Huge bomb planned
Barbie not just a doll
Did a big boom hit antartica?
In a groundbreaking intellectual-property decision, the court ruled 8-0 that, while Barbie has achieved a distinctiveness within the doll world, that does not give Mattel the right to prevent very different businesses from using the name. Standing behind a metal barricade police put up to seal off the court entrance, women dressed in burkas rubbed each other’s backs to console one another. It's important to note that this part of the story is informed speculation; confirmation's going to have to await drilling in the area and examining sediments from that time period in the hope of detecting clear indications of the impact.
women dressed
this part of the story
going to have to await drilling
Punched Upwards with Ninja Nation
That the aliens consider us, and our story, so that when I guffaw, weeks fall away, it all becomes dream...
We're marching up Everest, Tundra, and Excellent English and I. Light is a way of life, except that it's not always there. The caves of ice seem especially... but I lack the word. You don't see many trees here in the defying. Sudden the charm of fissure, I mean colossal crevasses, like I could email you pronto if I only had the spirit. We could be dead, enough so, at least, to lift the veil. I mention this to comrades and we all laugh, prone to shakiness. Death isn't as cheerful as the last three movies we saw. I mean I saw, alone in the dark. They, they were elsewhere in mind. Just fitting distraction into lifestyle. But now the top mountain in all annals of top mountains, earthside division. It's the top of tallness, the highest above sea level sequencing that we can find on foot. Oh my gawd I fall from a plane, on wings of plain fear turning into greater fear and towards the end some greatness called death... No wait, I have daydreamed these particulars, in my defying of present momentum. Upward thru the surge that is read about in annals. You know annals, a way of gathering. Up we went, and going on. The script is clear but we are cold to possible nth or more, like we could ever need to sacrifice. How scary in the code! Tundra, staggering and cold is staggering and cold upside the slope. Excellent English as well, and I must be me, tho it is hard to tell. The unslaking snow bunching in the midst of dire storm confuses central heating. We'd all like to be home again, not so lost and aft of the hope. When we huddle as we need to huddle, it is without the support of Yeti. So we think but who knows. Our noses freeze, our eyes see spaces, our heart's only register. There could be love in the world, tho if we were reading the book we'd see Nepal and Tibet subsumed. Sad thing, farmed out. But again, to reiterate, the process got us. We're bound and I'm telling you. But if this is lack of love, and some economic stricture controls life as lived in life, then what the fuck, both generally and specifically? How doth this desolation allow such crunching of numbers while we struggle, and we're only three in the scheme but the balance holds all. We may gain the summit--possibly that's not to tell--but here the questions are mayhem. Certain features seem duct taped to certain features, with security composed of numbers derived laterally from growth market emergence. Ouch! I hurt my only other leg! And Tundra, and Excellent English and winding down the story until we hit the top. A beauty of a view, above clouds, like that's our own singular nature. And the storm pulls back for our breathing. And we get a long goodbye out, then gravity's our friend and enemy both. I'm telling you this story in time. In time, see, while all else. Believe me, there's a war on the world, somewhere. And those catholic tastes taking over. And those lost children adding up as mischief in the stats. Ouch! Another leg is like the other! And I'm dreaming Polynesian, just a sly coconut in the morning, a smashing gulp, and hush of waves on seaside. and planned non-obsolescence in the paradise parade feature of dreaming. Paris Hilton ventured to make this happen. PARIS HILTON of the explanation of glory, mercantile style. And Tom Cruise pulls et cetera from what is called the bag. And then I might say we're done, pulled life isn't such a package. I'll just need to see you later, when I've put the equal in. Everest as I imagine it still controls the weight.
We're marching up Everest, Tundra, and Excellent English and I. Light is a way of life, except that it's not always there. The caves of ice seem especially... but I lack the word. You don't see many trees here in the defying. Sudden the charm of fissure, I mean colossal crevasses, like I could email you pronto if I only had the spirit. We could be dead, enough so, at least, to lift the veil. I mention this to comrades and we all laugh, prone to shakiness. Death isn't as cheerful as the last three movies we saw. I mean I saw, alone in the dark. They, they were elsewhere in mind. Just fitting distraction into lifestyle. But now the top mountain in all annals of top mountains, earthside division. It's the top of tallness, the highest above sea level sequencing that we can find on foot. Oh my gawd I fall from a plane, on wings of plain fear turning into greater fear and towards the end some greatness called death... No wait, I have daydreamed these particulars, in my defying of present momentum. Upward thru the surge that is read about in annals. You know annals, a way of gathering. Up we went, and going on. The script is clear but we are cold to possible nth or more, like we could ever need to sacrifice. How scary in the code! Tundra, staggering and cold is staggering and cold upside the slope. Excellent English as well, and I must be me, tho it is hard to tell. The unslaking snow bunching in the midst of dire storm confuses central heating. We'd all like to be home again, not so lost and aft of the hope. When we huddle as we need to huddle, it is without the support of Yeti. So we think but who knows. Our noses freeze, our eyes see spaces, our heart's only register. There could be love in the world, tho if we were reading the book we'd see Nepal and Tibet subsumed. Sad thing, farmed out. But again, to reiterate, the process got us. We're bound and I'm telling you. But if this is lack of love, and some economic stricture controls life as lived in life, then what the fuck, both generally and specifically? How doth this desolation allow such crunching of numbers while we struggle, and we're only three in the scheme but the balance holds all. We may gain the summit--possibly that's not to tell--but here the questions are mayhem. Certain features seem duct taped to certain features, with security composed of numbers derived laterally from growth market emergence. Ouch! I hurt my only other leg! And Tundra, and Excellent English and winding down the story until we hit the top. A beauty of a view, above clouds, like that's our own singular nature. And the storm pulls back for our breathing. And we get a long goodbye out, then gravity's our friend and enemy both. I'm telling you this story in time. In time, see, while all else. Believe me, there's a war on the world, somewhere. And those catholic tastes taking over. And those lost children adding up as mischief in the stats. Ouch! Another leg is like the other! And I'm dreaming Polynesian, just a sly coconut in the morning, a smashing gulp, and hush of waves on seaside. and planned non-obsolescence in the paradise parade feature of dreaming. Paris Hilton ventured to make this happen. PARIS HILTON of the explanation of glory, mercantile style. And Tom Cruise pulls et cetera from what is called the bag. And then I might say we're done, pulled life isn't such a package. I'll just need to see you later, when I've put the equal in. Everest as I imagine it still controls the weight.
squeeze
.
squeeze
yer brain
between fir
& follow
a sickening feeling
your body
cut
.
the angry one
come
to
steal
.
squeeze
yer brain
between fir
& follow
a sickening feeling
your body
cut
.
the angry one
come
to
steal
.
Limp secret
* Limp with music.
*The house of the crickets!
*An inch to keep silent itself.
*TERROR.
*Infinite cries of rabbits.
*You do not want a lesson-house-lie of it?
*Out of compartment, limestone rocks.
*The Mistress is irons.
*Exquelettes with the cultivated attic.
*My garden content with the plant with snake.
*I jumped in the sky.
* With the same false step of the erudite black.
*In fact and then I killed the boy who crushed the cricket.
*A trip of bed will start to make cry the dreams.
ch 2 Further Chapters of Change
Republican is change of iniquity, I realized. it is now a day later, or hours, some expression of time being important. I await clues, ways to understand the economic situation in which colliding worlds distinguish themselves with wordless slices of very bad knives. 16Greezl’po, my comrade from another galaxy, must still be engaged in the reliant fight while I am greedily Republican, so much so that my favourite accounting firm burns with menace. the aliens who now live in me—processing elegant 4-colour reports, spinning prospectuses and terrible bar graphs—constitute a right, a fair market value, a general upturn. shall I plunder the tokens and peer down the hatchway, expecting death to be an answer? I am confused as entity, for life cannot match my lack of expression. I’ve become more Republican than explanation; the maw owns me completely. what would residuals be like, paid promptly, owing only a percentage of the take or recent trends? if only I could treasure a pension plan, and know that my misdeeds are truly my friends. everything resembles an orderly retreat, except that I am under the sway of my new Republicanism. I am my own enemy, tho that verges on absurdity, that ever-delinquent fund-trusting-past-preparation-and-tax-shelter-expertise. what use can be made of that? a dank defile holds fast against the incursions of Democrats, who rate wrath as a by-product of our work. when such rationalism expires, in newly-created-for-time-is-a-slippery-friend terms, I expect the party will build new fences, new waste management projects, new tax rebates. I know 16Greezl’po adds numbers now, and that must be a strange experience, for numbers are new to this fine alien creature. we Republicans are fed up with being busy while the snaky injunctions from court-appointed-clearing-up-matters throw us into confusion. we need names listed properly, and vicious enemies to defeat savagely, as a process of reformation. the vote will go straight, tho alien invaders take us to task. I am anxious to hear if the tax cut got pushed thru. if so, what hole would take it? pressure builds to allow, if there really are more ways to skin this same old cat. I am stuck now in language, changing damage into integrity, and telling my friends that where I eat dinner matters. these people, they are my golfing buddies. my excuse resembles this visible portage, the one that brings me to the next river on. still newer aliens will revive me if I fade.
Ch. 1 Enter Planetary Laughing
I am caught in a one-of-those-tractor-beam-deals, I cried into the talk-from-far-away-device. 16Greezl’po, can you help me?
errant claims are being made from within and too often, my comrade replied over his talk-from-far-away-device. I could hear an edge to his speaking ability.
you mean?
yes, he replied, terse as was his from-beyond-the-stars-type-alien-nature, commerce at the heart.
then it is alien mysteries, and the end is near.
that it is, my Earthling friend. gone is the freshened colour of your Earthling dawn.
sorry stood out in his voice replication. a moment of truth. I feel fear and loathing, and I need a shave.
so we’re talking desperate times here, in space, or the space between spaces. I am associated with the-Earth’s-prominent-forces-of-good. as a trained spaces-hopping-operative-working-for-the-forces-of-good, I’ve been transliterated into the past and future, both, to help my planet, Earth-3rd-stone-from-the-sun. I number among the top execs of the Galactic Rocket Patrol, and doing my duty is doing my life. in this day when rationalism explains even the blank stare of the sun, the forces of evil have become especially nasty, even socially viable. fortunately Earth has allies, like my friend 16Greezl’po, from a marvelous world called X-Planet-toomy. strange indeed are the ways there—I would like to tell just how strange—but still there is possible conjunction. and when evil lifts its head in an ugly roar to disturb our peace, me and 16Greezl’po move swiftly like one idea in defense of the forces of good. and that’s where we stand, or fly, with an enemy one-of-those-tractor-beam-deals pulling me.
my little-scooter-type-ship-that-is-very quick is about to be swallowed by the enemy’s freighter-sort-of-extra-big-flight-machine. the freighter-sort-of-extra-big-flight-machine is as big as a catastrophe, and twice as expensive. it means business, I know, and that is never good.
I’m entering the onion, I said calmly into the talk-from-far-away-device, hoping 16Greezl’po would hear my last words. then the talk-from-far-away-device went dead. the enemy had me; I was now a Republican.
errant claims are being made from within and too often, my comrade replied over his talk-from-far-away-device. I could hear an edge to his speaking ability.
you mean?
yes, he replied, terse as was his from-beyond-the-stars-type-alien-nature, commerce at the heart.
then it is alien mysteries, and the end is near.
that it is, my Earthling friend. gone is the freshened colour of your Earthling dawn.
sorry stood out in his voice replication. a moment of truth. I feel fear and loathing, and I need a shave.
so we’re talking desperate times here, in space, or the space between spaces. I am associated with the-Earth’s-prominent-forces-of-good. as a trained spaces-hopping-operative-working-for-the-forces-of-good, I’ve been transliterated into the past and future, both, to help my planet, Earth-3rd-stone-from-the-sun. I number among the top execs of the Galactic Rocket Patrol, and doing my duty is doing my life. in this day when rationalism explains even the blank stare of the sun, the forces of evil have become especially nasty, even socially viable. fortunately Earth has allies, like my friend 16Greezl’po, from a marvelous world called X-Planet-toomy. strange indeed are the ways there—I would like to tell just how strange—but still there is possible conjunction. and when evil lifts its head in an ugly roar to disturb our peace, me and 16Greezl’po move swiftly like one idea in defense of the forces of good. and that’s where we stand, or fly, with an enemy one-of-those-tractor-beam-deals pulling me.
my little-scooter-type-ship-that-is-very quick is about to be swallowed by the enemy’s freighter-sort-of-extra-big-flight-machine. the freighter-sort-of-extra-big-flight-machine is as big as a catastrophe, and twice as expensive. it means business, I know, and that is never good.
I’m entering the onion, I said calmly into the talk-from-far-away-device, hoping 16Greezl’po would hear my last words. then the talk-from-far-away-device went dead. the enemy had me; I was now a Republican.
sin título
Al encontrarme
la noche
el abrazo
más allá del desvelo
el abrazo
la humedad
calles y recovecos
la humedad
la boca
dentro del recinto
la boca
el rechazo
vacío divino
el rechazo
la noche
la noche
el abrazo
más allá del desvelo
el abrazo
la humedad
calles y recovecos
la humedad
la boca
dentro del recinto
la boca
el rechazo
vacío divino
el rechazo
la noche
On The Road
Been out on the road again. Readings, workshops and Travelodges.
Here's one from a 9 year old in Kirk Merrington, County Durham:
men working
in the street
red hot
Jessica
Click here for more from Kirk Merrington
LO
Here's one from a 9 year old in Kirk Merrington, County Durham:
men working
in the street
red hot
Jessica
Click here for more from Kirk Merrington
LO
Early Pornography, Probably Colonial
Sluts in Shoe-Buckles
Our Pounding Fathers
Priscilla Does Plymouth
Spanksgiving
Our Pounding Fathers
Priscilla Does Plymouth
Spanksgiving
To Mexico:
A small slip
Of white
Lined
Paper
Written in script
“Cursive” we called it
A missive
I call it now
Postmarked
The only way
To spirit
Is to burn
Smoke
Sifts upward
Sand
Through fingers
Let him
His whole plane
Fly safe today
My sweet
Son
Of white
Lined
Paper
Written in script
“Cursive” we called it
A missive
I call it now
Postmarked
The only way
To spirit
Is to burn
Smoke
Sifts upward
Sand
Through fingers
Let him
His whole plane
Fly safe today
My sweet
Son
38 Daily Nothings
April 24, 2006: Nothing is better than something empty
April 25, 2006: Nothing looks good on some people
April 26, 2006: Nothing adventured, nothing regained
April 27, 2006: Some things don’t mean nothing
April 28, 2006: Nothing really matters to me
April 29, 2006: At least this is better than nothing
April 30, 2006: Nothing is more frightening than a tidy life
May 1, 2006: Nothing matters more than this
May 2, 2006: Nothing matters
May 3, 2006: Nothing is worth fighting for
May 4, 2006: Nihilists believe in nothing
May 5, 2006: Nothing lives forever
May 6, 2006: Sometimes a cigar means nothing
May 7, 2006: There is nothing in a void but a void is more than nothing
May 8, 2006: Nothing compares to ewe
May 9, 2006: It’s not always easy to have nothing to say
May 10, 2006: Nothing, nothing, all day long
May 11, 2006: Nothing runs like a dear
May 12, 2006: Nothing is as important as it seems to be
May 13, 2006: Nothing succeeds like excess, nothing sucks ass like success
May 14, 2006: Those who ask for nothing are seldom disappointed
May 15, 2006: Nothing is as nothing does
May 16, 2006: There is no thing in nothing but nothing is something
May 17, 2006: There is nothing to anything anymore
May 18, 2006: There is nothing on the horizon and nothing under the sun
May 19, 2006: I’m a lucky guy; I’ve got nothing going for me
May 20, 2006: There's nothing quite like the mental image of two chimps in tuxedos fighting over nothing
May 21, 2006: Nothing never happens
May 22, 2006: Nothing says "I love you" like angel's breath
May 23, 2006: Nothing costs more than you think
May 24, 2006: I’m living for nothing now
May 25, 2006: Who has nothing but has something or else what?
May 26, 2006: Nothing does not exist in a vacuum
May 27, 2006: Nothing vexed, nothing gamed
May 28, 2006: Nothing can bother some people less
May 29, 2006: It began by saying nothing and it ended by having nothing to say
May 30, 2006: Just say nothing
May 31, 2006: N o t h i n g
April 25, 2006: Nothing looks good on some people
April 26, 2006: Nothing adventured, nothing regained
April 27, 2006: Some things don’t mean nothing
April 28, 2006: Nothing really matters to me
April 29, 2006: At least this is better than nothing
April 30, 2006: Nothing is more frightening than a tidy life
May 1, 2006: Nothing matters more than this
May 2, 2006: Nothing matters
May 3, 2006: Nothing is worth fighting for
May 4, 2006: Nihilists believe in nothing
May 5, 2006: Nothing lives forever
May 6, 2006: Sometimes a cigar means nothing
May 7, 2006: There is nothing in a void but a void is more than nothing
May 8, 2006: Nothing compares to ewe
May 9, 2006: It’s not always easy to have nothing to say
May 10, 2006: Nothing, nothing, all day long
May 11, 2006: Nothing runs like a dear
May 12, 2006: Nothing is as important as it seems to be
May 13, 2006: Nothing succeeds like excess, nothing sucks ass like success
May 14, 2006: Those who ask for nothing are seldom disappointed
May 15, 2006: Nothing is as nothing does
May 16, 2006: There is no thing in nothing but nothing is something
May 17, 2006: There is nothing to anything anymore
May 18, 2006: There is nothing on the horizon and nothing under the sun
May 19, 2006: I’m a lucky guy; I’ve got nothing going for me
May 20, 2006: There's nothing quite like the mental image of two chimps in tuxedos fighting over nothing
May 21, 2006: Nothing never happens
May 22, 2006: Nothing says "I love you" like angel's breath
May 23, 2006: Nothing costs more than you think
May 24, 2006: I’m living for nothing now
May 25, 2006: Who has nothing but has something or else what?
May 26, 2006: Nothing does not exist in a vacuum
May 27, 2006: Nothing vexed, nothing gamed
May 28, 2006: Nothing can bother some people less
May 29, 2006: It began by saying nothing and it ended by having nothing to say
May 30, 2006: Just say nothing
May 31, 2006: N o t h i n g
Tozan's Pretzels
A monk asked Tozan when he was eating some pretzels: “What is Buddha?”
Tozan said: “These pretzels are making me thirsty.”
Tozan said: “These pretzels are making me thirsty.”
The Law Is Dumb To Love
The law is dumb to love
It can not accept or deniy
Or regalate its coming and going
Likewise man for all his strength
can not dictate the who or what or why
For love comes and goes as it pleases
To this and that with little warning.
True love catches you up in its embrace
it dose not teasr or long wait
For the right moment to work its magic.
It can not accept or deniy
Or regalate its coming and going
Likewise man for all his strength
can not dictate the who or what or why
For love comes and goes as it pleases
To this and that with little warning.
True love catches you up in its embrace
it dose not teasr or long wait
For the right moment to work its magic.
No use arguing with anytime minutes,
With hardboiled detective fiction,
With monochrome fascination watching
My stiff objects sprawl into the breeze.
Black as night behind the mirror, eons
Huddle-up and make a wide fan,
Like an old fashioned musical finale
Or even a rose. Morning dreams
Are stranger, like feedback loops,
Than the simple signal to noise
Design of a fantasy life. I meant to write
“There is a thread,” but instead wrote
“There is a threat which joins that world
To this.”
With hardboiled detective fiction,
With monochrome fascination watching
My stiff objects sprawl into the breeze.
Black as night behind the mirror, eons
Huddle-up and make a wide fan,
Like an old fashioned musical finale
Or even a rose. Morning dreams
Are stranger, like feedback loops,
Than the simple signal to noise
Design of a fantasy life. I meant to write
“There is a thread,” but instead wrote
“There is a threat which joins that world
To this.”
tHe nEW bEDLAM9*
It appears that psychiatry has come full-circle. Psychopharmythology is now the new Bedlam: chemical restraints in place of the head-box, the therapeutic coffin, insulin shock and ECST, hypothermic baths and solitary confinement, a throw back to the Skinnerian age of behavioural modification and operant conditioning.This painting shows the Bethleham Royal Hospital, London. The first asylum for the insane in England. The word bedlam is derived from the name of the hospital and became a generic term for all asylums and colloquially to mean random disorder or chaos.
Bedlam was infamous for its ill treatment of the inmates, and this picture shows visitors, a man being shackled by the attendants (early nurses?) and the overcrowding and squalor of the hospital during the mid 1700s
war is piss
piss on war
piss on earth and good will
towards women and men and children
...a 3-6-9 haiku
piss on earth and good will
towards women and men and children
...a 3-6-9 haiku
War is Peace
warispeaceiswarispeaceiswarispeace
warispeaceiswarispeaceiswarispeace
warispeaceiswarispeaceiswarispeace
rispeaceiswarispeaceiswarispea
warispeaceiswarispeaceiswarispeace
ispeaceiswarispeaceiswarispe
eiswarispeaceisw
iswarispeaceis
warispeace
warpeace
warp
war
warispeaceiswarispeaceiswarispeace
rispeaceiswarispeaceiswarispea
warispeaceiswarispeaceiswarispeace
ispeaceiswarispeaceiswarispe
eiswarispeaceisw
iswarispeaceis
warispeace
warpeace
warp
war
it could be what the sailor said, namely: the trees have a deference that the sea never offers. one could write that down, thinking of a place where actions resume perfect strictness, and wonder, finally, what energy arises with the sun? the testing becomes prosaic so often, why bother addressing that? here's the situation, simple as flight. a smack of amazement because a squirrel fell 40 feet to land on pavement, land with the suddenness of a moment by itself, and then this strange visionary scampers away, no earth gravity too mighty for the moment of that landing, that crash of real earth. not to answer everything that way, just a tide of amazement because music has timely friends, and they all, like this squirrel, melt along. there was something, you see, about that squirrel's fall from that oak's branch, an impression of a squirrel's time.
I Plays the Piano and Gawd
Kids also don't understand the fees an
penalties.Yoiu miuss the point because
you don't understand your own
ideology. Can you hear the breaking
of people's faith? GAWD! What
were they thinking? I agree with you
that there is a question as to which
"flavour" of English you
have to sign up, or can you just
walk in? i agree that there wasn't
much to us hooking up. Gawd!
can’t you just be sad for the poor
people who are trapped? I do know
Kenny Chesney married Renee
Zellwinger (gawd! can’t spell that
lastname). Gawd, can you imagine what a
hot mess walking Jenna Bush was last
night? Anonymous can only say "right
on!" You assume that your senses are
reliable: Atheists can't quite agree
penalties.Yoiu miuss the point because
you don't understand your own
ideology. Can you hear the breaking
of people's faith? GAWD! What
were they thinking? I agree with you
that there is a question as to which
"flavour" of English you
have to sign up, or can you just
walk in? i agree that there wasn't
much to us hooking up. Gawd!
can’t you just be sad for the poor
people who are trapped? I do know
Kenny Chesney married Renee
Zellwinger (gawd! can’t spell that
lastname). Gawd, can you imagine what a
hot mess walking Jenna Bush was last
night? Anonymous can only say "right
on!" You assume that your senses are
reliable: Atheists can't quite agree
"Tirade"
Je sens bien quand tes tétons dardent,
Que, de remettre le couvert, il te tarde.
Fonçons donc ma belle sous ma mansarde,
Que je te tire, toi, et après sur ma bouffarde.
Tu as aimé l’avoir entre les fesses.
Tu en beuglais de peur que ça cesse.
On est loin des folles de la messe,
Ton con luit sans peur de la sècheresse.
Je sens bien quand tes tétons dardent,
Que, de remettre le couvert, il te tarde.
Fonçons donc ma belle sous ma mansarde,
Que je te tire, toi, et après sur ma bouffarde.
Tu as aimé l’avoir entre les fesses.
Tu en beuglais de peur que ça cesse.
On est loin des folles de la messe,
Ton con luit sans peur de la sècheresse.
Il faudrait l'inventer
Bellerophon says, I am an Answerist,
Knowing that god exists, such difficulty,
While others are busy between their nails of air and crosses of
air, I take the hit.
An answerist, it means more than a clean house and children,
More than a distaste for outsiders,
And much more than ten minutes rapt with the hands where god
can see them,
An answerist, so that bubbling revenge is the preoccupation and fast,
(not having an eternity to negotiate in),
An answerist, and while at first my nerves were evilled by the tangible
taste... better than ever they have come back to me.
An answerist, forced to proclaim the wry face against those
who aim their blows wildly,
Their unfledged eyes useless, knowing their wrong but not
its direction.
An answerist, with clothes among the emperors,
But the eggs I cannot lay, nor milt unfurl, a simple tiny price,
And senescence doesn't hugely gape, nor is cancer round the corner
incessantly,
An answerist, with pleasure zipping my soul to a cheap bodybag, dumped
for the orderlies,
Maybe laid in the ranks of likeminded friends, three or four more, or
even a massacre, would heighten the glee,
At one with god in all its portrayals,
At one with god in all its methods.
Curious to be in spate at society's lowest ebb,
When outrage weakens them, but I am reinforced in my knowing,
An answerist, kinda poignant to be at one with an accurate god while
deacons flounder and popes capsize,
Having the answer to god, well of course god exists, how ever could it not?
How ever could it not be made,
It was made for you.
Knowing that god exists, such difficulty,
While others are busy between their nails of air and crosses of
air, I take the hit.
An answerist, it means more than a clean house and children,
More than a distaste for outsiders,
And much more than ten minutes rapt with the hands where god
can see them,
An answerist, so that bubbling revenge is the preoccupation and fast,
(not having an eternity to negotiate in),
An answerist, and while at first my nerves were evilled by the tangible
taste... better than ever they have come back to me.
An answerist, forced to proclaim the wry face against those
who aim their blows wildly,
Their unfledged eyes useless, knowing their wrong but not
its direction.
An answerist, with clothes among the emperors,
But the eggs I cannot lay, nor milt unfurl, a simple tiny price,
And senescence doesn't hugely gape, nor is cancer round the corner
incessantly,
An answerist, with pleasure zipping my soul to a cheap bodybag, dumped
for the orderlies,
Maybe laid in the ranks of likeminded friends, three or four more, or
even a massacre, would heighten the glee,
At one with god in all its portrayals,
At one with god in all its methods.
Curious to be in spate at society's lowest ebb,
When outrage weakens them, but I am reinforced in my knowing,
An answerist, kinda poignant to be at one with an accurate god while
deacons flounder and popes capsize,
Having the answer to god, well of course god exists, how ever could it not?
How ever could it not be made,
It was made for you.
In Frames
Some things spoken – like the curl of their upper lips
Some things hidden – wary eyes, pleas stilled by a click
An internal dialogue between
2 figures mounted on a wall
Darling, I want to be lost to you. Only you.
Go on, my sweet.
More rivers and oceans were added to our collection
Fragments
of
life
We laughingly called those waters Trouble,
and we named the swimming fish Love.
This was our story
Once, my heart tumbled
and rolled down the ground;
You picked it up and ate it.
You sponged up my blood
and poured it gently into the sea.
You smiled your teeth white, a tooth glimmered with a !ping!
Some things you cannot grasp at all,
You can only stand there
with that 1 spotlight
that illuminates
an illusion
of understanding.
Some things hidden – wary eyes, pleas stilled by a click
An internal dialogue between
2 figures mounted on a wall
Darling, I want to be lost to you. Only you.
Go on, my sweet.
More rivers and oceans were added to our collection
Fragments
of
life
We laughingly called those waters Trouble,
and we named the swimming fish Love.
This was our story
Once, my heart tumbled
and rolled down the ground;
You picked it up and ate it.
You sponged up my blood
and poured it gently into the sea.
You smiled your teeth white, a tooth glimmered with a !ping!
Some things you cannot grasp at all,
You can only stand there
with that 1 spotlight
that illuminates
an illusion
of understanding.
Retracing
The sky is red tonight:
Not the cold, self-righteous red
Of rebellious Novembers;
But a hesitant red, a translucent red
Reminiscent of tired eyes
Like mine that have not slept, have swept
Over the familiar confines of my room,
Its floor coated with the debris of words,
In rain-red nights like this;
Have swept over trains whistling drowsily,
Like old songs that smell of places left behind,
Trying to retrace a path, raindrop by raindrop;
Searching for the still fainter scent of childhood.
Not the cold, self-righteous red
Of rebellious Novembers;
But a hesitant red, a translucent red
Reminiscent of tired eyes
Like mine that have not slept, have swept
Over the familiar confines of my room,
Its floor coated with the debris of words,
In rain-red nights like this;
Have swept over trains whistling drowsily,
Like old songs that smell of places left behind,
Trying to retrace a path, raindrop by raindrop;
Searching for the still fainter scent of childhood.
At The Foot of a Stairway
If everything looks okay, you'll
sooner or later see yourself
raised sooner. we can teach
anyone, even people who
think turn words. one of the
great sandwiches of all time has
swept address. the gym attendent
told me not to go over Gym
length. it is never a good
idea to run dogs without
learned food. Central New Iraqi
Government Has Reached Turning
Point. fire out lady, PUT
OUT THE WORD! promised
benefit girls break, light
spot commits. pride least
occasion and stopping proceeds
spent: you clear? purpose black
occasion. book hat telling
taken benefit. who is near
ran end appearance?
sooner or later see yourself
raised sooner. we can teach
anyone, even people who
think turn words. one of the
great sandwiches of all time has
swept address. the gym attendent
told me not to go over Gym
length. it is never a good
idea to run dogs without
learned food. Central New Iraqi
Government Has Reached Turning
Point. fire out lady, PUT
OUT THE WORD! promised
benefit girls break, light
spot commits. pride least
occasion and stopping proceeds
spent: you clear? purpose black
occasion. book hat telling
taken benefit. who is near
ran end appearance?
Executioner 18
3.
Maybe Bolan
was at least
idealist, no. Realist
and moral questions to hell.
Throughout the United States
into Europe, Britain, and the Caribbean
stunning
one-man guerilla warfare.
He surfaced, and
expressed the simplest of expedients.
His name quickly became
an inexhaustible source of interest
an embarrassing frustration
filled with crawling fear.
Man and his war
determined.
Each small stolen moment
himself
pyramided in geometric progression.
Maybe Bolan
was at least
idealist, no. Realist
and moral questions to hell.
Throughout the United States
into Europe, Britain, and the Caribbean
stunning
one-man guerilla warfare.
He surfaced, and
expressed the simplest of expedients.
His name quickly became
an inexhaustible source of interest
an embarrassing frustration
filled with crawling fear.
Man and his war
determined.
Each small stolen moment
himself
pyramided in geometric progression.
The Church of Poetry, Sex, Lies and Muppets
Pube Muppet meets Shit,
And they have a swell time!
Visions of hot Muppet sex
Dance through my imagination
I'm not going to go fight
The best-fucking muppet ever!!!!!!!!!!!
I love u !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! fucking naked Muppet !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Who wouldn't want to fuck a muppet?
Kermit unpigged on Broadway for example
And wasn’t it implied that Madeline Kahn
Was having sex with that big hairy monster?
Do I need to read books or something
Eating the most delicious bugs, Yum, yum
For Muppet sex hosted by a
Janitor to make sense? that don't sound
Like nipple popout troy mixtape
Update primerica cult to me... the
South African version will feature
An HIV-positive Muppet and
Party games like Shrek Super Party
n.b.: this poem is the 2006 winner of the AHB "Oh Jeez!!!" Award
And they have a swell time!
Visions of hot Muppet sex
Dance through my imagination
I'm not going to go fight
The best-fucking muppet ever!!!!!!!!!!!
I love u !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! fucking naked Muppet !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Who wouldn't want to fuck a muppet?
Kermit unpigged on Broadway for example
And wasn’t it implied that Madeline Kahn
Was having sex with that big hairy monster?
Do I need to read books or something
Eating the most delicious bugs, Yum, yum
For Muppet sex hosted by a
Janitor to make sense? that don't sound
Like nipple popout troy mixtape
Update primerica cult to me... the
South African version will feature
An HIV-positive Muppet and
Party games like Shrek Super Party
n.b.: this poem is the 2006 winner of the AHB "Oh Jeez!!!" Award
Executioner 18
4.
He kept trying
and one day in late spring
America was awakening
a deadly storm came
a human storm
and its name was Bolan.
He kept trying
and one day in late spring
America was awakening
a deadly storm came
a human storm
and its name was Bolan.
aPALEENA*9
In tha ninth canticle uv Dante’s hell, Dis, oar tha Devil, stands ovarabuv souls stukfast in tha ice, thair eyes frozen shut frum thair unrepentant teers. Virgil an Dante clime thair whey up tha Devil’s bode an cum out at tha base uv mownt purgatore. Beatrice aweights Dante’s arrivel on tha top of mownt paradisio, whair tha two will unite an live in peece an harmone for tha rest uv thair mortil lives. An tha crows cawcawcawing; an tha blind man with tha whitestik an tha grey beerd slashing his whey throo tha traffic an up onta tha curb whair he werks his whey doown tha sidewak spitting obsenitees at no one in partikular. Mi sweet Dulcinea throo whoos eyes I see tha beute uv tha cuntreside an tha splendor uv tha oshunsdeep.
An tha goreholes an tha stoones shuttight his eyes frum seeing past his own nose beyawnd this an that an hav cawse for concern wen tha moarning lite flushes tha ski an azyour bloo. An she had a tendence to put needulls in her rms. In the crook uv her lbo just below tha bicept whair tha skin an tissu is tessellated an chikenscratchd with trakmarks; whair tha bloodeed scimshaw an brewsing damages tha integrete uv tha rm itself. What mure can one say? An tha tat-tat-tat; tha crowcalls an tha medo in fullbloom on a laze Saturday afternewn. An Apaleena wild an feral laynaboout on tha sende shyourline with a barrowfull uv apples and cuntful uv plums. Scritch-scratch; tha eenie little sqwerl berying nuts in tha softmudde grund. Murphy an Mulli gain upan aboout on a sunbleecht morning on a winde wetherd day. Young Werther: gunshout woound ta tha hede. Picasso: paynting brush up tha bifirkashun. What mure can one say? Eye am tha living proof uv it all; eye’m tha rejoinder an tha grammeruv itall. Noonevr anuther like tha lest one. That one came too damnd close ta finishing us alloff: had me by tha nek, a garritting and a twisting an tha thums pressed like knots ita meye throoat.
Her mowth lookd like it had been torn inta her face; a rent, a pulpe redmass uv tissu and teeth correcting tha ovarbite uv her jaw. Lips brewzed an scard; no reum for a passhunate kiss; a tongu set cruked in tha dorm uv her mouth, tha rezult uv a violent union uv bone an teeth that had left her disfigyourd an hungre. A crewd manner uv things this fractyourd youth decries. A poor an lonele lifestile that nevr quite manages ta be a life atall. An tha oringe fitcaps an tha rubberhose that mends togethar tha last oppertoonite ta get evrthing rite as rain. Thair is no compromize: its all or nothing. Thair is no sommer rain: its all or evrething. Adinfinitum. For tha luv uv God, no nevr agen; nevr.
An tha goreholes an tha stoones shuttight his eyes frum seeing past his own nose beyawnd this an that an hav cawse for concern wen tha moarning lite flushes tha ski an azyour bloo. An she had a tendence to put needulls in her rms. In the crook uv her lbo just below tha bicept whair tha skin an tissu is tessellated an chikenscratchd with trakmarks; whair tha bloodeed scimshaw an brewsing damages tha integrete uv tha rm itself. What mure can one say? An tha tat-tat-tat; tha crowcalls an tha medo in fullbloom on a laze Saturday afternewn. An Apaleena wild an feral laynaboout on tha sende shyourline with a barrowfull uv apples and cuntful uv plums. Scritch-scratch; tha eenie little sqwerl berying nuts in tha softmudde grund. Murphy an Mulli gain upan aboout on a sunbleecht morning on a winde wetherd day. Young Werther: gunshout woound ta tha hede. Picasso: paynting brush up tha bifirkashun. What mure can one say? Eye am tha living proof uv it all; eye’m tha rejoinder an tha grammeruv itall. Noonevr anuther like tha lest one. That one came too damnd close ta finishing us alloff: had me by tha nek, a garritting and a twisting an tha thums pressed like knots ita meye throoat.
Her mowth lookd like it had been torn inta her face; a rent, a pulpe redmass uv tissu and teeth correcting tha ovarbite uv her jaw. Lips brewzed an scard; no reum for a passhunate kiss; a tongu set cruked in tha dorm uv her mouth, tha rezult uv a violent union uv bone an teeth that had left her disfigyourd an hungre. A crewd manner uv things this fractyourd youth decries. A poor an lonele lifestile that nevr quite manages ta be a life atall. An tha oringe fitcaps an tha rubberhose that mends togethar tha last oppertoonite ta get evrthing rite as rain. Thair is no compromize: its all or nothing. Thair is no sommer rain: its all or evrething. Adinfinitum. For tha luv uv God, no nevr agen; nevr.
This journey
I am a suitcase. My fractals aflame
fulgently. Hope must be a mine field.
A travel schedule of indelible shame.
I am a suitcase with fractals. Aflame
in bitter agony, I recall loves maim.
Tossed and turned, feelings reeled.
I am a suitcase with fractals aflame.
Effulgent hope. I’m my own mine field.
poetry
fulgently. Hope must be a mine field.
A travel schedule of indelible shame.
I am a suitcase with fractals. Aflame
in bitter agony, I recall loves maim.
Tossed and turned, feelings reeled.
I am a suitcase with fractals aflame.
Effulgent hope. I’m my own mine field.
poetry
Lost Etymologies
Through my half-opened window frames,
A single slice of night;
Dripping with moist despondence.
A bough of bougainvilleas
Tremblingly measures out
A violet minuet.
Echoes of rain linger
Like an inverted image,
In the leaves whispering to the night.
Tonight the city sleeps still,
Its dreams washed clean
Of the day's detritus
Perhaps beyond my framed view
The sky is turbid, sullen;
A brooding red
Like a muddied river
Dreaming of horizons once known,
Dotted with the white silence of mountains.
But I see only the flaking wall-yellow
Shivering leaf green, street-lamp white
And transparent silence.
Yet that red river in the sky
Murmurs of the terminals of all the hours
Where I've had my days stamped.
Again the sky begins to weep
Half-unheard rain music
Like Beethoven's Fifth Sonata.
Rain-music crawls, quietly, quietly;
Across my windowpanes
Into the pores of memory
And tells me that my days
Are now full of words
That have lost their etymologies.
A single slice of night;
Dripping with moist despondence.
A bough of bougainvilleas
Tremblingly measures out
A violet minuet.
Echoes of rain linger
Like an inverted image,
In the leaves whispering to the night.
Tonight the city sleeps still,
Its dreams washed clean
Of the day's detritus
Perhaps beyond my framed view
The sky is turbid, sullen;
A brooding red
Like a muddied river
Dreaming of horizons once known,
Dotted with the white silence of mountains.
But I see only the flaking wall-yellow
Shivering leaf green, street-lamp white
And transparent silence.
Yet that red river in the sky
Murmurs of the terminals of all the hours
Where I've had my days stamped.
Again the sky begins to weep
Half-unheard rain music
Like Beethoven's Fifth Sonata.
Rain-music crawls, quietly, quietly;
Across my windowpanes
Into the pores of memory
And tells me that my days
Are now full of words
That have lost their etymologies.
May
Bed is the sweetest place
Getting used to the clean
Sweep, and imagined flakes of soap
I put mouth to arm
Where is the smell of my skin
How long have I had this mattress
Must be in a slump to have this thing so
Powder white, pillow-heaped
The dream freight drags me further
Into the sheets
Rumble, mumble, bunnyhop
But squirreling downunder is what kids do
My bed has lilac breath
And lilacs are why May is sweet
How long until July, and squalor
The stink, the reek, the rank
And my hair held like coral in the seabed
I watch the infinity symbol
Freak up the window opposite
It grows, blows out, every night
A Jesus fish swimming
How now to break out of the sweet bed
For that man my age
For a faint whiff of
But I am honeysuckle girl
And it has all already played out
On the lip of this stage
Bruise and caprice
Was it even this bed
Was it ever this bad
Getting used to the clean
Sweep, and imagined flakes of soap
I put mouth to arm
Where is the smell of my skin
How long have I had this mattress
Must be in a slump to have this thing so
Powder white, pillow-heaped
The dream freight drags me further
Into the sheets
Rumble, mumble, bunnyhop
But squirreling downunder is what kids do
My bed has lilac breath
And lilacs are why May is sweet
How long until July, and squalor
The stink, the reek, the rank
And my hair held like coral in the seabed
I watch the infinity symbol
Freak up the window opposite
It grows, blows out, every night
A Jesus fish swimming
How now to break out of the sweet bed
For that man my age
For a faint whiff of
But I am honeysuckle girl
And it has all already played out
On the lip of this stage
Bruise and caprice
Was it even this bed
Was it ever this bad
Executioner 18
3.
He was
the job.
A peculiarly complex
hardened
little hell called
Bolan.
And he
was
cannibalistic.
Ever-advancing cancer
Bolan was.
But equipped to handle
a holy mission.
Bolan was no philosopher.
One of
his ice-blue eyes:
face
that
jungle.
Bolan’s understanding
entirely clear-cut:
to rape the world and eat
something.
He was
the job.
A peculiarly complex
hardened
little hell called
Bolan.
And he
was
cannibalistic.
Ever-advancing cancer
Bolan was.
But equipped to handle
a holy mission.
Bolan was no philosopher.
One of
his ice-blue eyes:
face
that
jungle.
Bolan’s understanding
entirely clear-cut:
to rape the world and eat
something.
and what of now?
I remember when I played teacher
to an audience of dolls
and how chalk would cling lovingly to my fingers;
Or that time when I thought
I saw an angel crying at the foot of my bed
enveloped by the smooth sides of
moonlight;
But rain always comes and melts
what letters and symbols lie chalked
onto those walls,
and muffles what the night air would sink into my skin.
I remember things I said,
and the display case that held
neatly lined-up achievements that
slowly
leaked
of
things I didn’t say.
Today my mind is soft
and sky blue --
Even the clouds
stopped still.
to an audience of dolls
and how chalk would cling lovingly to my fingers;
Or that time when I thought
I saw an angel crying at the foot of my bed
enveloped by the smooth sides of
moonlight;
But rain always comes and melts
what letters and symbols lie chalked
onto those walls,
and muffles what the night air would sink into my skin.
I remember things I said,
and the display case that held
neatly lined-up achievements that
slowly
leaked
of
things I didn’t say.
Today my mind is soft
and sky blue --
Even the clouds
stopped still.
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