sherpa

1
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 timeshttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
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

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

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

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.
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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.