Around the Time when the Drinkers come out
And the homeless start setting up their cardboard for night
When kids talk loudly on the train going for parties
And the rest just Grim and Bear the commute home
All the Soldiers and the Workers of the Ant Farm go to the holes growing mold
Unseen but necessary for the Queen
Those throng and quiet desperation lives
Of plain gum Globules on pavement
A sigh
And a downward glance
With the slight smell of Chinese food
Such is modernity…

Incongruous by nature
wrapped in ignominious twine
I eat sushi and a 12 dollar slice of cheese cake
Chug two old english and spend the night at the porcelain throne both ends screaming
staring into eyes rapt with fear
all eyes are rapt with fear
Of what then? Death? Shame?
in the rubber belts and fulcrum arms and cogs of the melting ***
all perspectives have value
and the decadence signified in a haircut or a cadillac is nothing more
than the words on the bathroom walls
or little brown note books
Clarity is for saps
Flourish dans l'entropy
Ou mourir dans la peur

Quack Quack Quack
I'm a duck I'm a duck
Quack Quack Quack. Quack! Quack!
I lost my girlfriend today I'm so sad
Quack Quack
I'm a duck
Quack Quack
Here is what I think about the world
Quack Quack ******* Quack
Quack Quack Depression Quack
Quack Quack Love Lust Quack
Quack Quack Philosphical Quack
Quack time Quack the mind Quack Life Quack meaning
Quack Quack waxing on and on Quack more meaningless description Quack metaphor Quack symbolism Quack analogy Quack Quack
Meter Quack rhythm Quack Sublime Quack
Quack where am I? Quack Quack How did i get to this point? Quack
Quack Quack Quack. Quaaack!! Quaaaaaacccckkk!
I have no ******* purpose! Quack!
Why? ******* QUAAAAACK!
Is this all I'm good for? QUaaack!
I'm a duck
Please hear me Quack

My thoughts turn to food
Barbecued ribs
And then and then
The black keyboard white letters
A pen in the mouth
People outside walk to work
Feet tap to music
A pen in the mouth
There are words that have never been uttered
Words without meaning
This is my purpose
Because it is an easy one
Blank! Blank! Blank!
The soul always desperate to spank
Caggle *** loude
Cankle *** louder
Why go on?

Electromagnetism
Electricity and magnetism
Shoelaces that are just to **** long
And drag across the ground
Even when they are tied
They are essentially useless

In 1938 a Japanese woman who does not yet know the name of her new husband is ***** violently on her wedding night. In 500 BC a roman emperor orders a feast of fifteen cows and thirty swine, he drinks too much wine and gets sick in the middle of a double ******* by a Nubian slave and a plump Egyptian delegate.

Everything is just so been done

There was a message there for a second
But then state farm came in like a good neighbor and broke my train of thought
And that was beautiful in its’ own right
Like paint mixing to brown
As words only confuse everything
And emotions are like real gods

I bring you to the ends of our own expressible thought
on the edge of a cliff that cannot be crossed
a cliff and an asymptote
that is never perceived

Real Gods are in the pudding,
in relations between lines
in laws given and unbending
objective, quantifiable, and beyond my description
they are in the unending study and toil of the labors of love
a thought

but not in religion
unless you think about it like that
which you are always free to do

because sometimes the only way to show the inexpressibility
of life, nature and all is
is in raptures of revelation

The difference between ‘this’ and ‘that’
existentially plastered and preparing for nothing

The Hadit and Nuit
Bored and lonely on a carpet and picking acne

The being in and for
The words of infinite relation and perspective

Horus and Nut
On Saussure’s lap dogged, tired, and deceptive  

Gilgamesh and Inkidu
"And nothing else matters" Metallica claim

Yin and Yang?
All are the same

and different at the same time
built in illusion
'the paradox conclusion'

God written in Mathematics
And forgotten in words

The Nature of the universe is SO immature
Always sitting and waiting for life to begin

Looking for answers to moral and logical sins
A Non gendered third person pronoun, shin

Cough! and Cough! and sputter and Die!
Burnt by the spent life
Why?

We are but the glorious observers of such things

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Thank you! oh universe! for your resounding reply
The answer to our infinite begging the question
In the face of indiscriminate pain, love, and will
You gave us your only consistent truth
And without it we would not even have these wonderful happenings that we call humanity
Without your blatant disregard for everything we have ever wanted and needed
We would have none of them anyway
for it is only against your antithesis of will
that we find ours
And only now do I see why I can't embrace you
because will is all I have
In your infinite lack I find myself
And in choosing to not act one still makes a choice
And that is the rub

The Ugly Coupling of the blue sousaphone suckling
Buffalo Buffalo

didn't know the blue mouth piece widget
was no inspired milk spigot  
soaked with Mr. Creosote
in *****'n beer laden banana bins

weewoo weewoo the maniac is behind you

(its funny how when i'm feeling particularly uninspired my poems always come out like this....)

chuckling happily listening to singing nonsense
with headphones on
9 beats, repeated triplets, phrases

spoken in a mumbling rhythm

(....just jumbled references, slant rhymes and free associations)

dreams of peace in the middle east
as eyes turn upward to see a collard shirt and mohawk looking back
"my god what have you done"

An animal and a man rolled into one
With the desire of the id
And unabashed self-determination of a Sartrian dream
Or a Nietzschean *******
With viral hairy arms and mustache
And throbbing uncircumcised member
(any takers on the reference)
And with a Nihilism that would make even entropy blush
My ultimate goal and ultimate fear

I thought that I was the next thompson
I can't unthink that now
I thought I was a pathetic little wannabe playing himself up to be something more
I can't unthink that now  
I stared at a women on the subway for a solid time and then wrote a note telling her she was beautiful and laid it beside her
I can’t unsay that now
I told my older brother that I think he has asbergers syndrome
I can’t unsay that now
I realized as I took a puff of a joint that I was only doing so because I wanted an excuse to sit and do nothing all day
I can’t unthink that now
Subsequently I understood that all of my consummate drug use is not in any sense exploration or experimentation but simply an escape from my persistent thought
I can’t unthink that now
While listening to a boost mobile add I realized that they were targeting black people by using words like “bling bling” and an obvious ebonic accent
I can’t unthink that now
I saw another ad where the bodyless voice claimed “size does matter” and realized that it was playing on the general inadequacy issues and ***** envy of most men
I can’t unthink that now
Standing on the street I thought about stepping in front of a bus
I can’t unthink that now
While discussing gender politics with a friend I drew a comparison between liberal activist sentiments and culturally accepted cannibalism
I can’t unsay that now
While holding a knife for a brief second I thought about pushing through her back
I can’t unthink that now
I told a black couple that they look exactly alike
I can’t unsay that now
I saw a thick assed black women walk past me and was over whelmed with jealousy at the idea that she would never sleep with a white boy like me
I can’t unthink that now
I heard about the lacrosse team at notre dame being accuse of ****** that girl and thought “how horrible now all of those guys lives are ruined”
I can’t unthink that now
I stood with some friends at a bar and derided them with ******* like “I ain’t got money like all you haha”
I can’t unsay that now
I told a my girlfriend that she had cankles
I can’t unsay that now
I asked my ex girlfriend if she wanted to have a ******* with my new girlfriend and I
I can’t unsay that now
I identified with the title of the nirvana song “I hate myself and want to die”
I can’t unthink that now
I thought that the world would probably be better and would function much more smoothly if there weren’t any races or religions
I can’t unthink that now
I thought that I would rather be black or gay because then I would have something to be angry about
I can’t unthink that now
I used to think about running away so then I could have one of those romantic stories of the runaway who went and made his own life
I can’t unthink that now
I used to wish my parents hated each other for similar reasons
I can’t unthink that now
I saw a beautiful ******* the street and immediately thought that she must be so boring because her whole life is given to her because she is so beautiful
I can’t unthink that now
I gave money to one of those gay rights activists on the street and felt smugly confident in my own liberal open-mindedness
I can’t unthink that now
I held a steak knife and wondered how it would feel to run it through my eye
I can’t unthink that now
I realized that if we believe that one action causes another our lives are fundamentally determined from the beginning and are therefore meaningless
I can’t unthink that now
I realized that if we really do have the power of choice then it inevitably follows that one action is not caused by another and that all of everything is essentially random and life is similarly meaningless
I can’t unthink that now
I realized that my life is only as good as it is because it is built on the backs of endless suffering others
I can’t unthink that now
I realized that despite all of these ugly and despicable realizations about myself I still think I’m a pretty good guy
I can’t unthink that now

Why are we conscious?
Why life?
The universe
infinite flux
Epic Smashing parts together
Brains splattered by speeding bullets
Simple physics
Described in abstract numbers
Sublime
It’s so plain
So regular
How Life is extinguished without emotion
In an instant
Unseen and unremembered
Why did we even bother?
To become conscious at all
To perceive futilely the world
And despair in the flux
Anguish in the face
Of pure entropy
Absurdity is the only legitimate feeling
And yet there are so many more
Why? I want to know!
Why this fait?
Why could I not be a chair?
Simply sitting, never thinking the thoughts
My bane and my bone
My plagued thoughts
In pursuit of clarity
Like a sore that would go away
If you would
Just
Stop
Picking it

I am a ******* artist
I ******* my way through ******* conversations
And I ******* all of my ******* poetry
I ******* my daily life
Spewing ******* to people around
Who themselves are really full of ******* as well
I do this to hide the fact that I am really full of *******
You see it is a recursive cycle of *******
Me bullshitting them, them me, and everyone full of *******
And don’t get me wrong I’m not trying to feed you negative *******
I even believe my own *******
And their *******
I guess you could say it is some Buddhist *******
Or some ******* like that
But really we are all so full of ******* that it’s coming out our eyes
Even this poem right here is *******
I don’t even buy this *******
ah ******* is there any sifting through you?
any escape from *******?
It just seems like the more you try to sift through the *******
The more you get your hands covered in *******

So you see how I fall deeper and deeper into *******
It really is appropriate

Drive your car up to the gooseneck and tie the lazy end of traveler up with wire and linemen
Take the working end of the traveler and tie that up with a rope, with the other end of the rope tied to the car
Clip the well wheel to the jib or tie arm and raise the car to pick up the traveler
Once the traveler is loose from the gooseneck, remove it and put it in the car
Loop the cable around the well wheel
loosen the rope until the traveler hangs from the well wheel
drive the car up until you have reached the next position drive and be careful about the wire tied to the lazy end
once you have reached the next position put the gooseneck back on the tower
drive past the gooseneck
tie a rope back around the working end and another around the lazy end of the traveler and wrap the other end of each rope around the tower
The ropes control the slack of the traveler
Lower the traveler onto the gooseneck
lower the car until the traveler hangs from the tower, keep tension on the ropes
remove the traveler from the well wheel, transfer it back to the gooseneck
now slowly loosen the ropes until the cable is hanging from the gooseneck again
now tie off the cable to the tower with wire using linemen
as you drive the car down continue to tie off the lazy end with wire
when you get to the donkey **** tie a rope around the cable below it and loop the other end around the car
slightly pick the cable
tie of wire below and above the donkey **** using the linemen
secure the cable to the tower with wire so that there is not too much strain on the donkey ****
make sure the donkey **** will not hit the car or trolley as they drive past it
loosen the rope from the cable and continue to drive the car down
drive the car down
go home

Sometimes I wonder if there is any line between poetry and prose, or prose and story. Where is this line? What is the difference? Is it some kind of structural difference? The problem with this is it becomes difficult to define where the structural lines are drawn. Is it some difference in the use of language? Anyone who has read Burroughs knows there is very little difference between his language in poem and prose. It all comes down to that old bald thought experiment. If we were to remove hairs from a man’s head, one by one, at what point would he be bald? It must be the context. This is a poem because it is presented as such.  

The thing about it is I don’t really give a ****.

The thing about it is that I’m just looking for something that I do not know.
And I get a kick out of pretending
And sometime something something I’m a little bit high now folks
Because sometimes I need something too
/
all the time
And Some might say that you can get a lot higher without drugs than with them
But at this day and age that’s becoming less and less clear for most folks
Including myself
And that’s pure Thompson
May the great decadent castle topple down!
And I, like a noble captain,
Will sink with her
I stand with hunched broken back
On the backs of millions
Pondering lifelessly

I smell something. I can’t really know what. It’s horrible. I do not know if it is me or someone around me. A woman in front of me has a dark line around the back of her neck. As if that crease her skin collected some errant dirt and she never washed it off. I don’t know but it may be her. Or I may be a ******* because she is pretty fat. And that’s empirical. And I know it’s not her fault, but I may have some sick bias against fat women brought on by repeated social direction. I remember when I thought of myself as undesirable. I did not wash. And I didn’t shower yesterday. And really I don’t know if this line here on her neck is really dirt, but ******* that smell. It’s killing me, and even distracting me from the gripping narrative of the American sedition laws during WW1. Honestly it is probably me, but why is it so persistent? Wouldn’t I fall victim to scent saturation blindness, or whatever that affect is called. The point is you can’t normally smell your own stink, and none of us even notice our own stink. I think there is something in that somewhere. I can’t smell my own stink, and so I blame this poor girl.

(TO be read aloud and heard in that strange deep voice that you hear when you talk to yourself

the one that sounds like it comes from inside your head
between your ears, when you can feel the vibration)

.....

Sojourn
Soujorn
Soooujourn
Jousorn?
Sojourn
So­journ! jousorn
juooooosooorn
Sojourn? jousorn
Sojourn.
Sou...Journ
soujourn
soujourn
soujourn
soujorn
soujorn
jousorn?
sooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuu­
journ
sojourn, sojourn
jousorn
jousorn

(breathing sounds)
mmm hmmm
hmmm hmmm

mmmm hmmm
(breathing sounds)

sooooouuujoooouurn
jooooooouuuussssssssooooouuurn
Sojour­n.

sojourn soujorn
soujorn?
soujorn.
sojourn!
sojourn.
josourn?
sooojourn.
sojourn.
SOOOOUUU....journ
SOOOOUUU....journ
SoooooUU­Uu....Journ
Jousorn.
Josourn.
soujorn.
sojourn.
.................­.................................................................­..................sojourn?
(now deadpan)
sojourn
josourn
jousorn
jousorn
soujorn
sojourn
sojouuur­n
sojouuuurn
sojouuuurn
sojouuurrn
sojouuurrnnnannnannnannannnn Sojooorun
sojourn
jousorn
jousooooorununnnnnnunnnnunnnn
sojourn
s­oujorn
soujorn
soujourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
j­ousorn
jousorn
jousorn
jjjjjjooooooooouuuuujjjjjjjjoooooouuuuuuus­oooooooorrrrrnnnnnnuuunnnuuuunnnnnuuuuunnnnuuuunnnn
sojourn?
jous­ourn.
joursorn.
sojourn
.........................................­.........
.................................................
.....­.....................................
sojouuurrnnnannnannnannannn­n Sojooorun
sojourn
jousorn
jousooooorununnnnnnunnnnunnnn
sojourn
s­oujorn
soujorn
soujourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
j­ousorn
jousorn
jousorn
soujourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
s­ojourn
jousorn
jousorn
jousorn
jousorn

(breathing sounds)
mmm hmmm
hmmm hmmm

mmmm hmmm hmmmmmm hmmmmmm hhhmmmmmm hmmmmmmm nnnnnnnnn mmmhhmhmmmmmmhmmmmmmmm
(breathing sounds)
.......................
......................
..........­..........
soujorn?
soujorn.
sojourn!
sojourn.
josourn?
sooojourn.
sojourn.
sooooouuujoooouurn
jooooooouuuussssssssooooo­uuurn
Sojourn.

sojourn soujorn
soujorn?
soujorn.
sojourn!
sojourn.
josourn?
sooojourn.
sojourn.
hnnhhhhhhnnnnnnnnnhhnnnnnnnnnnnnnnannnnnannn­nnnnnnnnnnaaaaaaaaaaaannnnnnnuuuuuuuuuuunnnnnnnnnuuuuuuuuunnnnnn
­sojourn
Sojourn
Soujorn
Soooujourn
Jousorn?
Sojourn
Sojourn! jousorn
juooooosooorn
Sojourn? jousorn
Sojourn.
Sou...Journ
soujourn
soujourn
soujourn
soujorn
soujorn
jousorn?
sooooooouuuuuuuuuuuuu­
journ
sojourn, sojourn
jousorn
jousorn

(breathing sounds)
mmm hmmm
hmmm hmmm

mmmm hmmm
(breathing sounds)

sooooouuujoooouurn
jooooooouuuussssssssooooouuurn
Sojour­n.

sojourn soujorn
soujorn?
soujorn.
sojourn!
sojourn.
josourn?
sooojourn.
sojourn.
SOOOOUUU....journ
SOOOOUUU....journ
SoooooUU­Uu....Journ
Jousorn.
Josourn.
soujorn.
sojourn.
.................­.................................................................­..................sojourn?
(now deadpan)
sojourn
josourn
jousorn
jousorn
soujorn
sojourn
sojouuur­n
sojouuuurn
sojouuuurn
sojouuurrn
sojouuurrnnnannnannnannannnn Sojooorun
sojourn
jousorn
jousooooorununnnnnnunnnnunnnn
sojourn
s­oujorn
soujorn
soujourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
j­ousorn
jousorn
jousorn
jjjjjjooooooooouuuuujjjjjjjjoooooouuuuuuus­oooooooorrrrrnnnnnnuuunnnuuuunnnnnuuuuunnnnuuuunnnn
sojourn?
jous­ourn.
joursorn.
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
.........................­............................................................
....­................................................................
­.............................................................
soj­ouuurrnnnannnannnannannnn Sojooorun
sojourn
jousorn
jousooooorununnnnnnunnnnunnnn
sojourn
s­oujorn
sooooooooojoooooouuuuunnnnnanannnnnnunnnnn
soujorn
soujour­n
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
jousorn
jousorn
jousorn­
soujourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
sojourn
jousorn
jousorn­
jousorn
jousorn

(breathing sounds)
mmm hmmm
hmmm hmmm

mmmm hmmm hmmmmmm hmmmmmm hhhmmmmmm hmmmmmmm nnnnnnnnn mmmhhmhmmmmmmhmmmmmmmm
hhhhhmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmmhhhhhhhhhhhmmmmmmmmm­mmmmmmmmmmmuuuuuuuuuummmmmmmmmmmmm
(breathing sounds)
.......................
......................
..........­..........
soujorn?
soujorn.
sojourn!
sojourn.
josourn?
sooojourn.
sojourn.
sooooouuujoooouurn
jooooooouuuussssssssooooo­uuurn
Sojourn.
jousorn
jousorn
jousorn
sojourn soujorn
soujorn?
soujorn.
sojourn!
sojourn.
josourn?
sooojourn.
sojourn.

Confucius- inequality is fundamental to humanity

Relationships of inequality
Parent-child
Elder-younger
Husband-wife
Ruler-minister
Friend-friend

Philoso­phy known as Ren

Household (Jia)
-patriarchal
-patrilineal
-having sons was the most important thing
-ancestor worship-having sons was essential for carrying on the family name and therefore honoring the ancestors
-partible inheritance- each son would inherit equal shares of the family wealth

Sage emperors –Yao, Shun, Yu- each passed on rule to the best man instead of their son
-Yu was the first emperor to form a dynasty with his son Xia after being asked by the people to do so, this is followed by the Shang and eventually by the Zhou dynasty
-all of this is essentially myth and the only thing that is actually known is that the Zhou dynasty existed.

Zhou Dynasty (1050-250 BCE)

Qin-Han (221 BCE- 220 CE)

Sui-Tang (587-907)

Command economy

Society order of rank-

-scholar-most valuable because they bring knowledge and order
-peasant-are higher than artisans because they actually create rather than manipulate
-artisan-higher than merchant because they at least contribute skilled work and goods
-merchant-the lowest rank because they only sell goods and do not contribute anything to society.



Three teachings

Confucism  

Daoism-a system created by a small group of elites in china. Accepted a kind a view of getting along in the world by essentially rolling with the punches. Became a sort of religion based on the texts of Laozi

Buddhism

Sui Dynasty (589-618)

Tang Dynasty  (618-907)

-Up until the tang dynasty nobody owned land besides the emperor. This changed after the tang dynasty was weakened. During this period salt became the new revenue stream for the empire. This allowed merchants to control certain areas of the market and become very wealthy.

Song Dynasty (960-1276)

Yaun Dynasty- Mongol dynasty- did not run china in a chinese way

Ming dynasty- return of chinese order, second peasant emperor Zhu yaunzhen, he distrusted the gentry and the bureaucracy as well as his revolutionary allies, he punished and executed many previously noble families inadvertently making room for many new families to gain prominence.

-boom in population and wealth lead to many families having the ability to educate their sons and participate in the examination system. The quotas however went unchanged which lead to a general dissatisfaction with the system.

-global climate change lead to high frequency of crop failure leading to famine and strife.

Wanli 1572-1619- had a long rule, which is known as the beginning of the decline of the Ming. During his reign china becomes more and more wealthy and with wealth comes decadence. When he dies he is followed by his son who dies soon after and then his grandson who has little interest in ruling and allows Wei ZhonXian, a ******, become the defacto ruler.  Meanwhile crops begin to fail around the country and epidemics soon follow. By the mid 1640’s things are falling apart for the Ming.

li Zicheng- Rebel leader, started as rider in the royal postal service, was fired and turned into a bandit eventually becoming a rebel leader and taking the city of Beijing and declaring himself as the head of a new dynasty.

-At the same time the Manchus are also beginning to take over militarily northeast of the great wall. They ally with one of the few remaining Chinese generals and take Beijing from Li Zicheng. This begins the Qing dynasty.

"my identification lies in the hopeless psychedelic absurdities of ninety year old existentialists and the macabre **** trails of industrialized ghosts

Slaying scissor handed dragons of whirlwind dimensions from plain abject boredom
Smashed with broken Knuckled collisions against walls of mimetic iron and steel
as territorial **** measuring fanatics play out semiotic fantasies of heroic rigor mortis but i don't want to get political
because the cosmic play is of the ancient masters repeatedly tripping over each other
and i don't claim to know the rules if there are any
So for now i will bash my brains and hair against this black holed vacuum of being in itself
and try to remember that the uncertainty principle doesn't allow us to know position and velocity simultaneously
and that by observing the world it is irrevocably changed by the power of Schrodinger's Cat

I would tear that ******* ******* to shreds if I looked in the box

So next time around i'll mechanically saw off my arms and see if they will grow back
and burn gasoline in a shovel mesmerized by the blue flames and melted animal ecstasies connecting all to the light of infinite unknowing"

Said the dog with the bone in his mouth. I asked him

"how can you talk with food in your mouth like that? it's dreadful"

He did not reply.

I pondered his speech on the train home and filled a balloon with nitrous,
tide it off and began to punch it while holding the rubber band attached.
a man with knuckle tattoos next to me popped it with a pen

I miss my nitrous balloon

But i didn't have time to think about it because a Hottentot venus in yoga pants with that *** like bow! just walked past

GInger Demons and Universal Nightmares with scarred faces meet the wandering minds gaze

WIth furrowed brow in confusion and a spark of indecency caught by the synaptic spiderweb
Well that was the point any way, I think
but really I don't recall  

Positively Yeatsian in grandiose metaphor
and impenetrable like the intangible soul flux
I chisel cave drawings crude and star spangled
to be found by future archeologists

Looking meticulously on a river scene of beautiful Wednesday afternoons with all of life’s luxury
Out the window is a tree bent and gnarled with visible age twice my own
The perfect metaphor of life merely eking by, postured against infinity
As another, warped by the waves and turned to termed drift wood, also catches my eye for its existential merit
As it’s all been said before perspective is our only peculiarity
At the point, or lack there of, between all and nothing
Our minds spontaneous self-revelation is miracle enough for any, god fearing be ******  
As over grown and lush as the under-leaves have become it seems like a waste to cut them out now so we might as well pump them full of fertilizers and hope for the second coming
Of knowledge and growth that began in the stone age bottle necking and splurged on drugs and money during the industrial revolution.
While trying to remember the ugliest parts that were and always will be me
Lets get free, really really free

I watched the best minds of my generation sit and watch jersey shore
         on a Monday night high on cough syrup
         Contemplating hyphy at dawn
         In fear of the day they would break
         With tall teas and idiosyncrasies of language
         So profound as to make all but the most imbued  
         confounded
Who were busted ***** deep in under aged **** Bleeding
         on the locker room floors in the shade
         and hallways of eager decadence
         and busted again three years later
         in ancient palaces at Hanover
Who rolled on the floor in ecstasy giggling at the shapes
         Floating listlessly in a dream down the ski slopes of Rutland
         With out feeling in the face or hands, they laid down in the white
         Light of daybreak on the rooftops of yesterday
Who made YouTube videos getting ****** up the ***
         By black ***** and loving it with a wide grin
         Shamelessly braying and bucking in the languor
         and persistent fickle protest for want of identity
Who punched each other in the face with boxing gloves
         Because they never knew pain or love
         Drinking the backwashed dregs of glasses
         And smoking cigarette butts on midnight
         Soccer fields
Who saw the perspectives reverse and shorten only to lengthen again
         And then tried to explain their visions of foxes
         To angle-haired exuberant Norwegian pranksters
Who wondered what the meaning was while drunk on plastic *****
         Sitting on carpet with the lights out in the smell of socks
Who smashed stolen mugs against sheet rock walls leaving marks
         And left their lives for the machine shops of west Texas
         Only to return to Alabama in a drunken blur for more
Who jacked off during French classes on the hill and sold drugs
         To snitches for outrageous prices
Who begged for mercy from men and women less than them
        From fear of the dreaded blacked pock marked record
Who stole whole rows of over the counter drugs for a cheap high
         On Saturdays during winter months of seasonal depression
Who lived and loved more than they even knew before child days
         Ended and adult games began
         Only ever wanting truth and purity
         and sincerity
in sublime ether lights never quite understood

The words of Urgnd Lichmae as spoken by the prophet

There is no authority but yourself and your mom
Do what thou wilt but be chilled that is the whole of the law
All of my life has been governed by the same principle
Knowledge is all
Reason is the route to knowledge
This is paradoxically countered by the striking realization
That knowledge is unattainable and reason is flawed
I consider myself the master of my reality
Ever knowing that I have No remote control
I am but a particle in the vast swirling mess
Conscious of itself
Ride! Ride! To Armageddon

And lo! He spoke in Tongues

The Young americans win the black parade blues dandy
With Crowley Tilling the endless Time Killing
Flash fried, deep dyed in coliform, and unwilling
And right then Powers said “do I make you randy”
A Flabbergasted basterd Worn Torn for the feeling
Clapper switch on ******* sent a poor boy reeling
Stealing all the ugly bits that still remained handy
Crippled light of the monitor howling **** Forlorn
Torn a sunder under Urgnd’s blundering sojourn

Yay! The beast did appear

Mike myers white Kirk Mask, light flicker
In the mirror stares the face of a devilish creature.
Blatant slander to the depths of existential life crimes
Alexander de Macedoni lost in the stammering story line
Sofie’s Crime was never letting go of her Petty moral fiber
And the First thing that comes to mind is that I’m pretty tired
But too slow was the English Tea drinking grey earl’s mudline
Mortal Corporeal punishment on the philosopher’s Stormy mind
Sold separately from the Cheap plastic **** measuring Gun Club
To The tangible alien televangel flannel laced voice Dub
Hurt, he Squirt the black fish of the drug addled killer kind

Copulation Commenced

“Hard and fast baby hard and fast” hands around my waist
On the darkened eye shadowed lids of emotional teenage angst
Embodied in all that pitiful splendor

Until Reason Beget

In game changing fashion
And delusions of Grandeur
I closed my computer for the fifth time only to reopen it in a flurry wide Side Longed imagination
To right the Wrong words for the Wrong generation
Write the rights of man, only quicker than you can
On the Holy Madonna’s, waist like a ****** Libation
This one Goes out to Baby jesus’ Great Clan

“Sometimes a man is just left with nothing to say for himself, there is no rhyme or reason to it. Sometimes the gears come loose as the train smashes into the building. Sometimes there is no hope”-Ernest Hemingway

Just keep writing
Mescalito swing
To the Margarittaville ring
Plaintiff Mingus chilling
Round Midnight fling
Or was it Miles Davis.
Stayed puffed with smors
Made with white chocolate.
No great war
No great flame no great pain no great gain
And for all its worth, for all your trouble a penny for your loss
Cost millions of Jews down the Dachau blues
Lifebuoy next clue,
For the literary jury
And a glance out the window yields the Spike of patriotic fury
Killing time Tod killing for Casey Jones locker
Playing the bag pipes off Key
Send a Post Card far away
For Diane sawyers interview
With bizzaro nbc
Done Smash Melee way
Because “I love it” and “I do too”
Even though it’s rough
No rules just right
Died sleeping in the night
Just like the lebouf
None of this is original

And then my words failed me and I slipped into a trance where I met a man holding a snake, a cobra. He held it up to me in a gesture begging my approval. I nodded and he took a pair of scissors and cut the head off the snake. Out of its body came ribbons of color and light. I cannot imagine that this has any significance.

******* mornings coughing up grey phlegm
Phloem and Iggy’s Stooges walk on the wild side to dirt
Playing in the background  
Smell of rubber
Bands and angry men singing
***** words and healthy birds outside the window chime in
Getting skinnier
Having bizarre twangy renditions played out in the mind
And laid flat on keyboards in bat-swarmed attics
fantastic dreams of large cocked sailors
Muggy Mondays sold with a half bored flourish of enthusiasm

Pans unborn moonchild
Of the mind wasted away
Alive inside me

never to disclose
the contents of the soul worn
like a dagger up the sleeve

for the pain and strife
of mere existence luddite
nature cares for none

The red horned demon
The satyr, spitting fireball
Whisky in the glass

The demented love
Bile in the glass case awakes
When least expected

And you watch your life
As it passes before you
And you have to laugh

on the pitch of life
Wasted, livid, energy
In your empty room

oh! seraphim why
do I cling to your tough spine
when nirvana awaits

suckling for comfort
to your breast indecision
grafted to your love

Aahhh the crushing ends of postmodernism
the impermeable coffee filter
selling jacked post existentialism
with innocuous novel filler
on the doorstep of Burroughs
or Joyce and Sartre
eyebrows furrowed
and chin resting in hand
looking for lost art
and coming up with grains of sand
in the boring blasts of a mind trapped in plaster cast
with solecism to guide the trembling hand
and wrinkled ****  vulgarity
language is the dullest knife
I have ever cut myself with

She was so beautiful
And like a rose
She had thorns
And like a dagger
She pierced my heart
My soul
My sand of time
Vial dropping sand grain by grain
And oh the pain
Plain in the rain
I saw her
And like a stain
On my life
I now live in strife
For the loss of my wife

And sweet melodies sung by the greatest church choirs
the greatest castratos
could not compare
to the love we had there
it was but a bright flare
burnt right
in the shadows of night

and you you you
you were so you
and the slew of oooohoooh
was it true?

Ack cough
I can’t go on
Make me poem of the day
Please…

Lying on my chest the heart beat of a hummingbird
Love and Passion Incarnate
A Seraphim with ***** Wings
The Open Box of Pandora
and all that one and a million talk
High frequency modulation betwixt
the souring doves of ecstasy
and the rain No! halberd hail!
Knifing the streets and back alleys of Brooklyn
on the subways again I recognize the worst of myself
in the lush of my Yin

*******! *******!
Is there anybody left to recover the grandeur
The anger! The pain!
the lame and dull, the men are the same
The bright thrashing bull
For once I had a dream that there was something in my room
Which impregnated my mind with ferocious alien fauna
That slowly ate the inside of my skull and gave birth to live young
Which then went out and took over the minds of a whole generation
Of acid freaks, hipsters, and all manner of deluded youth
And bore in them more screaming demon like entities
That burn in great lakes and flowering fields
And crack the concrete with lava flow
with electric ecstasy
Rationale sold separately

The moderators saw the end was coming quickly in the gold rush that followed
And the cybernetic wave crashed on them without warning
And double barreled shotguns blasted through the eye sockets
Poking wires through the holes
That god forgot to fill
As we explored and we explored until all the rocks were overturned
And all we had for all our trouble was the fatal irony of life
Now without a purpose we’ve lost the will to fight
all the animals and beasts that come out in the night
For we stand on the pinnacle without glory, without right

In our leisure we become the social experiment
The ticking time bomb to calamity
On the brink of the purest clarity
The painted picture nigh complete
And as we stand on top our kingdom come the crowded throng below
With our hands out stretched as far as we will allow ourselves to go
For if there ever was a thing that history could teach
Is that it will be funny when we find the rotted peach

For as I sat in my room on that fateful night
you were standing there before me
And your narrow frame cast a shadow upon me
But I still loved you any way
As the wind blew the blinds back and they smacked against the frame
And I thought I grasped the essence before I forgot completely about it
And I slipped back blissfully into indifference

At the 14th street station a hispanic man, medium height with a cowboy hat and a guitar slung around his shoulder walks onto the subway

passengers look on suspiciously...

as the doors shut he picks up his guitar in a well practiced fashion

the eyes of the train are weary...

he begins to play a classic sounding mariachiesque tune
spanish lyrics

A woman with green eye makeup and dark lip liner rolls her eyes and tilts her head back in exasperation

at the end of the short song a sigh of relief sounds through the car
he timed it perfectly to end as the train came to a stop

he takes off his hat and gives a short speech followed by "gracias amigos"
as he walks through the train with it upturned for donations

i regret not giving him money solely because of the expression on the green eye-linered woman's face

i walk out into grand central station and am stunned at the beuty of life

Beuaty is an interesting word for me because i cannot hear it with out thinking of the Jim Carrey line in Ace Ventura "B-E-A-Utiful"
this fact however does not save me from spelling this word wrong nearly every time i write it

Later Quietly drinking and crosshatching an old comic on a saturday
with a train gang of long islanders

miller lite is a heroes welcome
for a repugnant anarchist antichrist superstar
hidden beneath the semi-amiable skin tone, ****** orientation,
and likewise social status

the only thing left to do is commiserate
in the trappings of convenience and leisure
and the clash of Hadit and Nuit
thrumping thrashing in the sea

1000 troops to iraq again
and i don't mind to much
beyond the travesty is great comedy
for miller lite is a heroes welcome
to pennstation in late noon
and two corn dogs for breakfast

In the ancient shadows of illicit eons past
and only existing in the shadows of the now
I stare at the reflection of myself in the eyes of my sunglasses

I walked or sauntered or dashed or stumbled, no...
staggered! or swaggered, or was it stepped, no...
I jogged or, bolted, no stomped or slid no...
hopped! or was it skipped no hop skipped and jumped...
or sauntered! no i said that one, it was swaggered! no....
I stampeded or dogged or shlepped no bounced or was it...
I stamped or ed or rolled? no strolled! haha yes Strolled! no...
I stalked that was it or was it followed no no it was sojourned
sojourned! sojourn? no it was galumphed or marched, no charged...
aha sauntered! no! ******! it was ambled or slogged, trounced? or tromped, no rambled, yes I rambled on! no no thats not right, I plodded, trod no tread! no strided, thats not even a word, sloped, no...
govereetted, or persnicketied, or skreed, or preened, no no no none of that is right....
I sauntered! no no, swaggered! no was it promenade? prowl. no patrolled, parolled, no no thats way off...
I trekked, trudged, no fudged, no dogged! like george! he dogged it all the time, no I said that one, slogged or sashayed no trooped, no perambulated, or moseyed? or hoofed it? no it was definitely sauntered, no no it wasn't sauntered it was a dawdle, no lurched, or hawked, no stopped,
no no it was definitely movement, thats it! it was a movement! no no no that can't be right I paced, yes i paced back and forth and thought about life for a awhile....

no no that wasn't it either it was really more of a strut, or a saunter, yes saunter! no swaggered! no no
**** you words....

I wandered or was it roamed, no limped, gimped! no...

minced.... or no yes! minced... wait.... no it was a hike, yes I hiked up a mountain with  friend of mine, or was it climbed, no no thats not right...
I slandered, no.... pandered! no... I meandered, haha actually no i think  it was a peruse, or no a beat! no.... I cut a rug! or actually i think it was more of a stumble no....

ah yes it was walked, I walked about sixty blocks today

So what is the new next thing?
isick ilich selum lee lay lum
syntax brizoke choke sizome
jabber wizock riverrun,
past Eve and Adam
Raisinets, Kay Jewelers, Round Up ‘s the way
Nirvana sun Gaga Ketchum drum Bellum

Numb undone-or-been done “that’s right son you tell’m”
“Ugh a rhymer?” “a diner.” “no stop it,” “crop top it.”
“No really I’m feeling like this meter is cheating”
“but I can’t stop,” “that didn’t rhyme” “oh yea”

So now what?
What is there?
Can I go any further?

Not not, come **** ****
September November taint
I, you, it—‘s all ****

I feel like a slug
sometimes I feel like it might be easier just to be one
Faced plainly with my own mental lacunae
I feel the vice grips of creative sterility
Only exacerbated in my willingness to idleness
I am struck by two Slavic language words
Toska and litost
Both have a meaning akin to boredom and existential depression wrapped in one
It is a curse really
To be constantly bombarded with thoughts of my own inadequacies
And having no will to do anything to change them
Maybe that is why I have always been drawn to those long dead souls
Who barely clung to sanity in life and plunged forward like grand ice breakers through the social convictions of modern life
Those desperados of intellect who did simply as will
It is only in the presence of this kind of supreme will that I have found any comfort
And I fear that it is only in the juxtaposition of this and my own disposition
That I have ever lived at all
I mean really is any body picking up what I’m putting down?
This kind of Petulant absurdity is where I thrive
I fear again the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune
Which in this sense is nothing more than rejection and the knowledge that I really am nothing special
For self-conscious references to Shakespearean texts that lie still unread on my bookshelf cannot bar my consciousness from the near constant obsession
Of simply getting so far out there in the water that nobody can even see me anymore
And I can no longer see the shore

Profound things screaming at insanity
These words have no meaning
My mind breaks
Unable to even move
In catatonic despair
And  then…
when my eyes are tired and my soul is a worn husk
Awake at three in the morning watching videos of steel drummers
On the tired ends of some desperate baffling nightmare
The same motifs recurring endlessly over and over
Recursively storming through the gallows and nether winds of some unmentionable quivering fury
And at the precise moment where all Is lost and all is at your finger tips
the words poured out like buckets of rainwater on the side walks of the throng trembling masses
a primeval cro-magnon scumbag alive and well with a post modern kick
a lone star cupid with nothing to win
the bop kebab pop cabala flanks me at every turn
and the Jesus lizard shrinks beneath the weight of crushing globalism
as the world sits back and laughs

When watching a zombie movie, did you ever think we are the zombies?
Did you ever think we are the shambling dead?
The listless mourning, past its prime
The rotten apple, left to rot
Everything gets better and we feel worse
Our project, nigh finished, and here we sit
Only complaining, and waiting
I think and I spit
On the ground
(I heard that’s illegal in Singapore)
As I am just another falling leaf
In the autumn of an empire
I sit with the TV on mute
Hoping for some lateral inspiration
From kitsch
I am born of kitsch, of product placement, and buyer’s remorse
And I have no shame for it
I am another product
Built by a combination of complacency and incompetence
Incompetence in one place and competence in another
And I sold the world
And it made me a nice profit
But then there was nothing else to say
And nature reared her mighty head
Hubris led you years ago, and now does shame
An experiment that drew no conclusions
And only drew on time just a bit longer, pulling film across the projector
And inventing for just that brief moment
All that we held dear

Cling! Cling!
Bling Bling!
Tick Tock! Tick Tock!
Another gimmick poem from the prophet of schlock
Today I even spelt my own name wrong

Sitting under a scaffold on the mean streets
Comes the Smell of ****

Abbud sits and picks his nose behind his mustache on the first UAE space flight, The year is 2020. Cold fear creeps up his spine as he notices Sahib staring at him just as he puts another crusty snot into his mouth. Neither man says a thing but the silent judgment is made. Abbud ponders quietly, questioning himself but also the bizarre stigma as he looks through a porthole at the pacific ocean below.

Tell someone you love them today because it feels good
But you know what else feels almost as good
Hate

Gruber Classitanius peers down the path of the monkeys, the bodies lay strewn about penetrated in every orifice by the dreaded ****** spider monkeys. He remembers what the profit sphinx told him and focuses on his Iphone Shazam application, just as instructed he clears his thoughts of all else but the Shazam logo for this is the only way to avoid **** death. Out of the corner of his eye he sees the supple upper thigh of one of the **** monkeys unknowing victims and it brings him back to a night before where he lay with a women he had never met but upon falling on the bed beside her knew that he must be in love, his spine tingles with a shiver of emotion, but the pleasure soon turns to fear and he jerks his thoughts back to the Shazam icon just as the first spider monkey ***** penetrates his left eye socket skull ******* him to death like all the others.

Galumphing along the road stands the son of the jabberwocky slayer
In Psychedelic dreams of Gods speaking without words
On the brink of the next moment I forgot what I was saying
And just decided to write whatever I wanted
aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaasdfghjkl

I am near permanently enraptured by all that is
In a way like only two youngns’ alive and ravenous
Libidos ******* everyday can be and do
I have all the meanings of all the ancients wrapped in my skull
Shadows of memories that are not mine
On the brink of the precipice-come-project  
Along with other vague metaphors that are so trod
Upon that all we have left is the post-modernity of antiquity
Scrapped together to make a semi-legit piecemeal rendition
Of narrative to cling to
Because of course narrative is all we cling to
And its really just simple teleology
When you think about it
So why? And also What?
Also is? Also I’m lost now, everything
And having lost everything I find it easier to not care what others think
And aint that the rub
Because when you have people you care about you inevitably seek to please them
And only when you care about no one can you really please yourself
Or at least that vague notion of the self trapped in all our ambitions
And aren’t we trapped by our ambitions?

But enough of that because I was saying something else
There was a feeling in there somewhere that inspired me to write once
And it seemed very beautiful until I realized it had been done
So I sat back and laughed and did it anyway
Because there is a power in me that you do not know
And it exists in the rapture between words unspoken
The synapse between thoughts and the explanations
Of my various and pointless free associations
So I’ll take a walk now and become Walt Whitman
And no fear or loathing will stop this great wave
Our great wave in the speckled sea of Nihilation
Tis’ sublime that is the very notion of sublime
The thought that beauty is thought
And other failed attempts at describing the impossible

Sitting in a coffee shop in yupstown hipsville Brooklyn
scrawling in a notebook with a headband on
I become a caricature of myself
why these things even matter to me I cannot explain
but I feel like scumbag anyway

Constantly criticizing
revising
rewriting my words and theirs
my thoughts
"oh thats pretentious"
"what is that? your talking out your ***"
"why do I/you even bother?"
Why can't I just go?
Be
write write scribble doodle
think
at least I'm not the ******* sitting across from me
(there it goes again)

But i am part of a growing number
of diligent dilettantes
with notebooks and  novels
leather bound and worn
"vintage"
and "obscure" instruments
and tastes
because I am all leisure
I have that kind of time
but aren't I just another ****?
Cunting out my cunty cuntness
like it's something new
like i'm not just playing games
playing roles
half committed and pandering
to an audience of privilege
looking for clarity, or authenticity?
or am I just another salesman?

Ugh I cannot escape
my sense of inadequacy
I m a sham, a ******* artist
When is it going to ******* end....
is there any escape
that comes without labels
self imposed or otherwise?
(stop wining you ****!)

Running off coffee and demon spit
The main operators are disjunctive and negation
So the world was written
As a tremor runs to my fingertips
And my pupils involuntarily dilate
I laugh at the inconspicuous nature of fallacy
All the things that I have committed to eventually
Shattered to the faceless

Chaos
Forces
And their interactions
Everything we are is the description of this Fall
And Still! They all stand tall

I don’t even write.
I simply waste more time,
I feel like smoking ***,
sitting, enjoying this moment,
and watching the world burn bright and beautiful.
I don’t even want to write.
I am nihilistic in this sense, and also self-effacing, masochistic.
And nothing satisfies me, so I am like the Buddha, and relinquish my rights to the great systemic pattern.
Killing time and hoping for the apocalypse to move the broken record that skips and repeats.
Why waste more time writing the things that have been said?
Why express the inexpressible?
I wish to forget the meanings of all the words and pen bleak and esoteric paragraphs in universal grammar.
As I slowly begin to forget even what I was thinking of a minute ago, that thing that prompted this new but white opaque letter.
There is nothing more to say than that and why spend more precious moments contemplating the inevitable.
I have digressed to a state of vague generality so profound that all meaning is lost.
And I can only wipe the spit from my lips and experience the thinking slow and bored perception.
I am complicit in this great shadowy game.
The game that is me
and that is you
but also both of us together, as a whole
and my tacit approval of the state of things has lead me to a deep and darkened valley,
a slippery ***** of mud meant for clawing fingernails in desperation.
And I, like the rest of my generation have perfected the bacchanal and reverie of the leisure life.
Soaking up the romantic narratives of a primitive past to accept the fate of indecision, and construct meaning from the meaningless.
Picking up the pieces of a shattered ghostly mirror only to rearrange them in the likeness of a persistent and inherent logic, which can only be shown and never understood; my own computational meat sack ever deteriorating, or perhaps growing, to the ecstasy through entropy.
I have yet to find the great rut!
On the brink of a new n’other I am blinded by choice.
And I’ve yet to find my voice!
And proof of purchase is another thing entirely.
My misery is self-imposed,
and understood as only frivolous
trash beneath the hooves of trampling centipedes of mars
Because I looked into the stars
And I stared right at the sun
And felt the rapture in the wake
Of the wave I meant to break

Sometimes I say to myself “you are not alone today”
And sometimes I say the opposite
As a mere blip on the radar
Less than a blip
A drop in the bucket
Less than a drop
That contributes to the whole

In prefab modern rooms with red brick walls
An architectural reference
But just a reference
And not even a load bearing structural element
And so many other infinite layers of metaphor that could never be fully explained

Standing on the edge of abyss the krutch looks out and spreads his arms wide
Drops and swan dives into the pavement
He picks his head up bleeding from cracked skull and looks up at the ledge he jumped from “what a rush”

As the words slowly fade into residual tedious meandering
the shovel smashes off the dry dusted ground
only leaving but a minor scratch
and the up-kick of dust
which settles leaving no visible significance
or change

I feel the pain of utter helplessness
And uselessness
And self pity
In the wake of a torrent that seems cheap in retrospect
Only now do I see

There is a certain unplaced quality to the whole thing
Like it was never planned to look as it does
And the fact that it is the part that we aren’t supposed to see has always appealed to me
The ripples and cracks
Fissured by time
As a clash between flux and permanence
And will bent by entropy
A rusted staircase like a lonely island dangling and looking weak and unsafe
And who knows maybe it is
For the paint is chipped black frosted like ice
But it is hot and the air is heavy
As it always feels in a place like this
For there is rapture in a place that feels like it does not belong
And like you do not belong there
I contemplate the number of feet that stood right where I stand
I think about the installation of such things
I think about the man who stood and wrote his name in paint
About how that got bent like that
About when that wall fell down and when that glass broke
The stories that touched this particular spot only for that brief moment
The stories in which this is not even a footnote
Where the organic flux meets the rigid industrial
And all coalesces into a barren scape hidden away
And forgotten for it fits in neither picture
As the romance of the days that it saw beautifully have long been realized as nostalgic and useless
And a brick may fall and hurt someone
Or they may just tip their hat and continue on their way
But despite all these things I have a sense of blindness
And sublime captured by a world of temporary distinction

Kettle drum *** *** *** *** *** ***
There is the moment of the sun breaking over the edge of the moon
In that Stanley Kubrick’s movie what was it called?
In 2001 the towers fell and we still don’t have a colony on the moon
It turns out the monkey’s bashing each other’s brains in with bones was as far as we got
The bones got bigger
But didn’t transform into “the greatest cut in the history of film”
But who cares right? I got my iPhone
And make sure you capitalize that P
Because if you don’t you’ll get a red underline
Because even Microsoft knows that apple is a big deal
So lets have a little fun while the reigns loose in our fingers
“look mom no hands”
But I really don’t want to get all like that
I want to watch the candle burn down to the wick
And light a joint using the last bit of flame
Or heat a spoon whichever is your fancy
The beauty is in our solecisms
The comedy in the autocorrect
Corrected by our own machines recursively
We are in a never-ending project
Of retrofitting meanings to decisions made at whim
Out of necessity
Because the decision must be made
And explained afterwards
God I must sound preachy
I try not to be
Because it’s easier not to care
But harder in practice

Man and Animal?
Enkidu and Gilgamesh,
For want of master

Shut the **** up already about your civility
Your calculated reason
On fever pitched high above the nigh, unrelenting woe
The anguish
The souls’ empty hole
Tragically filled with the filthy swill of order
May chaos reign!  
For it is the only truth
The only order
With rites that aren’t lost in practice
It is the only father
That doesn’t devour its kin
For it is only sin
When you rage against the coming of the night
The inevitable night
That eclipses all petty human whims
So is it not right?
To follow the animal within
Wrought from chaos old

I made a bed with Satan
Through knowledge
and Animal lust

I live at the ******* mall
And I’ve got that eternal beauty blues
for in the end eudaimonia
was all part of the clever ruse
The point of what? I ask of you
Cause there was nothing else to do
Its true

Sometimes I just wonder why that’s all

Flights of birds, bucolic minds
our Tortured, Analytic souls
The mind boggles as the heart dies
when the autumn brings the cold
as so the white dwarf shines

I just came for the free ride

On the Crest of That Beautiful wave
described in words that signify
all the wordless, senseless time  
for bleached are the ones on the road, freshly paved
when the relationship is master and slave

Sublime is but profound confusion

Selling souls is the business
And Dunk’n ugly words is the slogan
For a long haired fickle mistress
and buzz sawed swashbuckler
Nothing is as it appears
It is only as I see fit
When a man loves a woman
And people sit on the sidelines

I bought a book today
I probably won’t read it

I don’t read much
Or ever so maybe I shouldn’t be sitting in a coffee shop acting like I can write

Because what makes a man anyway? What makes a women?
Plagued by funny thoughts and prompted stares
I’ve been talking to people on the street more recently

Today I think I learned that everyone is Jesus reincarnated
And I don’t know if that’s the problem or the answer

The wickedest man in the world once said
That he was the beast 666
With Ian Flemming playing reindeer games the bright nosed one knew that he could be nothing else
As do I

My bastardized hand trembles at the sight of its own reflection
Revelation
Understanding the unknowable
I am cut and pasted

Ugly pensive shuddering blah dee dah
Wondering where the wind is
Holding back for god knows what
Crippled by ghosts with long ropes
Making a spectra out of myself
Passive abuse waiting for the sunrise
That never comes
Because the sun only sets
On the travelers journey
And the wind only blows
At the command of Demigods
The time is nigh

“I spent the rest of the day smoking joints and listening to music. There was very little else that I had going for me. I was left hungry for something I could not put my finger on so I wondered the streets until dawn. With my head down I tried to feel confident but could only manage to fake it. A cloud of thought grew out around me, only broken by the introduction of some new stimuli as I walked. And very little stuck with me on my journey unto dawn. “

I read that in a book. I think it’s Joyce.
But that would be convenient wouldn’t it?
“Tell me, do you have a better idea?”
I wonder, is there one
Or are we all just products?
such a tired cliché…
I’m the miser’s purse
Dionysus
Something Something, we don’t care,
You and I,
Where this goes.
Do we?
Have a drink on Bukowski though
Despite my lack of common tact
I do have dreams you know.
And where were you when Burt and Ernie told us our Sponsors
And Images with discreet meanings rested in our hearts?
We Don’t need to read ******

“If you won’t stop screaming I’m gonna have to call security.” She said to him. His glare ****** her way. “Secure this,” He said. He ****** his hand into his coat producing from it a photograph of dollar. He handed it to her asking “can you break this?” She looked at him in fear and confusion “Sir this isn’t legal tender.”

“well I say it is” he said. But that was it, as security immediately burst into the room and the scene devolved into panic and screams.

<*** text="He perceived an abrupt break in the energy, an ebb, stagnation. Everyone appeared to know where everything should go from here, But pretty soon he saw realized they were all talking out their ***** and he turned to leave."></***>

When we’ve reached that beautiful peak I want you to throw the radio in the tub.

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