awkward is a promiscuous word. it flirts unintentionally. it seduces mentally. but most of all it's so disruptionally absurd even the first-come-first-serve basis comes 15 feet behind the typical quota. but it really isn't that serious. it would be awkward plus if i wasn't active right now. does that sound appealing to anyone? well it better. i'm no vanguard when it comes to distribution of emotions. they'll be distributed equally, thank you, and don't worry about getting more 'cause they'll be pieced out safe and fair. lord jesus, we need some sorrow-getter-overs in here! i'm always telling those who ask me for advice to relinquish the suffering and let the good times roll. not that it'll save their hides, i snicker mimically and divert the attention to something inappropriately interesting, like a ***** bumper sticker or a animal corpse on the side of the road. and you are gonna turn into one if you don't stop that crying! man i need some fresh air and i'm not talking about the innocent kind. it's more of the obvious, over-cynical cyanide-soaked air that formaldehyde would blush over. there are two r's in sorrow because the s and the o and w need to be capsized into one rowboat. i never thought i would compromise intimacy with loudspeaker attention-grabbers and then the sailboat does a belly-flop and lands head first in the witches' cauldron. which is like Hamlet's, but a lot less systematic and bunches more pagan. it's synthetically miserable but enigmatically moral. dance of the morals is another program i like. it has to do with the regard of selfish hope and loose pragmatism. pagan! ****** i know it's pagan but it's pigheaded trash like that which gets stuck in the garbage disposal ever so often and we don't have no time to clean it out. i use a fish net that once occupied a corner near the stove which had the net chewed through by ***** rats that inhabit the lower quarters of the bathhaus. it's nothing significant really but more or less a principle in not making leftovers from the unknown trashpile near the barn. attention: entrance alert. "too bad for" who cares. i'm sick of this. "too bad for". that's all said? "let's chat a lot" what? i thought maureen was coming over at 7? who left the cat out again--the dog's gonna have a field day playing cops and robbers, and there are always reallive guns. and i'm stuck back at square/ground one/zero figuring out how i'm gonna get the next day's meal without having to cut off my head or make the microsoft paper clip icon appear with those embarrassing clips telling you how you should appear to your boss on your first interview. and find out that he's a man after all. and ultimately regret what you said every two minutes. wish i had contributed crescents more to the goodness, and not brush over like a stuckist's paintbrush. he's actually using blood instead of acrylics- that's when i get running. wish i hadn't have done that. wish i hadn't. we "hadn't" too much, you know? i wish we had to have "hadn't" before it hadn't have been created. still my emotions are sold and i've cast a mold far too ugly to be a stupid cupid. can we get on with the show, please? no thank i've had enough cranberry pie for right now, maybe buttercup the parrot can have the rest? the cat hates water. then why is he swimming in the dog dish? i'm not complaining, just hesitating to say how i feel when i want it. yeah, i know you're looking at me make a sucker outta myself on your camera. all those poses weren't hard to accomplish but you aggrandize the bad and disregard that i actually have good talent after all. crazy 8s. thought i'd never compromise. thought i'd never make a sport out of tantalizing the shopkeeper's parakeet. yeah, they're playing that game everyone calls a bore cuz it is one. why not roast a marshmallow then find a salamander caught between the chocolate and the *******. and we can't have them crackers anyways cuz there's got gluten in them. can we take a walk, i have something to tell you? i have to tell you about my personal life. i don't care if you're bored. darwin was never bored, fyi. i don't want to hear your juvenile complaints anymore. you're always telling me your problems but you never let me talk. but why would you care? and no way am i gonna share? not there. still. you're still not coming around cuz you're crying and i can't take it anymore. stop the tears, i already told you just take another pill and you'll relax. your life can stop in a heartbeat because some freak told you to stop ******* with the power outlet and make an attempt on making it right. how am i gonna make it right? seems good to me to get up and go and never return. seems right to let it all hang lose and think of excuses as a way to win some money. i'm not the principle breadwinner around here, but i'd bake enough bread to feed an army if i had to. a whole cohort of emotional bigots who don't care anything about their stupid, money-******* societies. it's leveled to the drain again, yeah i know you don't understand. i'm done asking. please? do it for me? don't you know i'm hurting myself because... i'm not listening. don't you want to know i'm cutting my flesh because... i have to water the garden. oh dear what was that? whew! almost another collision with a bee. whew--another close one. what about the spiders in the cabbage bed? what why didn't you tell me? yeah, the cabbage patch has produced more memories than heads, and no not those types of heads. a mashup of what i hate most and what i hate least scourged outta me in a whirl. she's going to take a walk. the radio's on and it's hot in here. those maudy days of summer, but i love every shred of them like i do a coat in the winter. the radio's playing my song: doomsday magnificat! i like leather and metal combinations that are sold in a 60s oz town. you can tie and whip me if you conscience can, but not now. it's another adage gone to the birds. oh no the shopkeeper's parrot is out again and i didn't do it! how come i'm blamed for things i don't do? get over it. another fact of life. another testimonial head my way. dodge! that was a flying saucer that almost razed your head. you wouldn't care though because enough has happened today to make your head spin even faster than it already is. and they're real-live which makes me keeping fumbling my too-short curls disintegrated by sheer chauvinism and belated princeness. that's alright. i know how you feel. i know how the world feels because i am the world. and the world is my canvas. and i may dictate what you are allowed and i may waver onto what laws of principalities are shooting up everywhere, but it's okay 'cause there's a lot more to shoot than good time. and those wacked people can form an alliance and take down the stronghold because in reality, you know that you are wacked yourself to say that. i'm sorry you did. the world will keep spinning, snipers will keep killing, conservatives will keep protesting, parents will keep levitating, children will keep withholding, the days will keep heating, the pool will be more refreshing, and yeah mrs. renttib is still coming over. the world is new. and i am young. but we will all stay safe and good in this empyrean. because and i created it. and i established the surveillance cameras, which are everywhere, but don't feel pressed. yes, i'll forever watch your every move, and even though you've done good, i'll still send you to hell. because you belong there. you may begin now. make your tread strong yet gentle. it's not my expense, the water is cooler out here,
                                                                ­                             anyways.

I take my knowledge from architects, medieval painters and galore.

I walk along the stretch of times, Read the Canterbury Tales from folks of yore.

I've written literature in my own dialect, through the beautiful English language.

I find awe in the act of creation, new etymologies where old writers anguished.

My words: symphonies of the beloved and dead Beethoven; like the arias of Wagner.

I am the high priest, the new catholicicist propogandising as your Cardinal.

I am the spiritual technology, provided to the ailment of what we call society.

I am the new Ghandi, the Dalai Lama deservedly inspiring your piety.

I am the Luciferous angel of life, breathing heaven through the cesspool of Earth.

I am the post-modern Romeo and Juliet, Warhol's 15 minutes of fame and worth.

I am the Alexander Mcqueen, the metaphilosopher of fabric illusions.

I am the lyricist of society, speaking through the castrated eunychs.

I am Stephanie Myer, inspiration of vampiric genius to adolescent impressionables.

I am Jane Austen, author of new age thrillers such as The Secret and Lesbian Misérables

I am the eclipsing of twilight, the post-mortem autopsy of a rotting cadaver.

I am Heath Ledger and Michael Jackson, legends inspiring a race of sleeping pill grabbers.

I am the Blockbuster, the Titanic Avatar, $4.9 Billion to children in poverty.

I am Gangnam Style, 2.5 Billion viewers of the Palestinian Bombings.

I am modern philosophe, the birth giver of Socrates, Plato, Nietzsche, Derrida.

I am Steve Jobs, terrible father, tyrant and billionaire technological reliever.

I am God, the predeccesor and successor of all eternal life.

I am Satan, damnation and strife.

I am Tupac, rapper of gangster warfare. Inspirational to first world degenerates.

I am Oprah, most powerful black woman with white hillbilly aesthetics of Ellen Degeneres.

Thank you, to world's only true Genius.
Hail Kanye West, our one and only revered Yeezus.

Welcome to the stage on which
Life is lived as a performance
Welcome to the office in which
Every day is a job interview, where
Work is nothing more than being looked at
And admired
And despised
And envied

Welcome to a new bank account, with
More money than anyone needs, and
More pressure than anyone deserves, to
Spend it as tabloids demand

Welcome to criticism, for clothing choices –
Too last-year
Too slutty
Too creative
Too similar to someone else
Not flattering enough
Not slutty enough
Not daring enough

Welcome to scrutiny, over
Every romantic detail
Every baby’s name
Welcome to mockery

Welcome to an opportunity to
Use your voice
Take a stand
Make a change
Welcome to pressure to
Toe the line
Stay mainstream
Take no risks

Welcome to a new form of slavery, offering
Wealth and adoration
Freedom for some and shackles for others
Welcome to a ruined, wasted life lived short of its potential –
Relationships missed
Role in the home passing by, and
A tempting, all-you-can-eat buffet of mental health issues

Welcome to a new status, to be
Cool
The centre of attention
Off trend
Forgotten

Welcome to the celebrity contradiction
Attention-grabbers, with
Demands for privacy

Welcome to someone just like
Me –
And
You

We are the pit men,the pony men,the downtrodden,unshod men,and it's us against them,
and them men are the fat men,the fast gabbers,the land grabbers,the takers,the fakers, the usurers and money lenders,
**** them men,
I'm tendering my resignation and going off to look for something more,
a new celebration of a life within this whirlwind of a railway station.
Platform four,
train leaves at five
if I'm still alive
I'll be on it.

"In case you're wondering who we are,
We're your friendly NRA.
Put your worries behind you now;
We are here to save the day.

"Feeling lost and insecure?
Feeling hopeless or dejected?
Come on down and buy your gun.
Your spirits will be resurrected.

"What? You want a handgun? Pshaw!
A handgun is just a toy.
An assault weapon is what you need
To make you feel like a really big boy.

“The thought of guns everywhere
Titillates us to the core.
We can’t describe the ecstasy
Of having more and more and more!

"Your Congressmen love to stick
Their hands into our bulging pockets.
Call it a little *** for tat--
Just keep us off your legal dockets.

"One of our leaders is Wayne LaPierre.
With every gun sale he's elated.
Some say he prevaricates;
We say truth is overrated.

"Gun manufacturers,
You scratch our backs, we'll scratch yours.
We'll make sure that all can access
Weapons that are made for wars.

"Certainly our Founding Fathers
Knew what they were doing when
They envisioned assault weapons
In the hands of all brave men.
 
"Join our 'well regulated
Militia' here in the United States.
We don’t like our beloved Second
Amendment to undergo debates.

"We are doing all we can
To weaken all gun safety laws.
Please don't mention violence;
Every system has its flaws.

"We subscribe to firearm freedom--
A genuine right that's everyone's.
Here's one way to look at it:
Religious liberty for your guns.

"'Life, liberty, and the pursuit of guns'--
That's our motto, simple and clear.
Gun grabbers had best beware:
The NRA will persevere.

"So now you know who we are:
We're your friendly NRA.
You can put your worries behind you;
We are here to save the day."

- by Bob B

praxinoscope-théatres and chatelaines
vinaigrettes and salt sets
strawberry grabbers and victorian dress lifters
inkwells and i

how foolish of of us
to believe we would
have a purpose

how foolish of us
to believe that we would
ever be of use again

Seagulls outdone
by 'little ones'
clapping and slapping
screeching and crapping

Acting much bigger
than they are
crying and vying
to rule the roost

Cacophony clowns
competing with sound
running around
all over town

Attention grabbers
perched on pinnacles
looking down
on the others around

Grab for all the gusto you can
Because TV and beer are all I need, man!
Weltanschauung? Yes, it is one
Not a real complex decision
So, let us for a moment, and as we are able
Look at what hedonism brings to the table
Epicurean hedonism of the quantitative type
It’s what I mean to be more precise

If all there is, is pleasure,
And that’s what’s buried in your heart as treasure
Then you can't turn and be indignant
About anyone else who is just as ig’nant
After all they are just grabbing gusto
Maybe in a different form
But who is the hedonist?
To expect others to conform
        to non-rationality
        to being arbitrary

So what are we left with
When we look and see?
You can’t go beyond and seek a conception
When all is physiology,
      and empiricism
      and behavioral biology
And it can't be psychological
Because psychology is not made of matter
But these things do matter
How do we get to the ding an sich?
After all we don’t all share the same brain-ium
In fact, many don’t even use their cranium
So, we must challenge all the gusto grabbers,
Who’ll get upset
When others don’t live up to their double standards
Special pleading may sound valid
But if all there is, is motion and matter
Then it’s melancholy salad you’ll be served on a platter

So, let me say there’s nothing wrong with TV and beer
But that won’t lead you to the ding an sich
Or from the phenomena to the noumena
You need a Weltanschauung where the abstract can fit
      and that helps us make sense
To have an apologia (a coherent defense)
How do we do it?
We intuit
As God expects us to think thoughts after Him
As the Father of lights enlightens a world so terribly dim

Consensus

Democracy, a hollow word makes me laugh darkly.
Is the USA a democracy? You can vote every 4 years
Among two parties who spring from the same narrow
The base of the elite and is therefore not Democratic,
but gives the illusion like the democratic republic
Of Kongo, to be one and go to war against those who
Has another opinion, say, freedom from tyranny
And interference of foreign countries.
Freed om is more important than democracy which
Is a hiding place for thieves and land grabbers.
Israel, knee-deep in Palestinian blood, is a democracy
That brutalize their own people into thinking they have
The right to defend themselves, thus behave with
Callous insouciance towards the opinion of others.

On black ground Pennsylvania coal miners obey admiralty laws for
hidden within the walls of malls lives a Roman deity of ***** *****
Upon hallowed plots Pennsylvania's ministers praise common laws
but far below the stalls in malls are 666 patron saints of ***** *****
Above ground coal miners obey admiralty laws but underground in
masonical halls mit dolls are U.M.W.'s patriotically-red cruel claws
Parkinson's hypokinetical rigid syndrome pulls Linda Ronstadt free
to fire hospice ovens on diesel fuel, polystyrene & tinder constantly
Since hefty Linda's condition was mildly diagnosed as syndromical
she's maintained a stiff upper lip for farting at crap deemed comical
'cause Hershey Highway-ridin' Jerry Brown ******* hetero-erotical
like the time **** Jerry Brown **** behaved vaguely hetero-erotical
like when queer-praisin' Jerry Brown **** schtupped hetero-erotical
like the night unwiped-*** Jerry Brown **** ****** hetero-erotical
like the time raunchy **** Jerry Brown **** ****** hetero-erotical
like when queer-baiting Jerry Brown **** schtupped hetero-erotical
like the time tricky-**** Jerry Brown **** schtupped hetero-erotical
for ***** enemas made Bill McKinley's state more cryptographical
from a bad case of diarrhea that trotted towards the nympholeptical
in sing-along songs longer than over-done operas overtly operatical
that somehow draw parallels that ain't Manson Family congenerical
I hurled puke as churlish, Polynesical squaws vomited spoken lines
from monkeyhood to manhood via monkeyshines for broken spines
Sue wouldn't mistake my army boot for a tennis shoe nor repeat the
Ted Bundy snafu: I love you & want to bury you, I mean marry you
Bad train derailments are too common where an icy rail jogs whilst
Alaskan searchers can't find Earl Warren Commission's Hale Boggs
whose airplane crashed 'cause he didn't like cereals called Kellogg's
Special K that constipates whales so as to stiffen inner whale clogs,
intestinal obstructions & Nile fever among thoroughbred male dogs
& grade-A Cornish CX meat kings, Wagyū cows & large, pale hogs
that forage like Pinoys through rancid garbage & gnaw on trail logs
in a drunken torpor, stupefied from cheap-skate, Cebu bar ale grogs
served by Turkic, skinny-dipping gals in whom a red-love well sogs
as the aura of heaven brightens & clarifies, the haziness of hell fogs
& toxifies quagmires & streams killin' mountain toads & vale frogs
in a world that forced Joan Crawford to fight tough guy & gal trogs
wainwrights know hubs'll spin freely for folks who do not nail cogs
down while steadily puking egg triumphant nogs over egg fail nogs
My bones are big, metabolism is slow & prostate is retention-proof
on this structurally-sound, adequately-trussed, high-suspension roof
After a busy Sabbath-mistaken Sunday I beheld lunar-dead monday
like would a college student slaughtered by electrocuted Ted Bundy
in the presence of a priest diseased from a Loredo beet-red-nun date
America worships the highest-rankin' Catholic like an unfed prelate
who howls Bud Abbott rabid & acts more dumber than **** Cavett
whose attenuatin' emotions are their strangest in bakers' bun classes
beyond the old-dirt-road remissions of a patsy in fakers' sun glasses
among true adherents & sad congregants poking Quakers' fun *****
while disseminatin' heresy to gun-grabbers at the pope's gun masses
like heretic John Pope had at Bull Run's Second Battle of Manassas