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Jay Jimenez Mar 2013
Im so awkward
Like I catch people
catching people catch me
Staring at them people
And I pretend like I don't hear them
Saying ***
look at his tattoos
and all he ****** does is smoke cigs
And longboard
I see that in their yuppy *** faces
*** we got so rich and cool
And lost all your freedom
******* and your shrimp platter
and your ****** puma im gonna burns calories on the tredmil
Of every day rich life
My tredmil is living paycheck to paycheck
******* the world
and kissing a girl
cuz really the paychecks pay for our ways to get laid
The room was filled with freak ******'s and other assorted nut jobs and then there were the folks that weren't writers.

It was a poetry reading open mic deal yeah what a wild party this was going to be but being the best of the best from Hello were supposed to be there I figured my invitation must have got lost in the mail.

You know what that is kids.
See before the net you actually had to get off your lazy **** to mail a letter yeah I know how ****** up is that?
It's almost like music where you actually play instruments  to enjoy instead of steal a loop from one of your parents records yeah don't pretend you understand that one if you under the age of thirty .

But enough with the foreplay children .
The room was packed the poets ready and as I took my seat I was shocked to find they wouldn't be serving ***** at this snooze fest .
Probably a good idea cause after teen age Timmy read his ode to his two day relationship we would all probably slip into a coma .

No worries much like batman but not as gay.
, I always had my trusty utility belt I'm kidding I just had a flask what kind of freak do you think I am?, Okay don't answer that one hamsters.

So after ordering a coffee and adding a little ******* tonic  I sat back and waited to listen to the young crop of writers read there poetry eager to take it all in yeah, right I did as always sat back and waited to
heckle the **** out of everyone hit on the waitress and generally be known as the loveable poetic areshole  of the site.

The time flew.
If by that you mean the time dragged on like we were being ear ***** by a duet between Justin Bieber    and Selna  Gomez .
It was brutal I tell you but the tide was about to make a turn for the better .

As the MC  for the event announced we have a special guest in the crowd tonight and hopefully with a round of applause we can get him to do a reading for us folks give a warm round of applause for .

I jumped to the stage the truly poetic ego maniac ***** eager to save the day or at least give it a good kick in the *** there's only so much
you can listen to of this yuppy ***** before you go insane hamsters .

The woman must have been in shock being in the presence of the greatest co writer in Hello history .
For she looked at me like she had no clue who the hell I was .

Um sir do you mind getting off the stage we are getting ready to ask Joel M Frye  to the stage.
Joel ?

Yeah sure he's a great writer and can spell and his farts smell of cinnamon and pier one or at least I have herd.
But do you have no idea of who I am woman?

She looked at me with a mix of sympathy and probably thinking I wonder if the institution knows he's escaped ?
Umm no sir sorry I don't have a clue.

I had to take in consideration this poor women probably had a smaller brain than the genius that stood before her .
I am Gonzo my sweet lady I said really slow so she could understand
cause she had a smaller brain I'm not saying that cause she was a woman so don't get all *** crazy on me sisters cause you know Gonzo loves you all like a perverted uncle .

Gonzo where have I herd that name oh yeah I know you I thought you died ?
What duh I'm standing here aren't I?

Wait a minute maybe I'm a ******* zombie **** I hate to think I'm one of those walking dead ******* although I have had *** with some ladies I swear could pass for a zombie course that was probably just the drugs I slipped them hey don't judge  I'm kidding I would never do that I do what every true gentleman does when in need.
Pick up hookers .

Hey John Joel said as he slipped up behind me like some poetic ninja .

Joel amigo how the hell are you please do me a favor and explain to this woman just who I am I mean really yeah it's like they don't know how kick **** I am .

Well Gonz maybe I can talk them into letting you do a reading .
Look this guys totally ******* nuts okay so bare with me Joel
whispered to the mc lady  who's smaller brain was truly annoying the **** out of me.

Gonz let me just work this out okay buddy .
I began to object then Joel pulled a truly ***** trick by handing
me the most recent issue of hustler magazine  .
From what I herd it had a great article in it yeah right you have to admire **** that doesn't pretend to be nothing more than what it truly is kind of like me  .  

The woman and Joel spoke for some time and I assume she had seen the error of her ways as she laughed and shook her head oh that Joel he is a charmer.

I  was almost halfway through the ****** hunt  section when .
Joel appeared again like some magical poetic ninja slash friendly dragon .

Gonz man I pulled some strings and after I do a reading your going to close the show hell I even got you your own dressing room and everything figured you'd like to warm up a bit or at least not ******* in front of everyone it's getting a bit awkward I'm just saying bud.

I had to admit Joel was a true friend and as I was shown to the back dressing room it truly tugged at that lump of coal I called a heart to know I still had a true friend on the site I could trust .

Okay here's your dressing room Mr Gonzo it must be a awesome one I thought to myself for it had a big red sign above the door man they truly went all out for me .

But much like when I learned where babies come from my delusion was soon broken in half yeah I always thought they came from dumpsters like I did.

I was standing in a alley ***** cold there were no drinks or hot chicks with there ******* out as I had been promised .
****** man I was starting to believe I had been tricked.

I quickly made my way to the front of the club to tell Joel what these ******* had done !.
But the doors were locked man poor Joel they have trapped him inside
anything could be happening I sure hope he wasn't being ***** .

I banged on the door but couldn't see anything for the lights were off
it's like the people inside were avoiding me like most my friends .

Hey I know your in there open up you *******! .
Woman with the small brain I called out.
Please if you can here me please get Joel out of there he's to good to be tarnished by your terrible readings or *****  cause that's not funny haha yes it is I'm so demented.

I sat there for what felt like ages .
and after five minutes I had to give up Joel was lost to the poetic **** inside ****** man so many good writers have been lost to such lures as these coffee shop readings.

I made my way to the local bar heartbroken seems there was no love for Mr Gonzo left in this town  .
I ordered a double and drank one to my friend who probably is reading this and thinking what the **** am I on this time .

Well it's mix of speed and bourbon but I'm  taking it a bit easy these days .

Dam you!, poetry coffee house readings you have taken far to many of my friends .
I drown my sorrows and passed out as usual and thanked the lord I had escaped with my life and Joel's **** mag I will treasure it forever my friend.

Until next time
Stay crazy kids .

Gonzo
Hello My name is Gonzo and everyday somewhere in the world a terrible open mic poetry reading claims yet another great writer .
If you know someone thinking about going to one of these events reach out and help them before it's to late
Johnny Noiπ Aug 2018
Josie was ur everyday *****
strolling 3rd &
Lenox;                          she could get fifty from
                                        a yuppy on a weekday
                      & easily bring in $1,000 a weekend+frills &
bennies;                      the                        
                                       kid dropped out of the high school  
where                              Josie used to teach & made a date
for that Wednesday             & knocked her up; now they're
                                             doing okay; he sells Insurance &
she's driving a Lexus;
    kicking  [talk about good for each other;
                it's like the kid had had a vision;
&                       the kids all collegiate        jocks w/ attitude;
                                                               [the oldest a lesbian;
smack                                        long ago;
Josie is  ur average housewife
Loraine Fromm Aug 2011
I'LL GET RIGHT BACK TO YOU

Have you ever dialed a number many miles away
Knowing when the bill comes in your the one to pay
Sometimes a voice will come with a dull and caring sound
"You must dial this number if you want some public hound"

Then another voice will ask if your wanting some fat cat
So dial another number, well, we won't go into that
Then in a place of business you'll get a voice that says
"We're busy now but hold the line, we'll get back to you"

With a firm hand on the phone, you sit and grit your teeth
You curse and yell and count to ten so no one else can tell
When suddenly the phone goes dead and a tinny silence greets you
Now some buggers cut you off and the air turns thick and blue

I have a lovely daughter who's turned that yuppy corner
I'm calling her tomorrow with all my woes and sorrow
And if I find she's out, I'll talk to her machine
Oh how I hate that awful man made thing that says:

"Well hello how are you, right now I'm not at home
But if you leave a message after the beep, I will ring you later"
Now I don't mind if no one's home, cos I'll just try again
But if I get another machine I think I'll go insane

I stepped into my kitchen, there's a grin on hubby's face
And from this thing that sat there I heard to my disgrace
"Well hello how are you, right now I'm not at home
But leave a message after the beep, I'll get right back to you"

Did you guess I'm leaving home and heading for the hills
No machine or telephones, someone else can pay the bill.
Johnny Noiπ Jul 2018
yuppy girl frowns
when yuppy boy
grows beard; u look
like a beatnik she
complains; he grins
u don't even know
what a beatnik is!
do u? I'm one!! u're
a ***** hipster! I'm
going to go shoot
******! I'm going to
the bar to **** off
some ****** for blow!
wow, that's ghetto!
let's **** right now!
I'm too cool for u -
roles reversed,  yuppy
girl hits the bar; who's
got the next big thing?
she says sliding onto the stool;
                while she was gone            bf shaves off the scraggly goatee,
spikes his vein & calls his
                                                            new round-the-way-girl: a *****
he met          writing poetry
                                                      in the park; her baby daddy a painter
doing thirty years for ******; baby
girl gone into foster care; she
read the poem that transfixed him & changed his life;
from that moment he knew
what his eventual novel                      would be about;
the girl poet w/ long straight black         hair & sallow skin covered in      
               b/w tattoos
like Op-Art;                    nostrils & ears        lined w/ silver rings
                     on gold                   chains:
she said she was             kidding when she said
             she was a Satanist but yuppy boy wasn't sure;
                                      his mind shrouded
in cloudy      half-recalled paranoid panic;
superstitions held in the                              
             basin of the    empty psychic pan;
             his Appalachian ancestors' voices            echoing from the river; her eyes
not           bright but        white blue green yellow sunlit;
                          open & shining yet dreary
                & ever forlorn;
she gave him the white           packet                          
       & clean                      syringe: he gave her a twenty;
first time? she said;
yeh, said he [         ]
                come back & tell me how good it was:
it was good | [                   ]
he came back                    after yuppy girl dumped him;
he'll never get off the **** now
& she's got thirty years to ****
Devin Tinnin May 2015
Sitting on the couch,
I had a realization.
Most of us end up sitting on the couch anyway.
No matter how often we told ourselves we wouldn't be "the yuppy scumbag with a routine life."
Then,
I forgot about it
and moved on to something far more important.
How all people think about death. Everyone has thought about the inevitable end. Period.
Suddenly, I moved up one level of consciousness.
I asked myself what do immortals think about?
What do aliens think about? The same things as us?
What do gods think about?

And now the baby's crying
And I think about this poem
filaments and filigrees
the forms from which we disagree
like stochastic children
we assemble
and then return to our solitary ways
waters flow and release waves
our hearts are safe
ten million creatures teach us wisdom
our answers are the words of vision
if we are misled will we be held accountable
and if we are dead will be held responsible
its simple really
all these tricks are for our own good
spoon fed and redundant she bled like a walrus
our elements are rusted like compliments and comets
mutations abound
since only sound
can drown out this suffering
i am impossible
and try to keep it bottled like lightning
kingdoms toppled and empires are overthrown
still the disassociation shows
in small towns and movie theaters
the life of those who live there
for once put yourself in my shoes
what is the wishing bone to do
it must break and be torn or it will be sworn at
keep calm and let it all deteriorate
what is the essence of the mission
keep calm under all conditions
with wet hair and a coat
with microfibers that don’t float
with puncture wounds in our souls
with diamonds on our thrones
music is meaning
its bleeding
its keeping you company
its a rope
its a boat and an anchor
its food and shelter
its blessed health and favor
the flavors of love
grief is among them
stems from childhood abandonment
settlements form and we are drawn
to our own entanglements
smart phones are dumb
and sam’s club is for yuppy ****
lick these roads with your tongue
smack the floor with your feet
greet the earth like its cheap
we preen and pry
for the prim and proper
but still the water runs dry
never happy enough to cry
smudge the essence
of love from the wall
demand the feelings of space to call you
next time we will run
with drums pounding
i am unsure of myself
can i withstand this pain
why must i remain impassive
fragile like elastics that have been stretched beyond
i am burning in my skin
turning inward and becoming thin
smite the eyes that invade
depend on nothing and no one
sometimes we are safe
other times i am afraid
what a way to exist in this prison
realism scares me
takes me away from the realm of fantasy
bores me with details and causality
sadness is everywhere
have you ever cared
for yourself
or another
surrender and become like butter
a tiny offering
a musical dream
simply whispered to keep you clean
his agony is her pain and suffering
what a mess is all this tumbling
humans digress and become unnecessary
i am sediments from long ago
the tired road has no shadow
the smirk on your face is a waste of time
so remove the lines from underneath your eyes
besides why are we here
is it only to be in fear
I try to steer clear of neighbors with knives
suburban cannibals and housewives
Chris Slade Jul 2019
I was a sales rep in the 70s…
selling art materials to education in deepest Wales
Back in the day those in the far West were passionate.
There were tales of fervent nationalists who didn’t like the English for what they’d arrogantly done.
scouted round for the nicest cottages just for weekends.
These were early Yuppy trends.
They invited down Drusilla, Rupert, Jacintha & Giles
and other poncey friends.
for Pims and Taramasalata and Lava Bread…
“made from seaweed’? Such Fun!

There was a spate of ritual burnings of the cottages
of the weekend renovator’s pride
It was a powerful statement of the Welsh anger at those raiders from… well, the other side.
Cottages burnt regularly caught wider attention on the international news…
so, many understood the Welsh, their hurt, their motives, their PR and their views.
but it was my job to travel the principality hawking paint to primary heads and secondary art teachers
So the nationalist bar was set high. It was their home game and mine only just features
powder and poster paint, brushes, plaster and clay… But I wasn’t daunted… no way!

It was Cardigan,  Aberaeron Primary to be precise…
That was my next call.
And I stood perplexed, staring blankly at the notice board in the entrance hall.
Until recently signs had always been bi-lingual.  
I glazed over….Today… worryingly they were just single!
All I saw was  “Pennaeth, Campfa, Neuadd Fwyta, Swyddfa'r Ysgrifennydd, Ystafelloedd Newid
So… I snapped out of it and took a guess… This Newid one… Girl’s Changing Rooms!!… I flew!
Thanks heavens nobody saw me… I got back to the notice board and re-viewed the list anew…

Thank the Lord, just then, I heard female voices as they clip clopped along the parquet
I turned nervously and said “excuse me I’d like to see the head Mr Meredith… Is he in today?”
with the sweetest smile the lady said… “Mr Mer-ed-ith? Yes I’ll have word…
She disappeared behind the door that said “Pennaeth”…
“Head” I thought! Mmm.
“Mr Mer-ed-ith would like to know if you are a Welsh speaker? “Fraid not I said… I’m from Yorkshire”.
"In that case he says Na! I’m sorry I mean No. Your company should employ a Welsh speaker to sell to us in Wales".
If only I’d been able to say “Rwy'n siŵr mai'r dyn sy'n cymryd y swydd pan fyddaf yn gadael fydd eich dyn!”

Instead I said… If you tell me where I can pick up a phrase book I’ll give it a go! Diolch am eich help, hwyl fawr!
True Story
Johnny Noiπ Dec 2017
From Prohibition on through the Great War
and into the 50s, the golden age
of stripping started with Minsky’s
and Mae Dix who ****** off black guys in the parlor---
The roaring twenties saw the very heart
of leather and denim rough trade rise from the golden sea,
WWI emerged and gave us ****** who knew---
Dietrich & Riefenstahl, Hedy Lamarr & Louise Brooks
all were foreseen by Mata Hari et al,
predestined like Greta Garbo
and Bette Davis but the lights of Oz shone bright,
the corona of our Portuguese naked thing;
This thing on the news looks like European football---
Holy Mother of the atomic bomb and Korea,
look about the Ark for dry land
and sea the ancient city of Nippur
rises out of the ashes of the yuppy sun,
In galant fashion we cake-walked to our mother’s ancestral breaths---

The Russian-Futurist girl walks in
and winds the clock
Strippers who began in their teens
in the late twenties-early thirties
kept the new tradition alive
despite Modernists winds
blowing Sara Teasdale down 42nd Street
and right off the block
where she can see Ann Corio
rinse her stockings and
for one dollar she will deliver
you one tight hot nut,
she will not be shallow henceforth---

Victorian strippers were fat
to put it bluntly---
We all want a harem
that eats too much,
Solomon had more than one
horse-faced ***** from the South---
Victorian strippers were hairy
and sweaty as hell,
Their leotards showing off
Their cosmic curves---
I want to be immortal
and go back in time
and **** ****** in their twenties,
Victorians sweaty
and smelly, perfumed
and bathed by the maid, **** her too,
obviously---
And all before the movies silent or otherwise,
the yarns of heroes that fly
across IMAX screens
in another hundred years---
1917-2017, get it and go to 2117
Where the 21st century strippers go
We know why and how now,
The time-traveling mechanism
Merging singularities
Into a pre-calculated time,
a specific time in her sparrow’s voice,
elegantly ****** by the wormhole,
humid and naked, *****---

Two, three or more singularities
merging in a coordinated precalculated timespace
altering the quantum time-effect,
what is call normal time,
bending into a single singularity,
if that is at all possible---
Somewhat like a fios cable,
but this is temporal and able to move
forward or backwards through time---
That questions whether one can move sideways in time;
teleport or subjective telekinesis---
Moving internally alters the objective setting,
that is one can travel through time
and space separately and together,
merging into one continuum or stream of time,
or time-frame as you’d have it---


LIGO meets Teasdale
and they fall in love
on the android colony on Mars
at dawn---
12345678 microseconds til...69 pm

herewith fall lows ing lush goulash
   who doth pine  
   tongue waggin a fly wheel
   sincere soul
    whose shoe size
   measures about size nine

with pure motive to challenge
   thinking as my goal
   if drawn to language of wordsmith,
   or like this swiftly tailored/
   harried style of mine

   who wrought a jagged line
though i promise companionship
   twill be Harris Boss tweed fine
   a byte size musing to dine
with interpretation strictly
   within mind of the reader,

   which rich or on the dole
might nonetheless agree
   this post tubby asinine

mindfulness = the general under
lying sans this bloke, whose
philosophic eclectic metric,
hermetic, intrinsic...
outlook helps me access
and process reality.

toe this line to tread against da feet.

a personal yardstick as i plod
along boulevard of broken dreams,
whereby no animals will be harmed
in this life long journey before the kiss
of death, whence me cremated ashes
will be dispersed across temporal plane
from natural forces of earth, wind and fire.

Arch back like a professional ballet dancer
to stand out from other pedestrian applicants
seeking to fill my well worn shoes.

Illuminate your soul via modest
communication sans sole full insight
acquired thru being apprenticed with
storied prestigious law firm of Anne nic Culle,  
Achilles Heale, and Marathon Nike.

Keep your nose to the academic grind
stone despite temptation to appropriate
international family business and graduation
with supreme accolades from this famous father.

He i.e. slim shady forsook frivolity
per his peers in exchange a stock
reputation of gentility honesty,
and integrity despite humble roots
only male heir of a Middle Eastern
European Jewish mother and father.

They scrimped, saved and sacrificed
scarce resources to set stage for
this scion of well deserved fame and fortune.

Never forget those grandparents
whose adherence to work their
fingers to the bone (literally)
allowed, enabled and provided
this founding partner per the trio
of stalwart attorneys for underdogs
of the World Wide Web.

Match deeds with credo of obedience
to the law of the land,
as epitomized by Abraham Lincoln.

Such obeisance to a democratic dogma
will be firm steppingstones to engender
and kindle an Amazon zone of cathartic
karma from paternal persona.

Such acquiescence toward morals
of the conscience (and remembrance
of previous generations blood, sweat
and tears) will serve as intrinsic manna
for clients to clamor like an unstoppable
rolling stone to seek counsel from,
whose genuine heart felt equalitarian demeanor
a near perfect recipe for satisfaction
helping others smooth out jagged
abutments arising in their lives.

Rather than lecture and command
with a dictatorial cutthroat reign of terror
(as casually espoused in “The Prince”
by Machiavelli), this democratic,
humanistic, liberal minded torchbearer
of justice advises active listening (as
advocated by the late Jean Dole (who
eternally rests within a pineapple
under the sea), my renown mentor
from Lima, Pennsylvania), inculcating
intuitive posturing toward delivering
random acts of kindness.

This includes offer services pro bono
if an individual, family, municipality,
et cetera appears copacetic yet struggles
against insurmountable odds from
fickle finger of fate.

Exemplify by example of zeal for
underdog (immersed in catastrophic
series of unfortunate events) that money
need not be demanded before welfare
of down trodden such exuberance
witnessing an ear to ear smile of gratitude.

Rather than be biased, inclined
to be prejudiced based on cursory
observations of one or many barely
clinging to the life raft of survival,
I (as a humble human) encourage
a relationship of trust before casting
an indiscriminate eye toward those
less fortunate to live in the lap of luxury.

Luck (or the lack thereof) an invisible
yet potent additive to this mix those flush
with disposable income or exiled
to a hand to mouth hardscrabble dilemma.

Daily acknowledgement for ethnic,
genetic and quixotic claydice throw of chance
in tandem with loving support immediate
kith and kin instrumental keeping
in check bombastically egotistical, haughtily
radical degradation of fixation of values
steeped in appreciation of aesthetics,
beauty, charm, decency,
equality from gifts hoed inside.

Joyfulness keeps love moving
needling offset predilections.

Quality rests squarely upon pillars
of staying within bounds of service
to those less able bodied or beset
with untold obstacles that discourage
setting virtue (or the closest approximation
of what that means to the inquiring mind)
as precedent to blaze
a trail of care and concern.

Always maintain benevolent devotion
foreswearing greediness.

Invoke keepsake mandating omnipotent
natural personal righteousness to vaccinate
yourself against heinous, nefarious, pernicious,
et cetera rapacious trapdoors of selfishness.
-----------------------------------------------      
from::matthew scott harris

of unsound body, mind and spirit than
by all means and ways -- please ripple
lye to me, an adroitly, artistically brief,
crazily dazzling, erotically frisky, gladly
*****, ineluctably juicy, lovely, magically
noopy, opulently private, purring
quietly, romantically **** reap ply.

yes?

postscript: i in conjunction with zippy, x2c, yuppy, trippy, sleepy, sneezy, queasy, ruby, kooky, loony, jessie, inky, happy, grumpy, grouchy, ******, ernie, doobie, clumsy, et cetera plus snow white can vouch safe that the democratic party approves of thee above  message.
Jess Jun 2016
Gaping mouths and glassed eyes absorb the pixelated revelations,
breathing hallelujahs to disillusioned senses,
sinking their skulls into the pavement/,
crying
HOLY HOLY HOLY.
To the stairs leading them to a make shift heaven,
laying daisy’s to their skin and ash to their feet.
They barter the revolution to their unmoved complacency.
Self named artist that barely cover the buildings,
filling in the gaps with smoke and half-hearted pleas.
They’re burning alive.
They’re burning everything they touch.
Screaming to spite the yuppy ****.
screaming to spite the war on youth.
screaming.
SCREAMING.
SCREAMING!
Into a concrete grave with a kiss so faithful it consumes them.
Chained to the unforgiven it consumes them.
Beating the blasphemy in their gums it consumes them.

It consumes them.
Alan Stallsmith Jan 2018
COZY CONVERSATION OVER COFFEE
By Alan Stallsmith

And I'm acclimated to sabotage
With my very own hands
Who needs enemies?
When I have me. Understand?

I craft my own jail cells
With very fine steel
I build my own graveyards
The sarcophagus is real!

Now I don't mean to boast
But I undermine well
And when it comes to subterfuge
I am the reason Rome fell

I've mastered the art
Of public smiles and covert pain
For when someone needs consoling
You know this guy is game!

I try to dress to impress
To be disguised as a yuppy
I'm the guy who cries wolf
When it's an adorable puppy

Flawless self-affliction
It's an addiction of sorts
Healthy and beaming?
Or suffering for sport?

I'll paint you a beautiful picture
Of rainbows and golden sun
Then I'll secretly torch it
And scream "What have YOU done?!"

Oh my dear friend!
Look at the time!
Thanks for letting me vent
But I don't want to whine!

This coffee is amazing
It's just the boost I was needing
It's a shame about your arms
Never leave a lesion bleeding!

I have a psychiatrist appointment
Glad my self awareness is great
At least the weather looks grand
I really hope I'm not too late!

So just remember I'm happy
I have never been better
And I brought you a gift
I hope you like sweaters!
Max Neumann Jun 2021
sugar hill, broken glass on the ground
splinters of daily folks, corners and tails
keys to the underworld, raise or fall
banging sounds in a goon's cough

fences, sirens, polish bus stop, rush hour
lol and jacob move **** crakov-frankfurt
three shops across, dem nador traders
rif mountains, morocco, global tons

meetings in melilla, jet sky armies
measuring waves in zipped packs
smuggling route barcelona, merchers
hashtag hyena minds, transformations

the key to peace is chained against rocks
blank buildings occupied by crack units
the day of dead idols, dusk till dusk
insomnia becomes a habit, well put

glaciers, paste, the andes: toxic faces
silver layer on the skin of the chosen few
96 hours are over, fifty for hundred racks
counting on the law of silence, omertà

graffiti, street art, scratchings and markers
freeze the second of youth, look back
eagerly talking are those who rule corners
doves witness gospel choirs and thorns

underworld's keys buried in sand
beach elevators take you into the past
they only go downwards, among stones
murals of sicilian ancestors on the walls

look, the last trains are leaving for good
you will never see this light again
saw, final destination, impaled yuppy
arms, intestines, flesh and bones, now

the underworld is key to bearded ones
no understanding of fear, officer
razor blades will open your mouth
bloodred letters from the ancestors
Joseph Sinclair Jan 2022
Oh, Boris told such dreadful lies,
One just gazed wide-eyed at the skies,
Astounded at support from these
Parliamentary colleagues
Who rallied to their leader’s cause,
Secure in the male menopause.

Gove, Michael, who was quite gung-**
Wanted to believe him, though
In trying to maintain his credence
While avoiding intercedence
Got his knickers in a twist
Which hardly pleased a hedonist.
But may have done so, had not he
Been faced with obvious perfidy.
For once, towards the end of work
He realised that the stupid berk
Had joined a party out-of-doors,
Knowing there was nothing worse,
But given the alternative,
Was doggedly conservative.

While as for dear effete Rees Mogg
Whose mind was often in a fog,
Though evidently of good breeding,
Slept through parliament’s proceeding.
And in The Mogg Cast Jacob wrote
“Unquestionably” – and I quote:
“The PM is an honest man”.
What brave words from a loyal fan.

He seemed to share with Donald Trump
A failure to maintain the ****
Of his supporters who only lasted
So long as he felt they could be trusted.
Thus Priti Patel with whom, besotted
He must have been, for when she blotted
Her copy book, he kept her in
The Cabinet, despite a sin
That others, far beneath her station,
To leave had had no hesitation.

But once, towards the close of day
Hearing merry sounds of play,
Bojo took his health in hand
Ignoring rules from his command.
“No-one tells me what to do”
Quoth he, “I’m off to have a few.”
“Allow me, please, to beg your pardon
And join my colleagues in the garden.”

It was not long before a tide
Of censure came from every side.
From Kensington and Camden Town,
From Aberdeen and County Down.
The premier has been found out
As if there could be any doubt,
For, after all, his lying skills
Had long replenished the gristmills.

When young he suffered from glue ear
So, what he did not want to hear
In later life, he could ignore
And simply choose to underscore
His frequent absurd recklessness
On the misfortune of deafness.

At Oxford in the Bullingdon
His drunkenness was quite well-known.
His early exploits as a Yuppy;
Flirtation then with Darius Guppy.
As editor of the Sextator
With thanks, doubtless, to his Creator
More flirtations, some quite grave;
“Who, sir?  Me, sir?  I’m no knave”
But Petronella at his back
Could not avoid the sack by Black.
Earlier it was the Times;
Distortions were his major crimes.


And, finally, to Downing Street
Where the circle is now complete,
Surrounded by his faithful lackeys,
Standing up for the Iraqis,
Risking the enmity of *******
Whose Durham trip was unbecoming,
Though not condemned at all by Boris
As extinct as a brontosaurus.


His lies have not grown any sweeter
They’ve more in common with a foetor,
When embarrassment heads his way
He simply takes off for the day:
“Sorry for this Obfuscation
I have to go to King’s Cross station
To provide a possible disclaimer
For my absence from the Chamber.”
Johnny Noiπ Jul 2018
oh, I have nostalgic waking                  nightmares of Eighty-Sixth Street in Manhattan on the Upper East Side between First & Lexington Avenues & beyond to Central Park: gay old days of cheerleader ****, ******* & plain ol'gang-****; ****** *******, scummy *******; underage girls caught
    off guard & dragged in the bushes; the rustling of young lovers on speed & *** - before ugly opiates & crack *******,
         before ***/AID; when a guy could walk down the street,
   buy a loose joint,
      pay $20 for                        a *******
(whose a genuine **** & will take u for a thrill
ride just to show off her stuff! that is so cool -
hos giving freebies     [86th is yuppy-central -pre-yuppy
& patroled 24/7 by crooked cops who we all know by first name &
likewise, some of the         cops even grew
      in the neighborhood     {I went to school
      w/ ***** Morales, played softball w/ him & he lived upstairs,
                        now he's a ******* detective, just like my
          ******* cousin -detective - ***                            then go down to the park on the DL:
every other girl named Trixie; (oh for those (blackouts included)      lost golden days!)
the others named Roxy; (I wish I were Eugene O'Neill - not really, he was a ******* mess, but  he did garner four Pulitzers (               ) & two Nobels, how, is the question ---I mean, what is a genius?
interchangeable headless strippers w/   
             in·ter·change·a·ble body parts easily replaceable:    ˌin(t)ərˈCHānjəb(ə)l/adjective (of two or more       things)
             able to be interchanged.
"eyepieces are interchangeable           ( they all have the same STDs)
and one can use any eyepiec  e                            with any telescope"
synonyms: similar, identical,                           indistinguishable,
alike, the same, uniform, twin,      undifferentiated; corresponding,
commensurate, equivalent, synonymous,
comparable,                                            equal; transposable
                               "the attachments for these two vacuum
                                cleaners are interchangeable"
apparently identical;             very similar.
                                         "the cast includes a lot of interchangeable faces"
      synonyms: synonym, similar, identical, indistinguishable,
alike, the same, uniform,     twin, undifferentiated;
           corresponding, commensurate, equivalent,                synonymous,
m                                                              comparable, equal; transposable
"the attachments for these two [who the **** needs Hollywood w/ its interchangeable whitewashed *******]
vacuum cleaners are interchangeable"
Johnny Noiπ Mar 2018
the book on that glass coffee table is
at the edge of the novelty coffee cup;
the trail leading to this & that & others
is what should be infinity; the magazine
is only a quarter of that; red & yellow
yuppies running & walking in coffee
can lives of awful aluminum with widowed
dog walkers in vintage white newspaper
wedding gowns; as the blogs restore
the Korean kingdom to moonstruck
tabloid beauty queen perfection; this one book
is over wet & dry for the lonely sons
many of whom are cute Puerto Rican
transgender hookers; the old poet going
outside to smoke a ten dollar cigar leaving
his ugly yuppy date at the bar drinking
Johnny Noiπ Apr 2018
I've been sleeping w/ the
devil's sister & her mirror,
I've never had a cheap date;
bowling; shooting pool
drinking beer & seeing a movie
late at night in & out
costs nothing but ur soul;
I've never had a cheap date
Manhattan yuppy clones
do it; it's a drunken Satanic pact
w/ a satanic ****** dreaming
of nursing mothers asleep;
it's a pact made at the crossroads;
I've never had a cheap date;
I've been sleeping w/ the
devil's sister & her mirror
Johnny Noiπ Apr 2018
the body found on the west end feet sticking
out from behind plastic garbage cans w/ one
pump missing in stockings that turn out to be
the pantyhose torn from her waist; skirt
bunched up & covered in blood; discovered
on a sunny mid afternoon w/ people going
by all morning & no one's seen a thing;
all is normal on seventh avenue; all the side
streets closed off; she's got no head & the cops
are gonna be out looking for it until they find it
Johnny Noiπ Jun 2018
the journalist asked why young girls were
going missing & Eli went into a rage - it
had been happening all over town &
the town [the journalist after him
                                   through the rented loft: 'Eli!' she called out
& out of nowhere he punched her in the face;    

T'is not America, he berated her,
choking the life out her; her pumps flying -         off
in a blind frenzy kicking her  
                            *****-hosed legs to ruins until she
stopped flaying on the floor; &
Eli got the claw [no mere hammer but a magic  
             hammer & did what he'd been
thinking he wanted to do to
Rachel; Nasty as hell, the mess oozing    
       over the polished        floor: no phone call,
                heading to the airport w/ no luggag e:
******* journalist:                         [*****, cancer-riddled blonde
                             scratches her scabs & can't remember her own name - but           everyone calls her Rubie:  b/c she's always bleeding  ,
hair falling out, pining     (                                   );
         for the mad painter; a
murderer :                she wanted Eli to someday shoot her dead;
but there'd be no time for something

     so romantically sublime;          content to have her corpse
thrown on a bonfire;                          no one cared that they'd
be bones by the time future-men approached
the place is Hazrd suits::: p: Eli visits his friend in Russia & kills w/ impunity; the police look [they couldn't care less anyway )               the other way & get a nice bonus   [a great painter summers here,
                  they brag to anyone who listens             [                      
was a sprawling dark mess; there were cockroaches
the size of cars roaming the fallow woods
             surrounding Chernobyl -                          
no one in their right mind goes  near (                       )  the place or [they call im The American Painter;        drunk & sleeps w/ underage girls; his yuppy  publicist invents                                         rumors when          he hasn't ( been seen  )                ☉                    in days or weeks ;

            anywhere near it; no one except
girls apparently                             drawn to the place
by [talk of a mysterious clique who survive w/ lesions
               of cancer riddling their bodies, painting
& making wild new        music: the Last Generation :
no one even
                     knows they exist; [Eli lives on a farm in
       America in Amish country]
(Eli was always getting ghost-calls / distant relatives of Igor -
          [something always (                               ) told him who it was
                but she never spoke; it was the blonde -  
everyone thought was dead: Eli knew too much; (               ) he
kept a gun in his coat; he took                  it out[ Eli never wore the coat]                    their women stink of death 
              [hair falling out in chunks from the tattooed scalp;
          making money smuggling out         ' Chernobyl ****'                      graphic zombie ***        perversions beyond believe    
         (radioactiveperfume sprayed burns    [-] skin tearing off in sheets of rugged tattoos - they die off & don't reproduce --- committed  ]
[  hipsters to the                     death][          Ivan picked up the
                        "yeh?"            cell from his desk &     said:
a mysterious magnetic                       force: [почему ты не любишь меня?]
[[*******, Eli!               I ******* don't want to
         be alone anymore! I need u to stay w/ me - to lob -        e                 love me the way I love u -
(quack Mesmerists           [the journalist survived
          the hammer blow but not the gunshot; all went quiet; zombie lovers
          in abandoned parks kissing
Lenin & Stalin like hoary ***** old men ;
       oh, ****, yeh, daddy bear, come
& take ur baby-boy [So Igor got into the                new      scene & stood(denied three times               ) out as that guy what writes novellas for the
State; 'почему ты не любишь меня?'
                         'it don't pay', he says, 'ur lying'
       says an old *** in Russian, Igor says,
     'Bend over, old man, let my juggle
ur hemorrhoids on my ****::
'ain't u the romantic Igor surprised
         the whisky-soured *** & hailed a   rough (               )  crew over to hold the old man down &               pull a    
  train on the wheezing         pensioner;
          leaving him not a coin &
                  minus a                  few of his already    broken           teeth;  
claiming         it to be the animal spirits  
           [Eli felt like hitting Rachel w/
a hammer        (the *** heard Igor
        laughing it up inside the bar & could
[почему ты не любишь меня?]
only ***** & **** himself]      lying there (      )
     in the pissy alley; [a]       good night's sleep about due
            right then,           but he just thought it -            
         & left the room] Eli
                         of the poisoned                              earth [awakened)
[he'd do anything right                                 then for the prickly sallow-skinned skinny                
          radioactive blonde;                              gone bald &
       spindly thin as a                   piece of floss          
by the nuclear    [Eli thought if he ******
her her ***** might come clean off                                     radiation that will stay steeped [losing an arm or a leg]
[he needed her; she had to be the ugliest              woman he knew; face tattoos & piercings; scars & spontaneous
      bleeding fissures; [s             he was 24 & *****]
     24 hours a day;
there was no day
& night -death                  had no color:            (she loved Eli & he'd never set eyes on her: they had computers &
the Internet:          but no one wanted
to see their televised           as then  b           musicians tended to die onstage ::: ******* living nightmare blood
       f             gushing into the audience &
                                                .
              ­    from the audience             limbs thrown onstage;
     still in all, he wasn't going near the forest of Chernobyl;
on a plan e (              ) back to America + wife + ki=ds
in the soil for uncountable thousands of years -
Johnny Noiπ Mar 2018
I once heard someone make a comment
at a very boring poetry reading where
they were celebrating the writing of Frank
O'Hara whom I have hated for  very long time;
on the upper east side which is a very chilly
that is all attitude this person said this
& I swear they were too numb to pick up on
the meaning of their own statement; this yuppy
numb nuts said 'I once saw a leaf blowing in the wind;
why do I need god'. That was an awesome
statement but this tiresome ***** just went
on prattling more semi-pseudo-intellectual *******;
for academics only; oddly, I was reading
Artaud's theatre & its double cuz I love
theater of cruelty where the actors suddenly
remember that what happens on stage is real,
like **** or a fistfight or a shouting
argument; it's the concept of theater that is BS;
anyway none of that crowd knew who the ****
Artaud was; didn't even try to pretend to know
or care; maybe it was me; there were still
live *** shows in the 80's; every third guy
on the subway was a pervert; it was a given;
a running joke; that's NYC; home of the serial
******(s) of the week; what Frank O'Hara
knew about NY can be summed up in his death;
he didn't see it coming; New York is like that;
u don't see it coming; u didn't see it;
it came all over ur face & u didn't see it

— The End —