And when I met that girl in San Francisco
Off a dusty little pier
with rotting wood
and squawking seals
And screaming bayside wind

She caught me off-tropics
and danced with the grace
of a palm tree
lines between the quaked
concrete
off telegraph avenue
On an obscuring Sunday morning

and no
she didn't go
to church or any silly thing
like a temple or synagogue
She said those were no places
for god

God was the trees

We smoked cigarettes and got off to each other's
carcinogenic practices
oxidizing a little faster in conjunction with hopeful
Formaldehyde
Deriding the formalities
of small talk and trivialities

She liked her guitars with nickel-wound strings
I with nylon
But I couldn't play songs
that sounded any good with them
while she could
and did.

and girl did it ever sound good

She'd laugh at the contests on the radio
while we drove on a half-moon
to half-moon
full and whole of ourselves
We'd stopped in the lobby of a cheap motel
And waltzed to background
muzak
wacked out of our minds
Sniffing in deep huffs of subliminal
divinity
Understanding
loving
that mind-numbing
monotony

muzak...
ppsh.
Who ever really listened to that?

And then she left
at the end of one fine winter day
in a cloudless sky I waved
watched her plane
skip off
towards the edge of a pale blue horizon
back south
to warmer climes
to wherever she truly stayed
The tugging on my heartstrings
chimed grotesque in
precise
D minor.

If I could but learn to discard a wounded piece of self
If I could part with the beautiful symmetry
Of the cogs, driving forth the machinations,
Churning with their white noise, that
Turn to shape maiming thoughts
Then I might one night close my eyes,
Not to images of words bound by self-deriding connotation,
Comprised of typos and back-strokes
But to a peaceful blackness

Yes, I might lie down, close my eyes
Out of a will for rest, not contrived
But organic and my own
And so I know this as my waking dream
Relegated to wake for the night has been
Deemed the world of painful perfection
A place where protection is offered
With a backward hand, carefully made
Patron to the lovely polished mental instruments
Used to bludgeon simplicity and idiosyncrasy
Used to leverage pressure on the scales of the heart
So to tip downward the side of known cyclic indifference
And lift upward toward heightened neglect
The side of pleasure, the side of silenced retrospect

I grow, each sleepless evening, more fearful
That the ugly, backward hand might never forgo its leverage
And, if life is a wellspring of knowledge
Feeding into a stream of lessons
Then my strife stems from reading of the
Same page in the same chapter of the same textbook
A book filled with words bound by self-deriding connotation,
Comprised of typos and back-strokes

On this page, one learns a fundamental formula
It derives the relative weights of who we are
And the happiness we might find
Through some convoluted tale of misfortune
My page was written by an ugly, backward man
So, through unsagely studies, I’ve concluded
That the art of well defined reprimanding thought
Does outweigh in its beauty, the unseen hope
Of a future left to whim and bliss, or perhaps
The simple elegance of chance, goodness unsought

So, for the first time in my life, I seek to unlearn
I seek to roll back the defining lines that once flowed
From the pen in a backward hand that yearned to sow structure
But the vaulted walls that hold the scales of one’s will
Are so dauntingly difficult to unbuild or puncture

This, truly, is the weight that each sleepless night
Bares down upon my sleepless heart, so heavy
If I cannot pull exacting, formulaic pages from my sight
I fear the only peaceful blackness I will find
Is one against no patron hand can levy.

Three thousand miles
navigating a storm
without drop of bad weather
Abacus odometer clicks
rotating forward ―  
spinning with the
world go round

Circling back down
a long and winding road;  
where unforgotten memories
were once searchingly explored,  
untrodden pathways
coursing way up north of alone
on the low highway
  
Now an aging shepherd
wonders without a compass ;
a vagabond deprived of light
from an ever blurring north star
Heart empty as a gas tank
with a broke down gauge,
running on fumes of hope
for unpromised tomorrows
Running from loneliness
just to be on the run

The gales of silence bellow
No feelings I can see ― lay me low

Wild-eyed daydreams
of Full sails billow out
through the windshield,
only hearing the unspoken
moments sigh restlessly ―    
The dull droning road rumble
re-sighs renunciatively,
a tired monotone voice
mimicking the loathe silent echo
wallowing in an
omnipresent hollow void
deriding unspoken chaos
between the passing centerlines ―

A frost heave pothole erupts,
with a leaf-spring rattling thud,
as a fleeting cloud of dust arises,
set adrift with the draught
headed off the east side
of the Alcan highway:
blown way outside the lines,  
towards the Alberta prairie

White knuckled steering wheel
held sway,  rolling down
a beckoning wilderness
          reincarnation; 
default reset button paused ― 
stuck in a moment ― until another jaw rattling
frost-heave pothole in the highway,
            jars it free

Leaving it all behind
like a sigh breathed
in a silence a heart has outgrown;
just a fleeting cloud of dissipating dust,..
         a paling whisper
the past seems to send forth
  like a fading last breath

Letting it all unfold to become what it is


     harlon rivers ... May 2018
       ... travelogue 2 of some

Hic. On the grey sand beside the shallow stream
Under your old wind-beaten tower, where still
A lamp burns on beside the open book
That Michael Robartes left, you walk in the moon,
And, though you have passed the best of life, still trace,
Enthralled by the unconquerable delusion,
Magical shapes.
Ille. By the help of an image
I call to my own opposite, summon all
That I have handled least, least looked upon.
Hic. And I would find myself and not an image.
Ille. That is our modern hope, and by its light
We have lit upon the gentle, sensitive mind
And lost the old nonchalance of the hand;
Whether we have chosen chisel, pen or brush,
We are but critics, or but half create,
Timid, entangled, empty and abashed,
Lacking the countenance of our friends.
Hic. And yet
The chief imagination of Christendom,
Dante Alighieri, so utterly found himself
That he has made that hollow face of his
More plain to the mind's eye than any face
But that of Christ.
Ille. And did he find himself
Or was the hunger that had made it hollow
A hunger for the apple on the bough
Most out of reach? and is that spectral image
The man that Lapo and that ***** knew?
I think he fashioned from his opposite
An image that might have been a stony face
Staring upon a Bedouin's horse-hair roof
From doored and windowed cliff, or half upturned
Among the coarse grass and the camel-dung.
He set his chisel to the hardest stone.
Being mocked by ***** for his lecherous life,
Derided and deriding, driven out
To climb that stair and eat that bitter bread,
He found the unpersuadable justice, he found
The most exalted lady loved by a man.
Hic. Yet surely there are men who have made their art
Out of no tragic war, lovers of life,
Impulsive men that look for happiness
And sing when t"hey have found it.
Ille. No, not sing,
For those that love the world serve it in action,
Grow rich, popular and full of influence,
And should they paint or write, still it is action:
The struggle of the fly in marmalade.
The rhetorician would deceive his neighbours,
The sentimentalist himself; while art
Is but a vision of reality.
What portion in the world can the artist have
Who has awakened from the common dream
But dissipation and despair?
Hic. And yet
No one denies to Keats love of the world;
Remember his deliberate happiness.
Ille. His art is happy, but who knows his mind?
I see a schoolboy when I think of him,
With face and nose pressed to a sweet-shop window,
For certainly he sank into his grave
His senses and his heart unsatisfied,
And made -- being poor, ailing and ignorant,
Shut out from all the luxury of the world,
The coarse-bred son of a livery-stable keeper --
Luxuriant song.
Hic. Why should you leave the lamp
Burning alone beside an open book,
And trace these characters upon the sands?
A style is found by sedentary toil
And by the imitation of great masters.
Zlle. Because I seek an image, n-ot a book.
Those men that in their writings are most wise,
Own nothing but their blind, stupefied hearts.
I call to the mysterious one who yet
Shall walk the wet sands by the edge of the stream
And look most like me, being indeed my double,
And prove of all imaginable things
The most unlike, being my anti-self,
And, standing by these characters, disclose
All that I seek; and whisper it as though
He were afraid the birds, who cry aloud
Their momentary cries before it is dawn,
Would carry it away to blasphemous men.

I’m a stamp -
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp” -
but I am a stamp
a postage stamp, that is;
unique and proud, in my own class,
for I’ve carried queens and kings and emperors
(I still do)
and I carry Presidents and Poets and Rock Kings
and Pop Kings
and Musicians and Legends and Heroes
and Gods and Nations;
and I carry **** blondes
and old dames who’ve dedicated their lives to others

I’ve borne with no complaints
the weight of genius
and soldiers and founders of nations
and martyrs; and I do not discriminate
and with like gusto and color
I’ve carried tyrants and murderers and charlatans
and once-were-legends now the shamed;
and look, I can encompass the universe
and within the shapes formed by my perforations
I’ve held together flowers and birds
and all wonders of nature
I am each a poem, a work of art
I’m a stamp -
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp”
(What? You heard me the first time, did you?
Well, I’ll say it again for emphasis!) -
but I am a stamp in my own right, unique and proud -
though, I acknowledge,
the image of Royalty or Heroism or Greatness has
not saved me from various knocks and hard presses
and the ******* bin!
But then, so have mighty royal heads rolled!
but look, hee…heee….heee…
I can be absolutely adorable,
and I just love, love it when you lick me;
and often too
I’m a collector’s item
increasing in value, and even with artistic merit -
though no doubt, there are countless with no idea
of how so darling precious I am
which is I why
I say proudly again:
I’m a stamp
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp”
(And what? Why do I repeat myself?
Well, there are thousands of copies
of one issue, aren’t there?) -
but I am a stamp in my own right, unique and proud
and I’ve created worlds all of my own
with pen pals and commerce
and industries and clubs round me;
and I’m not alone, you know,
well-supported by relatives
like prepaid postal envelopes, post cards,
letter cards, aerogrammes
all of us served loyally
by unquestioning Gurkha-style postmen and women;
and I’ve brought hearts and minds together
and I do it in a day or days and or weeks
and if I feel like it, I even arrive decades later! –
and there’s nothing you can do about it!
And oh yes, I can see, you’re prone to neglecting me -
you ungrateful scoundrels! -
first replacing me with cold
Franking Machines,
and cheap, unimpressive, unimaginative franking marks
and with postage meters
imprinting an indicia;
and all of you now
deriding my world as snail pace
in your world of instant e-mails -
but I persist, and I still am of much use
for - listen carefully -
and I say proudly again:
I’m a stamp
no, I didn’t say “I’m just a stamp”,
or “I’m but a stamp” -
but I am a stamp in my own right, unique and proud;
and if you, once in a while,
want to show me your loyalty –
come to a local post office and lick my royal ****!

Rest stops and road weary vagabonds
Peanut butter, water and stale bread;
Cookie crumbs and lip smirched paper cups
Somewhere's last weeks coffee stained newspaper
Blown out tires and the side of the road  
Deep, thick, unmistakable, bear paw-prints
lie fallow ― undead in the mud
           

Feeling the raw silence of what you’re thinkin'
ooze out of a festering puncture wound within
Churning soliloquies  gnawing  away
at the unspooled  threads  fray,  
understanding there’s  no  fear
in  less  than nothing  to  lose
                                  

Sometimes change happens
so fast you don’t even notice
We can wait a lifetime and never be sure;
never taking that first step that leads to a journey
of a thousand miles ― just a step away


It’s not some kind of bewitching
     loneliness  spell  cast
never seeing another sole
in measureless hours and days
Passing moments languish imponderably,
there are no feelings I can see,
        by  looking  away ―
always as blind as we want to be


Wanting what was taken more than what is given;
still doing the things we learned we shouldn't do again
The longest miles are the trodden ones
with only traces of learning how to be
    alive ― off the grid; alone again


It’s a journey where there's no map to guide you
Just  a deepening furrowed lifeline standstill
Stalled at a crossroads in the palm of your hand;
uncertainty deriding  where you’re headed ―
both a reason and an excuse when we're not sure
we're not alone on such a long one way road
we've been out here traveling  on
 

Forbearing the truth that holds my soul,
the only way through the ache
is through the wound
                                     ... and
I’ll get down this long road somehow


    harlon rivers ... May 2018
     ... travelogue 3 of some

I am sick of poetry—
its useless, meaningless strings
of words
elegantly dressed in profound tailored suits
of gaudy fabric.

                                      Who is this who speaks against the soul—
                                      ignorant and foolish, deriding the gem
                                      of thoughts vibrantly propounded into motley lines of literary art?

Ha! Literary art?
Similes are like a bad joke,
alliterations are agitating,
personification ***** and,
hyperboles are more horrid than death

                                      Poems are not simply stanzas of well-contrived writing
                                      Of fanciful sentences stretching the mind.
                                      Each letter spells purpose,
                                      Then in the right lighting
                                      Reads entirely different
                                      Yet still masterfully designed

It is simplicity secreted beneath heaps of perplexity
and effortless rhyme,
bombastic diction contorting
the most puerile of deliberations into virtuosity—
two-dimensional make-up of verbiage—
flinging arbitrary words and
lines left
             and
                    right
Christmas
The entire concept is ludicrous.

                                                             A
                                                         rhyme
                                                    goes deeper
                                                  than its sound,
                                                          ­ and
                                                   a single word
                                            normally goes deeper
                                         than its context suggests.
                                                     A random
                                              notion may not be
                                      as arbitrary an idea as one
                                                     primarily
                                                      a­ssumes
                                                       it to be.
                                      Nothing is simple about it.

Roses are red
Violets are blue
Just like I said
It’s easy to do.

                                                        Inbr­ed
                                                        Hypocr­ite
                                                        Misle­d
                                                        *******
                                                        Igno­rant
                                                        Fool­ish fiend
                                                        Vir­ulent
                                                        Phi­listine
                                                        I­nfantile
                                                        ­Aberrant
                                                        ­Juvenile
                                                        ­Miscreant!

True poetry at last!
Stripped down to pure emotion
A lovely ******* manicured just right
The quintessence of feeling etched with furious care
Thought and emotion woven together to make an unlikely masterpiece
And so it is discovered: the marriage of two conflicting entities can and will engender beauty.

sheesh Eliot,
half the poets miffed at your
unintended deriding,
but sexism in poetry a knife made
from a man's rib dividing, again?
too cruel to contemplate for defending

perhaps the site hijacked by the NSA,
doing the bidding of ten old white men?

as recompense go to thy server,
code in an alternating name starting today,
ShePo somehow springs to mind

Mother's Day an excellent commencement
to begin our regendering

P. S. everybody knows I am a girl, right?

It occurs to me,
perhaps not everybody aware
of the inside joke,
the e-joke,
Nat is short for
Natalie

Underneath the swaying hickory tree,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though his song crumples in the sweltering
Southern breeze, he continues to strum
His guitar strings with a zealous passion,
Expelling each song lyric outward from the
Disconsolate depths of his mourning heart
In hopes that someone, somewhere will listen.

Within the confines of his cluttered garage,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though an irritated sister bangs violently
On the door, he continues to play unperturbed
As his three bumbling friends dance clumsily
To the crooked melody and his younger
Brother rolls on the grimy floor in uncontrollable
Laughter at the screech of a leaky note.

In the bustling, sullied streets of the city,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though passers by attempt to avoid eye contact,
Whipping out their sleek smartphones and burying
Their faces in their screens as they hurry past him,
He continues to penetrate their eardrums with his
Dissonant ballads, pausing only to collect pennies
Thrown in sympathy at his worn, weathered feet.

In the Marlboro stench of a crumbling nightclub,
He plays his Gibson guitar.

Though some customers, unsettled by the cheap alcohol flowing
Pugnaciously through their veins, heckle him relentlessly,
His guitar continues to erupt with an unapologetic
Persistence, rattling the stomachs of even the
Sober clients into a nauseous, drunken ailment.

And now, despite the aching calluses ingrained in his fingertips,
The bumps and bruises deriding his cherished instrument, and
The overbearing lights irradiating him from the high iron canopy,
He continues to pour each poignant lyric from within him, just as he
Has always done, Letting each of his fingers dance from
String to string, and every verse arouse into graceful takeoff.

As he reaches the final verse of his final song, he pauses abruptly,
And listens to melodious, emphatic voices
Reciting each lyric and bursting into jubilant applause.

In the limelight of a thousand adoring eyes,
He still plays that Gibson guitar!!!

Of the Domino Sugar Refining Plant, have their works at display here. The painting was sold, I guess the question is do quantum events have any effect on the Newtonian world.

Someday will we be able to use these quantum effects to influence our world in such a way we will get all sorts of new technologies which were never believed to be possible before. Will time travel become common place or at least possible. Will everyone's home have a quantum computer which will make the computers of today only good for Tods Sale Outlet. Ash trays.

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We are so few and far between.
And for a few years every woman has been
Boring and bored, tired with no drive.
I am doing well. But within a circle of empowered women, we thrive.
Me, no exception. And I'd hate to lose my fragile perception
that you and I can change the world.
Others called it loneliness, we called it hard work -
Without your affirmation and kindred conversation
I'm finding it hard to call it anything other than a 'personal quirk'.
Lately, even, I find myself hiding. An action we used to find worthy of deriding -
A mark of lesser minds.
I still desire to change the world, and I miss that spark, that look in your eye
That told me to defy sexist expectations.
Now I'm in a sea of people and I struggle to find a grip, an ally.
But my heart still thuds like it did then.
The knowledge that women like you are out there
and that we will always be friends,
Gives me confidence
that together we can.

The wackiest debacle of spoof-esque and entirely haphazard manipulation is profound and wholly visible whilst seeing tradition being drowned and beaten oh so violently at the many spindle-thread-thin hands of progress.
Unknown etymologies spring into the air then fall approximately six-feet down and initiate rearward propellers and jets that're (in place of a better single word) one after another, in order to breathe.
And I learn
And I learn
And I learn
I appropriate and accumulate, store and enunciate, words that contemplate at any rate and though this senseless, nonsensical, principle poetry does destroy me by poison or curse or by noisy disperse, I continue to spite and despite my deriding exciting writing for those and they who've no forte or way nor say for both the beauty and ugliness of language and textual perfection.

Is it my country,
That makes me feel I must scream,
Out my uniqueness?
My ISFP personality,
My adolescence,
Which was like a tightly closed bud?
Is it you,
Who always seems to be judging me?
Forcing me into a mold,
Once again deriding my happy self discoveries,
Which I secretly hang,
Like ornaments on my arm,
To set me apart.
Why,
Do I so often fight against,
You?
Your life doesn't look full of holes,
More like an old, musty diary,
That needs new entries.
While you were sleeping,
Before you could wake to prepare,
I grew up,
And your words,
Are not so heavy,
Cannot keep my head down.
My stem shoots upward,
In my mind it is quickly catching up to yours,
Climbing different walls,
Producing different roses,
Gathering strength from heady fountains,
From which you never drank,
Stop,
Telling me,
What I should and should not do,
So much.
Learn,
To find excitement,
In my life as it is,
What I want it to become.
Dream with me,
And no longer pull me back to earth.
I need you,
To tell me,
I can Be,
A mermaid,
A queen,
What it is that I desire,
To Dream.
I believe,
Old, musty diary,
That you forgot how,
And are only now remembering.
Do not be afraid,
For it is joy,
To conquer fear,
And life,
Is understanding,
The beauty of your own soul.
God is not the god of static things,
He Dreams.

Gynecology appeals to the rooting instinct and not just among pigs,
apartment-dwellers too crave the spotlight especially in cheap digs
A tree puts strength in its cambium membrane, seeds, bark & twigs
whilst outgrowing the imperilment of remaining grounded as sprigs
It was not long before the Rolling Stones were being paid for gigs,
in the day when greasy Guineas plugged sheenies & cultivated figs,
decades before sainted negroes thrived as reactionary brillos & nigs
when a schweinehund on par with Club of Rome's lard-*** Al Gore
was realistic enough to accept his natural vocation as a male *****
even though no Avon salve could rescue him from being still sore,
he collected for prostitutional services that there existed no bill for,
while at Sea World Shamu can't fit through a pinniped or seal door,
as whale flesh ain't no antidote for pill-heads on America's pill tour
Keep whacking the side of your head to hammer out doubt till sure
you become of religious piety while acting out a radio-active story
that destroys tumors and fecundity while rewarding war-won glory,
for critical menticide administered to each Margaret Thatcher Tory,
to render brains slack so that each id's reduced to a formless slurry,
and made denser & dumber than the dumb-*** mind of Ann Curry,
who sits around picking fleas off her pet rats calmly with no worry
like a pederast whose name is Marion but likes to be called Murray
because of thickset hair that was as curly as Bill Clinton's was furry
it made Hillary's perverse predilection into a ****-emergency hurry
as she faced extortion rackets entailing mucho homosexy potpourri
It's I.T.T., A.T. & T., F.P. & L. and A. & P. in lieu of slave-holder
In a demi-godly role of being everyplace looking over my shoulder
Like advice taken to heart by a ***** the tenth time you told her
On the occasion of the hundredth time that a ****** **** sold her
Put down that rifle and also that cup as there are doggedly two ratty
trees of wood: wood I stole & wood I shoplifted as doggy eats pup
Congratulations *******, you won the Nobel prize for shutting up
Move from a hovel & put down that shovel as there are 2 unkindly
kinds of wood: stolen & discounted as my rabid ***** eats her pup
****** Mary Jane Christmas to Quakers winning gifts for rutting up
Return my shovel and **** a guppy as there are 2 hunks of wood:
wood I stole & wood shoplifted as a dog ***** eats a hungry puppy
Cheers cancer-ridden surgeon, here's the Shaw prize for cutting up
The tall first wife, who was fleet of feet, was the easiest to book for
she preferred rat tail over bat wing and won as a dream to cook for
she hid herself very obviously therefore she wasn't hard to look for
her manifold athletic talents made her the leanest witch to hook for
Give me your hirsute/textile/hombre love you lovely hairy rag man,
with your pointy nose, unlimbered leg & warts from Larry Hagman
who from the horse's mountable side snuck up like an airy stag ram
Don't take what little's left via state Santa Christmas merry bag ban
Let's dress like women in debt at the oldest Chuck Berry drag stand
My happiness is easily seen in blood-letting cirques as corpuscular
while my rippling backwards frontage is of a physique so muscular
that it is known by fat aunt Joan as socked-in and highly avuncular
In icy Florida I pine for Klondike my favorite Alaskan lesbian lover
who, in our gay igloo, resembled that big oily ****** Danny Glover
whose **** buddy Mel Gibson made him half less pockless gaining
☹a little more of plenty above Kenai's northern-lit blinding darkness,
and punctuated by those empty promises of ****-driving starkness
that were dogged by monster sightings quite common to Loch Ness
where **** Welshmen smoke Scottish-spiced cigarillos smockless
Fear not as chronically-starved people are traditionally not so tough
so feed the hungry & while they are eating steal their bags and stuff
as unarmed Cymry won't do more than storm off in a Goidelic huff,
akin to a Tom Jones hissy fit of ***-wriggling dancing and gay fluff
This normal man wonders: How much public ******* is enough?
Pushing Fukushima scenarios beyond the point of a no-return bluff
and extraneous of a federal Continuity of Government powder puff
while parked on a decrepitly-reliable-ever-burgeoning-lard-*** duff
white men, like coal miners, mine mineable depths of Filipina ****
gynecologically like the average gynecology enthusiast off the cuff,
rejecting Bicol pathogenetic carpet chaw to dip Copenhagen *****,
a sprinkling 'tween lip & gum proves that no slanted ****'s too tuff
A trans-orbital lobotomy's necessitated when plants are root-bound,
Hello Addisonian crisis dysfunction when adrenal glands are found
insufficient when production of adrenaline is diagnosed as unsound
Mormons note the absent look of foremen in the Book of Mormon
and an absence of the Book of Mormon in the outlook of foremen
You hid it 'cause I can't find it every elsewhere a package for string
this catastrophe that threatens tragedy above the tryst below a fling
With cords knotted tightly around something tumorous I won't sing
It is the chlorine that cancels detergent in that electric washer thing
beneath cellar steps that David Niven's wife fell down while hiding
I lost her you found her, it's a dollar for riding plus a fee for finding
all broads blinded to inequity and to chick Nazis' unguided guiding
Oh Lord with such ease the slippery have slid into slipshod sliding!
The frailties of free men're exploited by N.S.A.'s jingoistic deriding
General Ike exposed the military-industrial-congressional complex
which strikes against the citizenry by venomous rattle snake reflex
faster than a dope-crazy Marilyn Monroe could reach for a Kleenex
thru curvatures in a third-dimensional, spatially-pornographic helix
that approximated the Mexi-milkers of actriz: la doña María Félix
rutting elephants in musth must respect advisory: kneel-harm-****,
to honor the moon-hoaxing memory of chronic liar Neil Armstrong
as obviously for **** Rosie O'Donnell her gay meal alarm's wrong
Johns familiarized themselves with Lillian Russell by buyin' ** Lil
as masochists meet masochistic needs with movies of Ryan O'Neal
Sadists satiate sadistic surges sharing sermons sold Séamus Ó Néill
& beheld-redemptive pleasures for patrons of free mass soul appeal
I'm nailed in my sub-par carpentry by all do-gooders of the nail ban
to the point where I'm willing to mail my big sister to the mail man
who's part & parcel of a mail-fraud plot & brother's can't-fail plan
Escaped & uncaught I will be no prison monkey's cell-mate-jail-fan
'Cause shorts clothe Richard Simmons' lard *** he has a pale can as
oil-from-rock Daniel's been given the pétrole epithet Ol' Shale Dan
Latino block & cinder create distortive Hispano-Américano rubble
'cause stirring up spics & greasy wetbacks invites N.C.L.R. trouble
Stand back anti-pope as I am about to burst your pederastic bubble!
Your egg-shell-thick pate's no match for a black jack as this club'll
smash its way thru cardinals, reverends, ministers, priests & dukes
to make cream taste like ***** and turn cake into what a dog pukes
Under U.S./Euro socialism there'll be no guy who's a young codger
and popular forenames will be banned including Preston and Roger
Trans-national entities whip horse dung into curdled cottage cheese
while denying rescue inhalers to asthmatics enjoying a bad wheeze
so as to avail publicly purpled aureolae of ready women who tease
Now is the time to release the promised South American killer bees
as the hour's passed to exact vengeance for a beheaded Robert Lees
Mafiosos contract that Joseph Valachi-types be capped at the knees
then hanged by their what's-her-names from il duce poles and trees
in such a fashion that'll tighten the ropes by cough, belch or sneeze
Long legs, wrong eggs, strong pegs, King Kong begs with a song of kegs
Let us dog dealers of wieners & corporate schemers: those 2-bit reamers
extend a left leg into the sacred space of my right one for time remaining
It's easy to harp on topics commiserate with crap profitably entertaining
A man who courts dogs & a court manned by dogs quibbles over kibble
Dogs devoid of canine teeth are not as happy to gnaw and to nibble
The Arc of the Covenant bestowed ancient promises metaphysical
shedding cockroach-scattering illumination that set courses tragical
on a populace & citizenry that were more attuned to an era magical
Before Zionistic Elders prepared an Order within cabals strategical
Beneath plum sunsets & catchy maladies that deafened folks lyrical
“Turn me on dead man” the Beatles backwardly warbled mystically
as the means and the method to sexcite vampresses gynecologically
For all shoulder-locked movements sway men anthropomorphically
Let us seek bi-lesbians who fear concerted opposition diametrically
as their prized packages remain barren, as they spawn ineffectually
Sappho's ovarian host pouch is barren as ***** meld ineffectually
as Western, Fallopian-tubed freakazoids are ****-probed habitually
Sapphic ovarian balloons shrink when hens ******* reciprocally
On Pearl Harbor Loch a false flag blackened Mister Moto's beacon
by shadowy, white manipulators under a U.S. sinister, proto-deacon
who, as a cousin-marrying-pipe-******* *******, emulated Lincoln,
the war-loving queer who went above & beyond his task to weaken
the will of sovereign states to sustain free-market economic health,
by exacting confiscatory taxes resulting in punishing capital wealth
The Beatles were creatures of M.K. Ultra's institution at Tavistock,
lost to a shocking future as shown by Alvin Toffler in Future Shock
whereas nothing can help us from taking an epidemiological knock
by Mao a la Trotsky, a la starvation wages via phony-baloney stock
in the image of Pol *** a la Lenin contrary to righteous John Locke
Our fused-egg brothers gestate together, flying as a migratory flock
dolled up in vestry wardrobe: papal bikini brassier, ******* & frock
awaiting George Orwell's 1984 English socialism known as Ingsoc
X number of years before Nancy Kwan wed ski champ Peter Pock,
& after Bob Ripley's Oriental/Occidental miscegenation ****** talk
as it was curlier than was Nimoy while he portrayed Vulcan Spock,
whose sweetness was unrehearsed, unrestrained & of a sickly mock
once taken, out of time as taken twice daily on any ol' broken clock
flesh stripped & exploited as the flightless relic of Earth's great auk
enjoying the laze of Sunday oblivious to extinct Darwinian schlock
as chastised love is Leonard Nimoy-pitiable with chastity-belt lock
Upon a Massachusettsian shore puritans purified Plymouth's Rock!
Forever amounts to nothing in betrayal of Heinlein's empathic grok
Back off quack as I'll **** the next 1 of you applying scalpel to ****
as a dad must regarding neo-Kantian, fatherless-**** Johann Bach
Deep in hell's bowels fricassees Jew Elizabeth/***-to-Death Taylor
who did every Joe Nobody from Captain Crunch to Norman Mailer
A harlot ***** was she from 10 niggerly toes to scary mulatto tone
as hellishly deep in Liz's brain was a splinter of hamster wish bone
& her ***-end was broad from fat foods Safeway to her would loan
Beneath her 3rd world-chiding heft Larry F's lawn chairs did groan
as this princess of whales never said no to hog jowls and corn pone
which made an interesting cut-out to novices of the porpoise prone
There won't be another Liz till Rockefeller perfects a Warner clone
with the aid of sewing machines to hem-stitch hems that need sewn
& a positronic brain stem to achieve mortality previously unknown
since Alex Bell pilfered **** inventor Antonio Meucci's telephone
Truth is light that Illuminists keep shadowed, darkened & unshown
for Hank & Phoebe Snow and Johnny Winter who would not atone
Thomas Edison stole or bought the patents to ingenious inventions
that he was more than happy to claim as his brilliant contributions
to the wealth & state of inquisitive Mankind's Earthen conventions,
also he took credit for Biblical allusions to immaculate conceptions
Which Bible books Tom Edison wrote no G.E. employee mentions
as stealing, purloining and commandeering were his 3 predilections
True historians know well charlatan Edison's dastardly elaborations
To pinch a hairy, chapped man is wrong as it puts him in more pain
For century-old Harry Chapman Pincher pinching made him insane
His unholy joy was to lay prone with mouth open to catch acid rain
& then hop into the commode to affect a toilet-related ankle sprain,
not too unlike Richard called **** & Jean who liked the name Jane
whose corpulence demands a piano coffin burial with crawler crane
Formaldehyde replaced 7 quarts of blood that went down a drain as
the proverb fits: when there's nothing to lose there's nothing to gain
Alan Ladd snuffed himself over a self-destructive hatred for Shane
and because Sue Carol preferred men of height Ladd couldn't attain
without elevator shoes & leading-lady actresses walking in ditches,
the love-life that humbles a netted shrimp into paralytic twitches as
Alan often got nothing from Brentwood ****** & witches because
****** pimps don't scrape **** off them Hollywood swanky *******
Tragically it's true that God's in the details & Satan's in the glitches
when Hippocratic Oath-denying doctors say don't bandage stitches,
it promotes infection needing treatment that add to a quack's riches
Apply no anti-bacterial salve unless your unbandaged wound itches
Amerika will be a Marxian paradise after we guillotine the snitches
harvest their organs, cremate & consign their ashes to crude niches
Give me, give me, give me, I can subsist not on a mere, single bean
Hey cheapo, get off your greasy ***, take me to Dairy Queen as my
**** is shaved, bra's padded & all kinks are relaxed by Afro Sheen
Western ***** are fattened for slaughter as sloped slants grow lean,
for lack of appendix, tonsils, adenoids, warts, piles, moles & spleen
Refugees flee what's so repressively dangerous that it's forever fled
The bloodied blood biz passes pathogens to bleeders bloodily bled
It is a dreadful situation that ****** folks find difficult not to dread
A gent is obliged to face conflict face first short of living in a shed,
plying the rough trade, rough-necking with ******* or playing dead
When my cruddy teeth are encrusted I brush the crud off with Crest
while working drainward with this golden cake of soap called Zest
Like a woman on public assistance I refuse to let my choppers rest
There was a time when talk of quiz was a precursor to an Iowa test
My basic skills are determinedly under-cutting my housewife guest
whose stems run north to her malignant tissue free mammae breast
In movies shooting orphans with high-powered rifles is done in jest
'cause in Amerika making ammunition is what wage-slaves do best
When I'm not utilizing forks for recreational after-meal dog-jabbin'
I am staking out hog farms for the planning of gainful hog-nabbin'
or making log-planing modifications on my pine-logged log cabin,
before crossing teamster picket lines for wage-earning job scabbin,'
I take pains to avoid being skinned in a Jimmy Hoffa mob stabbin'
A thousand Confucian truths drive my happy dreams to nightmares
as bi-****** pass out on Calexico-Mexicali-low-calorie light beers
I haven't the moxie to skate through hydrants of fate terminological
as those 78 crumb-bums behind T.V. “comedies” wax scatological
Ernie killed Chip & Robby to stamp his father a cipher biological
He hadn't room for women for production smacking gynecological
The last time he looked skyward his thoughts weren't cosmological
S.O.B. Ernest cursed routinely at arthritis diagnosed gerontological
He gives not a harlot's hello for innumerable faults anthropological
nor to lend his energies to scopes that abuse harmonics hormonical
as he stumblingly falls prey to meanderings sickishly trophological
Lord of Hostesses salvage carcass mine from insults cancrological
Redeem me in sudden form humanoid of activities pathogenetical
We mourn in Gettysburg's city as unrepentant lesbians on probation
Defying errors inflicted upon soldiers who forsook proper vocation
Anti-poping Argentine Francis as he's ****** to Satan's invocation
It remains the best course to abide by stellar laws of spatial rotation
Whether one's nationality is Romanian, Finnish, British or Croatian
Lost people will eat food outside their region &

my own little succubus,
deriding me at every intersection,
every curved point.
following me, my own personal stalker,
my little stain of happiness.
it's my friend, my mate,
my backbone -
who i lean on.
my own pocket of disdain.
my broken clock with a rhythmic tick.
it's my shadow,
peering out of the window
to stare - to ignite the flame.
i trust you.
turn my lights off.
my own sparkle of sunlight,
it's past your bedtime.

Baking, broiling, blindingly bright, blistering sun,

super scorching, sweltering, sizzling sand

the kabob that is my body searing, skewered

Deceptively blue skies devoid of any deliverance

no cavalry of clouds coming to convey compassion

Rising balloon-like bubbles of hot air

causing distant objects to ripple and dance

shimmering in the atmospheric boil

Falling to my knees, I detect in the distance

glimmering patches of blue and green—Mirage!

A maniacal mime of molten mockery

deriding my dreadful demise




Mark Toney © 2019

After our love, I lie in the shadow of your shoulder

also, float to the sound of the seventeen-year locust outside,


their forlorn tenor buzz that ascents and falls together

and all of a sudden it stops, and flares out once more.


Their cadence clears against the sides of the house,

stirs like late leaves, a delicate edgy scratching,


the ave, ave, ave syllables of air, skin against skin.

When we happened to come upon her yesterday, inside the church shadows,


the youthful soloist deserted herself to the words she sang,

her interpretation like a nonattendance of dialect. Her music


cast itself away and away, beating on, until the hush

of a vacant room had its spot, where the heat of day


is just lamplight through the recolored windows.

It channels over the dusty floor. It lights


upon a light blue divider, unpredictable in what it touches.

What's more, the deriding, mating voices of the grasshoppers return once more


in their consistent journey out of the earth,

out of the dull, into the shadows.

SURAH 910
The psittacists of the malaxage of malabathrum attempts at covvengerized metensomatosis defile the very flombricks of the plasmamium cracking at the unseemly phememes of specious paraselenic polkamania at the pelargic wricks of the wroth and wrox of yeltings denouncing the meroscopic moulins of freggetted ragtagger paynimry metapolitical wegotism of parietal paroxytone pteropine qwartion designed indelibly in the maltelasse of the repined pantography against the megistothermic kenomanicaphobia of the dutiful demarche from the porriginous portfire that crassifies every polder into periblebses of volcanic tirades of mofette because of the mows of moya recriminated around circumducted poikilothermic vindictivolence because the reremouches of guarded sotissiers flaunting their praxinoscopic perenendoscopic maltsters of privvy theatromania might vauntlay themselves among the vanguard for the wirewoven fabric never of mendaciloquent fabrications of prosopographilalia always done in ventose conceit of megalomaniacal desperation by the earwigs of dikephobia that they might taste the torment of the day they are denied of their proper brevets of flargentum and instead reasted upon the stew of the murengers of yeltings that bratingly reject frikmag upon prima facie cogitabund and meditabund fanciful whimsy in the anemocracy that agrunters of their prisoptometers of recalcitrance they might taste the stain of their acrimony rather than the recidivism of mugient morigeration that storges never an enmity and always a tympany of alveolate harmonization of the synectic broods of eutrapely. In the kaleidophones of the komatik herculean viragos of webster heroism despite their foisted epigones of pseudogyny in attempts at dethroning maritodespotic phallocracy wirewoven into the resofincular audacity of the chomage of the chirked swirk of forswinked frustraneous endeavors lewdly cadging and roodging the hypesters of wegotist flargentum in ergotall chantage wormcast beyond the woonerf of the rackrent Rabelaisian ebriection of the wretchocks of wayspayed dormitage redundant in its canter of verisimilitude in the echopraxia of the enviable by the envied that they might understand that the yelting murengers of murage belong in sacrosanct harmony with the eutrapely never of wallfish walleteers domineered by the lability of their wambling stature jengadangled upon the precipice of astroud asterongue notoriety expounded by the plasmamium of recoil and the covvengers of modest modicum earned by the machinules of their coerced decorum that the nanciful prance of the cakewalk of prurience might be recorded by the Master Record of Al-Muhaymin as the subterfuge of pralltriller tropoclastic obrogation of existent statute bowdlerized by the ptochony of the puericulture of dormant wayspayers obsessed with viraginous wesperm because of herculean deficits in retchination because of cynosures of cyesolagnia of tympany that might become a retched mistetch of the serendipity of melodikon that despises the plankwise pillory of wertfrei in the mangonel of those desperate to find a mittimus against the plenipotentiary by the jengadangle of aleatory finitism in prescriptivists who flout based on their cecutiency of immoralism that the gladiatorial edge and brazen zugzwang might backfire in enormities upon the jemadar of the serpentine slither of hederaceous pointillism in Freudian surrealism of the mascon of pretended indemnity personified by the mongery of the hipped hobohemia of jerboas incapable of jiboya that fewer mugient hypertrophies of exaggerated parabolaster find findrouement in their recalcitrance rather than their mountenance and that their bluepomp redstrall might stumble in fliction rather than in rancid frinteran scams of jazzbos of emasculated pandora flummoxed by a bewildered scorn of sentinel machinules exasperated of the ploys of kakistocracy. The registry of the moffets of kalabothron that ingeminates refines corrugates and snatches never from the perjury of eidolon the perfectable mantissa of the soluble antipangamists of an age punctuated by pantography lassoed by the servile toadies of reremouches of redstrall demeaning in their every demarcation of mendacity done in wapenshaw and wapentake of the weighage of their perpended meldometers of radical incarceration because of phlogistons tone deaf to phocine regius regalia that they might find the touching spectacle of the calcimine yeltings a purpresture hortatory and peremptory enough to derail their attempted commenefaction of the filagersion of the flombricks of regurgitated efforts at pelargic hebephrenia obtained by polders of gid flajousting their way into the coddles of portentous infamy rather than insuperable fame of Parousia. We maraud in the whiggarchy of the wrepolis of one verberating with plangorous sempiternal evasion of pointed porbeagle mantissa deprived of the isonomy of the raltention of the halldorn ktenology rather than kymatology of supersensible moments etched into the fabric of indelible eternity that any perceptible hallswallop is already a hikkle and hibble of obganiation that endangers the pugient popocracy of the lackadays among the popjoys of the campanile febrile aristocratic latitude of presidential hearth outnumbering by the qualms of peremptory logodaedaly that never a plumbism encounters an elitism and never a plumeopicean piscifauna descends into the heyday of moffets of maidan madness in the viduity of the world from certain cynosure in sinecures of madefaction rather than exclusivity in the prescriptivism of a physicalist nihilism attempted by the morigeration of many a covvenger obsessed with wricks and suborned by wrox to become tumbleweeds that tritefully in platitude always denature the mesozeugmas of the topgallant asseveration of latitude rather than a perpended valetudinarianism. The nauclatic barnstorm of all potagers of the outmantled vicissitude of the echopraxia of pralltrillers of the rindkline of outmoded sondage in the sennet of the pertinacity of wegotists marauding against their paraselenic critics that always try to vauntlay because of moya that has mowed down entire generations of evergreen groundlings of the geotaxis of photophiles that spar against the rectiserial subaltern mountenance of the mottle of scaramouch metapolitics in retrenchment and retreat because of the sempiternal flabbergast of gentrified wroth and wrox of waldflutes that bemoan the hikkle of the rhadamanthine jumboism of misocleres of minatory subsultus in contrivance only perceptible to the thrombosis of cacidrosis that the petcocks and cockshies of elitism spurn with spindrifts of brinkmanship of the galvanized pseudogyny of bluestocking smardagine attempts to swallow the Earth whole by the singularity of the procrustean never the walleteer of the wallfish of tralleyripped jawholes of potamology that chirk their way about Simple Jack but never preternatural Julian because the asterongue meteoric meteromancy of the pretense of spurious spumid thrombosis calcimined by yeltings of wallbaggers rather than the hinderbaggle of recadency rectiserial in its gallywow prestige of polders fulminating in every exasperation to riotously remonstrate against paragons rather than congregate around flippant frivverscrabbles of frinteran ill-humor that never use proper cephaligation of morphaen cacidrosis waged upon the impavid intertesselation of the flombricks of glib triage foisted above rhotacism of the rhubarb crassified by the detritus of the alchemy of waldgraves attempting to resort to carnaptious deeds of vauntlay in villainy that spawn the retched errundle of the desultory tatamae of the vetust brocrawler fighting against the coalized recalcitrance of the paltripolitan pantapolis desperately yeuking in its intorted incivisms of inurbanity to posterize the cackling humdingers that shake entire centuries with qualms rather than traumatize with the yikkers of flashy torpindage attempting torpillage against the assailants of the plagated murenders that berate the chatoyant yeltings for their brayed assault against the chamois belonging originally to backwater champlaignes that asseverate their power dynamics with psychodynamic mesozeugma in the age of messianism despite the pelargic wegotists paraded in their verdure of foothot temerity too tempestive to survive the carracks and carnet of pantographs that become the mignons of the pantomnesia of the carousel of trumpery among the oppositive heelers that demand never a vindictivolence of moffets but always lapidate the vandykes of rhipidate and rhizogenic mottles of subversive metastrophe because of metapolitical allegiance to portfires of the tocsins of pretended alarmism rather than kenomanicaphobic brilliance sheening prefulgent in the ruffianized pullulation that berates itself for its pangamys of faltering panmixia and thereby corrugates itself upon the yestertempest of the attempts at youthquake that shatter the younkers of crotaline elitism sheepish of its own finifugal respite in podobromhydrosis created by the madefaction of humorous minimasque jannock janizary jokes that serenade for the gallivant of glory in the hidden thickets of plumage and plucky Herculean heroism against the hednons of attempted subversion that alluvions of hikkle and bilkey by machinules of masterate liturgy might always insulate from the purpresture of gerdoying gammerstang fulgurant percutient patibulary wormcasts deriding wertfrei and belonging to the maskirovka of the worsification of militarized envy seeking casualty where there is always repose and violence where there is always a sodality united for peaceful but precarious paciferation that averts the jimswingers of the jiboya of the jobbery of the jentacular threats of a braying menace of wrothing indolence centrobaric to all singularity and never consequent to any bleat of the pretense of temerity because of the viscidity never of a vaporetto of vacuefied stupefaction but always a beatific harmony of the serendipity of wordsmiths against the regal taunts of the skrimch of Potemkin hatred. We stagger in an astounding davering movement where delitescence is still a guarded murage of the wallbaggers that insulate the aristocracy from the thickets of the social mobility of macropicide against the yares of logodaedaly that vaunt God rather than vauntlay their enemies who dare with radical subversion in wretchocks of plumbism to deracinate the caterwauls of galeanthropy from their gradate punctatim attempts to create a serrated barrier of machairodont flarmeys of flargentum among the dense thickets of the yarzheit of apikoros giaours that fly-by-night in the boschveldt of borascos demanding a collective dementia in exchange for the machinules of radical harpricks bemoaned by the madefaction of gallantries of topgallant gambols rather than gambles with the safety and security of the broader world widely protected by never a vindictive word or never a sempervirent gambit for monopolylogues long ago assized and quantulated by putchers of gammon that they might perish in their assailed ratification of draconian flakes flapping their albatross wings in the deipotent glory of decrassification rather than galvanic attempts to revive the revenants of the heyday of gladiatorial spectacle to the demise of the wrox rather than the porcellanous attempts by coverthrow to demean or ratchet a grumbling mumpsimus of the fakest mittimus ever devised by the jemara of the moorganization of time for a peaceful coryphaeus to exhibit his magisterial eloquence on the platform of the barnstorm of eleutheropomania that always prattles in favor of the favor of delitescent mantissa and the guarded larithmics that corrugate in the favor of antipangamy that belongs to the hypestorm of never a capias but always an exonerated eutrapely of grandeur and hauteur without a hint of pompous chatoyant trucidation of lesser enemies and brittle redshort opportunism of delirifacient demur that becomes insulated from its own refrains that it provides impetus for liberation than a succinct meldometer of meleagrine and rhadamanthine physiognomancy that is too brazen in its weatherboards of wrathcheque to quivver in anything but the guarded tropism of those who understand the psychodynamic valor of exhibitionism in a jocular manner of regelation that the calcifuges never panic and the bonanzas never shrink in their blettonism of world triage for peaceful beatification that beams with the light of the prefulgent sun rather than heliofugal demiurges of recidivism potentiated by the aggravated grimace of gerdoying. The belletrist of the sondage of the morescos that vaunted themselves among the privileged because of the proband of forestalled generations of raillery rather than the rindstretch of the kobold subterfuge of armigerous enmity mobilized only in petty medicasters of iatramelia that the true enormity of congealed revalorization becomes that supernal and superlative beacon that prefigures all of destiny by the kymatology of the regnant resofincular retrocognitions of the phememes of intuitive plasmamium never paltry in paltripolitan values of a tottering demiurge that might be masticated in its semese because the density of the timocracy withstands all mettle and scores all veracity by its demarches for world harmony rather than its septiverous divisions of sciamachy waged against potentates because the giaours despise the valor of the monotroch of the rickety wroth of punctatim hortoriginality that never bleats or blemishes in histrionics but always values the foresight of the masterates to asseverate their hegemony rather than their servitude to the manifesto of the most radicalized epithets and rhubarbs of ruffianized faffle of the fangasts of the wormcast of the pollarchy becoming waterish in its insipid gambits to bowdlerize the world of polymathy because a polyhistor too intrepid to tread lightly and too kind to domineer with imperium might be counted not as a noxious nuisance of lability of phlogiston but always a zealous courtier of a renewal of generations for chrestomathy and the galvanization of religious zeal against the totemic racism of a tottering balkanization or the peregral attempts of the isorropic to imitate the ivoride of jealousy because of jalousie. May God bless our troops and insulate us from all disaster and may God provide the beneficent path for the multanimous love of fidelity of the phocine phons of kaleidophones of the miraculous kith of a loving matriotic nation united by the fervor of patriotism to serenade the world with beatific love rather than inseminate a radicalized potentiation of the insipid paraselenic violence of a world that should rollick and maffick in celebration of promethean insights rather than chirk a draconian destiny. Amen

sliding down the gutter
sparkling pearl of rain
faster than camera shutter
its flowing down the drain

lost forever drop of blood
once as pure as snow
now intermingles with the mud
with iridescent glow

hermit, stranger, hides his face
in his mother's apron,
spirit, soul, of nameless grace
other-worldly patron

boots composed deriding eyes
trample overhead
and inner spirit withers, dies,
and now is lying dead

defenestration of all that's good
by world blacker than pitch
tainted saint of boyhood
lies defenceless in the ditch

You hid it 'cause I can't find it every elsewhere a package for string
this catastrophe that threatens tragedy above the tryst below a fling
With cords knotted tightly around something tumorous I won't sing
It is the chlorine that cancels detergent in that electric washer thing
beneath cellar steps that David Niven's wife fell down while hiding
I lost her you found her, it's a dollar for riding plus a fee for finding
all broads blinded to inequity and to chick Nazis' unguided guiding
Oh Lord with such ease the slippery have slid into slipshod sliding!
The frailties of free men're exploited by N.S.A.'s jingoistic deriding
General Ike exposed the military-industrial-congressional complex
which strikes against the citizenry by venomous rattle snake reflex
faster than a dope-crazy Marilyn Monroe could reach for a Kleenex
thru curvatures in a third-dimensional, spatially-pornographic helix
that approximated the Mexi-milkers of actriz: la doña María Félix
rutting elephants in musth must respect advisory: kneel-harm-****,
to honor the moon-hoaxing memory of chronic liar Neil Armstrong
as obviously for **** Rosie O'Donnell her gay meal alarm's wrong
Johns familiarized themselves with Lillian Russell by buyin' ** Lil
as masochists meet masochistic needs with movies of Ryan O'Neal
Sadists satiate sadistic surges sharing sermons sold Séamus Ó Néill
& beheld-redemptive pleasures for patrons of free mass soul appeal
I'm nailed in my sub-par carpentry by all do-gooders of the nail ban
to the point where I'm willing to mail my big sister to the mail man
who's part & parcel of a mail-fraud plot & brother's can't-fail plan
Escaped & uncaught I will be no prison monkey's cell-mate-jail-fan
'Cause shorts clothe Richard Simmons' lard *** he has a pale can as
oil-from-rock Daniel's been given the pétrole epithet Ol' Shale Dan
Latino block & cinder create distortive Hispano-Américano rubble
'cause stirring up spics & greasy wetbacks invites N.C.L.R. trouble
Stand back anti-pope as I am about to burst your pederastic bubble!
Your egg-shell-thick pate's no match for a black jack as this club'll
smash its way thru cardinals, reverends, ministers, priests & dukes
to make cream taste like ***** and turn cake into what a dog pukes
Under U.S./Euro socialism there'll be no guy who's a young codger
and popular forenames will be banned including Preston and Roger
Trans-national entities whip horse dung into curdled cottage cheese
while denying rescue inhalers to asthmatics enjoying a bad wheeze
so as to avail publicly purpled aureolae of ready women who tease
Now is the time to release the promised South American killer bees
as the hour's passed to exact vengeance for a beheaded Robert Lees
Mafiosos contract that Joseph Valachi-types be capped at the knees
then hanged by their what's-her-names from il duce poles and trees
in such a fashion that'll tighten the ropes by cough, belch or sneeze
Long legs, wrong eggs, strong pegs, King Kong begs with a song of kegs
Let us dog dealers of wieners & corporate schemers: those 2-bit reamers
extend a left leg into the sacred space of my right one for time remaining
It's easy to harp on topics commiserate with crap profitably entertaining
A man who courts dogs & a court manned by dogs quibbles over kibble
Dogs devoid of canine teeth are not as happy to gnaw and to nibble
The Arc of the Covenant bestowed ancient promises metaphysical
shedding cockroach-scattering illumination that set courses tragical
on a populace & citizenry that were more attuned to an era magical
Before Zionistic Elders prepared an Order within cabals strategical
Beneath plum sunsets & catchy maladies that deafened folks lyrical
“Turn me on dead man” the Beatles backwardly warbled mystically
as the means and the method to sexcite vampresses gynecologically
For all shoulder-locked movements sway men anthropomorphically
Let us seek bi-lesbians who fear concerted opposition diametrically
as their prized packages remain barren, as they spawn ineffectually
Sappho's ovarian host pouch is barren as ***** meld ineffectually
as Western, Fallopian-tubed freakazoids are ****-probed habitually
Sapphic ovarian balloons shrink when hens ******* reciprocally
On Pearl Harbor Loch a false flag blackened Mister Moto's beacon
by shadowy, white manipulators under a U.S. sinister, proto-deacon
who, as a cousin-marrying-pipe-******* *******, emulated Lincoln,
the war-loving queer who went above & beyond his task to weaken
the will of sovereign states to sustain free-market economic health,
by exacting confiscatory taxes resulting in punishing capital wealth
The Beatles were creatures of M.K. Ultra's institution at Tavistock,
groomed as constructs to transmogrify youth into an immoral block
lost to a shocking future as shown by Alvin Toffler in Future Shock
whereas nothing can help us from taking an epidemiological knock
by Mao a la Trotsky, a la starvation wages via phony-baloney stock
in the image of Pol *** a la Lenin contrary to righteous John Locke
Our fused-egg brothers gestate together, flying as a migratory flock
dolled up in vestry wardrobe: papal bikini brassier, ******* & frock
awaiting George Orwell's 1984 English socialism known as Ingsoc
X number of years before Nancy Kwan wed ski champ Peter Pock,
& after Bob Ripley's Oriental/Occidental miscegenation ****** talk
as it was curlier than was Nimoy while he portrayed Vulcan Spock,
whose sweetness was unrehearsed, unrestrained & of a sickly mock
once taken, out of time as taken twice daily on any ol' broken clock
flesh stripped & exploited as the flightless relic of Earth's great auk
enjoying the laze of Sunday oblivious to extinct Darwinian schlock
as chastised love is Leonard Nimoy-pitiable with chastity-belt lock
Upon a Massachusettsian shore puritans purified Plymouth's Rock!
Forever amounts to nothing in betrayal of Heinlein's empathic grok
Back off quack as I'll **** the next 1 of you applying scalpel to ****
as a dad must regarding neo-Kantian, fatherless-**** Johann Bach
Deep in hell's bowels fricassees Jew Elizabeth/***-to-Death Taylor
who did every Joe Nobody from Captain Crunch to Norman Mailer
A harlot ***** was she from 10 niggerly toes to scary mulatto tone
as hellishly deep in Liz's brain was a splinter of hamster wish bone
& her ***-end was broad from fat foods Safeway to her would loan
Beneath her 3rd world-chiding heft Larry F's lawn chairs did groan
as this princess of whales never said no to hog jowls and corn pone
which made an interesting cut-out to novices of the porpoise prone
There won't be another Liz till Rockefeller perfects a Warner clone
with the aid of sewing machines to hem-stitch hems that need sewn
& a positronic brain stem to achieve mortality previously unknown
since Alex Bell pilfered **** inventor Antonio Meucci's telephone
Truth is light that Illuminists keep shadowed, darkened & unshown
for Hank & Phoebe Snow and Johnny Winter who would not atone
Thomas Edison stole or bought the patents to ingenious inventions
that he was more than happy to claim as his brilliant contributions
to the wealth & state of inquisitive Mankind's Earthen conventions,
also he took credit for Biblical allusions to immaculate conceptions
Which Bible books Tom Edison wrote no G.E. employee mentions
as stealing, purloining and commandeering were his 3 predilections
True historians know well charlatan Edison's dastardly elaborations
To pinch a hairy, chapped man is wrong as it puts him in more pain
For century-old Harry Chapman Pincher pinching made him insane
His unholy joy was to lay prone with mouth open to catch acid rain
& then hop into the commode to affect a toilet-related ankle sprain,
not too unlike Richard called **** & Jean who liked the name Jane
whose corpulence demands a piano coffin burial with crawler crane
Formaldehyde replaced 7 quarts of blood that went down a drain as
the proverb fits: when there's nothing to lose there's nothing to gain
Alan Ladd snuffed himself over a self-destructive hatred for Shane
and because Sue Carol preferred men of height Ladd couldn't attain
without elevator shoes & leading-lady actresses walking in ditches,
the love-life that humbles a netted shrimp into paralytic twitches as
Alan often got nothing from Brentwood ****** & witches because
****** pimps don't scrape **** off them Hollywood swanky *******
Tragically it's true that God's in the details & Satan's in the glitches
when Hippocratic Oath-denying doctors say don't bandage stitches,
it promotes infection needing treatment that add to a quack's riches
Apply no anti-bacterial salve unless your unbandaged wound itches
Amerika will be a Marxian paradise after we guillotine the snitches
harvest their organs, cremate & consign their ashes to crude niches
Give me, give me, give me, I can subsist not on a mere, single bean
Hey cheapo, get off your greasy ***, take me to Dairy Queen as my
**** is shaved, bra's padded & all kinks are relaxed by Afro Sheen
Western ***** are fattened for slaughter as sloped slants grow lean,
for lack of appendix, tonsils, adenoids, warts, piles, moles & spleen
Refugees flee what's so repressively dangerous that it's forever fled
The bloodied blood biz passes pathogens to bleeders bloodily bled
It is a dreadful situation that ****** folks find difficult not to dread
A gent is obliged to face conflict face first short of living in a shed,
plying the rough trade, rough-necking with ******* or playing dead
When my cruddy teeth are encrusted I brush the crud off with Crest
while working drainward with this golden cake of soap called Zest
Like a woman on public assistance I refuse to let my choppers rest
There was a time when talk of quiz was a precursor to an Iowa test
My basic skills are determinedly under-cutting my housewife guest
whose stems run north to her malignant tissue free mammae breast
In movies shooting orphans with high-powered rifles is done in jest
'cause in Amerika making ammunition is what wage-slaves do best
When I'm not utilizing forks for recreational after-meal dog-jabbin'
I am staking out hog farms for the planning of gainful hog-nabbin'
or making log-planing modifications on my pine-logged log cabin,
before crossing teamster picket lines for wage-earning job scabbin,'
I take pains to avoid being skinned in a Jimmy Hoffa mob stabbin'
A thousand Confucian truths drive my happy dreams to nightmares
as bi-****** pass out on Calexico-Mexicali-low-calorie light beers
I haven't the moxie to skate through hydrants of fate terminological
as those 78 crumb-bums behind T.V. “comedies” wax scatological
Ernie killed Chip & Robby to stamp his father a cipher biological
He hadn't room for women for production smacking gynecological
The last time he looked skyward his thoughts weren't cosmological
S.O.B. Ernest cursed routinely at arthritis diagnosed gerontological
He gives not a harlot's hello for innumerable faults anthropological
nor to lend his energies to scopes that abuse harmonics hormonical
as he stumblingly falls prey to meanderings sickishly trophological
Lord of Hostesses salvage carcass mine from insults cancrological
Redeem me in sudden form humanoid of activities pathogenetical
We mourn in Gettysburg's city as unrepentant lesbians on probation
Defying errors inflicted upon soldiers who forsook proper vocation
Anti-poping Argentine Francis as he's ****** to Satan's invocation
It remains the best course to abide by stellar laws of spatial rotation
Whether one's nationality is Romanian, Finnish, British or Croatian
Lost people will eat food outside their region & of course: location
They'll surely theorize on arcana that's weakly deemed postulation
Worshiping Sunday is as heathenish as a Roman Catholic sunburst
Be better, be worse, be it ham fatted on toast or mayo in liverwurst
F.E.M.A.'s big plan to ****** 200 million citizens is planned first
Our fate is the guillotine & Chinese torture for we who are cursed
Beneath a deluge of a radioactive Pacific California'll be immersed
as Fukushima's boiling cooling towers are centrally timed to burst
Save it untainted as radiological-free water is better to slake thirst
For it's less desirable to be formula bottle-fed than it is to be nursed
January 14, 1957 : 57 years ago today Humphrey Bogart died at 57
His engine has stopped, his gas pedal is capable of no more revvin'

The semaphoring of the secrecy, and the revolutionizing
Concept of secrecy and its state of mind
The mercy of the individuals, and analogous amalgam
The terse temerity of mindful me and the minefield of landmines
Stevie's blind, the organs plays through lyrical bombs
Sir Duke shone his light on the prodigal son, the goodness in the train of thought
Could be graded A, but, I'd give a plus anime for your animated expression and it was a gas
For the poor submission of the poetic device and honest heart with which you wrote your ravenous hunger in words of Arthur Milner
"Get out of my chair!"
There are no words only stomach grumbles, and the chair texts
I foolishly crave for spring lust, the autumn leaves are up next
They're raked like the Four Seasons of the Earth, like the raw dog of Iggy Pop
You can top-it up with cherry please, on top
Like the ice-cream and vanilla, and the talk of deriding each other
Popping this bubble would be make-believe like a shortcake