8 = 8
= 8 =

Man, woman;

Woman, man.

Man, man;

Woman, woman.

Man, woman, man;

Woman, man, woman.

Man, man, man;

Woman, woman woman.

Woman, man, woman;

Man, woman, man.

Woman, woman;

Man, man.

Woman, man;

Man, woman.

POW

***** display their phantom religiosity.

Dirigibles drift in hapless abandon.

The horseman croaks for a pittance,
while the Christ-person blithely ignores his pathetic beseechment.

Yet.....

The wrath of the path,
press vital visions into subterranean oblivion.

The constraints of excessive propriety.
The friction, the pressure,
the itching pleasures of the harness.

By these means the bounds of the self impart pleasure,
by such means  the illusion of self is given libidinal support.

But I am tired, it is late.
The flashing colored lights
and ethereal sounds can wait.

So free the hand!
Free the stylus!
Remove the harness.
Let the animals
run rampant!

Deep!
Deeper then deep!
So the serpent moans,
Tortured by fermented visions.

He is wrenched from the depths;
From the bowels, the  bunions,
of his  sub-cortical animations.

Morbid, morbidly  the incubus  howls.

Bemoan the sweet panther.

Animals!

yes animals!  More animals!

All is Nothing
Nothing is All.

"Is"  is  "Is"
And  "Is"  is not  "Is not"
For "Is  not"   is  "Is  not"

and vice versa.
Or versa vise.

For versa vice is its own
vice versa.

Quivering thighs rescue the belching god-****** of the iron donkey.
Purpose intervenes in the convention of sea sponges.

Why am I victimized in the attack of the thought purple?

Didn't the pebble grinder get his fair share of words?
Did the queen turkey bite the shine of the cop-insect's buckle?

Or was it just the dawning of a new apocalypse?

Boring buffaloes  salute the salamander.

Baboons, buffoons, rule the work lizard.

Will the scale male parade its  green and gold in utter abandon?

With its teeth and slime and parking meters sublime--
make claim to its birthright in space and time?

A parade of corn marches past.

Christ a Jew?
Who are you?  the mayonnaise replies.

Vegetable verbiage crackles and squeaks.

As the elastic and garlic tumble,
in delirious and elongated *******;
The horseman looks on, but cannot perform.

The saddle worn.

Testicles torn.

A **** born.

Yet, naked stands the fortune fox.
Red eye and silver lox.
Bride of the future,
Surgical suture.

The apple of time.
Wretched sublime.

Morbid!
Morbid!

Slowly, the morbid dragon coaxes its slow but
precise ambulatory apparatus.

Deep from within the primal mind,
We all exude marvelous exhortations, excretions and exhibitions.

Yet as his glassy, languid, beaded eyes
fix upon our hapless hero,

So is our innocence consumed.

Wandering passed,
Passed wandering.

Passed the prunes of my tarantula garden.

Boat orange and lemon splatter the legs of the beast.

Clean claws,
Injection complete.

Random attacks the sweet order of thought.

Hover sweet Heather, over the clover, under the thunder of the insect dragon.
Heal sweet Heather, heal the hurt, remove the dirt from my beer sausage; from my wretched, twisted and demented circuitry.

"Bring me my hot dog" my dear Debbie moans.
Morbid sighs, silken thighs, conceal the African butterfly.

"Buffy, Buffy , roughy toughy" the bit*h barks to her demanding dog friend.
"Buffy, Buffy, I've had enoughy!"

Painted lips, spill over hospital white. Chunks and hunks. Flotsam and jetsam of yesterdays lunch.

"Shaddap Shaddap!" her gray head shakes, quivers and quakes,
dispelling myths of flying flakes.
Dispersing moths, displaying snakes.

Around,
Around, and around again.

Electric dance of the magnetic mind.

Silver thoughts police the undefined maroon center,
leaving the heel scuff on the face of the passion parade.

Tumbling,
Falling,

The silver glove is  trapped in the ooze of the intestine swamp.
Holding its victim till suffocation points the way out.

The computer slid into the darkness of my electric neglect, crying for pain in the snow-ropes of random.

Easily aching, the wax of rendered delusions
scrapes the blue wall of defeat.

Will the rug weave the willful drops of the marmalade captain?
Will the night dog bite the wrapper?

Heavenly hues of salamanders pretend to **** the jacket of Ohio.

Warping, wrenching, churning;
for the fruits of the tomato-whale linger purposefully past the tree green ***** of time.

Parting, parting.

Candy cane wires of memories leave them
for the froth of integrity.

Never again shall I wade past the silver needle.
Past  its  wretched peace.

Passed the purple.

Passed the green.

Past the charcoal clouds, mourning the death of the sun garden.

When the will-bird colors its  eye
greener then the glass of tomorrow,
then the water will free the frog of peace.

As I open the door,
a coldness pours over my body.

My mind is racing.

Should I run,
Should I try to resist.

And even though i know it's not possible,
I swear I can hear the ice cream giggling.

I once  had a spice garden.
Now I have none.

I think it was to much sun.

In the morning
When the air is still
I let my thoughts wander  
Where they will.

Somnambulant visions persist,
despite a wakeful vigilance.

A splendid foolishness bursts forth.

The rich-red flowing fire of neglected and abandoned desire,
ignites the mind to far flung spasms.

Primal monsters grunt and screech.

Vertical walls of wet stone echo from the abyss,
the drunken violence of a tortured soul.

Yet the cool liquids of aquamarine,
azure blue and malachite green
can slake the thirst and silence the scream.

Then put to rest the somnambulant dream

Onward and upward,
Forward and forward,
Inward and outward.

So the light of reason is cast.

Only to fall upon,  scatter,
And lose  itself in this masterful, incoherent cognitive refuse.

In paths averted, everted, subverted and outraged,
Decipherable only by hallucinatory and encrypted minds,
So it travels.

Thus the pedestrian is assaulted.

Behold how his peppered mind reels!  
How his thirst for the absurd is sated.

And how he too, seeks refuge in incomprehensibility.

A fake smile
covers the eyes and conceals true feelings.

Clean wrists, now stained
remain.
Reminders of the past.

Memories   linger  
like the smell of *****.
***** that destroys thoughts, only to return in the morning.

Haunting, covered by a fake smile.

I am sounding my song.
It is a somber song.

Yet sprinkled with colors,
Hopeful colors.

Like the sparkling shards of pure color.
Refracted by the hexagonal prisms of the
Early morning Siberian snow.

Each, elegant, crystalline, fragile in hue.
Each imbued with its own vision of hope.
Hope of redemption by extreme unction.

I have been exiled.

I am penitent.
I am content.
No privileged!
To gaze up transfixed,
By the gleaming brass ring.

And the jangle of my jailers bright keys,
And the jangle of electroplated keys.
And the scintillating tinkling of the keys.

The shoreline was cluttered with stones.

With each retreating wave,  the mass of rounded forms
clicking and clacking,
would rise in thunderous applause...

Pleased  no doubt that someone paused to take notice.

Morbid,
Morbid!

Slowly, the dragon coaxes his slow but
precise ambulatory apparatus.
Deep from within the primal mind,
We all exude marvelous exhortations, excretions and exhibitions.
Yet as  the dragons  glassy, languid, beaded eyes
fix upon our hapless hero,
So is his innocence consumed.

Never shall I wade,
Never shall I slip.
Into the depths,
Into the ooze.
Into the warm anesthetic flow of self ingratiation,
of fetid tumescent narcissism.

Nor shall I venture into the arenas;
Into those meat-rending chambers of razor- tongued, blunt- brained image brokers.
Rather that the screeching, grunting warthogs and  jackals of the underworld
should feast upon my stinking flesh.

The thick chair cups the fat *** of the pencil cop.
Meeting  adjourned and he's once again Lincoln Continental safe, speeding home.
"Darling will you rub my legs?' he begs
as his pink lips abandon the spittle of his helplessness.

Fat turns to wax.

He slides between the sheets of their king-sized double crypt.
Only to find the mannequin gone.

Staring into the concentric light of the insect disturbance;
Daring to spot the brain pool
with the random chariot of God,
The worm moans its spotted fate.

Into the cottoned peel of a black orange the small boy peers.

How long must the plastic leg spring into the eye of the grasshopper?
Must the brass be stolen from the nectar of our asteroid?
Dark blue will receive next week's space-pin, effortlessly swallowed by the cool ether of nothing.

Hover sweet Heather, over the clover, under the thunder of the insect dragon.
Heal sweet Heather, heal the hurt, remove the dirt from my beer sausage; from my wretched, twisted and demented circuitry.

"Bring me my hot dog" my dear Debbie moans.
Morbid sighs, silken thighs, conceal the African butterfly.

"Buffy, Buffy , roughy toughy" the bit*h barks to her demanding dog friend.
"Buffy, Buffy, I've had enoughy!"

Painted lips, spill over hospital white. Chunks and hunks. Flotsam and jetsam of yesterdays lunch.

"Shaddap Shaddap!" her gray head shakes, quivers and quakes,
dispelling myths of flying flakes.
Dispersing moths, displaying snakes.