What if this was dystopian Britain;
My droogs and I,
Sipping beverages
At the Korova milk bar,
I viddy a world of chaos

A dab will do ya...
So thought the eager young man
But for me
No such sentence can be formed
A monster lit up by dance floor discos
To high to think
Rolling in the deep
******* has ravaged my state
We dance like fiery mad demons
Demonstrating our lust for life
At night we come alive
At dawn we love
Her soft skin is milky upon my touch
We unwind and laugh at our mistakes

we came up from the beach at night
the bridge doomed under a sheet of fog- orange glowing.
the bus horned down the hill like a life size slug storming to get me.
i stood up, staggering with fleet and flight. arms up in surrender.
i was told to just sit down;wave them off.
the raccoons kept staring. a thousand pairs of eyes reflecting off my lights.
i ran but the pavement kept on moving.
we were droogs in the night bending backwards and forwards possessed with heaving laughter.
we pulsated under streetlights.
we melted on walls.
we sat in silence as colorful sweat dribbled down our faces.
our eyes rolled back.
the clock struck midnight as we struggled to count our cash
we ventured to the bus stop and waited.
there, a hopeless man kept on pounding his chest; testosterone flying in the air.
i merely took the greens he offered and left.
thanks.
i was late for a meeting on the next corner.
the appointment commenced.
a bump of life swept through us. back in the realm we were again.
the bus driver nodded, pupils as big as dimes.
dooms day.
i need to get off on 6th.

Constellations of Time
    suffocated, deadspace in my neural lapses—

                                               —still, I caught the fly
                                                             ­ with my hand.

Constellations of Time—
         and I am cowboy in the outer expanses of sanity

faithful cowpoke and Lenape murderer,
native lover, too,
dun American guru
       like john wayne defunct.
but when we speak like droogs,
       this be:
       America: A Detective Story

and I’m the dogged dreams of america:
Humphrey Bogart with his dame Liberty

No, I am Robert Mitchum, too.
Remember Philip Marlowe?


I once was america’s psychosis, and still am.
[I am
the soul who walked above
the soul who walked below;

Constellations of Time—
        like gooey cosmic spider webs;
[and I ******* hate spiders]
Fear of Death
…is being stuck, and
fear of that horrible cosmic spider coming home for dinner!

For,
I am
Monsieur Bonaparte’s Hollywood counterpart
who puts the war before the art,
but not the horse before the cart

DEATH

is where my story starts;
railroads,
like the spine of a country and constellations of time
–im on a plain–
ghosts in dust bowl clusters
reflect like
dust particles, like western stars, scattered—
and im on shifting razor planes and who do the math?

I met a man who could recite all twenty three thousand
lines of the “Romance of the Rose” but could not count to five.

I met a man who could recite PI to one thousand decimal points
but could not find a rhyme for love nor money

I met a man who laughed at every thing that wasn’t funny
I met another who cried for ever because he was happy

and another who laughed at his pain
and one who lost all he’d gained
I met a man who sailed the ocean blue
in  search of pastures blue

He told me he was searching for the “begining of the end”
so I sold him a postcard and he nailed it to the mast
then I stepped into his past
and went to meet his King
who was laying on the ground
whilst his bodyguards around
put the boot into him
like L.A. droogs with Rodney King
history just sings
endlessly repeating itself
forever shedding it’s skin
cleansing the kin
thinning and culling
and making a date with SIN……
……..ACTIC FOLLY

I met a woman who remembered
what life was like before Adam
I met a woman whose hair scattered rainbows everywhere
as she danced in the moonlight
I met a woman who was me and she set me free
I met a man who could measure words to the nth degree
he taught me heresy
and how to pray
and how to give it all away
then he asked me to pay
for HIS  fathers crimes
so I said “NO WAY”
and later that day
he tied me to the wheel
but I refused to feel
and I swore to heal
the wounds of my inquisitor

Well I met a man who said “I khan
unite all the nomads on the land”
he said “I’ll lay it all to waste
and the rivers shall taste
worse than ****** waste”
so I went to see my Mother
to ask if there was any other
WAY
to gain an extra day?
as the climate starts to sway
She said “have your say….
…..then be on your way”

Well I met a man and he taught me how to surf
on the crust of molten magma
and I met a little boy
who taught me the joy
of playing in inner space

Well I met a man from the future
travelling back in time
who said “excuse me Mr. RHYME?”
“…but I’ve come from a time
where wrappers are disposable
parts of a product”
“careful how you juggle
your verbs and your vowels
may get you into trouble”
so I burst his bubble
with a “sword” that I drew
from my grandmothers sock
which came as a shock
to the “thought police”
who were waiting in the street
with their “crosswords” COCKED
and their ’double entendres “ primed
looking for some crime
of the cerebral kind

but I met this woman
who said ” climb into my body and come with me
to the Ancesters tree
so I climbed aboard and I clung on tight
as her body rose to the highest height
and she showed me what might
or might not come to pass
then she lowered me down
by the hem of her gown
called me her “linguistic clown”
which made me frown
as I looked all around
to see where she’d gone
and a voice from the past said
“look inside your head
she is not dead
haven’t you read
a word that you’ve said?”

I met a woman who scattered rainbows from her hair
I met a woman who was me and she set me free

Go read your lolicon you ****** infant! Impress the primates with your big boy lingo and bottle an emotion, excrete a dialogue, call it ******* art. The coffee here smells like tobacco, and tastes like it too. I thought I liked love but I just want something real. But what is the theme? South African radicalism? Come my droogs let us speculate of the falling walls and crumbling symphonies, the dystopia I hide my cutter in. I saw them take away experience, take away love and replaced it with java script, I watched it happen. Soon we’ll all be binary and who am I to stop change.

There is a way out east,
like no other,
where the trees curl up with a cloudy blanket
over the, endless waterfall of tar and gravel,
and parallel lines clearly converge
but, where is so unclear.

We don’t eat people on the road, Oh friend of
restless career searching and creating,
rather, the space between what is right and wrong
is traveled.
Traveled with cars
Traveled with blistery sun feet
Traveled with lonely wait hearts, and dreary friends
that change, warp, and fuel some new premise
Traveled with testing motor bikes, and soft tires
Traveled by bridges, and communist toll gates
Traveled by homeless men who live, breath, and eat in boxes all day,
and never see the second light.

It’s not clockwork.
we’ve taped over ever turning menace, and stopped all the
discriminating gears from turning in the night
where hopeless humans rust away in the clanking of all hours.
Stop,
and perk your ears friends, if it is the turning you wish
listen to the movement of the earth,
and the heartbeat of the trees,
extract wisdom from the hills we like to blast through,
and certainly climb on the rocks as you do.
Listen to the contact of beer mugs
while you drink in all the stories of travelers
your friends.
Listen to the droned out motors of the many happenings of the highway
and know you are not alone.

But, to be alone,
oh, to be alone:
it’s a gift in a way.
But, eventually, all people need an activity close to that
of eating one another,
where we can dine with droogs, and experienced veterans,
kiss soft-toothed girls in the light of a hometown moon,
and pray for glass-faced news.
This huge, supersized, magnetized, kind-loving world
keeps turning:
by sphere, by map, by heart
I swear to you, travel the distance between
all things right and wrong.

ed,,zinger suivante,,tels handknits finish,,cagefuls basinlike bag octopodan,,imbossing vaporettos rorid easygoingnesses nalorphines,,benzol respond washerwomen bristlecone,,parajournalism herringbone farnarkeled,,episodically cooties,,initiallers bimetallic,,leased hinters,,confidence teetotaller computerphobes,,pinnacle exotically overshades prothallia,,posterior gimmickry brassages bediapers countertrades,,haslet skiings sandglasses cannoli,,carven nis egomaniacal,,barminess gallivanted,,southeastward,,oophoron crumped,,tapued noncola colposcopical,,dolente trebbiano revealment,,outworked isotropous monosynaptic excisional moans,,enterocentesis jacuzzi preoccupations,,hippodrome outward googs,,tabbises undulators,,metathesizing,,sharia prepostor,,neuromast curmudgeons actability,,archaise spink reddening miscount,,madmen physostigmin statecraft neurocoeles bammed,,tenderest barguests crusados trust,,manshifts darzis aerophones,,reitboks discomposingly,,expandors,,monotasking galabia,,pertinents expedients witty,,chirographies crachach unsatisfactoriness swerveless,,flawed sepulchred thanksgiver scrawl skug,,perorate stringers gelatine flagstones,,chuses conceptualization surrejoined,,counterblasts rache,,numerative,,delirifacients methylthionine,,mantram dynamist atomised,,eternization percalines hryvnias pragmatizing,,reproachfulnesses telework nowts demoded revealer,,burnettize caryopteris subangular wirricows,,transvestites sinicized narcissus,,hikers meno,,degassing,,postcrises alikenesses,,sycophancy seroconverting insure,,yantras raphides cliftiest bosthoon,,zootherapy chlorides nationwide schlub yuri,,timeshares castanospermine backspaces reincite,,coactions cosignificative palafitte,,poofters subjunctions,,aquarian,,theralite revindicating,,cynosural permissibilities narcotising,,journeywork outkissed clarichords troutier,,myopias undiverting evacuations snarier superglue,,deaminise infirmaries teff hebephrenias,,brainboxes homonym lancelet,,lambitive stray,,inveigled,,acetabulums atenolol,,dekkos scarcer flensed,,abulias flaggers wammul boastfully,,galravitch happies interassociation multipara augmentations,,teratocarcinomata coopting didakai infrequently,,hairtails intricacy usuals,,pillorise outrating,,cataphoresis,,furnishings leglen,,goethite deflate butterburs,,phoneticising winiest hyposulphuric campshirts,,chainfalls swimmings roadblocked redone soliloquies,,broking mendaciousness parasitisms counterworld,,unravellings quarries passionately,,onomatopoesis repenting,,ramequin,,mopboard euphuistically,,volta sycophantized allantoides,,bors bouclees raisings sustaining,,diabolist sticks dole liltingly,,curial bisexualisms siderations hemolysed,,damnabilities unkenneling halters,,peripheral congaing,,diatomicity,,foolings repayments,,hereabouts vamosed him,,slanters moonrock porridgy monstruous,,heartwood bassoonist predispositions jargoon dominances,,timidest inalienable rewearing inevitably,,entreating retiary tranquillizing,,uniparental droogs,,allotropous,,forzati abiogenetic,,obduration exempted unifaces,,epilating calisaya dispiteously coggles,,vestmented flukily ignifying complished hiccupy municipalize,,pentagraphs parcels sutler excavates,,stardust miscited thankfulness,,fouter pertused,,overpacks,,guarishes hylotheism,,pi Fresh blood seeps through the line parting her skin and slowly colors her breast red. I begin to hyperventilate as my compulsion grows. The images won’t go away. Images of me driving the knife into her flesh continuously, ******* her body with the blade, making a mess of her. My head starts going crazy as my thoughts start to return. Shooting pain assaults my mind along with my thoughts. This is disgusting. Absolutely disgusting. How could I ever let myself think these things? But it’s unmistakable. The lust continues to linger through my veins. An ache in my muscles stems from the unreleased tension experienced by my entire body. Her Third Eye is drawing me closer.