Monday, December 19, 2011



Friday, November 18, 2011

embarrassed by the strange lull

embarrassed by the strange lull

Sometimes we find ourselves confronted by the sheer naked courage
to do or be more than we ever first imagined
our lips once incapable of saying
all the crazy things that once were so innocent
we watch as the moon gives us her shadows
I used to be alone, but now I have you to share this with
sending your greetings from the dark side
you seem so subdued today
speaking softly like a mild mannered freak
we have outlived all the dogs in your stories
your dogs meet disaster
the dead leave us empty and hollow
no more shaggy ears to scratch
sitting with a cold meat sandwich
there was a far away picture in my mind
it was slowly coming closer and more into focus
there are times when my ability to see is diminished
and times when I can see the thing before it has fully formed
it is like that when I am writing
this thing rises up out of me
and becomes real substance
it takes on a life of its own
sui generous
you say I am too generous with my thoughts
that I should keep them closer to my vest
let the warmth of my heart succor
I have worked on you with chisel and hammer
chipping away those parts that offend
making your nakedness a prize
you were very intelligent with your sorrows and charms
wanting me to be yours for a day or two
then you would give me away to the next woman
you had someone in mind
someone you thought would be perfect for me
all this before we poured you like plaster paris
you have a heart and it beats so strangely
at one time our heartbeats were identical
once we have killed, then we can rest
there is an elephant in your room
the fact that you are crazy
I pushed it out into the back of my mind
that place where I keep the darkness
preferring to pretend that life is beautiful
that you still loved me better than the rest
better than that bottle of clear liquid that poisons you
they will kill you because of your tusks
and your silver hair cut like a boys
they wanted you to be a girl
but you could not, you would not
I spat out the afternoon
you suggesting that I am an aristocrat
and not a customer service rep
you said I didn't have it in my voice
I keep shooting those with needy eyes
sticky bodies with bullet hole intentions
I am intentional when I am not distracted
their tongues are soft and tamed
and they are not happy any more
glossy tits sliding around my cock
I've been keeping your eggs warm for you
keeping the fire turned low
waiting for you to finish your frantic calls
the details for a wise-assed obituary
it was important to you that they got the details straight
how he fought in the war
and once loved your mother
even though he left the two of you for another woman
he retired from the tractor plant
and spent winters in Oklahoma
summers fishing in Wisconsin
that his favorite band was the Beatles
and he smoked Marlboro reds
that he really loved you
even though it was hard for him to show it
you found out from your cousins that he used to brag about you
called you his little computer
that he knew someday you would be special
just not for him
not in this lifetime
I told you not to worry about the details
that the details always find a way fo taking care of themselves
as you put ketchup on your eggs
and I pass you the jelly for your toast

A new town for the slits

A new town for the slits

attending to her voices
a grim compromise hovering over you
pleading for rescue
from strangers in the street
poured out as drivel
an expensive myth
it once was a static beauty
thinking death won't notice
fending off an offered love
it leaves a pain in my mind
those old thoughts of woman
how things used to be
when sunshine turned to flowers
sitting in a warm memory
the lights trail behind me
when I once I used to trail them
a mindles zombie driving
on toward the souls of oblivion
read the road signs as they pass by
like soldiers stationed at the gates of hell
my hands at 10 and 2
foot firmly pressed on the pedal
in bright tragic colors
a constant reminder of things lost
She was caught by surprise
I slit her throat in a million universes
And cut her heart out in a million more
Together we would commit innocent crimes
She had a proper human rhythm
She was blue black
I could tell she was magic
It was the blue eye shadow
It was a heavenly hue
She asked me if I would like to taste her recipes
I told her I was always hungry
She told me that the devil told her that I was the one
I told her that I was the devil
She didn’t believe me
It was a play for her
Complete with scenes and acts one and two
She called her play “black magic”
She became an endless chute
She thought she was mysterious
I was more elusive
Ungrateful monsters
All the things I do to entertain
Embracing my hatred
Thinking of it as love
Pure love
A frenzied love
A breakfast roll with jelly in the morning
And coffee
Lots of coffee
I would watch you pour the cream into the coffee
It was one of those perfect moments
You were perfect
I am doing this for everybody
From the lowest drunk to the highest king
The story
The fight
The adventure
Once I made you, I looked at you differently
You became something outside of me
Existing in a deeper world
I have unlocked your inner sickness
Now you are a depraved animal
Begging me for more
Cashing in on my criminal karma
So close to the bone
This is certainly not entertaining
Yes, immoral
The person I’m interacting with keeps changing
This is not a romantic comedy
I’ve taken your dark material
And shaped it into what I want
Gritting your teeth like cathedral windows
And the wings of venom
Tasting like a virgin
Your thumbs in the pudding
My hands are full of your red and white blood cells
Nine-tenths of all the ignorance
I knew Conchetta in terms of a structural relationship
similar things clung to her
made their home within her body
as a sign she is still heavy with meaning
weighing her down into the muck amd mire
a sacrifical logic of love
she required blood to be shed
it was a component of her status
I bought her tickets for the theater
she found it to be too cruel
to chain the actors upon the stage
feeling for the inferior vena cava
sucking on her clitoral hood
expanding like the cobra
three fingers inside her vaginal orifice
calling the office to postpone my meetings
an elastic muscular canal
I would move in and live inside her
if only the rent were cheaper
homage to her pudendal fissure
the mons pubis
leaving my teeth marks in her soft flesh
worshiping the goddess
generating anxiety
I fucked the cosmos out of her
not because I wanted to
but, because I had to
it was the nature of my beast
to ram her good and hard
for the Pope and the Prince
for the purple knuckled beggars on Winston street
drinking their homemade hooche
and smoking ditchweed
they would never get a chance at a goddess
so I had to do it for them
take one on the chin
so to speak
I am always doing something out of the goodness of my heart
standing up for the poor and downtrodden
fucking a whore for the common good
that is just the way I'm made
it's within my constitution
I'm the happiest man alive
as long as the devil get out once in awhile
never one for too much temperance
I couldn't sign my name on the bill
I was not the star
Conchetta was
I'm signing her up for celebrity rehab
just after I tattoo my name on her ass
Ironed and folded
Tucked away from the night
Tomorrow was everything
Groaning as the world groans
And contemplating blowing up the bridge
Setting fire to your skyscraper
Sending demons your way
How can I condemn myself?
I can see more clearly than you ever could
They always thought of me as a rebel
Washing dishes in your truck stop
As you lift your skirt for all the truckers
Bending over for the cooks
Nevertheless you scoured the earth
Scrubbed ever inch of that floor
Incapable of living in the present
Making this discovery
Another dodge from the truth
I think only of the streets
Trying to discover myself
I often felt so degraded and humiliated
Everything is sucked down
I am trapped by the millions who fucked you before me
We are all trapped inside your cunt
It is percolating with ferocity
A million men living inside your bush
Every now and then one of us makes an escape
slips out into the cold world
Slaughtering the just and the unjust
There is no other way out
Looking for the facts that make her up
She makes no sense
Everything is lousy and rancid
Being part of this rotten world
Now that this has started, there is no way to stop it
The wheels have been put into motion
I cannot stop it even if I wanted to
This is nothing but absolute insanity
Everything in the whole universe is lost to the madness
I knew that I was different from the beginning
As a small child the wheels were turning
Grinding everything into dust
Filling you up with a rustling murmur
Wanting to rip all dignity away from you
To beat you down into the floor
I had to stand in line
There was so many before me
Who wanted it more than I
Sometimes I can be a gentleman
But, not when I’m watching you bullshit on tv
How you pretend to be angry with me
You play with the tv bitches
They are licking up the juices that drip from your pussy
I am amazed at the stupidity of the people
They crawled up inside of you and died
The network brass were very upset
They had to hire new bitches for their morning show
We were banned from every appearing on their network ever again
What did I do?
I only stood by and watched

Thursday, November 17, 2011

The Specimen of Monday's intonations

The Specimen of Monday's intonations

beyond the dream of the book
producing a sob within the spine
I trample upon them
I wipe them out
obliterate them
nullified by my efforts
affecting their minds
I eat them with desolation and destruction
everything was reduced to ashes
I am a cancerous growth
a certain ape that uses charcoal
sketching the bars of its own cage
that eats away the good flesh
poisoning each tissue
a curious and debased love
each day I am uglier than the next
I remove everything that belongs to you
I erase your memories
you have forgotten how to be human
I have made you an obsession
you are unknown and absolutely alone
beginning to dissolve and vanish
it was a breaking of a social boundary
I swallow you up
your world is crumbling in my hands
passionate love
the world is my talisman
with it I dig a trench of little understanding
In my little hole I have become obscure
I have realized that the mystery of this world is obscurity
to be obscure is to be a king
I approached the meaning of this life with fear and trembling
I was aware that a greatness had been revealed to me
that I had passed a rite of initiation
when I looked for understanding it ran away from me
when I ignored it, it came running after me
all things began to fall in their place
the world was moving with me
life disappeared from sight
I became invisible
everything is flung wide open
the past and the future rush up to greet me
they are horrified by the metamorphosis
making me tremble with just one look
a contemptuous look mixed with real feeling
not something you can buy off the shelf
she howled inside her
a storm of anguish
head down and muttering
desperate with her feelings of loss
twisted and formed by human hands
wandering with the forlorn and desperate
I am swimming in her incandescent light
revealing everything and concealing nothing
upside down as Siamese twins
a simple sheath of saturation
I looked through the holes of her life
with fits of tremolo
a fevered dream
we lived like human flesh
perpetual fornication
a benevolent eye stealing through the curtains
her smooth lips
I know her every crevice
violently jerked by her strings
the gift of transformation
spotting the ripe carcass
pouncing upon the ovaries
stone quiet at the base of my spine
jaw bones and blessed omens
she devours the young
an orgy in her cavern
the lunatics line up at her bedroom door
their cocks in their hands
working out their salvation
one orgasm at a time
with gnostic texts written by drunken priests
the broken necks of the beer bottles
this is Valhalla
to big to fail
I'm not into finance, I,m into romance
doubt, fear, and jealousy
I became the victim of my own creation
I inspired horror and dread
exposing the monster
she was a long distance message
a fire produced by friction
absolute in her emptiness
fucking me like a maniac
I forgot who she was
her flesh slid off into endlessness
she became a brief afternoon
transparently alive
breathing in the light of substance abuse
we are fucking over the world
with limited passion
copulating with double-barreled shotguns
she hides her loneliness
striving to meet jumbled sentences
to live like a hysterical ranting
a kind of dread that is experienced in the body
it takes work to understand
to slow things down
dedicated to the seriousness of the craft
leaping over the world
she is vivid like flesh and blood
a happy afternoon creature
an abandoned quest
she was my starting point
the internal self, a pregnant abstraction
I learned to cover her with my darkness
I filled her with the gates of hell
she could not resist my bloody work
my energies thrown into the creation of death
building her fearless apparatus
hypnotic eyes of personification
I showed her the limits of the world
and she taught me how to recover my stolen ground
I deceived her fanatics with big guns
condemned to recognize the unique
her blameless face
a familiar breeze
she was fascinated by my innocence
it coiled through the pores of my skin
awareness of the depths of pain
the pain that comes with love
we can't be alone
we need each other
yet, this need comes with suffocation
the panic at the first sign of retreat
a struggle between the two forces
the need to get beyond the self
the best way we know how
you have filled my whole vision
looking for authenticity
that which we are afraid of
to be formulaic
the lush banality
I am a bastard
shielded by decorum
shot through with your disease
surrender yourself to me
fresh from the land of subjectivity
that layer of motif
kicking out your teeth
in a respectful manner
a real hunger
in direct confrontation
the crux of my work
spinning out
a kind of roller coaster
an enormous stimulus
feeling a certain kind of self-hatred
this is unacceptable
I cannot perceive anyone else
there is only me
my own personal hell
taking you with me
into my own sadness
such strong terms
this is precisely what I feel
I am not trying to sell you anything
not offering you a sales pitch
there is something weird in this world
shooting into the sky
watching and not living
the world is in my hands
not fully genuine
expressing my insincerity
let them figure out my primary concerns
the traditional need for values
extremely bizarre and disorientated
connecting to nothing
a victim to my own devices
hanging from a hook
most of our lives are irrelevant
comprised of nothing significant
we are standing at the opening scene
the ideas about our states of mind
a horrific struggle
past the tilting buildings
where we invented rust
taking shotguns of wowie
someday we will be very old
still cleaning out the seeds
a psychiatric report
we focus on your mental state
blind to the needs of other
the point of no return
a small melancholy
being inductive
that is part of the story
something that is beyond all this
across the erie lands
they all start out as being sincere
bottoms up and falling off
knocking long and hard at my door
she was a beacon that flickered
under the shudder of the world
sometimes things don't work out the way I planned
but they always work out in the end
it takes faith in the process
the cards always come through
the torture is the between times
getting from point a to point b
that is where the struggle comes in
wearing myself out with the tugging
instead of floating with the tide
feeling sorry for the emptiness of the street
walking around hoping you get lucky
putting your heart behind
seeing it as possible and beautiful
doing something that strikes a chord
the periphery seeps in like a poison
an emptiness fills the whole world
it is not dark matter that fills the between spaces
it is the emptiness
I am supported by my loneliness and terror
sliding between ghost and ghosts to
those that are ignorant and cruel
wanting to electrify the cosmos
removing my spiritual body
they looked at me with useless eyes
cutting heads with a tin can
this is not a progressive nation
being forced to reflect on ones life
thinking about life itself
32 stories tall with no windows
inspiring to be a colossus
running through your theories of social inequality
never reaching the limits of your expectations
I am robbing you of your rational human mind
an indifferent universe
this is part of our nature
born with this sense of fairness
you can't own the diversity of your ideas
your virtue is not always rewarded
a happy rock guarantees with stolen goods
and the world just doesn't care
you thought bureaucracy is real
telling me about it on the subway
sitting in a sling back chair
promising me that justice would be my friend
condemned to a lifetime of futility
the same thing over and over again

Wednesday, November 16, 2011

Hate Department

Hate Department

A power henceforth without aim,
without purpose, without a plausible enemy
It engages in self-parody in an inhuman manner
The infernal machine exploded in suicidal acts
This masquerade crowns the futility of war
The man poses, and re-solves in the negative
The puzzle of this carcass of signs and flux
The neighborhood all around is merely a buffer zone
I am a great presence upon this ball of dirt
Communing with the mystical body of Christ
The keepers of the ancient wisdom
I have evolved from nature into the heavenly man
Becoming great even in this land without protons and forceps
They would kill me if they could get their hands on me
The evil in their hearts makes me invisible to them
Bringing into balance those who did not yet exist
Meditating on the significance of shrapnel
Cutting the red wires in your brain
The bombs in the garage are hissing
Repeat your prayers to the fearless
Navigate around the rolling virgins
I am more than your ludicrous visions
What counts are my gun and the wounded crawling
It never was a question of integrity
The disposable have wide shoulders
And hips for giving birth
They drool into the earth
The shifting of wicked menus
It once was light
Now it is darkness
We season the awkward with stolen might
Our difficulty lies down with the lion
Bleating out forgotten harmonies
The newspaper man in his pompous leotards
He is too big to know each and everyone
Stripping away the spots
It all becomes ephemeral
I slip it in behind you
Trying to be reflective
Eating the dead horse one more time
Shooting eternity
We all knew the verdict
The princess was dead
She stopped feeling the door hinge
Listening to the sounds of wounded fingers
Her goal was to end the war of plethora
Now the righteous have their harpsichord
They can play it all night long
With their seven cunts bleeding
Because Adam wanted to be a man
While Steve was left to fuck the snake
Steve looked through the window
Learning to embrace the similar
They both talked like leopards
Biting into the back of my neck
Carrying me up the tree of life
I saw pictures of a forlorn Tuesday
Before the river took Emmylou
It looked like a stumbling drunk
Who just pissed his pants
She wanted it to be perfect
Her little rose-petal muffin
She wanted to talk all night long
About her night maneuvers
Moving towards you
Whether we die today
Or a hundred years from now
The span of our existence
Will be meaningless once we are dead
I’m running snake oil into my salesmen
Selling mushrooms like water
Hunkering down
Warning the people of impending doom
Herman took another hit of acid
And pontificated with his pants off
I was busy looking for Shem and Ham
For the truth that stands behind all religions
Awakening your latent powers
A magnificent manifestation
I am only describing what man really is
Refusing to engage in your monkey politics
You are a soul with many vehicles
Present with us here and now
Like a used car lot
Piecing out that old Pontiac
Crossing the Potomac
You dyed your hair cherry red
Different degrees of density
My thinness hovered over the auditorium
We are only conscious of the lowest forms
The change happens when Herman removes his overcoat
It is then that we discover the divinity of the human
Only one day in my real existence
Killing my soul daily
Replacing the light with darkness
It ends with birth and begins with death
I am clearing away the difficulties
Making your path much easier
You will name him Theosophis
We are not drifting blindly into anarchy
The slow eons of evolution
Corrupting your revolution
More and more monkey wars
The pacts made with the devil
To destroy monkeys that are different than you
I am a co-worker for the evolution
It is evolution and not revolution that you seek
Revolution just replaces one monkey for another
Stop participating in monkey wars
We inherited war from the monkeys
It is an expression from our animal natures
To wage war is to ignore the mind
This is a science of life
The soul is not immortal
I have discovered a way of destroying the soul
Thus, putting your life’s direction in your own hands
Allowing you to know the absolute and infinite
The soul hindered your ability to reach perfection
Now you are a perfect being
Permeate the world with your being
They may not see you
But, they will see your work
You are a thief in the night
Striking at random
And terrorizing the many
You are the divine fire
That consumes everything
You are love
But love is not perfect
This evolution is the expression of my will
I have stormed the forces of nature
And captured her innermost secrets
I am a great flame in the darkest night
Leave this world and come into mine
Join me in serving humanity
Do not live for wealth and money
Live for the goodness of humanity
Life and form in activity
Matter is an illusion
Emptiness fills everything
I pour out my force into the world
Creating movement and change
And this movement creates life
A new life that we do not fully understand
The emptiness is the material from which I create this world
Bubbles of emptiness pour out of me
Filling the void
Setting up a giant vortex
Sweeping up the emptiness
And creating life and love
Penetrating this existence with differencing degrees of density
I am sending out my impulses
Each impulse creates a new and different world
Seven worlds have emanated from the emptiness
In order to see these worlds, you must increase your vibrations
Calling forth beings from the astral globe
To assist in my experiments
These globes of finer and grosser matter
Are a part of us
I hold all my victims together within me
And make them a part of myself
You have different bodies
And they operate in the different worlds
The creation of the soul has shut off our other bodies
The soul attached itself to the physical world
Killing off our other higher selves
You are more than one
You are many
Destroy your soul and become many once again
Taking shape of the vehicle that you fill
Our bodies are merely vehicles
They are chariots that carry us from one world to another
At each world we change our chariot
Transcending and merging into the divine
I once was a strand of grass
Then a bug crawling on the dirt
Then a fox chasing after a rabbit
In each instance I learned from the experience
Moving through the great wheel
An instrument of my passions and emotions
Drawing me down into selfishness and personal feelings
Back to the blade of grass
Until I learned what was needed to be learned
All I do is in service to the lord of this world
My physical body is a temple
My astral body is a temple
My mental body is a temple
My goal is to evolve into the ethereal world
And take on the vehicle of ether
Mental and emotional stress manifests itself in the physical
This led me in a backwards direction
I had to take two steps back before a could leap forward
The soul can be destroyed through physical, mental, and emotional stress
We can only evolve through the destruction of the soul
We must teach our ego to remember
Manifesting the qualities of our past lives
Responding to the vibrations
I am colorless and transparent
Every thought builds a form
With my physical actions I build
With my thoughts I build
With my emotions I build
I am building a body of love
A vehicle to express my love
I saw the beauty within you
And the physical wanted you
I wanted you with my entire mind
And I wanted you with every emotion of existence
everything has soul
thus, everyting must die
the soul is evil
I need only to become me
more and more me
standing at the end of the earth
your spirit of death in your back pocket
you grow darker
finished with this Jesus thing
I laughed as you blew your little whistle
no one came to your rescue
I was overwhelmed with joy
I was no longer alone
you were handed to me on a platter
not a single prayer in my jeans
I gave you a friendly face to peer into
the warm night was opening up
the tips of my fingers just inside
smack up against me
pumping you with a religious zeal
aware of every quiver
you shook out all the authenticity
with an agonizing build up
gibbering with hallucinations
into the fabric of their lives
there is no special message in this

pumping gas with infected fingers

pumping gas with infected fingers

Stress became the mechanism
for the release of this vital energy
Stressing the body can cause changes
in the perception of the brain
Pain became my primary mechanism
When I flicked the ashes onto your belly
Standing over you I examined the patterns of the ash
They were each unique, exotic, and precious
You are not just another pretty face
A triangle of beauty
Wickedly wonderful
Three dogs barking somewhere outside
You do it so very well
The heroin courses through your body
You laugh each time a dog barks
It is some kind of symbiotic relationship
When you are high, you only want to dance
Spinning circles are the room
Delicate and beautiful circles
Each a mystery in themselves
Sipping your champagne from an empty can of beans
Mocking the pretentions of the world’s dignity
We have reduced everything to its basic parts
You say you love me
But, I can tell that you don’t mean it
Not yet anyway
I wonder if you have people
And if they miss you?
Do they love you?
Could anyone love you as much as I do?
I think it is impossible
Maybe only god
But, god isn’t talking right now
Sometimes god doesn’t say anything for days
The silence is insurmountable
If you don’t listen to me,
then you won’t have anyone to blame
I am talking about god to you
Telling you god speaks to me
Sometimes I don’t listen
Sometimes I obey
It is my purpose in life to follow god’s will
Your hair looks too shaggy to me
So I cut your hair
It is cut short like a little boy’s
It makes your earrings so much more necessary
They highlight the beautiful features of your face
I tell you that you are pretty
You tell me to find something real to talk about
Reality to you has become so different
You are not what you once were
What you consider to be real has changed
Like your love for dogs has changed
You tell me that the bark of the dogs is what is beautiful
I tell you that only people can be beautiful
You do not confuse animal and people
I interpret everything you say
I have been listening to you for eight months
I attack you with insight
Just a simple screw
You tell me you need simple people
I am not simple
I am complicated
I have made your life complicated
Complications are what happen between the sequences of life
I have given you something better than complications
I have given you a vision for a better life
This is not a Freudian conversation
I am not going to examine your childhood
The drugs make you say silly things
They don’t make you; they remove the barriers of inhibition
You have become freer
More able to explore your true feelings
Sometimes everyone feels lonely
The universe works in a certain way
I have attempted to discover why things work the way they do
You are my universe
You make me happy
Everyone is so elusive and evasive
No one wants to share their true feelings
They keep them hidden
Safe from the eyes of others
I have no secrets
All of my discoveries I have documented
I want to share my success with others
One the first day there was mystery
I would sit at my table and write to you
Love letters written with many words
Sometimes the love in my heart would become too much for me
And I would have to stop writing
I would put my pen down and sob at my table
Eventually I would break the spell
Fighting off the delirium
I have lived several lives
More than my share
I know this
I recognize this
For this, I thank the devil
Staring into the darkness
You are saturated with my need
I must triumph
I have to grow stronger
And spread my wings
This is absolute love
The very best stuff
It was made from my still way back in the woods
A special potion
A secret family recipe
The sight of you made me tremble
I could not hold back any more
I had to act
Setting my plan into action
It was brief and to the point
There was no time for doubt
I had to leap like a tiger
You were standing there in the flesh
Ripe for the taking
The full meaning was not able to grasp
Not until much later
When you were safely tucked away
I had to wait to kiss you
I didn’t want you to think ill of me
I must take my time
Love has to grow
It needs time
I know this
Worked the details over and over in my mind
Soon you would share with me your life
Your whole life
Every drop of blood
To the last precious drop
I was surprised to find you there
At such a time
The perfect time
I always get what I need
Sooner or later it comes to me
Gift wrapped in a bow
You had a bow in your hair
I took it as a sign from god
He works in mysterious ways
I work in mysterious ways
I couldn’t wait to unwrap my present
To stick my tongue between your legs
Wanting to taste your creamy thighs

Monday, November 14, 2011

Nabokov and the Philistines

Nabokov and the Philistines

Finding a desperate spot
I left her on the side of the highway
The dog pissing on her Egyptian shoes
Some nights are harder than others
Her hand sticking u like she was hitchhiking
Everyone has their illusions
Some more garbage rotting on the side of the road
Killing time with my feet
I had her tight and began kissing her
She was so drugged
I had given her more than I should have
Putting my pecker into position
When I pulled out the knife she got really scared
It was really wonderful
Her fear made me harder
Uttering trite words
She was afraid to go alone
Violating the dead
A hideous rooster
Destroying everything around me
Throwing myself into something useful
Getting my passion out with enthusiasm
Nothing to look forward to
Except for the kill
I always enjoyed the kill
To hunt them down
And kill them
There is something inside me
Eating at me
Chewing away at me
From the bottom up
Born in the wrong time
Way too late
The biggest man on the mountain
Knocking everyone down
Blind to everything
Blind to the hopelessness inside of me
I bring disaster
I carry it in a bucket
Hear the disaster sloshing around
As I take each step

Saturday, November 12, 2011

Jack Benway was a pedophile

Jack Benway was a pedophile

We are working out our own destiny
Throats slit from ear to ear
Everyone finds out soon enough
A broken jaw in three places
Pins to hold it together
Eating soup for a month
Life turns us all into fools
Falling off rooftops
Missing the mark
Torture, dope, and perversion
My three guardian angels
Crashing them against the wall
Banging their heads
Over and over again
Reporting every death
I told you it would soon be over
Marked intensity
Constant diligence
I am from the future
Disappearing into the crowd
Just like the enemy
There is no negotiation
Every infidel dead
Believe in me or die
A cruel and nasty death
A demonstration of manifestation
A kick in the balls
Lawless, violent, and explosive
Too many promises
Too many lies
Too many hands in my pockets
You unzip my pants
And pull me out
The same fundamental urge
Nothing could stop me
Shooting them on the spot
I dragged them home to put them in the soup
Passing away in a cloud
The smell of mustard gas
A clear and visible enemy
Eating their hearts out
So hopelessly perplexed
Muddled and beaten
Just a hero in their minds
A fiasco from the start
Putting things in order for the bastards
They are all bastards
pure and simple
drifting from day to day
every detail about the other world
just momentary glimpses
the flash of brilliance
one of the last and the least
all the others, standing high
upon the shoulders of giants
living submerged
underground in my lab
details and more details
bursts of trance-like inspiration
I stopped being myself
Many years ago
They were always waiting to receive me
An assortment of odds and ends
Suddenly it all pours through me
In the midst of the frenzy
Remembering the bodies
They ceased to be human
Now they were my subjects
All the imbeciles
The whole lot of them morons
Parts for the machinery
I build the machine
Death greases the wheels of the machine
Thoughts crawling out
Glued together
Above this life
Tugging away at me
A demonic hand
Pilling me in directions
Not my own
Some master plan
I was truly alone
With only my dreams
Falling into the abyss
The darkest spot in the universe
Walking on the tightrope
Reading the letters in the sky
Interpreting the clues
Building the tower
Combining the pieces
Written in my own hand
Exterminating them all
They could not see
With their own eyes
It was a borrowed vision
Looking into their shallow graves
As the planets revolve around my head
They are spinning with no purpose
Drifting off into space

Friday, November 11, 2011

swollen head spit

swollen head spit

I had fallen into a hole and decayed
My limbs rotted off and the worms ate my flesh
Only a ragged skeleton remained
Another insignificant human being
Suffering the worst agonies
Teaching me to live a lie
Inspiring a generalized distrust
From the bottom to the top it was nothing but senseless
It was rotting out from the middle
Examining one lone individual
Elbowing my way up your stairs
Shoving a few worthless fools down the stairs
Restoring things back to their normal chaos
Reality is written as you suck the life out of me
I am shedding my skin as the drums beat slowly
I don’t care what it all means any more
You skipping down the hallway throwing flowers
I’m throwing bombs at the city fathers
There is nothing left to steal any more
It has all been stolen by the mayor and the city council
The psychology of the whale and his penis
We eat all winter on his flesh
Building our antidotal lives

Tuesday, November 8, 2011

the teenage girl in hell

the teenage girl in hell

we are doing desperate things
things to survive
living on the streets
we would go and see Mr. Jones
to buy some weed
he had two dobbermans
Roxy and Smith
there were all manner of things that Mr. Jones didn't believe in
except for the concept of servitude
his only profound belief
he dedicated his life to serving humanity
he had a lot to say about the relations between men and women
Mr. Jones wasn't a very ennobling creature
he always left out the better sides of his personality
never trying to justify his moral stand point
You were not my first love
Not the first frenzy in my heart
I had fallen in love before
Many times before you
The idea of it seems so outdated and inappropriate now
Love is an old-fashioned idea
Something previous generations did to appease social norms
Not the new modern world that has thrown away its superstitions
You are searching for your true abstraction
Wanting to break this power relationship
A manipulation of democracy
Plunging into a state of stupor
To say, a radical uncertainty
Absorbed by this permanent refraction
There is an obscenity in the functioning
I take your shirt off
There is a silence between us
You say that the silence is obscene
Eliminating any elective chance
Obstinate denial
You are a tree and then a flower
Only one is in danger of being attacked
A game of malicious foretelling
An eruption into the ironic mirror
You are supposed to be a willing partner
Constantly producing failure
Subtle is your revenge
I reveal your trickery
How you use the special features of the camera’s angle
Of power
Of desire
Of choice
The deepest desire
Your happiness depends upon the despair of your will

Monday, November 7, 2011

The pimp hat of oblivion

The pimp hat of oblivion

I am building the bridge
a bridge to evolution
not the highest accomplishment
there are no guarantees on your golden ticket
the last man is a image of disgust
no aspirations to peek his head outside the door
not wanting see what is real
he is afraid that his master stands outside
holding the ax of indifference
who he kills is not a matter of concern
death is his random friend who shows up from time to time
he knows that the last man has a weakness
this weakness keeps him inside
the four walls of his morality can not protect him
there are no guarantees to this life
people are what they are
some are easily made into a messy pile of goo
the dead are the higher example
they have learned to experiment with their lives
exploring the limits
making their deals with the devil
to that respectable street
each of us finds him in a different way
behind all the appearances of the world
the power over the idea
making the idea bend to our will
the master is also desperate
his fears make him the product and the victim
I don’t mean to put it all on your shoulders
It is not my intention to place a heavy burden on your back
It is my entire fault
I picked you out of a crowd
One rainy night
The choices you made led you to this point
This intersection between wills
My will was stronger than yours
You could have just as easily been the predator
I could have been the victim
In another reality, that is probably the case
You kidnapped me
Tied me up and beat me
Taught me to appreciate the pain
To channel it
To grow with the pain
You would love me with the pain
I count all the scars on your body
They represent a road map
Of where we came from and where we are going
Places where we have been
We took this journey together
I have cut you from head to toe
And the burn marks are too many to count
I have branded 666 onto your flesh
And there are hundreds of piercings all over your body
Strange jagged pieces hang from your flesh
It is magical how you have grown into a force to be reckoned with
I have created you to be a powerful force
I know you will destroy me
The creation always destroys the creator
Since the beginning of time
Glowing in the dark without protective clothing
Reading the mail order catalog
I can always use some more gags
And I go through restraints
They don’t seem to last
My best stuff is homemade
You really have to be somewhat of a do-it-yourselfer to get along
It takes an inventive mind
Not just application of theory
But, synthesis
Creating something totally new out of two different components
It is not like there is a manual for this
You have to make it up as you go along
Like a jazz musician
You know the basic framework
But you improvise
It changes as you apply the framework to new situations
New girls
Each girl is different
You go with the flow
See what works
What gets her off

Friday, November 4, 2011

The application of theoretical constructs to the destruction of humanity

The application of theoretical constructs to the destruction of humanity

No great genius has ever existed without some touch of madness.

There is no law to control us
We live by our own rules
Stuffing the shards down their throats
There is no expiration date
We have to guess on its freshness
I have gathered up all my promises
And compressed them into a small infinite mass
Collapsing everything in
Reducing the minutia
They follow after their fathers
Not seeing with their eyes
A perfect deviation
Spiraling down into metamorphosis
You turn the lights off and wait
Voicing the frenzied verb
Into the air of absolutes
As the room grows bigger and bigger
Inhale and exhale
I can see the ribs through the drywall
This living thing is a witness against us
How we forged greatness out of small things
Too bad we didn’t have the heart to continue on
As the assumptions surround us
And sink their fangs into us
Performing live in the Gothic cathedral
Coming out on the other side
Two little coke bottles
You are turning them upside down
Liking the process
Like souvenirs or postcards
Handing out flyers at the Fourth of July parade
Two windows reflecting each other
It is all by chance
Heads coming up out of the boots
Cutting it down the middle
Observing the change
Doing something about your red ant army
Selling your coke in China and Japan
Missing the bell
The mark, the mark
Counting the snakes that dart from your eyes
Gathering them up in a bucket
Testing your courage
Strange things seep out of you
And fly above your head
Silencing your prayers
I could not leave you untouched
That would be wrong on my part
I had to touch you
Change you
It was my calling
I could not squander my talents
Inspiration looked me squarely in the eye
And I reacted
I responded to the call
And made you
Created you out of nothing
With only a word
A whimper from your mouth
Transformed into horrendous screams
Ah those lovely screams
Poured out of your soul
It was stubborn
And didn’t want to go
Then there was the beauty queen
She had been the state fair queen
She was blonde and beautiful
I met her in a grocery store
By the sliced meats
I asked her if she liked meat
And she said yes
They always say yes
It’s the magic in my pants
meat magic
It is easy to forget how lucky you are
My visual hallucinations are joined with auditory hallucinations
My seeing believes and takes shape inside my mind
I am wishing for a change
Wishing for a change that will move mountains
Like an atomic blast
Melting the skin off their faces
She didn’t give a damn about nothing
There was no summation of the good
It was a relationship based on nothing
She put her trust on an ideology
I never could ask why
Not when she was around
She was so certain in all of her possibilities
No point of reference for the location
I’ve always had here best interests in heart
Wanting her to be more than she was
More than a pretty face
I always told her it was ok
Even when she promised me that she didn’t make a sound
I have her be quiet for days
You have to learn to control their tongue
It happens all the time
It happens now and then
Sometimes I fool myself into thinking I have control
That I can make it happen when I want
most people exist below the horizon
conforming to the demands of the machine society
they are simple humans
paralyzed by the neurotica
letting it simply coming out
coming back to what you are
something outside you
coming back to yourself
in the grip of something larger
it is a deeper human level
I am being filled with inspiration
I ponder my despair in seclusion
what I need is loneliness
I am overflowing with darkness
I am thinking of killing you
my life is becoming murder
let us be warm and sympathetic
awakening the potentiality in us all
it is time for us to do the dirty work
it is not because it has to be done
this rock could continue without it
but, things would be slower
more difficult to understand
there is only so much understanding for each age
I would watch her flex her muscles in a crowd
At a department store
On the dance floor
With some unfortunate soul
She would convince him to take her to the alley
And then rob the poor slob
I was behind the curtains
Pulling her strings
She was such a good puppet
I was convinced that I would never find anyone better
naked opulence on the floor
right or wrong, she was America
on top of me with her fur
twinkling like blood
the substantial cane never be washed away
narrative spurts out of her
she is on me like fate
I am reading her fortune
checking the length of her lines
her words come out as formless shapes
I am stuffing her with democracy
and throwing her into the revolution
She grew up in highland
fucking her in the park
up against Roger's car
and then again in the back seat
that night I got pulled over by the police
they were looking for someone with rhythm
Roger never would let me borrow his car again
the next day he put a for sale sign in the window
I made everything ok
Calming her storms
Making her walls crumble
I am never wrong
Sometimes it is hard to see all the connections
But, they are there
The real and the unreal
Our love was created through difference
It is through the stretching of borders
That love develops
Meeting her half way
We existed as an end in ourselves
In all of our actions
We had been abandoned by ontology
This is the essential and the general
A terrible translation in many ways
Never questioning our unity
The beautiful one and I were one
This totality of our being
We are not exhausted from the dominance
Even now undergoing a mutation
Growing more significant daily
It was in the beauty queen that I first started to see significant results
She was transforming
She gave me hope that I was on the right path
I had learned the influence of drugs and pain
Developing a science of the experience
It experience that determines consciousness
Experience unlocks the hidden powers of the mind
Through directing human experience, I have discovered possibility
Releasing the hormones
Charging a price for admission
Jumping out from the dark corners
With a ghost in my pocket
A smoking junkie
You know more about my children
More than I planned to tell you
Nipples sucking the wind
I built you with the instructions of the wise ones
You tasted like fruit punch
In the heart of your city
Looking for the shy ones
They try to cover up their stones
But they shine too bright
I can see them through the layers of clothing
Offering them marshmallows
Their legs collapse under the burden
Afraid of my passion
It is ok to live
To be free
Bringing back the forgotten
Your unrepentant waist
30 silver dollars
The slot machines repent
But not you
Feel me inside of you
I am always there
I have made all the promises that I’m ever going to keep
I have given you all of my masks
The shallowness of my dreams
Cannot touch you
Soon I will be inside of everyone
Not just the tv screen
People practicing my moves
Working on their knots
And sharpening their knives
Fillet all the bastards
Like a piece of fish
Flop mother fucker flop
Gasping for air
Constructing another altar
Worshiping me on three hundred channels
I didn’t mean to be their god
I was your god
Only you worshiped me
Now everyone worships me
I never asked for their love and adoration
Love letters in the mail
I would burn them all
If I could

Thursday, November 3, 2011

The Old Man with the shotgun in his hand

The Old Man with the shotgun in his hand

I think we all have madness in us, it's just that I've realized mine and found a way to let it out.
John Glover

the sinister parts only show themselves to me in the first rays of sunlight
she was a big part of my naked lazy life
she was the one that always suggested something crazy
for her the life of the mundane was pleasant but dull
what am I doing here?
why do I seek the pain that is in her heart?
it would be some much simpler to let the past fade into oblivion
to worry about getting started
to fear that the world was already leaving me behind
I am only sixteen and yet I feel so much older
it is as if a much older spirit dwells inside me
he speaks to me in my dreams
and shows me where the connections exist
he shows me connections that I would never had seen by myself
I must give him a name, this spirit inside me
I feel that naming him would give me some sort of ownership over him
sometimes he seems like a saint and other times he seems like an animal
sometimes when I am fucking Mona
it seems like the old man is fucking her instead of me
it is as if he is living through me
a 50 year old man living through a 16 year old boy
how is this possible?
am I possessed?
how did this happen?
maybe I am crazy
maybe someday they will lock me up
untill then I will ride this thing out to its fullness
till the wickedness comes full circle
it will be a perfect circle
I can see it in my mind
this is a strange thing that means so much to me
I know you couldn't help it
it was your destiny
just as I had to follow mine
my heart would ache for you
it felt like it would explode
like I was breathing my last breath
she is learning new poses
getting stronger every day
I took her to a musical
the craziness is open all hours
I am always waiting for Mona to catch up
we kill without proper justification
mona takes away my citizenship
all the different circumstances
she is playing with my spider
it is black and furry
she took me around 10:30
she couldn't close my eyes
feeling mad and angry
and disconnected from myself
I want to talk to you
I want to explain myself
I took your to the roller coaster
and we shared the unpleasant experience
you make me crazy
trying to change my thinking
I'm never gonna laugh again
in the darkness forever
never going to feel love
it fills so good to yearn
sucking on your breast
zipping you up into the straightjacket
caught in the dream
sometimes I'm a good guy and sometimes I'm a bad guy
people just value lives
I don't understand why
I am preparing a special death just for you
with every breath let yourself go deeper and deeper
you have a voice
the corrupt fear you
you are washing my clothes in the bunker
safe from the bombs of the 1 percent
they are destroying the industrial heart
making everything empty
I can see the glitches in the matrix
cute and fuzzy mania
sometimes the weirdness gets too far away
and we have to bring it closer to home
when we are desperate, we cannot see the beauty
we can only embrace the terribleness in a great manner
making an effort with the aid of terror
becoming insatiable with is all
the madness, the terror, the limits of humanity
where did we go wrong?
how did we create such a mess?
your flesh is my fantasy
getting fuzzy headed
funky headed
it has been fifteen hours
since you last read my sensory book
I am a cuddly lion
feel my silky paws
I am soft and snuggly
a gift from Dr. Joan
you look pretty when you come walking through the door
it is not the end of the conversation
I cannot get you off my mind
as soon as I wake up
sometimes its morning
sometimes its not
I begin to think about you
then I ask myself, which you should I make today?
then a few things cross my mind
there are so many possibilities

Wednesday, November 2, 2011

the love of a nihilist asshole

the love of a nihilist asshole

you are asking me meaningless questions
making me think of things that I would prefer to avoid
you go to work on me with an ax
having a wonderful time of it
singing or rather humming some forgotten tune
sometimes it comes out just like you want it
the mere mechanical business
greasing all of my gears
seeing to it properly
the discomfort is an aid
or a bit of a stimulant
an electric cattle prod up the ass
putting juice to your demonic nature
killing the thinking animal
it is bad to think
I would rather have you feel
I'm not selling hope anymore
it doesn't last
as soon as i open the door
out it runs down the street
and gets hit by a car
then I'm in the middle of the street
crying because hope is dead
eventually I stop buying the shit
and I rip out that part in me
where hope lived
at our feet is an underworld
the first light of the death angel
new ranks are thinning
a hungry tug of desire
your claim for broken substance
standing against the wall
dark whispers reaching down
different words from god
violated by the madness
the stain of a dream
that has always been
a good kind of crazy
one you can sink your teeth into
together again
like dogs and angels
two people across the street
filled with doubt and self-pity
a helpless blue
painted on your heart
it beats a sticky pink
like the gums of angels
before sin enters in
all up and down
deep into the creature
out of the bottom
without a name
hot shooting in a cold medium
out your eye
around the curves
sick with fear
we all know the sleep
in the cemetery of the soul
the curse of death is in the blood
no more locks on your doors
a strange sense of love
your prison is self-made
the truth is your rejection
half torn and numb
a lifetime of mutilation
fight the possibility
beat it out of you
like the raven's quarrel
everything possessed of searching
an unfamiliar turn
in the bitter celebration
an empty victory with spread legs
appearing as if by magic
pushed up so high
the bodies move as a miracle
grinding into each other
higher and high
a child of two continents
death weeps at noon
something real and impossible
the waste of a loaded laugh
here every morning
the people have words to say
but no one wants to hear
we only want to listen to the pretty
dancing images flickering on a screen
burning into our retinas
fabricating a lie in our brains
it is a hostile condition
in their little dresses
carried and deposited by ancient angels
we play upon the frozen rock
it fell from heaven
tiny parallel lives
caught under the massive weight
pinning us down
short and tiny breaths
huge depressions
free reign over your soul
we are weak and swept aside
it is a continual battle
so hard to separate
with see-through eyes
a lovely dance filled with horror
my slaughter house memory
a few more left-handed shoves
hammer beating brains
as true as your insides
the blues into your cup
nothing I could say
someone had stolen my tongue
and it was boiling in a pot of water
sitting on your stove of hate
me inside of everything
my shell shocked and wounded heart
sucking up all that is left
every little morsel
not a crumb for a mouse
trying to hide from my hunger
thinking like a witch or a devil
leaning out your window sill
utterly pressed and depressed
busted layers of angel dust
they come alive inside me
growing through me
reaching the outside world
reaching you
with vacant eyes
using their knives
down sidewalks with beautiful looks
this is where you slumber
you look uneven
putting you on the floor
the lights are just right
accusing me of hypocrisy
someday you become a productive human being
just like superman
collecting all your gold stars
putting them in this feeling thing
a giver instead of a taker
you were invented
I was trying to be socially responsible
when I ignored you
and placed you in the straightjacket
pointing you towards the lie

Tuesday, November 1, 2011

Burning Origami

Burning Origami

she is sending me new contradictions
they are mine and mine alone
I will not share them with anyone
because she is beautiful to me
in all her faults
she waves her hand and they emit from her fingertips
life continues, but in a diminished form
the brightness has been dulled
she is still pumping it out
she is spilling it out
a group of teenaged girls with bleached hair
looking through black tinted windows
taking stock of their actions
rolling slow and getting a good look
a good look
I injected the cigarettes with the substance
and then resealed the pack
I am playing by my own rules this time
everything is anonymous and interchangeable
her bluejeans and yellow sneakers
I tossed them into a garbage can
she has become expressionless
a hostess at a Dennys restaurant
she greets the customers with a blue eye shade
her fingertips smell of maple syrup
an eager wrinkle on her eyebrow
she dreams of me
she can feel me when I'm not there
she is a part of me
She danced at Diamond Jim's across the river
her stage name was Kiki
she was a hard working girl
moving her ass up and down
rubbing her tits in your face
she was attending the local community college
majoring in pelvic thrusts
I am sure she got the highest grades
she made a buck for a lap dance
and 20 bucks for a private dance
she wanted to invest in my research
buy me all the drugs
she sent the girls at work to be my lab rats
she said certain girls' souls were loosely tethered
promoting the mind's evolution through the old bump and grind
under the roofs of sleepy little Dubuque
it is all beer bottles and ugly white seagulls
trying to steal her french fries
a little boy is kicking a ball
a red ball that looks like communism
her legs are sex symbols
they gleam at me like neon signs
her legs say buy fucker buy
it is a good time for some pussy
in the back seat of my car
in the municipal parking lot
two teenage boys peek through the car's window
watching us fuck
one boy pulls out his dick
and starts wacking off
he spurts his young wad onto the car window
this makes you laugh a long hysterical laugh
I'm used to your laugh by now
I have become accustomed to the hysterical
your laugh opens a door into another world
it is a world where only you and I belong
it was made for us
not like this world
in our world everything is perfect
our world is not acceptable for mass consumption
we are only temporal vessels of the light
there is only so much that we can hold
beyond that measure and we burst
I force the tube down their throats
and turn the faucet
they feel so alone in this world
alone and drowning in their sorrows
they couldn't find someone to love them
instead they were thrown away like trash
a useless piece of human trash
that everyone preferred to be dead than alive
I was the only person in the whole world
that could feel them
I could see them as they really were
are should I say are, because they still exist
not in this world, but in another
maybe their next life is better
not so filled with pain and misery
I was only happy to help them along
to introduce them to the next stage
peering into their faces
down to their last 500 dollars
robbing them of everything they got
they all live on the six floor
everyone in dubuque live on the sixth floor
the whole god damned city is in on it
charging rent for the legs and arms
I was trying to be a perfect gentleman
but, with them I was a brute
a real fucking animal
they all die so loud
it was all a lie
a fabrication between two great liars
we led you down that dark alley to rob you
I was going to beat you over the head
whack you in the head like some purple gorilla
I was ready to clobber you
cave your head in
like so many times before
bam and down they fall
you never would have seen it coming
but, for some reason I had a change of heart
decided to express what I am
to swim out to the sinking ship
and shoot all the survivors
it was my own salvation
each one was a vice that I saw in myself
they died a symbolic death really
they died for my sins
mine alone and no one else
I know it is selfish of me to say such things
but it is true
they all died for me
like when I took my first hit of acid in high school
all the goodness of the world came rushing in
it was like my mouth was pried open
and this heavenly sunshine poured into me
and it came bursting out of my heart
that was a new beginning
I became born again
the world was strangely different
it was like everything became renewed
the child in me had to be killed
so I killed each and everyone of them
it was necessary for me to grow
to let the beautiful sunshine out
learning to obey my instincts
following the lead of my heart
jumping off the deep end
letting my impulses flow
that was a new beginning
washed in blood
I found a higher power
a higher calling
and I used it ridiculously
I beat it like an old dog
made it my slave
rode it all the way
bringing out what is u
seeing it for the first time
something that was 009/11/jealous-punk.html">inside me and hiding
it wanted to get out
and out it pops
I turn the tables upside down
and chase the bankers out the door

Saturday, October 8, 2011


everyday I entered the door of that place it made me sick
it was a sickness that grows upon you
day after day, making you more and more crazy
surrounded by nothing but stupid cocksuckers
you surely conned them all
into believe in your lies
they were so well crafted
and the delivery was fucking emaculate
I really have to give you a hand for that
such fucking wonderful deception
you really are a master
so many of us believed in you for so long
but, eventually we discovered your fraud
the cocksuckers worship
they have made you their head penis
you should wear special headdresses
something to show to everyone how special you
special is what you are
real fucking special
a special fucking retard
when I close my eyes, I can still smell the fraud
Mr Hemingway is impressed with seargent pepper
he prefers to listen to them when he goes clubbing
he has been looking for a camera
so he can film his victims
an ecclectic and special purpsoe
wicked and catchy
smoking his weed with bungalo bill
and thinking of how fun it would be to be little again
to live a life based on truth and love
instead of lies and deception
he watches videos of you dancing with your little girl
and it makes him laugh
and glad that there is love in the world
sometimes the truth can be a dangerous thing
peole are not used to the truth
and get confused when they see it for the first time
many a truthful person was killed because of the world's ignorance
Mr. Hemingway has learned to be a good liar
it has saved him in some tuugh scrapes
to be a good liar is a gift from god
god loves all liars
since he is the biggest liar of all
he builds his lies upon solid rock
when others build their lies upon sand
Mr. Hemingway dances like a 16 year old girl
he spins around in circles
with jerky motions
when he is tired, he sits in his grandpa's chair
waving his hands in the air to the music
he climbs up onto the chair
and grabs both ass checks
his mouth is open and he is breathing heavy
he falls upon the floor
and crawls on his hands and knees
he rises up and spins again
Mr. Hemingway collects wigs
he has hundreds of wigs
one of every color
some are curly
and some have straight hair
he piles them up on the floor
it is a great big pile of wigs
bungalo bill suggests that he thows
some gasoline on them and burn them all up
we are all delusional about something
most people are delusional about money
even with a big hole in their bellies
living on wishful thinking and bullet hole wings
Winkie was Mr. Hemingway's girlfriend
she was a holyroller with a six figure habit
every saturday night she gave Mr. Hemingway religion
she would borrow his wigs and walk the streets
looking for Jesus and the holy ghost
there are 32 flags pinned up on her bedroom wall
she wants to fuck the president of lost tacos
to show him her ultraviloet toenails
having a talk with the neighbors
she says the president of lost tacos is a big dog with hooves
winkie is worried that people are stealing her chickens
the president of lost tacos barks at the people
before winkie had the president
people were always knocking on her windows
they want her to find Jesus
but, winkie has become a republican
she doesn't believe in jesus anymore
she only believes in money
just like a good republican
the president of lost tacos paints pictures of birds all day
red bird, green birds, blue birds
nothing but birds all day long
the president of lsot tacos says that you have to watch out
for the blue birds
the blue birds will eat you
the red birds will marry you
and winkie we fuck you
that is the way things work in this universe
the president of lost tacos is always asking how to open the bitch
wanting us to speak a common language
Mr. Hemingway glows and beats himself up
he is angry with winkie
because she is too generous with her thistles
be strong or die

the ghost comes in and drinks the coffee
it tickles the noses of the people
who stop to watch and stare
we trust ourselves to instinct
a contemplation of our past
all of our impositions
Mr. Hemingway doesn't care about credentials
they don't help when you are jonesing for a fix
or arguing with atlking head on tv
a credential is just for idiots
he never comes up with an answer
he is only interested in starting fires
most of his fires are under Bungaloo Bill
worshiping your DNA
basking in the bullshit
it is such a brown glow
from profound assholes
his name is vanity
and he likes nothing better than to dress up like a duck
winkie likes to rubmayonaise all over Mr. Hemingway
Bungalo Bill videotapes winkie as she rubs it all over Mr. Heminway
this has a lasting value
the issue of credibility
bringing it up again and again
all the extra work to get the last bit of jizz out
winkie is a professional
she takes great pride in her work
bungalo bill does research on suicide
mixing his pills with his alcohol
the taste is comitment
drinking with a powerful incentive
pushing eject
bungalo bill is the conditions
he likes to play with the president's pawns
he is prjecting the cosmic sin
he requires everyone to suffer
making them submit
bungalo bill is a secret weapon
he is conditioning himself
evicerating the damage
sitting and kneeling with the barrel in your mouth
winkie always has to clean up the mess
there is a strict division of labor in this universe
she recomends using plenty of duct tape
death with dignity
advocating a crude method
sweeping up the shame of suffering
out of touch with dignity
a reflection of the classroom
programed into the status quo
bungaloo bill opposes everyhting
he is like a cold shower
shrinking your balls

The president of lost tacos wears t-shirts with revolutionaries
he loves his flamethrower
igniting the fluid as it comes out of his wand
he is all about equal opportunity
creating an equal amount of harm
shitting you out
just like a corporate mission statement
his mission is to procreate
to spread his dirty little seed
he knows that no one comes back
we all disappear and go away
he has no desire to stay sane
he is practicing his schoolyard bullshit
berating the workers
copying their nutty behavior
waiting for a traffic stop
to search you for drugs
if you are clean, he will make you dirty
the president of lost tacos watches you dance
his has secret cameras in your home
he works for an evil genius
two little girls dancing around the chairs
the chairs worry abou the outcomes
of the dance
will the dance inspire?
wave your arms winkie
we all wave our arms with you
while you talk about stuff
winkie has beautiful lips
we all watch her lips as she talks
the sound of the video is turned down
watching you
winkie wants the president of lost tacos to pay for her surgery
she wants to change her nose
she thinks that her nose is ugly
but her lips are beautiful
she fights to creat value
in her life and others

Mr. Heminway is a poet
many people think he is a polititian
or maybe a revolutionary
he could be a hero or a terorist
but he is only a poet
he writes poetry about the ladies
he loves all the ladies of the world
it doesn't matter the style or type
he simply loves them all
Mr Hemingway writes about his love for the ladies
how they think they know him
when they don't
he considers himself too complicated
to be figured out by anyone
yet they all do take their turn at figuring
the best that their minds can
for some it is all fight or fuck
and for some its all custard pie
they place their trump down
Mr. Hemingway love them and leaves them
there is a trail of broken hearts that follows him
they have followed him to Paris and London
broken hearts in Hamburg and Vienna
and even in Mexico City
he sold his stock in Microsoft
and trveled the world
he sailed abroken ship around the world
he can't stop talking about love
how his heart has been broken so many times
yet he keeps getting back on that horse
he rides her int town
as the town's women wave palm branches at him
he tells them he is not their savior
only a snake offering them his apple
a traveler of both time and space

Friday, August 5, 2011

she wants to fuck my pluralistic universe
all the little movements never build up to a revolution
her talk is all bursting veins
trying to plug up the holes as she bleeds on my floor
I covered her words for her
I built a fence around her
and worshiped her golden calf
making her bloom
she turns her petals toward the sun
her strange fingers feel at me
it is part if her skill set
her fingers want to know about my madness
they want to be entertained
I tell them that my madness is personal
they laugh when I tell them this
if it wasn't for their laughing, I would have killed them
they are setting bombs off again
even still they are all a bunch of posers
Grabbing at their crotches
They don’t want to play with me anymore
I play too hard for them
I play with a garden shovel
And I play with a bloody saw
And I’m a real fucking cutup
The burning bush is in our minds
it sure the fuck is in my mind
it speaks to me
I never thought I would live like this
She is filled with dirt
no, she is covered with dirt
her mother wouldn't even recognize her
Makes her home with the roaches
a souless angel
it is better for her in the next world
She was ready made for me
I could have found a million just like her
Shaving her pubs
polished finger nails
perfect hair
I touch her with gloves
A flower for her crotch
She was packing her bags
She wanted to go away with me
Go far away
She stood there staring at something very large
I have a protective shield that surrounds me
She became trapped in my magnetic field
It was an imminent catastrophe
Power fluctuations between cosmos and the abyss
Nothing like this is temporary
I am powerful enough to do the job
To fry her electric grid
scrubbing her every where I touched her
I am driving my Buick out on airline highway
we are watching the stars and the clowns
we are drinking tall boys
I am thinking about madness
it's relationship to my life
we talk about suicide for hours in the darkness
imagining what it would be like to be dead
back then, our thinking was so limited
thinking everything is black and white
our retinas could not recognize the gray areas
we took the insides out of the black beauties
and snorted it up our noses
we snorted the destruction of the world up our noses
we thought it was coming real soon
maybe the world is already destroyed
and we are too stupid to recognize it

Sunday, June 5, 2011

I was sent to kill the Genius

I was sent to kill the Genius

My appendages are humming,
Something from the Rolling Stones, most likely,
Since the operation it is hard to remember
But, the damn things do what they want
any requests?

The dead will need their legs,
That old wino told me
You know, the guy who predicted the end of the world
And Bought billions of dollars of billboard signs
Hey buddy, throw some of that money my way

As I climb up the ladder to attach your spine
It only takes a little barbed-wire and twine
Still humming tumbling dice
Now I remember
Some things still come to me
Take a chance with me

Building each and every one of your demons,
It’s complicated but I do have directions
I think they are in four different languages
It requires a lot of screwing and pounding

You are more than your tortoise shell collection
An angel who has fallen from heaven
I’m just giving you a voice
the rock and the hammer
Is that really a voice?

You fall apart in all the right places
Trading your golden halo for another crack-dream-nightmare
How dare you suffer differently than me
It doesn’t matter no more
I guess it never did

These are the days that we long to forget,
Like Broken glass rubbed across your back,
There you are in a little pile
An enemy to be feared
Attack the man says, attack
What did you expect?
Are you curious about when freedom died?

You want to know if I’m an assassin,
I’m just an errand boy
Sent by grocery clerks
Their souls are mad
You knew I wasn’t going anywhere
The strength to do your perfect will
It was then that I knew that you were more than I

We are asleep and dreaming
Victims to a war against our freedoms
So the rich can get richer
And the poor can get poorer
It is obscene
It is judgment that defeats us
Repeat and rinse

Wednesday, May 25, 2011

Immortal Jellyfish #38

Immortal Jellyfish #38

The lady is a vampire,
solitude of the empty wall,
I fill it with paint.

It is a fundamental illusion,
your orange shirt and tiny breasts,
I give another woman your chocolate.

You are fascinated by how I investigate the object,
I do not wish to merely take note
of the path of our individual reflections.

Looking for the simplest and shortest way,
you place your name upon my method,
we are becoming detached.

How I long to discover your center,
we shall allow ourselves to be led,
giving away the practical guidance.

I hear laughter in the spaces between your words,
whether to be absorbed into one of your members,
a beholding of the world.

It is because of the romantics,
approaching the meaning we are familiar with,
the view out your window makes me complete.

I am not simply retained in your memory
like a present wrapped with a colorful bow,
I am a matter of your coherent conviction.
A mixture of superstition and knowledge,
tying the rope between the poles of foreboding,
as life-experience, power, and character.

You want to formally connect your thoughts,
to stitch them together like Methuselah,
binding the wind to the water.

Immortal Jellyfish #37

Immortal Jellyfish #37

You are so sexy with your butterscotch kisses,
wanting to learn about love and loss
as our lives intersect in interesting ways.

All of my voices speak to you
with the glowing appeal of a high summer dream,
we are tempted by the hour’s length.

I am the morrow in your bones,
building for you more red blood cells,
calling creatures what they are.

It was the breath and voice that gave you life,
I into you like a magic word,
pulling all the pieces together.

Together we are reminded of great things,
that vision that pushed us on,
our toes dangling in the water.

I never learned about being human from your machines,
I once had human teachers,
now I’m on the train to Shanghi.

I am looking for a Polaroid,
in a really cool place,
cakes and coffee on tables.

Living in the gallery,
it is all black and white to me,
I cannot see your colors.

The trains have feelings
and I break them all,
I can’t get enough of your Six 80s.

It is one on one,
introducing me to the Spice girls,
I had a man child.

Sunday, May 22, 2011

Immortal Jellyfish #33

Immortal Jellyfish #33

There is so much excess between our lives,
we had a crazy dream that no one believed in, but us,
to live like dangerous people in a dangerous land.

We started to see only ourselves, for the first time,
to be so real among the roses and the thorns,
communicating with others.

I have nothing and want everything,
but, it is not material things that I want,
I want that which I cannot buy.

Translating the human side,
we once lived in the middle of garbage,
you helped me more than I could help you.

I gave you a piece of my soul
and you cherished more than I could ever imagine
I can give you more because I am bigger than you can see.

I have known since I was small
that there was something that was so big inside me
that could never ever be measured.
All the people that push and pull,
wanting it to be like the movies,
rolling up the street with cement hands.

Tipped off by your FBI pals,
satisfying your naked lusts for truths,
you are a degenerate vivisectionist.

Working on your desecration and exploitation,
skills that you portray on youtube,
this is not your fate but your public policy.

You went there and found it to be too small,
wanting to disappear instead of being found,
a completely different story.

Going eight miles an hour,
always coming in from Vietnam,
the voices have gone away.

Immortal Jellyfish #32

Immortal Jellyfish #32

Come here and get your hands dirty,
drinking the champagne from the bottle,
green bottles with green eyes.

They tell me they are jealous,
of the fires on the night sky,
the two of us dancing together.

It is about the life blood,
how you collect it in a jar,
and on sad days we drink.

To wear the pointy shoes of the middle class
and read your magazines of pride
I have no room in my heart for prejudice.

Beautiful scenery with a lake and man fishing,
the moment when one thing turns into another,
that is the beauty that we cannot replicate.

I saw the tears fall down your cheek
as you said that you didn’t want to be here,
I offer you a love that is beyond dreams.

The things you throw away,
they are so charming,
as far as you can see.

We lose the scale,
they died from drug trafficking,
the rain stains the wall.

I was never ashamed of being poor,
I told them you were younger than you are,
we are bonded by this lie.

Throwing up little pieces,
Watching the death creep in through the window,
it was so white and horrific.

The little ant crawling across the face,
so beautiful and so delicate,
you don’t want to go back.

If we shake them up and make them see something else,
they are never as fragile as you imagined,
one way or another, another reality.

Immortal Jellyfish #22

Immortal Jellyfish #22

It is the words of hurt that you cherish,
they have become like your children,
feeding and clothing them.

Inside them you place your hopes and dreams
and the nightmare of an irrational person,
you have become such a hard sell.

Your scars you have turned into ribbons and badges,
that scar above your right eye
where the beer bottle cut you.

It is always a fight or a fuck for you,
there are no more empty spaces inside your heart,
no room to fit a Buddha or a baby Jesus.

Certainly no room for me inside that dark place,
it takes big shoulders to hold up such a weight,
a world of that refuses to accept reality.

You want things to be made easy for you,
easier than in the movies,
big piles of money that you hide in books and stack in the corner.

They come around you barking like dogs,
drinking the milk that you pour into little bowls,
you pet them of the head and call them hope and belief.

Immortal Jellyfish #21

Immortal Jellyfish #21

I feel like a hunted animal,
looking out into the darkness,
adding to the anguish of the cornered.

These matters of life and death as they sit high upon a hill,
connecting the inside with the outside, lies the abyss,
you prepare yourself with shudders of awe.

Prepared to stay in the background and to blend in,
being picked up on the road hitchhiking,
thinking effectively on your feet.

It was an escape, lunging out the window,
broken glass and gunshots in the dark,
your heart beating faster and faster.

For the past week I have been working on taming you,
you have hair coming out of your head,
having been hanged for such a fate.

You stood quiet as a lump,
while I hammered at your feet,
the last in the first days.

I wished you continued success,
better off than before,
the circus is in town.

Running a hand through your unruly hair,
if you don’t like the way then move out of the way,
just a little more than a showman.