barren mind
travel through darkness
choking ceaselessly when you reach that light
those shovels never could seem
to keep you underground
another Monday morning night
and you’ll bitch slap the makeup off your face
crawl back into the dead bed
fade to black inside your head
smash your face into the horrible pillow
and scream forever, then see only red
only
only
RED
Well,
it would seem,
to me
at least,
that
the more
coffee
one consumes,
the more
toilet paper
he will need to purchase.
consume
consume
sonsume
costume….
so,
skin me alive
hang my bones
in the tallest
tree
I’ll
gladly trade
those
tired old things
for some
sleep.
In the end of dreams
the breath of wolves will fog the glass
of the bed upon which the red
river of the mind lay.
Drawing down ancient stars,
I sharpen their energies in the palm of my hand
As all clocks tremble, shatter, and dance
These words now,
talons, burst forth from behind
the chest, as you struggle pinned benath
the wall of sleep
these words now,
splinters through
the tongue of
the soul, pale
wrinkled ghosts,
deceased
echoes of meaning,
scattered upon and
within the body of
the sea transcendent,
the mouth opens a
final moment
and all moments cease to be.
My own twist on Gertrude Stein’s brilliant presentation of a re-worked literary language, set forth in “Tender Buttons”.
the gun is easy
what a woman
what a man
a man is pie a womanpipe tears loins for getting.
under getting stands leash. I did it all for cream
you must do it all for cream and cry
confess a reaper, and it does in fact taper to policy
policy exceeds abuse and fine lemon is all
dirty is unconscious bovinity it is all those things
not and more it is not insufficient. can you see.
place your foulest temper in ideas of scientific pound
puppy messes fertility in gauntness for reasons identified llamas
security can care.
For me security can be so caring in an afternoon shade of fuzzy
warmth youth presses a curve in the flesh jutting or swinking cold
however violent is purple it is marple. It surely is statistically ionized.
what a lion beg.
I found hagging in the rain. Pop cass gurtipull. Clopping clings swinging salty feathers transfixed to knife in space and time. Space is not out of time. Time has not been out of space, I assure you it has not. Pure leaks from the moon stepping gingerly just. A just is so pleasing but not accepting. It is. Define is not. It is not. How can it be. How saddening is so sad it is like that already. Thus God. Does he poop. He should always learn and those can teach but what. I see reds diffuse example of divinity crutting. Lost can cutter a polarization poke. Hoss can ween. I have so much faith in Hoss.
Kill the culture fleeting. I need locked hearts. Consume a center but if flavor is defiant a whole pardon is government and that is gunfair. Capital Hoggins my lover is so hoggins love me love me love me me me me love love love oh stretcher heat my heart to eat just can you do it bouncing plan cock bouncing three year plan forever. Sorry is and can not be is it forever why. I lope for my hops drill a feed stall brunt. It is so special in the sheets. I can always pop. Oh my pop in the rain hot candy drips like ice in the brain and a cat. Consider a carton of cartoon.
Sex.
Razor Tie Power Chain Hoggins.
Sex is bullets. Hum is anal. Those cats can hum do they do. Eviscerate a gel for it is a nightmare, periodically or otherwise episodically you can tell you must. This you must must. Fervor a lewds fever I saw forever. Tying is practical typing is killing over is willing and spreading hugbosh spreads a spilling just calm and sluicing however pan radiates pain is throne. A king can not decipher cheese, however massive. So much cheese is blasting tired. So much cheese is not crass. So much so much so much. Cheese is hay uncles. There are so domain jugs bending venom leadership, encompasses forgotten not made. He is pasteurized lolly thin. Polka fries a kind of super. Sam. The Sam rocks in a whirlwind of pepper, that you can see. It is obviously. It is so great commanded.
Some are strapped.
That is not blasphemy. Masturbation is celebration juice. The Masturbation is a mixture of harmony and shine it is kind. Shame is secret. Hypocritical is so secretive and before that it is not understood or it is wrong. It is wrong it is. Secret should not be hypocritical if it is we can guess parts do eliminate respect and that is simple. Themes present structure of a kind hunt that is necessary to express obscenity is not pornography. That is not blasphemy. We are not worst. There is filth but for the better of it to be expressed is pleasing without anguish. We must concentrate gub. Fred has thumbs garbage politely meanders a taste threading a representation of durbles bland hygaenea like for getting huts joust an evacuation of sense and it is sensual thighs floundered tubbywhite freckled or spotted or skinned or skin and sex no. Ending so softly that is puddled.
A blame of Renaissance is inadequate. Does the monkey speak ducks brazenly confined for that which is isolated can only philosophize incorrectly. is it not apparent hermetism or not how it can be that would fracture silent silk. It definitely spirals. We must seen.
Detention.
Not for long a tsunami gobbles. Not for that too long. Gobbles plea balls gouge simmering. Boil is freshly inattentive education. It is worst.
Samurai.
Equal parts tofu recited passionately unction. Jack is her heart.
Abattoir
There’s not babbles. Ball gags amount to squelching jittery.
Can you always smell a clown. Possibly despair for crunching sweet. Iron in a gate is wrinkles, but it passes. It passes fine.
Blowjob doesn’t thunder. How can it. It does.
Cakes for babies are so serious. Incest is fermented. It can be a gun. It is so serious.
You are concerned. Potty is bullied just too much, too much. Money is not an issue a favor for a season. Potty is slave. It must be a ghost
When Death. Death is alike when a hunger Lucy’s itself to forbidden. There is no taboo. Submission is unnerving perhaps beautiful Polly. I think she is so beautiful. I hope she is so angry. I have killed the blood. I can say no more.
Japan will free its tape. Junk clouds an exorcism. It is eroticism. I can say no more.
Plop can be so sentimental. Plop me always. Pope is so soft for plopping.
Penetration. Scour the salt for it is flossed. Between the legs hers and his it is a missed. Potatoes may be substituted thusly. It is not fair. It is almost screamed coffee. This is so pink.
I can hardly romanticize brakes. The killer must be stopped no more than fifteen inches from the cleavage suited to face. A feeding is perilous only when. I can fantasize clots for bubby. Meat is justified hanging for a dance. The meat moves clearly. It is destiny.
So is hello. Okay.
Wait. You must wait a butt piece. Just a doctor. A cleaving is caring potential. A staring is a bride. A boss is giraffe. There is no groom present. There is a sweeping. I have let you down.
There is not won. There is not.
the wind broke her heart and the arm broke her wind but she remembered fainting upon symbols, symbols being a definition for slavery. hate engines roost forever to Mr. Kite’s cottage numbered emergency. Hi. Emergency.
point to the meanings or die with life burning gas
gas me up solidly, prepare to devote a woman’s place of power to speak floating above her home and house with rats dancing erotically against parachutes on pension happy together scissorlift gropers confess loppy poolside romances spank my tits porkily up and away. She is waving to her hands empowered with bionic soy. She is various cultures carrion vultures climb peaks there there it is not one at all kopper kojak lisp opulently.
It is hard what the hell it’s my butt for you my sacrifice licks your under-taped poison fun-fingered sparkycat. Call me late in the churning hour.
Seven generations of living docile does it demonstrate a groggy apprentice favors a ripped nipple it very well could johnny another ear. No candy. For the burper, the extreme burper it is a necessary gridlock. Accountability being illegal I did not expect honesty but humming sores gave it to me anyway knifing wine. I’ll buck gross hugs open plucked Paris kisses stolen from goiters.
You can insert. A soul is beyond gender, beyond guarding beyond caring you can understand cartilage or padlocks clearly without spotlight dementia. Four jumps to bend me over. Open your chainsaw mouth big spender. Plug hunger. Share sloppily masturbate unsafe euthanise inhibition after the toilet. Can the stall or greed will advertise a running mate.
You will spin. You will insert.
Elk. Tied that up with beard.
soft too.
Life is here for no reason at all.It is meant to be LIVED. And what to do with it? Some people know…is this true? Who are the ones that know more than all the rest of us? And Knowledge…once you understand too much it ceases to make any sense. I fear the extremes. Too much of one thing or another, and I fear even the balance, for this must be worked at CONSTANTLY and may lead to madness. I understand Horror. It exists because it has to and is justified, all is justified. Because Life exists, because Life must be LIVED for no other reason than there is nothing else to do. So Life in itself is a horror. It’s almost not beautiful. So then, Death…what is it? Death does not exist for us, some illusion lays in place of it, because for those of us not ready for it, the reality is not meant to be seen. Why aspire to conquer Death? Why seek it? It is not a way out, as certainly as Life is meant to be lived, then Death is meant to be “Death’ed”. What does this mean? There is only an illusion of God. It exists as a perception. Faith is not to be underestimated, we are the devils, we are the gods. My biggest fear is my own control or lack of control. I want to change. I AM Horror. I am not Death. I do not seek Death, I seek Life, but, Life in itself being the Horror of All Horrors, I surely must be seeking something unhealthy? Murder is fine, God the illusion says. About that, he must be right. It’s fine for the big picture. The Universe may be indifferent, but it all works towards something greater than itself, doesn’t it? I do not know. Men beat the shit out of their wives, their children, their neighbors, themselves, men beat the shit out of each other and it’s ok. If you took the Horror that is inside each and every one of us, if some omniscient, omnipotent power made manifest all the little horrors that comprise our nightmares, deeds, lies, anger, hatred, madness,insanity, indifference, intolerance….but wait: is this not what has been made, what has become? There surely must be something greater at work here. Not God. Not Satan. Is our collective mind the God? The substance, the unseen manifestation of all our energies, emotions, DNA, genetics, compassion,even LOVE? Is THIS God? If we think of Horror, isn’t it right that Horror should necessarily exist? But we think of other things too, don’t we? Yes, we think of trivialities,we ravage our souls and those of others, our own precious souls, looking for the answer. That’s what Murder is. If someone finds out that YOU can’t answer THEIR questions, they will surely annihilate you. So maybe we’ve murdered God, meaning that we’ve committed suicide again and again across thousands and millions of times across the centuries. Because WE are God, are we not? Well that’s to be argued, and that’s Murder. Bravery comes in many forms, what to do with it? Kill someone you don’t know in some place you’ve never been and may never come back from, that’s “bravery”. I take no pride in my country. Absolutely none. This land is just as good as any other land. Nationalism is a fool’s delusion. We’re better than you because we’re here and you’re there. And this of course leads to Murder.
To Be Continued…..
The cuts we make
along the ocean of joy
euphoria sets in
green grin
Mother,
hold me to the dark…
and let the children come to me.
possessed,impossible,ordinary,
dead wood, hideous, ugly
dark coffin
a gentle black flood in the mind
clean blooms
of love and venom
a garden of horns
drink to the something of the moth
Quiet
Proud
“At poor peace”
fly forever
on wings of
anger
carve the sun in the image of the dream
sear your names upon the blister of the sky
sin and believe:
Frailty is achieved
lay all day in an unmade bed
blind your brother
mock your sister
hours burn the breast
gravel fills some void
a living furnace, a treachery
hostility
salacious deeds,
death in the morning
Death on Sunday Morning
stuff is spattered when the mouth is shut
the heart is taught that the mouth is shut.
“Power is the supreme quality of God and man: the power to cause, the power to create, the power to make, the power to do, the power to destroy. And then, between those things which are created or made, love is the supreme binding relationship. And between those who, with a single impulse, set out passionately to destroy what must be destroyed, joy flies like electric sparks, within the communion of power.”
- D. H. Lawrence
All text is taken entirely from dialogue on episodes of The Simpsons.
I went to the record store
today
they were playing all this music
that I’d never heard of
In some ways
you and I
are very different people. I don’t know
the difference
between right and wrong.I don’t eat
much.I can buy my way into High
Society.
No, I’m not Superman.
Let’s start by doubling your medication.Maybe it’s time we put Grampa into a home. Perhaps if we wait, Nature will assassinate him for us.
How many of you have a house?
No, I’m not Superman.
Haven’t you won the war yet?
Our first job is to entertain. Making teenagers depressed is like shooting fish in a barrel.
This is indeed a disturbing universe
People know your name but you
don’t know theirs
Haven’t you won the war yet?
I’m dizzy
I’m nauseous
but…
I’m
popular
You can’t all sign with an “X”.
There’s a carnival tonight
I’ve been myself for eight years
and it hasn’t worked.Boys
kiss
girls.
Boys
kiss
girls.
I thought I had an appetite
(if you hadn’t done it some other loser would have)
for destruction,
but all I wanted was a club sandwich.
boys
boys
kiss kiss
girls.
girls.
“If I’m gonna be trapped inside the house, I’m gonna go out and buy some beer.”
“We were trapped inside the house
all afternoon.We had to drink toilet water.”
Later that day,
we set sail for
America.
My
father
would drone
on
and
on
about
America.
I wish I could have stayed just one more year or two
“When the hell are we gonna get to where the hell we are going?”
Make the protesters go away and I’ll give you the entire bottle.
There’s a carnival tonight
I’m dizzy
I’m nauseous,
but…
I’m popular.
Can the courtesy. You’re an American now. I strongly urge you to act American.
From now on
I’m only marrying
for Love
and
possibly once more
for
money.
Can I have my three dollars back?
No, I’m not Superman.
Boys
kiss
Girls.
Boys Girls.
kiss
I’m so confused
I don’t even know where I’m getting kicked out of anymore.
My brain needs sleep. What was the cause of the Civil War?
Haven’t you won the war yet?
When the hell are we gonna get to where the hell we are going?
I’ve been myself for eight years and it hasn’t worked.
No, I’m not Superman.
I’m dizzy, I’m nauseous, but I’m popular.
Our first job is to enteratin.
Boys kiss Girls. Boys Kiss Girls.
This is indeed a disturbing universe.
Fill me
Fill me
Fill me…
there’s a carnival tonight.
You have come here because you are a balloon…you are filled with something and you want to burst as you meander the atmosphere in a state of fizzy anger or dissatisfaction or complacency. There are pigeons in your hair, in the furnace it is cold. I am a mob, your children chirp at your loins. Crack the bottle, scare up some nonsense!
My hope is that you will learn to trust your insanity and sense of self. My hope is that you will not understand, that you will understand too much. Little lizards like me lap lovingly at the lichen of lob-sided lollipop tumors. You must learn to congeal, learn the trades of revulsion, euphoria, interment, grandiosity, vulgarity, jubilee, hunger, ferocity, non-entity, and Instinct. You must shatter the Howdy. You must embrace these concepts and more.
You must be willing to burn: if not, then you must be willing to be forced to burn; slowly and gracefully, quickly and hideously. Those socks are all in a row.
Too bright to burn forever in shadow.
Savor the path.