There was a big boom once

Population dynamics are intrin-
sic functions of gumption
and big booms echo in eternity.

I look at the industrial revolution
through infrared filters
to parameterize the haze of our lives using

a kaleidoscope landmarking
technique andor technology
where the function of plutocracy

(and it is taking shape)

while it resonates on post-reformations
and pre-modernisms
How do you like them schizms?

Living the religion of
capital ~ ism
and paying homage on prayer mats of

blood ~ sweat ~ and 1, 2 many beers
through our blue collar dollars and
masonry jars and crossroads guitars

(and between the bars)

of our own creation.
Now moving toward remediation
and un-plebiation.

I cried vermouth and reconciliation while
they expunged truth and trylobytes.
The inevitability always bubbles up.

And in the trailer park of our lord: 2017
Ricky and Julian and Bubbles
pay homage to a great poet lost: Mr. Lahey.

(within the mystery of our own creation)

Thus we toast to: The Theatre of Life

The last of the angels’
Castaway nametags
Hung from the plush red edges
Of the art deco interior.
A breeze from the open door
Cast the doctor’s pamphlets to the floor
Advertising his services
For the special remediation program
Since he could not sleep
What with all the voices
From below chanting his name—
How he envied the people he killed:
For they were spoken so little of.
That is, except for on his intake sheet:
After passing over the names,
Seven in all,
Whose lives were, shameless,
Shed over ***,
The latch clicked
And out came the doctor’s hand
Beckoning through the door
A “come hither” gesture.
On the couch he sat,
Neck conforming perfectly to the couch
As he swam a cascade of Rorschachs
Apart the mirror-faced, owl-like man.
Speaking with a heavy Eastern-European accent
He knew exactly why Elliot had come:
Perhaps the intentions were dubious,
Perhaps he was looking
For quick solutions;
Regardless, Mirror-Face was there to help:
Too easily, these days, was it
To determine dysfunction in the masculine—
And this case was rare,
Awash in chatter from below.
So, there must be something deeper
Rooted in fear of perpetual
Romance fetishism
And absence of its referent.
Yes! The penetrative is missing—
The limerant object
Is without form, shapely, and feminine
And would forever escape him,
In part by suicide,
In part by isolation.
The reason you are here
Is the absent-present offspring
Of such missing ***,
A veritable porcupine-dilemma
In the flesh, a show of insufficient ****** capital—
See now in this face of mine.
Yes, now that I’ve diagnosed
What ails
Let us explore what solutions
Could have been:
The living world does offer suitable surrogates
For those lacking—
Recognizing this is the first step
To being forgotten,
To allow you to sleep.
Yes, you recognized then
The gun as the extension of the phallus
And it levels the playing field
Raised up, aroused by power
One feels when operating heavy machinery—
Yes, all flesh which is the metaphorical egg,
The bullet is the *****,
Which penetrates the flesh of the paramour
Impregnating her with life inverted
And creates, in death,
The child of ****** frustration.
While this child is one of children lost,
It is child nonetheless.
Yes, and this gun, the metal *****,
***** not one
But many—in fact, incestuously,
It ***** entire families,
Entire communities,
And leaves their lives gravid
With your legacy.
Yes, it is the only way to create
The ultimate matron, the universal feminine,
The supreme m-Other
For the Supreme Gentleman.
And you, as you see me,
Are the absent-present of this child of death
This union of bullet-***** and the whole-body womb,
With which you, sadly, impregnated yourself.
But, here’s the secret,
Because of this, you can only do damage control:
Your child will prevail.
Yes, the name may be gone, but the child prevails.
Name may be gone, but child prevails.
Name gone, child here.
So, have the voices stopped?
Has the child matured in you?
You are on your way to being forgotten,
But the child lives on:
Yes, the name may be gone, but the child prevails.
Name may be gone, but child prevails.
Name gone, child here.

Their eyes did the judicious scan down to our shoes,
Muddied silence gave us away,
Cartographers of the naughty ditch we huddled in for warmth
Alight go the zip-lock bags are knuckles giggled in
Pulling the drug like creativity,
Often enough to it portraiture;
Spacily, we followed their eyes, lay flaccid fixéd
To there, they stay, when precautions cross and made
Punitive pleasures of the proxies, and all.

Rest assured, we did not care.

Blush for the dervishes, aslant, a chin
Ravaging to the eye, a glance, a smile,
Hoping a spin, awry a touch is enough to motion the room
Sheepish, onto the other,
From there at poles and solemn way: yearning.
Sticky lips, servile mementos
Wishing to be the real thing, palms
Inexorable ones, warmly tie loose ends of the world
Together, sharing as some do the spectator’s space
So twain between him and the moon: mind, body, soul
A coupling of felicitous breadth
And her come-hither stare, clung to lusting silence
Dim, in throes of mere taboo, they stay
Safely, that personal place, the jeers of teenaged love
They buried under blankets to escape.

Rest assured, they did not care.

“Replay, diligently, the last song and keep,” she said,
“Your sarcasms to yourself. I lived it before
Before, oh, it fell all into place; the fiction of photos
Will not keep food in my mouth,
Turned down in nostalgia—to be birthed
Is first in the long thread of loses,
Doled out in tips, the ringed coffee, holding each other together
While I move between tables too eagerly,
Unwelcomed contentment
Wears the dancer’s shoes mockingly
A still-life, still life just gets it, the sad times
Are written, my still life has bills to pay
Arranged like puerile bursts, blossomed hearts
Wanting to pull you through the hole in the earth
And show you the center/poetry buried in still
Lifeless end-times we gave up for access
To green roads of experience and all their contradiction;
The rest was all just small talk.”

Rest assured, she did not care.

Her and I wept away from the palpable, at feelings
Knowledge of solutions to pathos, Love begs itself
Remediation, wrong at every turn, swiftly
Excising its possessions:
Do you love me, or is it ought?
Do I love you or merely the thought?
Long, is it, to have or be—
An aspect of a thousand chattering sounds
Plentitude of voices harken answers we
Bear not to hear, but form in the absence
Bliss, enscribed on parchment, out lovely whole
Complementing our moon,
Bringer of the yeasts of child, of its own siege
Full of what we’ve only given room.
I say, recourse for our maddened state, what we promise
In rhinestones, bands us together, in too small a space,
Too short a time, is that of theft and thing—
Undo, undone the marks the sane voices’ command
We, thus, are to be lectured, tongue-in-cheek
The portmanteaus of proper affection, bed-pleasures: individuality,
Its arithmetic and the modals virile, my destiny divisible
Or walk divided, infinitely one,
Autoerotically in praise of my bottled ***, given to all,
Shared with none, taughtfull-wellknown
A love may never love but itself
If it has choice between—it chooses self,
Indulge, indulge the unlovely ecstasies sure
All lessons lead to conclusion, different in their by-ways
Restlessly falling short of dreams, for the fallen fruits
And sour with despair.

Rest assured, we did not care.

In our tiny cyberspace in the vast Amazon Web Services
cloud of constant knowing cognatively in all
197 current wikipaedian accents on thought,

assisted intell true interest answers

aitia, clame blame take the shame
and shove it where no light shines,
not hell, null, it’s a state, a field,
from which only wiser men
develop consciousnesses
useful at awesome intensities…

Bubble ensample, determined
first time readers, find each letter
allows a slow
down, we think too fast, because,
half of us are one side of a swell in hope,
the fidelity of we, survivors, by luck,

no lie, I just got by.

Imagine, we all have imagined, already,

how might a lifeless Mars be terraformed,
we have imagined, as we imagined Earth
without form, and void, in lightless ever, once

timeless primordial lack of relativity
to form spans of time from point
whenever, once
a we called elohim, as if
'ello, heem is calling, are we
home as where never is heard

a discouraging word,
imagine, in your courAzone
auming om howling beat, rapt
to whole bubbles of being, being
once, as the entire concept of one we,
bottled up, capped, under pre-assurance
fizzy quantum could be good, try umph,
if it works with just a little tri, umph
is good, but too much try, defeats
all umph willing to spin donuts,
and make smoke,
real, do this for a living, allatime,
our mental realm, realm-mighty fine,
realm of overwhelming reasons, actual ways
forcing adverse reactions, working statistical,
ifical and magi knowing, chances are we find
a mindstate, a point in pastless space effects
-timeless efforts imagining timelessness,
energize the whole process, peace made on war.

any willing to imagine finding a story that allowed
first gift I received in California, was a video tape
"The Never Ending Story". Noted, on the pages,
using the pre-Ai antagonists reverse twist,

to watch the flow go the other way, because we can
think in terms of instant replay, way out of bounds,
unless, yes, more further still, will we achieve,

the assumed we that docents use to lead into
the intial levels of money for being born on Earth,

as the most precious resource in the new U
Rules of Engagement, guage response, twist,

make time a test, patience, use, intuited ew, mustard

state is interesting, al ways stop, see, resting
inter mental construement, stretching a point,
intermittent messaging confirmed
intended to catalyze
furthermore
as double tribomechanically activated zeolite clinoptilolite  
-- that's real, we, at our most wide imaginable weform,
we make good use of that stuff… the bubble
of those who know what use it has, is small…
---------------
furthermore, yes, tobe, to be, robed as truths known
beautifully malleable - substance, stuff, material re-ality,
ra' thirst signal, loss of ductility, embending doom,
Costco Mango Juice, could not be sweeter, assume,
in my per-if-I wish to pay attention,
to the sound of a grandaughter singing,
as if the whole world should hear how happy she is,
and she forgot, here, in this same spirit then had in it
us, the others in the prime state of life,
in this instance, first day of autumn,
in rolling chapparal,
fire season, always was predictable, or successfully
prayed away, as we always gathered,
after Harvest Moon,

times for being simple human sapien, sapiently pass, hope
working all the wonders first discerned, when old ways
amen
made a bond
and old measures taken
to make good balance, valuable
knowledge for spindles and wheels and axel hubs,
and steel belted radial tires, same idea, balance,

smooth turn, return,
remediation meditation situation,
ryhmes rime **** head tilts,
looks at us, askance asking have we noticed

life seems more worth preserving, while conserving,
eh, weighing the worth of knowing why,

Mayan society developed into what Mexico is today,
infected with the stories that survived the book burnings,

same form of knowledge ra', pride's pa, mine

plead ingeniousness, wissen und kennen ignosis
ignition, iggy pop… spark, breath, flame, tickle, feel

the curling in the toes of those with hell holding theories,

the weapons of my warfare, my mind made augmentable,
ready readers prodigies, easily shaped
into informal weforms  

-- old man, what was that like,
you moved to town in 1943,
as an eleven year old boy…

-- well, he said, we had electricity.
and that made quite a difference…

my mother's younger brother, some how
that tie never broke, we spoke,
this is furthermore, 2024,

I am imagining, which, it seems is a game,
devised, I have been advised to keep my mind
on track, for total catalytic disillusionment,

after the convergence of learned ways
true math works out for good, while money

invested in creating collectively minded individuals,
team mind binders, collectively educated,

classically, conserves the original intent behind,
the curtain on the navel of the world, so shy,
noble lie, guardians are essential minds to make up;
action movies did the trick, right, Aldous,
Ape and Essences gets its props.
boom
blink of an eye, instantly too strange to rearrange,
set and setting, trust and obey, define, our range,

our bubble of being the we involved in the event,
your reading our last will and testament, in terms

as yet undiscerned, on balance, taking all we grew through,
as if we grew from those environs,
not those ones in Dublin,

or Flushing, or Boca Raton… tabula rasa

where peace begins, you

hold your breath to find it, you stop
I stop
you think, I think, we both breathe, but
across the actual experiential universe, as awe
the state, expands as more outs come on,

sparklers from my soul, good vibrations,
only taken to extremes, never let seem ordinary

these days are not our dreams, this is as planned,
manifestation of fruiting bodies
seed, time, harvest, process, put to good use,

mankind, wombed or un, augmented or not, mankind
sows seeds of same kindness,

golden rule, straight edge sharper than any two edged sword,
light saber sharp, the mythteriothity, sheer shibbolethargy,

energize any idea, a ra' idea, hard to think possible, but, known
knowing such things, the depths of literary depravity, made
literally true, due to capital investments in lead, and coal,
and copper and all the minerals Afghanistan has,

war, takes my breath away, I am intending combat,
at one level of preparation, this feels laughingly enjoyable.

Take truth's bitter sweet knowledge, we all know, to some degree

what happens when any we forms an agreement no I may break,

it is no secret what truth does to hidden shamefilled monstors.

U on the pond, reflecting, who is asking you?

Should we all be actually required to become
a knower of the ruliad realms real estimate,

how long from nuclear antagnoboom whata a rush,

it's seventy two minutes, and counting,
down, so what's a manmindkind of thing
to do to be part in the last poem I may right,

let me count the days, if Daniel's right,
right, let us not think minutes, whose word

should we heed, here, ask truth, she is wisdom,
she say, how stupid are we, I ask,
and we agree we underst
ate the depth of our order, few ever read this.

So the feeling of a first time reader, is faded out…

Started off aweful
But thanks to re adjustment.
Got cups like a cabinet
No Kleenex stuffing
Thank you very much miss  hilary duff man
Keep it up and...
You'll get schooled up in the dumb class....

Dominican republic. Where the tan lines border on disgusting
Highway traffic marker kind of stuffiness
Snorting  lines just keep on coming....

Hot and fresh. So get it. While I pull out oven ready muffins.
Top 5 **** scenes on the internet
Are all of women getting ****** while stuck inside of ovens
Something of a taboo subject
So let's not actually discuss it.
Cheeseburger Eddie's television stuntman.
And mcdonalds ba da ba pa loves it....
Made of luncheon meat lasagna and snack size muffins in my lunch kit...
Getting harassed for stashing ***.
Like a drug mule smuggles stuff up in his luggage....
Security like **** search and seizure
Wheres your gloves at...
Steve o. You on jack ***. But where you from and wheres that *** at...
I'll stop bragging about something that hasn't even happened yet.
Like cmon girl ******* **** that...
But ima tell you like cartman
Hes just a boy you shouldn't a done that....

Oh god I hope this isn't foreshadowing.


I'm not ready for remediation to the dumb class...
And line consumption should be subject. To legalization. In a subclass
Jail oh great. So I'm terry crews ******* ******* stuntman...
Who wants mcdonalds. When you got healthy choices from Janet at the public mental systems lunch van...
******* in conclusion.
Is where steve o. Keeps the *** at....

Life seems to be
an arduous climb
up steep, winding roads,
with harrowing bends,
to the top of a mountain
where you can turn
in a full circle,
and see all around you; or

it is a long sea voyage, all alone,
where you can see that same horizon
all the way around;
the monotony tempered
by the anticipation
of reaching shore
somewhere, maybe to find
something new; or

it is a long walk
in the woods, lost,
all the trees seeming the same,
until you find a clearing
and see a house,
or hear the familiar sound
of traffic on a nearby road; or

it is a journey upriver
battling against the current,
losing headway when you angle
for either shore; frustrated
and out of strength from
the continual rowing; or

it is a tedious drudgery of work
on an assembly line
of routine and boredom,
your paycheck no remediation,
your weekends bland, similar,
a welcome rest, but
holding no promise; or

it is a tiring routine of meals,
the same over and over,
until you end up putting
hot sauce on everything,
and your mouth and your mind
go numb in rebellion
to the lack of creativity; or

it could be a walk through a city
down unfamiliar alleyways,
large buildings blocking
your view, with a fear
inhibiting the anticipation
of finding your way out again,
a foreboding at every corner; or

maybe it’s an accumulation of meaningless things,
a discarding of meaningless things,
an argument over meaningless things,
a long oration from meaningless people
about the meaning of meaningless things; or

it can be a search through a library
of information, roaming
through the stacks, taking
books down, looking
for secret directions,
hidden meaning between the lines; but

sometimes, it is the joy
of a song with others, the
harmony of worship, the
serenity of hope, the
other-worldliness and the tears
of the sadness for yourself and
everyone else caught up in it,
and the faith for what might be; and

sometimes, it is just
the joy of food with others,
sitting together in comfortable chairs,
the chitchat and the laughter,
the regaling of memories
of how you somehow made it,
miraculously, this far;

and then, as if waking
from a dream, you climb from
your bed, dress painfully,
groping for your slippers, and
you stumble through your home, and
lurch to the door, open it and marvel
at something radiant and unexpected,
a prospect of new adventure,
where everything will become
the epitome of all you sought, and
you will become the epitome
of all that you have ever been.