I’ll save you.
Open your heart, and I’ll heal you.
Talk to me, I’ll listen.
Follow the light, and reach the end.
And be destroyed by everything you didn’t learn | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 9/26/2008 8:21:54 AM | driven
the road to the end is yet a return to the start
following blindly we do weave and drift
bouncing against the rails, grinding metal squeals
directed as though by strings, the puppet dances
willingness and fate eroding the steps of certainty
determined we try to race to the center..to the end
all you'll find is the start...acceptance is still the answer
find again the power to kneel and you will know...
| |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 9/26/2008 8:33:20 AM | rocky
crestfallen precipice..looming above all
aspire to mount her struggling for a hold
precariously dangling inches seem miles
cracks become chasm assuring my grasp
terror infused my arms stinging from the pain
i pull for oblivion...mad from the fear
as i swing my leg over the top....
| |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 9/26/2008 2:37:38 PM | blithering
again & again I'm confronted anew
contorted and twisted and somewhat askew
finally something offered by few
with nothing else better to do
the "haters" are out & doin review
they land and they fidget, beginning to spew
it's the same old shit, I'm sick of this pooh
you blithering idiots I'm talking to you
before hating on somebody totally new
a deep look inside is long overdue....
graciously placed for my new bro..... | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 9/27/2008 9:00:53 PM | acceptance is something i practice each day
but when i get screwed baby i must say
i stand up and draw those boundary lines
(integrity i so for longingly pine)
calculating creeps make me quite ill
the greed they seeks makes me sicker still
time for me to stand up and shout
'time for you slime suckers to get the fvck out....'
(hey hash....just found you here......hope you don't mind a rant) | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/1/2008 7:46:27 PM | Ranting is what we do...
birds...
rhapsosy erasing slumber, the luminesence rises
astride arms encased in green, joyous proclamation
they gather by the thousands, startling yet grand
the air is ripe with their ballad.....
buried deep within the folds of the keeper, hidden exhaltation
the smile building stronger and stronger inside
washing my sins in the beauty of their serenade
all I can do is to whistle along...
 | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/1/2008 8:58:55 PM | deep inside collective consciousness
is the want to do it all right
lining up with palms sweating
as people watch others' eyes scan
each ballot
weight of the world on thier shoulders
decisions decisions which is more?
which won't do? who will do without?
democrats? republicans? green party?
sending my absentee ballot in mail tomorrow
no vote, no complaining, no whining, no slacking
if your vote doesn't match mine
no matter...make yours count | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/4/2008 6:56:56 PM | this is a little old...thank god that was then and this is now...
Destitute...
As I grip the hand, this hooded fallacy
putrid skin dark & as cold as ice
sulfur eyes as dead as night
pointing, an overpass and how to forget the past
as the words trust me, emitted from cold dead lips,
I reached up and gave him a kiss
unfurling the hood, revealing a female child
crushing sorrow, begging take me away from this world
pointing, an overpass and how to forget the past
stepping off the edge, plummeting towards the blacktop
remembering all my life while I was in mid-flight
then, I forgot it all at the end of the fall
I died that very day
a light revealed the gates of heaven, the doors were closed
I realized it was the end.....
| |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/29/2008 9:08:57 AM | Sorry, I don't have anything to post about poems or politics, but I DO have
another story from the Local Public Bathroom. Enjoy.
You are my arch nemisis. I see you wandering around as I go about my daily
rituals: Tall. Middle Eastern. Pot Belly. We catch each others eye every now
and then and give each other a slight nod. I know you, I know what you do and
I am on to your games.
I saw you this morning, we made eye contact. You nodded and took another bite
of whatever Death-Ass producing garbage you fuel up on that makes the
bathroom, smell like the inside of a dead monkey's colon, and nodded at me. I
got you this time, ****er.
I give you my icey grin and nod back, then hurry back to my office. It's
almost noon, and that's the time you like to run to the toilet and perform
your daily ASS JIHAD on all the people just trying to wash their hands. Maybe
in your country there is no commen sense that would tell you that lunch time =
hand wash time. People want to get clean and eat, not be fumigated with the
high octane liquid shit attack you subjigate them too.
But I got you this time. Yeah ****er I GOT SOMETHING COOKING UP FOR YOU!
two egg sandwiches with cheese. Greasy meatlike patties. A couple glasses of Tang.
Some leftover Chinese food. A Twix. Root Beer Soda. Some steamed broccoli I
had in the fridge. A Hot Pocket with peperonni and cheese. A Chocolate
Poptart. And like a cherry on top ... a McDonald's Quaterpounder with cheese.
I never eat this shit, it's all greasy and ****ing nasty, but today is the day
I fight back. I go out for a quick mile jog and almost die. My stomach feels
like there are two midgets fighting to the death inside there. I walk back to
work, ass clenched tighter than a virgin's thighs at sunday mass.
Great. The hot chick from next door wants to chat. She assumes the sweat on my
face and arms is from running. She doesn't realize that it's a cold sweat
induced by my severe sphicter trauma. She finally shuts up and I stagger to
the Death Ass Arena.
You are there already in your favorite stall: The one right next to the
****ing sinks. You stupid, socially retarded ****. Fine. You have yet to begin
your daily purge of Middle Eastern Ass Stew. I enter the stall next to you and
drop my pants in preperation of the upcomming battle.
Your opening salvo is fired: A sloppy wet fart with a solid-lumpy shot chaser. I
laugh and begin to show you the power of Advanced American Foodstuffs.
The tuba fart I unleash echos off the walls and shrinks my waistline about an
inch. The guy at the urinal laughs as I slap the wall between you and I and
say "Back to YOU, Kajid!". You are silent, I assume you know who I am and that
the time has come for us to battle. I know you are summoning your intestinal
fortitude for full out war.
You do not dissapoint me.
With a hissing "SSSShhhhhzzzzzzzzz!" you squirt out a deadly spray of ass
juice that pollutes the air and makes my head swim. The pisser guy at the
urinal is no longer laughing, he quickly zips up and runs for the door. He did
not stop to wash his hands, instead opting to head for the hills. I cover my
mouth and nose with my shirt and the black spots dissapear from my vision. My
head clears. I am ready.
"AAaaaaaaaRRRRRGGGHHH!" I yell, as I drop Big Tim. That's short for "Big
Timber" ... AKA "Mississippi Mountain Butt Log".
Quick-fire farts stutter out of my ass, as I push the monster log from the
Shit Dimension into our reality. The beefy, yeasty stench easily overpowers
the Indian Ass Gutter oder of your previous attack. Mega Turd hits the water
in the bowl with a mighty splash, the reek is that of a dead whale slowly
ripening in the hot, tropical sun. I catch my breath and wipe my brow, and
start to pat myself on the back. I should have known the battle was not over.
The only thing I can think of is that you must have completely unzipped your
ass all the way to your elbow. That's the only way I could begin to explain
the lumpy, creamy splashes falling out of your ass into the toilet. It sounds
like you are pouring a gallon of strawberry shakemix with whole strawberries
in it into the shitter. I see the hairs on my arms start to curl from the
horrid stench wafting up from under your stall. I shudder and sway on my
throne, unsure if I will survive.
I have no choice. I must employ the Deal Breaker. I hunker down and clench my
hands together. My fingers twitch and entwine like a nest of snakes, almost
like I am running through a series of ancient Ninja Hand Symbols. My feet lift
up onto the toes and my legs are starting to shake.
"You want to play??" I growl a low moaning comes from my stomach, like a
dinosaur calling into a swampy, foggy night. "YOU GOT IT! AAAAAAHHHHHH!"
Like Cloud summoning The Knights of the Round in Final Fantasy 7, I summon the
Excalibur of Turd Demons to destroy my enemy. Hot magma-like shit rockets out
of my ass, releasing a noxious, sticky cloud of deadly recal perfume. I hear
you gag and see your feet shuffle around, but you can't get away, can you? No.
You can't.
Veins throb on my neck and temples as the turd monster tears itself from my
bowels. My lips skin back from my now clenched teeth and I try not to scream.
Your roll of toilet paper rolls into my stall. You must have torn it from the
wall with numb fingers in an attempt to "Wipe and Scoot". Too late. MUCH too
late!
Odors pound you with merciless fists: Rotten Fruitcake stuffed with boiled
chicken ***holes. Hammered shit-logs served on a bed of week old white rice.
Rosie O'Donnel's rancid crotch farts. The smell of your mom's dank, hairy
Middle Eastern armpits.
Your stall door bangs open and you stagger out. You take three unsteady steps
to the door and can barely open it wide enough to slip out. I laugh at you
before you leave. "Yeah! RUN, ****er!" I yell, and laugh again. You say
nothing.
It's all over except for the clean up. **** with me again, you shit filled
Anal Terrorist. Me and my ass will be waiting for you.
| |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/29/2008 9:21:37 AM | bahahahahaha
most of that write is just too damn disgusting to repeat [you painted the picture well, my friend]
but these words....lol..:
"AAaaaaaaaRRRRRGGGHHH!" I yell, as I drop Big Tim. That's short for "Big
Timber" ... AKA "Mississippi Mountain Butt Log".
bahahahahaha
thx for the laugh! | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/29/2008 5:53:38 PM | awww shucks....
my favorite part is..
The tuba fart I unleash echoes off the walls and shrinks my waistline about an inch. The guy at the urinal laughs as I slap the wall between you and I and say "Back to YOU, Kajid!"....
thanks...
| |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/29/2008 6:30:57 PM | excuse me you dropped your bible....
I was walking down the sidewalk the other day on church street and you, a very good looking woman from what I could tell from the backside, suddenly tripped and stumbled and dropped what appeared to be the Holy Bible, as you were bent over to pick it up, and through no fault of my own, I saw your fluorescent pink thong...and wow I was moved.
I know Jesus spent some time with Mary Magdalene, and likely she wore next to nothing under those sackcloths, but I have to admit, your short skirt and fluorescent pink thong were way way sexier, and made me want to get to "know" you much better, in the Biblical sense, of course.
I'm not very Christian-like, but if we can stick to the basic 10 Commandments and leave the Pope out of it, I think we'll be ok.
Oh, by the way, I was the tall, tan, short-haired, aethiest gentleman walking
right behind you with a boner.
Peace... | |
|
| |
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/29/2008 6:46:20 PM | yanno...
i had debated on wearing a sackcloth at one point
but it burst into flames when i dropped my joint
I also came to the conclusion
that if my thongs caused confusion
then, i needed to pull my pants up
before i said to the atheist "what's up?"
you silly rabbit
short skirts are for flirts
that, fo sho, wasn't me
it was some other chickadee
oh...and leave the pope out of this
he has nothing to do with asses you need to kiss
| |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/30/2008 7:47:16 AM | Phuck Me Pumps...
Mind you, these were for my lover, friend, and confidant, all rolled into one gorgeous, feisty pixie of a woman who told me she could use a little boost while standing at the dais and delivering an address to over-glorified dignitary types. So, to all the amorous POF perverts out there, please refrain from emailing me with graphic descriptions of how you want to “do” me while I wear them, OK? Sheesh.
I was alone on New Years Day last year, so I hopped on my Harley and hit the Local Shopping Center, figuring there must be a special Phuck Me Pumps department hidden somewhere in Needless Markup‘s, (the names have been changed to protect the innocent) or one of those other upscale dumps for people with more money than brains (that excludes me of course, as it’s blatantly obvious I have neither).
I hit the top of the escalator at NM and was met by a guy carefully eyeing whether I was NM material or not. Either that or he had ideas about how he’d dress me, because it appeared he was undressing me, until he addressed me, that is.
Granted, a guy wearing river sandals, ripped shorts and a t-shirt from a 1970 Grateful Dead concert doesn’t exactly look like the NM type, but when Grover T Salesman asked me if he could help me in a way that made the word help sound like it had at least 3 or 4 syllables, as in
“May I he…ell…..lll....pppp you?”, I had no choice, so I quickly went on the offensive.
“Sure, where are the auto parts?” I asked.
“I’m sorry Sir, we don’t carry auto parts”, Grover responded, again with way too many syllables for his own good.
“OK then, skip the auto parts. Where do you keep the Phuck Me Pumps?”
“Excuuuuuuse me? This is NM and we do not carry thooossse sorts of things here.”
“What? Is there something wrong with Phuck Me Pumps? I mean, hey, I’m a red-blooded male, and when I see a woman with well defined calves and great legs wearing Phuck Me Pumps I just want to drop to my knees, start at the bottom and spend a considerable time working my way up to the top. You get my drift, Grover?”
“Sir, I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave the store, the other customers are clearly uncomfortable with your rather lewd and crass behavior.”
“She’s not”, I said, nodding towards the very pretty woman browsing the scanty apparel department a few feet away, And who was clearly grinning ear to ear and chuckling.
“SIR!” Grover stammered. (with way to little syllables this time).
“OK. OK, I gotcha I’m leaving. So Grover, is there a place in the mall that you could recommend for a pair of Phuck Me Pumps???... Surely you must wear a pair every now and then if you work in a place like this. They must Phuck you over pretty good here.”
“GET OUT!” Grover zealously sprayed with an exasperating scream.
“Thanks for sharing Bro, you’ve been more than helpful..”
Down the escalator I went, with the chuckling woman not far behind me. She called to me once I was outside, and offered to help me find the perfect heels. While we walked across to Spacy’s she quizzed me on my tastes, and my motives. By coincidence, she also had size 6-1/2 feet, the exact same size as my delightfully delicious lover.
Things went a little smoother at Spacy’s. My new best friend from NM modeled every pair I asked to see. She offered advice, and her opinions. I settled on a very sexy red polka dot pair with bows and long spiked heels, and as we walked out of the store she asked me what I was going to do with my friend after I presented them to her.
As I walked her back to my bike, I told her honestly, and in great detail, of every move, every touch, and every place my lips would soon be visiting.
“Wow what a Lucky girl”, she said, laughing and smiling flirtatiously.
“Yes, and an even luckier me“. shyly digging my boot into the asphalt with a childish grin
“ Well, she is certainly lucky to have found a Man like you” as she climbed into her car.
”Thanks!” I said and then she drove away.
Packing the new Pumps into my saddle bags I couldn’t help but grin…
I love it when a plan comes together, don’t you?
| |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/31/2008 8:56:12 AM | dicen su tu cumpleaños
su mi cumpleaños también
Dices que es tu cumpleaños que es mi cumpleaños también--dicen sí que es tu cumpleaños que vamos a tener un buen rato estoy alegre él soy tu cumpleaños feliz cumpleaños.
Vamos sí a un partido del partido que vamos sí a un partido del partido vamos sí a un partido del partido
Quisiera que bailaras--el cumpleaños toma un amigo-amigo-amigo-ocasión-cumpleaños que quisiera que bailaras--danza del cumpleaños
Dices que es tu pozo del cumpleaños que es mi cumpleaños también--dices sí que es tu cumpleaños que vamos a tener un buen rato estoy alegre él soy tu cumpleaños feliz cumpleaños.
yeah yeah yeah.......
una flor no tiene miedo del mundo.
perfeccionar en su forma… impresionante en su belleza su no pide que la ames…
haces ya….
su no hace el primp o preen…
o vuelta hacia adelante y atrás.
su no necesita.
su magnificencia es pura….
| |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 10/31/2008 9:03:27 AM | sol en cualquie dosis trae felicidad en todos toca feliz cumpleaños, sol
Espero que su día esté llenado de sol al igual que su alma, love... | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 11/2/2008 6:02:13 AM | To My Dearest Proctologist,
I visited you a couple of weeks ago. You were exceedingly busy so I was shown to a room to await your arrival. By the time you rolled in, it was 50 minutes past my scheduled appointment time but...oh MY LORD! When I slapped eyes on you, I'd have forgiven you anything! At that precise moment, wouldn't you know it, I was checking my grill in the tiny over-the-sink mirror, making hideous faces looking for any hint of lunchtime broccoli. Not an exactly auspicious start to our relationship.
You, however, were a complete professional and pretended not to notice. As you walked to your desk I couldn't help but notice your ass looked fantastic in those purple scrubs. Where do you work out? If you tell me, I'll make every effort not to let you know I'm stalking you. You turned and smiled...probably caught my eyes glued to your backside. That smile - perfect! (and indeed, just right for nibbling my nibble-able parts) You made eye contact - most assuredly difficult when you had to know that I was going almost cross-eyed trying not to gawk at your cleavage
So, we sat and had our discussion. You droning on about the procedure (I'll admit, I have absolutely no clue what to expect on the Big Day) and me nodding brightly and trying to extrapolate exactly what your mixed-race origins might be. To your parents I say: Well done! You cooked up the genes just right.
After about 30 minutes with you and the wonderfully graphic poster you utilized to try to scare the bejeezus out of me, it was time for us to part ways. I departed sadly but with hope in my heart! Because I know that in just a few short weeks I will once again be privileged by your presence at my bedside.
Turns out that you, my Doctor-With-the-Most-Fabulous-Ass, will be the very same doctor who will shove a camera up mine. As I am a fan of some backdoor fun - mind you, only infrequently and on special occasions - I am chagrined to admit that I fear my upcoming meeting with you again. The camera is *gasp* the size of a small pickle and dare I speculate that the initial thrust might cause me to cry out your name in ecstasy?!
I shall endeavor not to come. But just in case, throw me a double-barreled shot of that crap that's supposed to knock my ass out and cause temporary amnesia because I sure as hell don't want to remember acting like a porn star while I'm being violated for medical reasons.
On second thought, please take the amnesia-crap yourself so you won't remember if I make a lewd pass at you during the procedure. Probably you won't be turned on if you're looking at my intestines on the monitor. I'd much rather have you remember me fondly.
Your devoted patient.
 | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 11/2/2008 6:41:41 AM | even though my spanish
is rustier
than my x's 85 izuzu
still sitting in my driveway
let me give it a try
¿Nació usted en Halloween
entre los duendes y fantasmas?
feliz cumpleaños a ti
cañón de la marihuana
feliz cumpleaños a ti
(oh and hc...just relax...the procedure isn't all that bad...just close your eyes, keep your mouth shut (!)
and pretend!!) | |
|
| Hash' s Hause ....
Posted: 11/4/2008 8:54:15 PM | Way back in Febuary
Hash saw Obama as our
Next President
And now I believe
A change will come
Finally a voice
Of the people
Mark this day
History is made
USA | |
|
|
| Page 3 of 6
|
1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 |
|
Home
login 
Too funny, I knew our food had to be good for something besides growing over 100 year old humans
