As for Me and My Century

By Refried Bean

Happy Groundhog's Day, everyone. This book is a tell-all journey to the frontiers of rudeness, reminiscent of why some people don't appreciate a free ticket to Shropshire.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Refried Bean
• Release date: Feb 2, 2021
• ISBN: 9781005761110

Refried Bean

Refried Bean is from Greenville, SC. Refried worked in a bookstore for twelve years and has an M.F.A. in Writing from Vermont College of Fine Arts. Refried now lives in the Bronx near a Stop and Shop.

Book preview

Contents

Inaugural Poem II

New Years Resolutions

The History of Ultimate Galactic Wars

Poems

3 More Poems

Above all else

The Gospel

If You Don't Know What This Means

Diet For The New Continuum

Poem

Jeopardy Faggot Crap

Home Poems

FBI Poem

Theology Treatise

Whitey and the Man

Museum Writing

Comedy Routine in Progress

Place Prompt

As For Me and My Century

Where’s the cash

Thank You For Calling CVS Pharmacy

A Time Travel Story

This is Art

Dear Self

Create a Utopia

Happy Groundhog's Day

Judgement Day Case Management

Whiteness versus Witness

Nation vs. Discrimination

Peace Mission

Food Ministry Paper

Link and Chart

That We Would Be Called Children of God

All the Jews will be Saved

This is Why I am Catholic

Eternal York T-shirt

A Very Indulgent Culture

Bible Study

Things That Make Me Feel Cross

Combined Blog Posts

Why I Am Sometimes Genuinely Not Grateful

Abusing by Refusing

Racism Pie Chart

Way To Go, Everyone!

Complex Trauma

God probably doesn't love Joe Biden

Political Racism

Violence is Violence

Channeling Self Harm

Now Things Can Go Back To Normal

Shock and Dismay

Facing Reality

Idea for Facebook

Shark Attack

Trending

The Wages of Unfair Wages

Fighting the System When You Are the System

When to Sort Things Out

The Green Blob

By the Time Anyone Reads This I Will Be Drinking Coffee

A Reading from the Cheese-o-meter

A Very Dave Thanksgiving

Happy Day After Groundhog's Day

Gallbladder Mascot

Young Life Essay

PP63

Inaugural Poem II

Obama is my favorite president.

i think they should rename Alabama

Alobama.

obama gave us a health care bill

the other presidents just made us ill.

abraham lincoln wasnt that bad.

james madison did not make me too mad.

but some presidents say words like pre-existing conditions,

when really the goal should have been reparitions

That is why I am voting for bernie

to take all the cash that the rich people earnie.

New Years Resolutions

i have a problem wasting food

and doing bad too much.

I waste the cheese and then the cream

and then the such and such.

but there is proof that i am not

as bad as it all sounds

i can't have wasted everything

to be 200 pounds.

The History of Ultimate Galactic Wars

I am going to reach for the stars with this poem.

The literal stars in recently discovered galaxy G657,

a spiral galaxy with blue and bright nebulas,

which also have some planets.

On one of the planets

a nice being named Sunfonaloo is writing a poem

similar to this one.

She is saying that she will also reach for the stars

and write about someone named me writing this poem.

Sunfonaloo, how are you doing today.

Sunfonaloo: In our culture we don't interupt people

when they are writing poems.

Well I apologize, Sunny, next time I'll send a missile.

Sunny's people are now preparing to attack planet earth.

But we will be gone by then,

already migrated to a certain planet in Galaxy 657,

and we will have changed our names to things like

Sunfonaloo. Sunfonaloo, how did your poem turn out?

Sunfonaloo: Well I just copied one I wrote on earth

a long time ago when I lived there.

It was a poem about reaching for the stars.

Oh how nice, Sunny, it seems that you copied me.

That is why we plotted to destroy your planet

and you guys defended yourselves by attacking us

so we migrated to your galaxy and then

it turns out that it was us all along.

Who are you going to blame now Sunny.

Sunny you should try not to bother anyone next time

and just write a nice little poem like this.

Poem 

what if you went to 

A mock Christmas party

Where everyone ate cookies and punch 

Sarcastically

Poem

Stores should make video cameras

that are also guns

Poem

What if you named your pet guinea pig

grandmother

Poem

Philosophy club

What if God is playing God.

bad mothers 

When life is 

Like an obstacle course

Slightly misaligned

So you always get the opposite of what you work for

Ten o’clock chicken stock

If I ever work in a hospital

I am going to fall down every day for attention

Above all else

Our hearts are lands under seige.

Whose side will we take

When someone is in torment,

Or just bad.

Would we not want to be a battle hero

Shielding someone

From an army of spears?

To Spare a spear

Spear the spares

Spur the spire.

the gospel

God died

And we found out

We are included in his will

the aggressive community

Of intellectual challenge

It actually is both things.

I have to play stupid to talk to you

And I genuinely don’t understand

Because you’re an idiot

my Indian name:

Not thankful enough for vegetables

If you don't know what this means

pen name: sour grapes

diagnosis: racism

It's an interesting narrative that almost makes as much sense as any one of my hundred stories that tell the truth instead.

No one is saying the thing I am keeping to myself except maybe it is a key factor in my own vision and acceptance of the persecution.

To turn in my overlapping economies, a dearest discovery exchanged for one world where it's all cash, all blessings, and the most outrageous insult, the intolerable injustice of a third lost chunk of transcendent life and ultimate contribution is really unmerely the most exquisite gun metal dice set available to a post corruption immortal like myself, and an indestructible treasure that can and will be rolled to allow for an extra turn in heaven's game with a route through the mountains of corporation freedom joke world fifty five. What does this mean. What am I talking about. You don't spend your life working for the benefit of the people just to have some weasel swindle the world with a false paycheck or a whip or video, or a bathroom monitor reminiscent of the wrong song dead fire zapper.

When no weapon formed means all weapons formed, then someone has a problem, and I wont be a fool to assume no dice, no lice, thanks gice.

diet for the new continuum

taking a turn for the radical

doing some work for sabbatical

this is a rhyme that chose to stay

and be a part of quite a day

when all my innards cramped within

to say they know where food has been.

but i am doing fine right now

and ate some beans and rice and cow.

next time be more calm and nice.

and drink some water with your ice.

poem

you dont have to concede, you dont have to secede.

you dont have to exceed, you dont have to expel or repel.

you can just be a presbyterian.

it sounds complicated but that is so it will be a surprise

when you find out you dont have to do anything.

like not even clean your apartment

do dishes

care about anyone

or stop the inappropriate fixation on mice and rodents

which might have been the secret all along anyway.

God is saying to everyone

I told you not to squawk wrong

or say you don't want a birthday present on halloween.

I will think of something to say, too,

like how am i and how are you.

now i say the code once more

thats 5168234.

it unlocks a building near

down the street on second pier.

there are treasures, food and ham

unless i'm joking which I am.

Jeopardy Faggot Crap

blue nazis raping christian teens.

that is what everyone is paying for.

green slime from the new york times

delivered to your doorstep.

you share an ad on facebook

but they change it to something else

when it posts,

just to show who's in charge:

the noids from dominoes pizza.

i knew when i saw them on tv as a kid

and that is why i added some parables to the bible.

the one about winning plinko

on price is right,

spinning the wheel,

one dollar,

the showcase showdown.

winning it all

as long as you promise not to hell.

What makes a home a home

A home is a home when the rooms are not clean,

When walls have some dents and the window’s unseen,

The carpet has splatters and tables are filled

When messes are everywhere-- stuff is all spilled.

I’ll say what I’ll say without being constricted,

A home’s most a home once we all get evicted.

My apartment

Moldy soup, mice, half eaten candy on the floor,

If I write a poem about my apartment,

It