Thursday, April 3, 2014

Two Young Andy Warhol Clones Play Romulus and Remus, and Elizabeth Taylor IS Big Bad Mama Wolfenstein


just before i was hit
by a rare and hurtling meteorite of pure platinum
it could never be known
that under my bone
i had declared to myself
that even my most hated enemies
were more just than eyes
having only gest seen then
ka-en-sen metet er-a
khan shi mi
tera
my platinum vortical earringing


i'll be baking druids
in a pi
meditating
before i plunge down
into the well of sleep
in my cryo-sarcophagus

every word
is a nude and hibernating evil queen
you find alone
while navigating
endless tiled halls
of abalone' and alabastards

and a crow
watches you
your one red eye
and your nictitating
unicorn rectum


it's troubling
but let a sphere of blankness
wearing only
an aqua blue goatee
be the owl
to your Athena


so um
this little hole 
on the side
is either called a
carburetor
or a conundrum
and usually sentences
have standardized parts
like a train
that's what gets you
SO HIGH!


sure, sure,
no problem, it's just that
well
we ordered the mexican hat dance
and they brought us these
chocolate fedoras
we're here with the
"sweet rum of the mint"
convention
but we're
all salsa conveyors


every time
i touch your handle
i think back
to the primordial oceans



hmm
it says here
that Mimi stored up all her scribble coupons
for microscopic viral laptops
but ended up
clapping
for the clown
of stars


okay,
so then the endosymbiotic protagoniste
let's call it
Rumbling Stiltskin
assembled its inner drama
and learned to perambulate
becoming
Aristotle


you'd think after all these eons
I'd having something more important to say!
something other than
(wait for it)(...)

HELP!


and how my eye-nipples sang!
THE GREAT SONG OF IRRITATION!
I'M A BUSY BODY!
you bother me!
you bother me!
you both are me!
you army bot!


I return
to the night soil
which spawbed
mi.


Sooo, I'm just a little curious
about the reason
you stretched a worm
between your two
cuckoo clocks?

are Synths
divisions?

wait
your hand is saying something
quite important
aside from your idiotic
mumbling.


right from the start.
image.
the funky ebola
come downtown.
ride escalators?
you bet!


I just don't really know what to do!
It feels so funny.
Sir, could you help me!


Mother,
I want to be a semiotician,
but in eight days
a rogue white dwarf starf
wiff a flagellumf
will passf by earthf
and clog our holes with jelly.

George!
quit pelting me with spitballs!


just hold that pose, Jose'..
!for! !a! !moment! !there!
we looked like an abstract sculpture..
yes of course
inverted crystal organs,
just add
totally water.


i survive
by using the hole
where the rats 
entered.
i am apollo,
and the whole world
is a soft and jellied poison.


i blow the horn!
i blow the horn!

beneath me feet 
IS MAGMA!


come on in! is!
we're just hanging on
being social liquors
shooting out
from the clock!


It's funny sometimes,
but mescaline
makes me think of you
as Elizabeth Taylor.


I'll fix that goddamned bartender!


yes, it's true!
the whole forest of Dodona
IS GONE!
and we are plagued
by sphinxes
attached to our 
veriztic
and meretricious lobes.


as a revolutionary
the first rock i happened to pick up
was my own skull,
but day was not pierced
and night lingered on,
sea-flea-bitten
and recalcifrying.


Emma?


John?




pardon me, I wouldn't have bothered you, but you look
like an english lord I once knew, and could you tell me,
have you seen, by any chance,
an obscene and currerupting love come through here?



did it pass this way?


it "must"ve" come this way,
for here is its shrine
of wayward
and insane construction,
the great emblem
of the semio-tic-talk


we'll wait here
for the monster's sex binoculars
to return
my woolen word bride



chandeliers
and balconies
could be combined.

i hope you take that with you
to the grave.


everytime
I see a severed head


i think of language
as its stead


exactly how old is the universe?
and what exactly is the mood of that?