You know what? Scurrilous donkey of winter ammonite hunters the sheet fed hand-hammered bronze temple punctured surface of the Dhammazedi bell /concur with cotton/ as a name _____to know precisely to the world's largest poured i, after Gasparo Balbi, the friendly ghost, arrivée, du crimson fons of fauns, as the kris knife clinkers this foamed green badger which unites the first ottoman tulip to the last recorded dacelo, the laughing kookaburra is antigram to alcedo the albedoan word for a kingflasher, like William Elford Leach, a member of a paraphyletic line of human jonquills squibbling away in the periplus of this grave and natural hide-thee-away, take stray, and bee to the boob-keyed donkey the heiney hey of cladistics' grandfather shadow in transplanted Alamut Castle, biz aily he hemonghees, Hulagu du shucka Mongo Mongo Robinson, shucka Lord Monboddo's tuba wore a turban of pterosaurian scuba skin / to why / too dry / to whell its inkswain swim/ belly-a-fin/ of the fin of the Fin de siècle funny money sin / these pan-ideas____burp, oh hodad feller and lady chisel-satchel, for what we now think of geopolitics had its origins in fin de siècle Europe (and Burma) in response to technological change, and to donkey the strigil that scrapes the painting from the canvas/ where the strigil looks on as a pipe, a pipe that is not a pipe, but a strigil and which says, or reads: ceci n'est pas une strigile, the struggle is real, but reality is something like a treachery of images. Perseus was not Persian, but was from Iran, or rather he ran awhile across the Shu'ubiyyan doobie, all are righteously included/ within the madhouse of molecular ethernity, and all are green donkey honeycombs beaming bridgelike beams of azure amber. Castle-biz. Bacteria-whiz, this likewise has no handy mane, but the bald pate of reason knows no shame, you shood neaver beez at a shamedi for ther there you up doont doont tru to da reazon, fort, flort floraborth, here in the Kotosh of Peru, you raised a fine shedu, or a Lamassu of more serious times ahead / here, periwingle of starry nontopia would stare longingly into the games gallery, her hands like painted triremes glittering with jeweled and applique' eyes, or the golden Appliqué of dearly dawned Parthenoplyus, gather here on the metaphysical and Atalantean plane, and all try to fill, the infinite pockets, of first class: Glyptagnosticus reticulatus...
Friday, July 15, 2022
Sunday, July 3, 2022
Wednesday, February 3, 2021
computer mouse over a trapeze
somehow the goiter sac still lived
and had produced someting like a face
the face of an avant-garde artist
like artaud but with a little extra seaweed
around the sideburns
and the sideburns were forking,
each fork aiming for the brain
and in the brain were all sorts of bizarre fun
none of which he had asked for
but here he was, performing
here he was, living
for the faceless mob
who had once praised him
for his skin and lips
and earring.
the earrings were made of shuriken
(the artist in need of shrunken heads)
and as he sang, laughing and salivating
the crowd grew a little impatient
as his tongue removed the shruniken
and pushed the earring down
to the neck
for that was the goal, ring finger thumb head, the earring to the neck
and with it the music grew still faster,
the guitar, the goituring testes, a bicycle bell
like a drill,
as it began the buzzer like a calliope
this was the personification of his lineage
the musician of the Japhethic blood
and its musical equipment.
through the ancient vibrations
the Japhethic calling worked
the calliope music became
a breath, a wave
a hum
a hum of drums, horns, violins
a hum of cymbals
a hum of bells, bells, bells.
the Japhethic rhythm shook him to the core.
brought him to this meeting place with the Countess de Gasperin ,
this place he knew only as the dream,
her dark hair
lined with velvet
drags a lantern in front of the church
and the devil and a nun
try to catch her and her breath
and the wall behind the pulpit
becomes a chessboard
in the distance you can see a church
where the lights are on
in the hands of the priest, the goiter-guitar started to whirr,
and everything around him seemed to fade
while the etheric energy tried to escape
like a ship in a storm,
until the singer cried out, “every night!”
then the music stopped
and the audience was still,
waiting, and the time is ticking: this is not lunchtime... I am watching with ferociously sharp eyes
the lightning hunt
with people behind the benches
thick as vines
with long reed backs,
he could hear the dream,
he could feel the ground shaking
he could feel the waves, he could smell the pipe, he could feel
his ears popping, his lips tightening.
the music began again
he was rock solid,
he was on fire, he was floating.
the whole world was a glowing cloud.
he thought of a mountain in the deeps
the whole earth was an ocean
every one a beach
the water was rising
he was a lifeguard / this was his job
and when he had done his job
he went home.
tub-a-dad, tub-a-dad, tub-a-dad
by Ed Obieski
Ed Obieski is a character in his book “Tub-A-Dud”. He was a real drummer, and a friend of several of the people who were involved in the story.
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Site last updated: here be 'scallops and swords and these too are on the menu and rats in the barns
Monday, January 11, 2021
orson inside the armed head
no polar eons moored
anti-vital uni-tit
armies' ill pen sated
ozone fleece day's
chief bleat or surf rant
latent sit tight dunces
saffron beans aimed
ten pitied opiates
due to seizures
expired
dough quiet juggernauts
see humor in the sitting
renominated
acapella jesus in the maze
of abysses shoves now
a rant a no coon koan vain
in a souflee of smoke
then led the leaden eye
to the vain cue
and saw relevance as grand
all orson saw was a fit of vomit
a frozen vomit frond of purgatory
in the inuncled june home
in the plurals of victory
which quiet tendencies saw
in the pure autonomous monarchs
of the sea
or sewer frappes
which flanked the turd-like tooth
of the double mystery
the resplendantly poor
and blood fecund terror
the ought's versatile seal of oz
in the semen's doodoohoodoo
playing its squeak horn
mundus bulb
with its yammering maw
now all latency closed round
the frail and actual facts
of fleet decrepit receipts
where orson had bellowed
with a paunch of others
where plenary delirium
of souffleation of flu zu
only egged on orson's fever
to whitewash the calendar's turd
by dulling it with preservative
soul poison
as party after party
of cyst's feasting
enclosed his rictus grin
awkwardly in recent collections
of thin fare ex oes
from nervous hands
in ernest guffaws
which had held such faithful
sleepers in repose
as wet bras
are apt to give
now that all the once
wants all the once
and all the once
wants all the once
credits
music by secret han o'su
and sung by sacred lo o'e
as they lay dying in a darkness
in the sun, beckoning each their doom
ordred of Kaffir was in the gables
as some sacred tomfoolery
of some long gone forgotten once-men
and after the ooze, orson sank
into the muck of violent vapor
and pointed at an obvious reaction
from his ravenous ventilator's gaped mouth
and he bawled: 'Whisky Killers'
Darnell Scott
i am snow
(please read to the end of this poem so that i might explain how i possibly knew the person who took the photo.)
i was the one who wrote (in a facebook message on the 29th of april) “Go to hell bitch” in relation to a photo of another girl.
so far, i think this is the one and only time i’ve ever been banned from a social media site.
i’ve spoken to most people close to me and even some people who have never even seen my blog.
but not one of them can provide me with any solid information.
the girl in the photo seems to have disappeared off of face book.
not through deletion, but as if she used “delete” in vain.
when the islands that tenders back
swallowed the bat's small berry
from the creamy
can of shat luck
from that doom-present day
obligations revealed
the pluses and minuses
of what orson discerned
in the due date due
when odi sponged up the hene sant
by the seer formerly
the thousand grating spells
which used no pen or pencil
nor the intricate compact
which orson did in the vernacular vernacular
of the tu se faultus
as practice and pride
represented when orson lost his head
and writhed with meatless mouth
was told with the history of cri cui
and was reminded of a museum
of corpses
where there was certain history
and shat truth told
fondly through vernacular vernacular
and the same king was told
who had told the same king
before whose death
there came the no hush
or no babble in the drum
when the sun showed
the letter
it would grant a declaration
from which no way forward
was given
who was knowly ungodly
by nature
whose face the sun of bemused love
tasted like tar
who spoke in tongues
but there is no gain
from sin
and at that golden moment
when there is no little piece of
mummified yolk
on you all
then it is not (sic) know in a penitent sense
it is know in the sense of the maxim
of light, vision, honesty
the place where things are known
as it is to eat a chestnut from a branch
that is the duty of all Christians
as those that are victims
who are wounded in war
and the dually impotent lions
who smell penitential gooseflesh
and his pungent vomit
they smell nothingness
for there is no blood in penitence
but nor is there asceticism
nor are prayers answered
in penitence
there is no asceticism
when done in nonobservance
when brought out in heaven
to sit beside the lord
who would and must sit
there in nonobservance
when the petticoat is done
and the fettle is soldered
and the dancing shoes are bought
the bathers will be fulfilled
in accepting the nor'easter
in the fair in the myriad
twilights
the eve's spread
in the courtyard where all are
tempted to talk of
a man's idea
the lion will be challenged to a duel
there the worldly things will be done
they will all bow their heads
and God will shine on them
they will leave the world as the old mower
after years of work
took the lawn, spread it
with a look
which is the world's
other light
the ocean is the other light
took the grass and left it
as the mower did
on the fabled seacoast
there is no heaven on the sea
there is only a big beautiful sea
are no souls in the cemetery
when the lion sings the earth is quiet
there is only a white bull
that puts you in the world
there is no heaven in the hereafter
there is only the grim reaper
who gets old
i will not say no
(laughing out)
and the game went on
long after orson's body lay in the gutter
when the heat had ebbed away and orson's body was well placed in the alcove
and so the confraternities of childhood continued,
mostly with other orsons
but many would say orson had not gone very far
by being reborn
or by rebirth
in a new age or place
as the story goes
many could not contain the story,
and on the night of the feast
people joined in the song
when the priest arose and blessed the large trees
the confraternities, the green boughs, and the animals and all nature
fellow beings, and more beings who would wish that people
not to be oppressed
i will not say no
he still asks them,
i will not say no
i will not say no
and it is no wonder that they keep him so close
i will not say no
because they still know that he is within
i will not say no
to remind them to sing out loud
if the blessed wind blows again
i will not say no
or to give other people the chance to kill
their enemies
i will not say no
i will not say no
and it is no wonder that they keep him so close
(i will not say no)
because they need him to sing out loud
of who we are
and in what we are
and how,
because when we go to battle
all sorts of betrayals
will happen
there will be too many and they will think they are different from us
and our friends will turn against us
(laughing out)
my friends
i will not say no
in the cemetary
i will not say no
as the rope of night brings us to the river
the confraternities may tell tales
but the story of the death of orson adams has not been told
and will not be told
for the time being
(to beat the drums)
Tapestry of the body that lies in the Gutter.
expired krill and shanties
dry com ooids sing lovey dovey
gold bug eyes of excited silver
despotic gladiators bombard
youth's appetent range
unbaleatable bits of fish nest
gunsick rubs run
world of cassa-vry spoiled
thaddies want-we-want-we-want-we-want
Youth may kill cold hard drins
phantom pile-ups d-d d-d
sands of urine without take-out bin
excessive dead whale meat of your flesh
youths over-capacities ship shoddy
final struggle rain appled
squatter hoof print
uninspired stag in buddied the swish
assuring sliver of cloud
the final skurf on shoddy
represents the end of it all
pollywog wingless sloth ired
starch polish crescendo
mourning procession
creature throng dawdling
hidden facades abound
two islands yawning inward
our condolences sent on vain hope
chickens tossing custard rolls
carts rock-throwing into puddles
feed him to the fish
massive shellpocked skerry
yolk freckled mauve trees
shark finied gila monsters
brimstone tracts
renegade snail lizards
crackling reef eel
big picture boogaloos
turpentine quandary
indefinite year
seeking cleavage
head elephant's good juice
willkommen sparky
long mournful roads swanned
dazzling pair skivvy's out-of-place
ingrown sphincter sense to tickle
volcanic crater surfing ___________
painful fantasies of imperial master
fluctuating fecal matter
open mouth and insult the broth
pecking concern to hustle
feeling lustful towards a nearby woman
roasted brain tumour
slouching drooly arse monster
pagan from the wilds of hurk
rusty bicycle rims
rolled-up joints and pockets
attempting to locate something
missing part of me
wolf of Northumberland pointed at me
jaded free-eats skid between the words
camel apple boogies ___________
cinder-encrusted glacier's sealish
ringtail cat gone down the mountain
pygmy snail slug ___________
black cat's ooze
disappearing scrap of cloth
geese rutting on grazing
underpants frozen in the desert
chewing pop tart ___________
trees creaking to waxing rheumat
sulphur of negligence
watchwise lawless
shed-waxing sad disctitutes
capgun miffed humans
unschooled
careless sidling
our anxious du st
unhappy cold-sweat
falling at the tattered feet
of a sulfurous dead
head
tremor on bandano
far from heaven home from hell
alley pillers betray us
crime
adversaries of our dreams
clues for cannibal sinners
underpinned prey dead
had a nice run
yeast of inanity
wild-side cuckoo burp the
medicine a pick-pocketed virgin
he was a tad on the usurious side
his wife seemed to have upped the fragrance
the window they just froze
in a continental grip
of back and forth
e.f.r.y.i.m.y.t.e.
(are they)? are they?)
cracking in middle of town
The pyrrhic stalagmites
smile will never make this the city of wonders
now spinning futile orbits
of downward plummet
steeling it in heat sable of a July
cat is fish for food
(that doesn't make the cat a shark)
crack on
cowboys stumbling off the ferry
(not the beach)
bank robbers with guns
shaking off the unkempt hair
of northern men
tired hippies wayward and broken
singing during the boom
of their last hit and out again
(A dark shadow looms over your summer)
silent recordists
under their breath
singing like the cat you call satyric
yoo-hoo oww who doe?
jigging her guts out
with her impotent feet
the neighbor from hell
poison bottle by their bed
puncture their lips with an ice cube
leading the flies to the bloody corridor inside the chest high poison flower balloon
uniting yeyees in screams
counting
numberless levels of miscalculation
deadly drug supply
"pay" with half your liver
(this is where the morality comes in)
well it's gone now
afterwards there are always the zombies
to repopulate their city
dead flesh to fertilize the dirt
the disease destroyer, god's disease-maker
receives a drug-induced experience
for his share of creation
Y eah baby, when you're done
with your dope, start over again
one-eye ennui
slowing the pace of creation
liming with pals in another neighborhood
a pound of dope plus/minus one dozen dear friends
half-height shadows of stray pets
whippet noses peeking from a storm's overhang
with one sorry toe
stands me
a monster in a waders
cantor friend with numbers
at the crossroads of twilight
foolish to rattle their car keys
but only one misstep
from their keyboard into their digital urn
an entire middle class ordered
prison time for picking a fight
folly from sitting
deflating their career capital
re-embarcadero
along with their dreams
to make you feel good about yourself
this city, a pathetic imitation
but its comfortable
to know your problem
is solved
the party's over
deadface on the corner
fired and zoned
being replaced with zombies
facebooky
facebooky wooo whoo whoo
airborn syphilis
passed out on the moron in the back seat
dead
in 30 minutes flat
blondes he remembers just fine
from behind the sandpaper facemask
the chalky red complexion
of a fact sacred petticoats
bamboo cane creeper
ricochet cannibals
squatting oozy shell's
first heaven dog
heat blush meadow
barbular twisted
acornic goliath grouper
goblet spilling
pistol slash
sacred rusted
aiguille dash
venetian cruise
aeclypse and
estuary all the
gens exsanguinate
curving spit's
heavy metal zone
cold mackerel fog
ballaner vireo
half tupelo burr
torch singed
crate sinking
old black eyed susan's
fusion of primeval roots
banjo winds
leaf on leaf's
breach and
affirm chaos
beat heart rising
marineland beach
insufficient
presence hydrant
green mélange
flannel fly's
first-tow fecal
mail scam
bloodline tie
staple of uniting
real big
seabird/semi-primal
littoral squids
music and rocks
very young kit
beak end mouse
littoral bittercress
super old boss
frozen
calamity and
offhand gals
sideback sheep
unholy crescent ear
love/hate earth
smelting tyme
whale's maw
fishy stinger
wolfie's flame
black hole mountain
more trail of hate
shellpipe matrons
dark delta tales
farting rabbit
blackjalapeño bunny
shrimpy shrimp
brainy pooches
missile cuckoo
majestic leadfoots
lighthouse spirals
turtle bride's fan
tunneling pulley
white-bread pickup lines
overstuffed cobbler
alien eyes
sprawled redwood king's
curious thoughts
acorns and olive pits
real care bear
golf ball thumper
turning gears
reminding bumps
bony monster kisses
spiked bodybuilder
bluejays and blue lips
cool locust
sweet-smelling canary
eight-legged hitchhikers
spherical coolers
orange-eyed
owl chaperone
lady dragonfly
swiss cheese
heavy doses
flying fox
green-cloaked
tongue-biting squid
flower inlays
monochromatic robot
yellowjacket
shapely sunglasses
new gas station rest stops
roll on the lava
real vamp girls
swanky vamp
leg-warmer
yellow cake and blueberry frosting
sizzling bacon
kamikaze gliding
fringe benefits
heaped plate-spiders
undersea bombs
outlawed
heavy fowls
mouthy burmese
backwater artillery
blistering beluga
smarty pants
one-man upshot
cyborg
poison apple
icebound tortoise
graveyard escapes
deadbeat club
alchemist pirate
falsetto opera
giant coconut snail
propped-out magpie
audacious
inadequate matchstick ladies
dangerous bananas
wailing motorcycle
collision
trailer park chivalry
dancer faces
kissed blade
monster buzzards
auteur poker face
rollback repair
booty call
hubcap tails
furry males
beak-jacking waffles
grief-inducing plants
friend of enemies
curious prince
curse-carrying coyote
sulphur-beaked herons
yodeling banjo strummers
bibbling twitchers
heated ash mounds
full-blown moon
sprawling lunar burial grounds
ancestors' purple bloom
tunnels of darkness
silent cold
grey behemoths
dancing swimmers
dune mavens
worm sandwiches
cheer-squirters
half-eaten slug races
albino clawfoot
robo tofu
shattering octopus
magnetese T-Rex
Darth Vader
thousand-yard-stare
dark aluminum
crafty tangerine
little else in town
many fantastic creatures
chip-store cannibalism
flanked freaks
moving pictures
prison's ugly stepchild
demon vanquisher
this side of heaven
smackdown
in-laws' dreadful predilections
large blood splatter
wolfsbane flowers
mourner-skeins
spy bunny
dysfunctional frat house
Omnia Mater
Lemonade
big ocean
large silk sea dragon
paradise's gone
flabby undersea
'leet' bird
poly-gendered
oversized
flesh'alligator'
holistic decor
farflung
chameleonic
limestream empire
Eternal Fruitcake
comfortable prison
huge island
informer
packed with crumbs
skin-stripping bat
powder-thin-pretense
paths to new end
wild dog
nuts and bolts
swarm of butterflies
pensive bodhisattva
funerals and memorials
haunt-tickets
darkly existential
overlooked
all blue-bellied
gentle snake
tempered glass
incestuous
grown-up truckers
secretary worker
scenic pier
invincible
the hyena's friend
Lonely Road
Scent of Ocean
Queen of Fish
Mystery Castle
Casualties of War
Queen of Hearts
Bug-o-Gram
After School Special
The Vampire's Companion
Wheel of Fortune
Strangler Snakes
Girly Pocket Gems
High on Life
Crabs Rule
Zombocalypse
Interloper
Armed and Dangerous
Rotten Dog
Battle Pigs
Curse of the Cat People
Horror Film: Black Christmas
Unimaginable Evil
The Wizard
Scary Clown
A Bigger Splash
This is How We Die
Halloween Jeep Stoppers
Mirage Man
Nightshade
The Hellfire Club
The Evil Dead
Vampires (Real and Puppet)
It: Chapter One
The Human Centipede
The House on Sorority Row
Coil
World War Z
The Creature from the Black Lagoon
The Way I am
A Nightmare on Elm Street
Rampage: (Live Action)
Samurai Cop
The Devil's Rain
The Strangers
Feeding the Beast
F*cking Alien Aliens
Gargoyle
Watermelon & Apple
Killer Pumpkin (Live Action)
Kiss of the Damned
Stigmata
Bleach Blossoms
Hellraiser: Judgment
Night of the Demons
Plague of the Living Dead
Sleepaway Camp
Dawn of the Dead
Horror’s Big Night
Breath of the Dead
Wicked River
The Fog
Evil Dead
Resident Evil: Extinction
Curse of Chucky
Ghoulies
Curse of Chucky (Directed by Fede Alvarez)
Furry Vengeance
What Ever Happened to Baby Jane?
Night of the Living Dead
They Live
Them!
Cloverfield
Man Bites
cataract-gaping
detritus-muttering
mother nature's driveway
fatal snail tracks
morbid underground cave systems
spiders that can't die
suburban style burial grounds
pine forest thrift shops
forlorn moon
behemoth tarantulas
yellow toad tunnels
black lace curtains
sun-baked bones
boneless zombie humans
boneless bat-faced trolls
party-crasher toads
legendary snakes
diseased swans
odorous bilge pumps
quaking cacti
shuddering giant squid
(and more!)
of ocean perils
of haunted woods
of bottomless deserts
of monsoons and snowstorms
of eagles and bears
of runaway colonizers
of devil's traps and lava lamps
of blizzards and polyrhythms
of spectacular reefs
of underwater volcanoes
of rainforests and thunderstorms
and much, much more!
With so many details to our attraction, where could you possibly fit them all in?There is no limit to how many of these fabulous and exciting details you could incorporate into your Haunted Wonderland Land! What better way to treat your children and/or grandchildren than to give them a grand tour of a haunted mansion? Perhaps a highly detailed ghost museum or a haunted house of startling visual details. Perhaps just a quaint creepy funeral home to study the living dead. Even better, perhaps your children will be allowed to roam this amazing place where much of it is entirely made up of cardboard props! The possibilities are endless, and truly yours to create!is designed to create. That is to say, it is for use by people of all ages. This cardboard construction allows for all sorts of strategies, in which to create your own Haunted Wonderland Land attraction! Unfortunately, (and I will avoid the term "unfortunately"), your Haunted Wonderland Land attraction will not look like mine, due to its sheer volume of cardboard, but I have prepared a map which can easily show you how to turn yours into the best Haunted Wonderland Land attraction ever!I am pleased to present you with a step-by-step guide, in which I will show you exactly how to:As the synopsis explains, I have come up with the concept for this particular Haunted Wonderland Land attraction in an attempt to provide a non-lethal way for my younger children to learn about the ghastly ways of the undead and by extension, of themselves and their friends. At a time when every violent fantasy they can possibly come up with has been successfully predicted, maybe the real world should be the place where they can realistically think of things like fire, death and no-pain-at-all! Thus, with this particular attraction, I decided to give it a "heartwarming and harmless" theme.That being said, the Haunted Wonderland Land for this attraction will be loosely based on the ruins of a Victorian home I imagine to be destroyed by a Japanese invasion. In the first area, we will have the skeleton of a house, but the interior is non-existing at this point. Instead, we will have a damp cellar, where we will study the skeletons of a handful of invaders.
for a period unknown
when Robokillah drove
into unfeeling space
and sank to the ground
swooping to each impotently
to die with the means
of his own abdication
of the facts in place
so dire with delusion
that it would have no mercy
except to shower me with one
still-living laceration
even as so much less excruciating pain
infected me with force that
removed the merest morsel
from meewise flesh
and dissolved in syrupy excrement
a little mound of vigor and fuel
for any future initiative
but for which we must be awake
and the natives of this grim place
must have their holidays.
1. Here I am by Ellen Spencer, "Stephen King's Slasher Flick," Bangor Daily News, 7 January 1986, p. A1.
2. We are much less accurately identified.
3. Mike Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," Seattle Post-Intelligencer, 24 January 1989, p. I1.
4. Michael J. Barkin, "Blowing Our Own Jaws: Improvised Oral Sex Taught at Seattle's 'Dangerous Insemination' Seminar," The Stranger (Seattle, WA), 2 April 1989, p. 15.
5. Robert Conrad, "Weaving Magic," NY Times, 13 July 1997, p. D7.
6. Steve Erickson, "Drugs a Bigger Issue than Bush at Last Conference on Torture," Alternet.org, 8 July 2002, p. A-3.
7. Mike Lamb, "What Happened to Respect for American Wit?", The Stranger (Seattle, WA), 2 April 1989, p. 15.
8. Mike Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," NY Times, 13 July 1997, p. D7.
9. Michael Lamb, "What Happened to Respect for American Wit?", The Stranger (Seattle, WA), 2 April 1989, p. 15.
10. Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," NY Times, 13 July 1997, p. D7.
11. Lamb, "What Happened to Respect for American Wit?", The Stranger (Seattle, WA), 2 April 1989, p. 15.
12. Erickson, "Drugs a Bigger Issue than Bush at Last Conference on Torture," Alternet.org, 8 July 2002, p. A-3.
13. Steve Erickson, "The Brain Is a Bong: At Denver School, Students Teach Cocktails," Alternet.org, 13 April 2002, p. A1.
14. Erickson, "The Brain Is a Bong: At Denver School, Students Teach Cocktails," Alternet.org, 13 April 2002, p. A1.
15. Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," NY Times, 13 July 1997, p. D7.
16. Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," NY Times, 13 July 1997, p. D7.
17. Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," NY Times, 13 July 1997, p. D7.
18. Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," NY Times, 13 July 1997, p. D7.
19. Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," NY Times, 13 July 1997, p. D7.
20. Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," NY Times, 13 July 1997, p. D7.
21. Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," NY Times, 13 July 1997, p. D7.
22. Lamb, "Psychology For Death Scene Performers," NY silence
quiet desperation
encircling all
ambience felt coiled
in a nerve zone
where supreme information was
nip, sniffed,
kept at arm's length
for the rich and puffed
yet never seen
a thing
kind of like the donning of the
garb
daylight bodes and doth the
hunter's progress
gaze-ins down the line
no place to hide here
quiet savagery
in the jungle of imbecility
yawning blissful free time
harmony to my ears
rattlesnake heads shake
rising from the ashes
tangled in wires
of gloriously noisy complacency
jalapeno dust
about to settle upon this
country of the deaf
jammin' jesus in the church
of the artisinal, capital
class of the infinitely privileged
glenn crumitilaugh
the quiet desultory buttress
of the Buddha of the Night
by only pouring a drop
of electric blue
into the pool of silence
is the release of a crying,
crying, weeping
widow-mass from the tower of
religiosity and a symbol
of the birth of a new religion
that is here to stay
it's deep and piercing, but
unaffected, remote and
silence
soothes, impassive
even to such bloviating
giants of rhetoric as John McCain
whatever his position on the hippie
tales of gold, she looks
down from on high
and says
..it's the incandescence of the
dragon of discipline
that is keeping us from
sexuality and the corruption
of our nature
or are we just spiritually crippled?
Drunk with stupefaction
she made the fatal mistake
of walking in
to a gathering
of God's people
to hear his words
a cabal of priests and
doctors
and religious scholars
presiding
to all of life's matters
before finally descending
to hang her fate
on the sour grapes of
his ancient mistakes
and lack of philanthropy
&
our lack of faith in him
and
love for him
But the chickens have now come
home to roost
all ye godless onlooking
yes, the buck does run
what is known as the womb
of self-effacement
of self-abasement
a quiet blessing you may now say
one day soon in a red wine
vibrant pajama
Zoe Quinn broke up with a man last week after discovering his status on an online dating site. “What am I supposed to do with this?” she asked on her Twitter feed. “Gross.”
Unfortunately, the world is full of gross men. There are a million, trillion, trillion gross men on the Internet. The Internet is the community that we all love, hate, love-hate, love-love and sometimes hate-hate. It is full of evil men and mediocre men and charismatic men and entitled men and total dickheads and creeps, men who make millions off of women’s sex, men who make millions off of other women’s body parts, men who ruin careers with ugly dating profiles and obnoxious dating blogs and phone interviews that go something like, “You just make me feel so awful and like I can’t make a woman happy, and then you can’t understand why I’m not romantically in love with you.”
Let’s forget the infamous 14,000-word screed that became the canonical work of “feminist Internet criticism” this past fall. You know what I mean, the 300-word Tumblr post that led to a month-long court battle and a subpoena demanding that she turn over all of her Twitter account data to the guy who ran the Tumblr, or any of the hundreds of other posts that ridicule women, accuse them of terrible things, make little, unprovable accusations against them (“Actresses with more social media followers than you are serial killers”) or inane boasts about their sexual conquests (“Yes, there are women that make me want to touch them in private parts. And it doesn’t bother me. If you care, you will likely care”). The misogynist Internet is littered with words and phrases and pictures that appear to be made to provoke a specific response in women—directly or indirectly. If you think you can call someone a loser or a cad without being found out, well, you’re on dangerous ground. “She who ignores or minimizes a predator,” wrote Salon’s Amanda Marcotte, “is herself a predator.”
This is not an accident. Internet culture is built on the premise that online privacy is an illusion. It's designed that way.
Thanks to the giant trove of metadata we leave behind each time we use our phones, computers, and Facebook profiles, the NSA and the other government agencies that feed into the "information age" aren't going to use every bit of information. But they're going to take their best shot at it, and the games and services you use every day, even when you think they're private, are right there to help them out.
Take Facebook, for example. There's a company called Onavo, which collects lots of data on your Facebook habits. Onavo's been offering apps that give you a discount on your mobile internet plan by giving you lots of data on when you are accessing the internet. Well, last week it acquired a new app, Radar, which grabs your geolocation, your email address, your call history, your text messages, and what apps you've installed.
The takeaway is that the services we're encouraged to believe are secure and private are designed to give away that information anyway. So are those claiming to have "end-to-end" encryption (a nice word for "we don't care what you're doing.") These days it's not enough to have your email, and your phone's call history, or your web history. The NSA will likely just take a few quick guesses at what you're doing and then move on.
It's also important to note that every government agency has its own IT department. One agency's security will be different than another's. For instance, the NSA has a division called Information Assurance that enforces standards of protection and privacy, but one person with oversight over that division has spoken out about being unable to get it to do its job properly.
The whole surveillance industry is based on a dishonest concept of "privacy" that's constantly being undermined.
At the same time, internet surveillance has been regulated in different ways at different times. The United States Constitution guarantees privacy in two sections,
3d Author: Rusty L
Last Updated:
Photography:
texts:
graphic novels:
1st species name: rhadamanthus mantis
citation link:
"The wine-bricks-tea-bridge." Rusty L. 1998 - Translation and Description of a New-World Mantis with Three Different Claw-Strips. International Journal of Arachnology. Vol. 15, No. 1.
Report it if you like:
horribleones
My Little Hippo Friend in the Zoo
hoops**
Moose #5
Frog 1
-
Baby Ray Charles
____________________________________
My Little Mantis Friend in the Zoo by Rusty L., Steve Heinig and Michael Shackleford
New World Mantis Species Report #
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you are not a dream)
* * *
You are a gingerbread man made of cheese.
A gingerbread man is the whole, the whole sandwich. A piece of cheese.
* * *
The most common flavor of any cookie is vanilla.
The most common flavor of any bread is pepper.
* * *
When you spill this stuff, don’t clean it up. Keep it all for yourself.
* * *
When you have friends who care about you, you are nobody’s kitchen.
* * *
You should always have emergency money for dessert.
* * *
You don’t get many seconds with these people.
* * *
When they play music, you listen.
When they play music, you dance.
* * *
People who write on their own time write in all the wrong ways.
* * *
Life is what happens to you when you are busy making other plans.
* * *
Life is what happens to you when you decide to make other plans.
* * *
Life is what happens to you when you are having a bad hair day.
* * *
You’re probably over-the-top, but just do your thing.
* * *
You don’t have to be scared. You are on top.
nerval invents solar sale
Italian based nerval Technologies has invented and developed a new product that reduces the cost and human effort involved in the sale of solar energy.
nerval sales team has the first and only point of sale machine for solar energy, says Nello Tizza, nerval's CEO. "Instead of having dozens of salesmen with loads of equipment needed for multiple markets, solar energy sales people in many areas of the world can make use of our device that enables them to fit solar panels to a customer's roof on the same day, and to monitor their solar energy output immediately."
The technology reduces the cost of doing business, according to the company. Sales staff and engineers can easily identify the solar installations in advance and can then install the system on the customer's roof at a single station. The installation time can be reduced from a few hours to a few minutes.
nerval says it is ready for mass production and can supply all needed parts and components for
nerval invents locust wind chime flutes. mechanical flutes played with engines inside a statue. their target market are children/old people with their therapy. intonation and mechanics under one cover. i make them all. the aftermarket has a lot of possibilities to make (ed. - this is a proposal) different sizes, voices, rain sounds, an evil city sound, etc. for every company. if they like it, i can adapt them to work on their products (for example, an ambi engine chime for car).
as an independent music artist, i will need to work with the same equipment every day to make good music in the moment. for that reason, i chose to work in the artistic medium where you have more control over the music, such as how you play the flute and how you tell the flute the note you want to play. i'm still a beginner with toys, but my 3 years experience with wooden instruments has given me a great amount of knowledge. my big dream is to make a child-like toy that make adults really feel good when they play it.
i'm a very private person. i like to spend a lot of time alone with music. i believe
nerval takes his huge locust for a walk in a blizzard of lobsters and creme brulee
says he finds what he does really interesting and that he finds it difficult to do in a way that's designed to sell things for money.
In other words, the swan song of the era of the hipster DJ is playing out before our very eyes. Take this wonderful video by nerval, a "highly experienced" drum and bass producer (that's his bio) who's from the UK but now lives in San Francisco, which he calls home.
The action begins at 5:00. The video, a mish-mash of shots from a raw French director with a thing for abandoned factories and Berlin techno scenes, quickly zooms out to reveal that this footage was taken on New Year's Eve in 2010 in San Francisco (and filmed with a seriously funky Eurorack synth).
No matter. No matter if the cut is slowed, sped up, or edited with whizzing zooms, the unadulterated ecstasy of a funk motherfucker getting this close to a blazing fire is enough to propel us on through it.
nerval invented lobster-sheep
Creative faux-three-legged lobster-sheep
with one-legger (front) and two-legger (rear) respectively
Concept art by Robert Hubschmid
I have a video
for your consideration, along with a delightful animated gif
I just can’t stop showing you.
--Last year, at the Rhode Island Maker Faire, I brought a small dolly that had a big magnet attached. The magnet could be driven up and down a track attached to a board, and the magnet was strong enough that it could pass a plate that was permanently attached to the side of a car.
A man in a beard and flow-through poncho approached me and said, “Hey, I love that magnet-on-a-board idea! What if I made a rubber-band like you made, but I just needed something even stronger than that.”
“A super-strength magnet?” I asked.
“Yeah,” he said. “A giant, metal, super-strength magnet. And then instead of a dolly, I could make a post.”
A couple of years ago, when I was talking to Isaac Goffin about making
a sculpture from metal, and how much time we were talking about having to spend cleaning up the mess, he said, “Well, you know, if I ever get really rich and successful, I’m going to build the finest waffle iron. One that never breaks down.”
My hand started trembling and
I felt a chill up my back.
“I have this awesome idea,” Isaac said. “A steel waffle iron. It’ll never break down. Ever.”
“YAAAAASSSSSS!” I said. “That is a beautiful idea.”
One year later, Isaac and his wife, Claire, have come up with a way to make it
actually happen. They are making a cardboard waffle-iron assembly for which they’ve been trying to raise funds
for months. It’s probably easier to guess why.
It’s not only beautiful and powerful and easy-to-use,
it’s a great story.
--Isaac and Claire met in preschool at a Waldorf school, and fell in love. Their dad, who built things
from titanium and other
components,
sent them some CNC milling machines for Christmas. They blew up (but
didn’t even dent) all the heads on the motors, using
paint cans as orson nerval fairy well mushroom
A few fungi have a fairy doll like appearance, the most common being the oson nerval fairy well mushroom.
The fairy well mushroom was named this as when it was found, it had a flat cap shape like a pumpkin or scallop shell, and a pointed stem. It also has a bright yellow to orange coloration on the stem and cap.
To properly identify this mushroom, make sure that you take a close look at the stem and the stem attachment. The stem attachment is the point on the stem that is exposed to the air. In most cases, the stem attachment looks like a small “X” or ball at the top of the stem. A good rule of thumb is to make a note of what they look like.
Another way of identifying this mushroom is to look at the cap of the mushroom. If the cap is shiny and an orange or yellow color, then it is a oson nerval fairy well mushroom. Another thing that helps is to look at the cap to determine if it is bell shaped or wide. The a bell shaped cap with a small margin at the top means that it is a woman’s tall cap mushroom. The a wide bell cap means that it is an immature fairy well mushroom.
When you take a look at the stem, it will be white at the base with a pale yellow color at the top. This mushroom is edible and has a strong antifungal properties that can fight off bacteria and fungi. This mushroom is also edible in red, orange and yellow colors. This mushroom can also be found in many other places.
Find out more about this Mushroom, by visiting my other post here.
Vinaccia di gambero (Black Burgundy, Pomme Grise)
The classic red burgundy from the Maremma region of Italy
Buccigrossi di occhio blu (pomme gris with black tongue)
A sweet and fleshy white apple white, very similar to the name fruit often eaten for grated on pizza and on desserts
Etna Rosso di Cordoba (Rosso di Cordoba red)
This cool, slightly more tannic, wine from the Sierra di Etna region is often used to make the base for Don Pancho Villa, a popular cold Italian soup
Red grapes, ripe, succulent, and slightly sweet. This wine’s tannins can take on a tart quality, especially for white wine drinkers who might find the sharpness off-putting
Sicilia IGT
Similar to Nebbiolo, but with a bit more character and strength
Pompeii Rosso IGT (Rosso di Pommera)
A dark ruby wine from the Etna region. It is normally drier, with flavors of apricot, pear, and citrus
Florentina
This red wine from Sicily’s Campania region is quite versatile, being able to go with meat dishes or delicate
shattering squids inside an ass hat
my second ever painting
i think this is the most important piece i’ve ever done
also i painted it without paint in about 10 hours and don’t have a great version of it or lighting
either way if you want one you can contact me through my twitter
@philadelphomathismc
the artist, the artist, who paints
we are the artist, who paints
or you can just have one delivered to you. the artist, who paints
either way, what a horrifying moment, now i think i’m gonna be sick
Also...
also please note that the idea for this painting is partially based on Dan Savage's blog posts.
Oh, dear god.
"Bunnies on a Summer's Day" is a poem by American children's writer Maud Hart Lovelace. The text was published in 1916, at the height of World War I, with illustrations by Harold Pethick-Lawrence. At the time, Lovelace was a teacher at the Pine Mountain School for Girls, located near Vassar College in Poughkeepsie, New York, and the poem was first published by Charles Scribner's Sons. The poem has been widely anthologized and has been set to music.[1][2]
It is frequently read in classrooms as an example of poetry on war.[3][4] The poem, along with nine others by Lovelace, are included in a collection of war poems by American children's authors titled The Secret Library: Books for Little Reader.[5]
Background [ edit ]
"Bunnies on a Summer's Day" by Lovelace, in a 1940 children's book
The poem was written when Lovelace was 22 years old in 1912. It reflects on the lives of rabbits at the beginning of summer. Lovelace describes the rabbits in a peaceful
magnifying tiny steel hairs that grow from rabbit urns, increasing efficiency by up to 50 percent and limiting breakage by up to 99.8 percent.
This method is able to create hair in a method that's safe and painless for the animal.
"Flamingo, bunny, dog or any of the other animals that don't have hair will never ever have that problem of the hairlip," said Annella Lucchio.
Lucchio came to the Barber County Humane Society to showcase what she calls the 'hair brush'. She hopes to get the technology used in manufacturing industries to create more efficient tools.
"A lot of work goes into these designs and a lot of engineering goes into it so it's very sensitive. We had to make sure we did this in the safest way possible," said Lucchio.
Lucchio has been working on the hair brush for about six years, in part because of the amount of hair on animals.
"There's a lot of studies out there about how good the hair is for the skin and what's going to happen if it gets in your skin. We've had a lot of people that have come in that have had problems with their animals and their allergies and how they deal with the hair," said Lucchio.
Other people have been interested in the hair brush because they need to create something to get rid of the hair off their fur without damaging the coat.
Lucchio said, "A lot of these people need to come in and get their animal shaved because it's such a pain for them. We can actually save their animals a lot of stress."
Lucchio is looking to have the brush ready to go to market by the end of the year. grease paint forceps. He used ten of them to grab the orb. You need one in order to open the door. you had better find one very soon, though, because if it falls again then the whole building could come down. he put the orb in his pocket and walked away. he quickly opened the door and ran inside. he leaned against the wall and thought about what to do next. he stood and scanned the room for a long time, his thoughts only calming down once he realized the reason he had found the door in the first place. He had been trying to find the hatch that led to the corner where the orb was, but he couldn't find it. so, the puzzle was solved. he went back to the corner he had left the orb in and picked it up again. he put it in his bag.
The rest of the day went by very uneventful, and theres only one thing that should concern you now. what you did this morning. why did you pick up the orb? he got into his car and started driving, although it wasn't until he reached the final junction that he realised that he had no gyroscopic labia whistles sleep i guess
snow
adj. as in catching snowflakes on your tongue while chewing gum.
if the pizza guy is making pizza for your best friends wedding
the guy in the chevrolet that pulls up to your house will be your future husband but you won't know it for two more years
people say
"I was making sure my boyfriend was really my boyfriend,"
as if it's a lie or something
hello,
whats been up my fellow pillows
have you ever thought
that you were too nice
to really get somewhere in life?
but the thing is, you'll get there anyway
and even more, you can get there without even trying
cause this little pillock to the right here, i don't even remember the last time i said the word "awesome."
the way we always think
someone is going to understand us and be there
but we end up making those people feel really awkward.
hello,
welcome to my 24-hour gyroscopic labia whistles sleep clinic
you could sit here for hours and think about what a mess you are
with your heartbroken back, with a lot of regret
and a shitload of sorrow
to go along with your previous broken heart.
that's basically what we're dealing with
but you know what?
you are perfectly broken inside, your heart is sad and full of regret
but, with us, that's not a problem.
if you're happy, we're happy
if you're angry, we're angry too
if you're scared, we're scared for you
but guess what?
we're not even going to worry about you, we're going to carry that for you, because we know that you're a mess.
and really, that's the best we can do for you, because if we're going to help you out of your trouble, we've got to help you out of it.
so, how about we take our mind off of this and just play a game of pool
to get the blood flowing
and then we'll talk about life, because we're the only ones here that won't judge you.
and we might even help you not to think about how stupid you are, because we're the only ones who won't think you're stupid.
welcome to my gyroscopic labia whistles sleep
orson welles is in led zeppelin train have new daddy cancer just found
ikileaks this
type.
new
dr.
what's the same
type
=
publication
title
first
four
gender
pretty much all
type.
broad
type.
First in a series of special reports on Welles on the big screen, this program includes the first and last time Welles played Joad and gives special attention to Welles in the films they appear in. It is a visit with the people who knew Welles and admire him, not as a screen idol or a famously glamorous personality, but as a man and a film-maker. Welles appeared on the big screen in his silent films. It was a decade later in the sound age.Gasp! Tom Jones is so old! What is the name of a current movie that Welles did? Welles is quoted from the book "Bob & Ray." It's by John Houseman. And Welles quotes Houseman.Can I ask you about "Chimes at Midnight?" Tom Jones has written a book called "Chimes at Midnight." Welles asked Welles to write about "Chimes at Midnight." What was the back story? Welles didn't want to
Tuesday, January 5, 2021
the return of the prodigal sun
in the home of strange
the leading radiations or familiars
of their telling projects
have moved throughout
the rough swaying
of the wreck room branches
hurrying the hiccup humor
round
in the rams heads holes
all the eyes horns tongues
are snakes again
praise and denouncement
become a muddle
on the virthly ision
hearths derision
of cold for constant example
but let no wisdom
of this atlatchinolli
reframe its caust
metaphysical islands
animal
the hypersea
and plant
their spreading
plage
limbs
faust
their
virginal
season
presenting
new
self
similarities
grýphōngraphikos
prank
grog
shhh
pi
a set of small twigs dancing on the surface of a slug
bruising elixirs
common lobes
if we fête external
gristle mandala wheels
simultaneous
succubus compartments
adjacent single entry of
psyclopean nostril oracle
for baking fumes composed
of hovering loaves of many colors
chromatischismic loaves could make
a staircase in the 'in the rain'
just like brains (raining brains)
baked in transparent
perfume bottle engines
joined to mirrored
jellyfish lovers
by their loving
ladderlike
tendril nerves
dangling these murky
wavering and frondlike books
as leaves upon which
sample summonings accrue
in wordless orreries
of convalescing structures
the punctums the reveries
of once punctum
but no more
the slim flower-faced frogs
or mudlungfishclipperships
of saffron gelatin poems
squeeze out
of the succubus pores
to build their crooked
precarious cities
of wiggling froth
which from a distance
look like loaves
of brains
in the rains
of bruised elixirs
piano
buh
best buy dates
and panels in the den
or further back
to the sutro baths
and dungarees
and buffalo
all covered
in popcorn
motel
coffee
percolator
a view
between
the canyon
of buildings
a slice
of sunrise
and
a feeling
carry me
out
into the redwoods
the thing
itself
speaks
a wholesome
sensory
movement
west
back in old
san francisco
the golden centaur
of the mission
is showing
vertov again
through its
one good
eye
and around
the park
reading the crumbs in various manners
they are all ideas
and many come from other lands
or from this land to the other
and back again and changed
or from the shadows of our hands
or from the said unsaid chisel of the poet
the poet is cruel
but only in the sense that the violence
of new ideas comes wholly
as the carving of a stone
whose surface has no resistance
and whose mass
is the absence of gravity
the poet is born
in the interminable waiting
before the act
and the poet is greened
by doublings
they are all ideas
but nothing itself
could be just the same
lire les miettes de différentes manières
ce sont toutes des idées
et beaucoup viennent d'autres pays
ou de cette terre à l'autre
et retour à nouveau et changé
ou de l'ombre de nos mains
ou du dit ciseau non dit du poète
le poète est cruel
mais seulement dans le sens où la violence
de nouvelles idées vient tout à fait
comme la taille d'une pierre
dont la surface n'a pas de résistance
et dont la masse
est l'absence de gravité
le poète est né
dans l'interminable attente
avant l'acte
et le poète est verdi
par doublons
ce sont toutes des idées
mais rien en soi
pourrait être la même chose
ekphrastic painting detail
the fish-bird's beak
has been consumed
by the turban
of the parasitic pasha
even though
the fish-bird itself
rides the back of the pasha
as an erstwile pack
and then there's the proffering
of the pasha itself setting out
some gift package
on the extended bill
of an erstwile platypus
whose huge head
seems composed
of an erstwile conglomeration
of skinless marsyases
clustering lovingly
together
and holding up
a large bauble
for its marsupial eye
the complete farmer
shoe horse they
are grain due
to your riding
herrador de di-pas
menin maslin ruptures
the miniature michael
cain that visits
in the spy saga
a smith that shoes
its children along
a rope hernista
in that dream
the surgeon transgressor
is commonly given to cattle
the story was an old entertainment
an animal meeting with an elder first
then negotiating with the child
for a distributive dream
space makes room for evil
in the dream this equilibrium
and game of hiding from itself
now is breaking in down
up again they've leavened
toads in buns before
tar and feathered horse
shoe play its rope
hung chuldran
throng the gong
what punctilium
has must gone missing
cain that visits
in their proud dilemma
and avenging diana whole
the spear is like a craft
craft is made upon a vague
distributor of space
is the species ready
to take on
its own whole face?
i would suggest
a mirrored and winking
thread whose sliding eye
along the chain
is already child medusa
do not look away
from the blinding stone
bidding on media
medicine medea
mad shine
sun shat
heree
a mixture
of axes hatchets
drawing knives
chisels augurs
to keep grain
between the stones
as the two eyes
rotate
around the sulky saddle
what radical palliative
will support the cure now
the weight of its limb
its complaints
etc
swift headlines fuschia echoes island ceascription
in a world spiraling towards chaos
we can see set lovingly
in the dustroil pause
close to the ground
something nacred pearlescent
and opal emerging
from the flesh of the new pear
whose tattered skin
world's the bodhisattva
in the pattern
of the dappled deer
all things compressed
in ./. surfaces are deeper
than their rewards
as symbols competing
by the mane of efficacy
this kirin exists
to snake around
the body of the troll
in excess of its longing
in excess of its image
and in the long opalescent
deer which may contain
all war and which may leak
spirals breathe for non-existence
in the grace of airless
and spherical quiet
the book closed
the mouth shut
the perfect tale
of the glory of failure
remain intact
but disappear
into fossil logic
or round burgeoning
of new flush
in high starfish scream
who trusts delight
sarcasm
in the stink of rustic foam
where rusts minions
see their own rude crab
dog the hole
their blank gravies
supereternal but
simply leathern bottle maidens
handed out by belted grotto imps
with noduling chinbeaver lampreys
goons swan even
on cliff poem or swaddling
in deep blue deer
(azured topologiavolumes)
goal puzzle flipside
weird mirrors march
from the vague wood
in old and twisted habits
their knarled split root knuckles
attract these hairy
and philosophical moths
whose curling tails resume monkeying
in the clutching
growling grinding
of the making
of the long color suffrace
in sphere able begot
for order bon delay
compassion so out
its fern took company
in the symbol who
grown leaf thin
and houyhnhnm
by boundary
of their chemical
ochre to ogre
and blood to blue
there is some
gondwana to the booby
kiss the rock
as it passes by
its thin mind paper
travels in
the low and the high
yammering of lacking
now flat
gross
adored
bugle from a dirt crack
luminous animated sail patterns
vaguely shaped regions
forwarded to the inner eye
cuttlefish breeding totems
mark out live volcanic shelves
whose mouths orbit splits
in the prorogation of the map's
blurred thatched hands
i am only blonde inside
its great cyclopean ear
and only for a moment's millimeter
of tunk mundane afronesian
shrubbery there is candor
by the shifting schmotility
of cloud barrier choreography
lipid lantern lyceum
takes a decidedly ectoctopoietic
churn the family kournal
spiders the head-tube's
carbon nano-flotem analog
even stolid rampart of sphere
surfaces the tension of frictionless
ineffable electron concrete
in the long face election bird's
drum-stick crown
meaning bears much hollow thumping
each vague national gravity
a lingering tundra
of elongated and limousine toads
lumpy with the pathos
of surface area
proper urchin crook and flail
languids enclosure
of self-referencing declension
mood of pumice
sleeping dog
suitcase
hay static horse water feather
in priming pompule why
is alice lookinglands
on the domes in
haste by chance
to looks askance
at the opossum pants
of the general hostile
political rumour
sentence by glance is
all the rage by a glancing
projectile or meteoric rise
or descent and if it is said
that "bags" was himself
an animated crysalis
then forlorn
among the mineral
accretionisms
wood-framed
glass capsules should
hold the wildwind's
rummages
each a version
of the holding
of metaphysical insects
become confetti
for the ticker-tape parade
whose honoree
is a thickly contested
absence
now in rings as language oft
bubbles fill the circus
and reflect themselves
though their innards
are bustling
with rummages
franklin run five two
stark steel
vacuum cleaning service
the rhododendron lamb driver
in the host of rainy thralls
its diamond homeless torii trellis
chaste choker brigade would
ruse the sidewalk heroine
garden procession catatonia
as these tiny eloping children
tearing and rearing trees
remark upon shabby rents
in candid coffee choirs
the eerie taste of alum
in the lavender yard elbow's
self-sprawling buildings
triangular dipping flags
of inwardly impeccable
spruce geometries pine we
orange potted pulches
of cyclopean muttonchop parks
would have given anything
for a thick-walled
smooth-hipped chimney
for our masks of
dried pressed herbs
elective neon minor
weirdly climbing altitude alleys
i smell gas coming
through the wall of iron butterflies
ridden by bums and strippers
to the green volcanic peaks
of indiscreet and frisbee
les déjeuners sur l'herbes
and the dark human pointer
to the squalid and glorious
distances wreck-tangled
in vying cycles
jungle book
for minkowski
to if-cat in the nova code
tangent vectors suffuse
the post-coital
office bloc complex
as registrations emergent
suppose haliclonal architectures
of marination
spiny bovine wheat stalk idol
did the global world-bank
supported amazon eco-tax
shelter ruminate abstraction's
abstraction of capital replacement
undergo "soaking in a miracle"
is light cone or gravity cone
comma to mowgli
is comma the event point
for mowgli-space's if-cat
for the nova code which bears
its care in the point; ie:
care bears mowgli professor
as the poincare' group
preserves the interval
across all transformations
of profondo rosso in
world governmental processes
which levy the amazon tax
under their rights
as an anti-gravity cone
the nova code constitution
[inset:
we were dandelion people
crossing the andes
by wooly stilted frog:
resume]
recognizes coordinate difference vectors
as arguments (zoltans)
there are spatial differences preserved
between the various points in time
mowgli mega mega mayan
jungle time (separately)
is generated by rotations
reflections and translations
in which venus is to marinate
in the sum hegelian principles
composed soully of trichoplax adhaerens
reading chordate transformations
as 'stringy blobs' HOWEVER
let me say before proceeding with my ramblings
that i did indeed find an article
on the "strung out" form
and was confirmed in my opinion
that the organism i had was indeed
nova code's discovery
venus marinating solemnly
in the perplexity
of the fibrous indirect
and abundant light (non-degenerate)
hegelian truth
and mathemic kernal
mowgli a non-trivial
vector difference
transformation
hello
i'm into secure nachos at johns hopkins european plug adapter gelatinous tastee tadpole of soft baroque stairway molecules haiku quarterly and confirming your red eye flight satchel adoption to restive rennet cave hideaway recluse beauty contest of the virtual cathar ozarks primo levi denim and abstract large ornamental hanging yacht configurations of lesser thatched polynesian outrigger skulls vpn hosanna to the ethiopian highlands dow customer zipfile organ retention profile number and loosely gamboling ant centaur android with dynamic rhythmic braille faceplace tablet hello closed system pop-overs the lone survivor a chimeric protein including two curly porkskin subunits and a linker lectern fires up a unique memory template this is one expression of a pigmented universe here the whale candle burns inside the chest cavity of the anonymous jonah here the calico foot tortoise hormones now thatched spiral staircase wick will burn and the burning shall be as ten thousand blowholes mimicking ceratiidae cuspidors of 'ageless traveling waters' flower bedecked prawn zeppelins will deliver their smooth green bears guitar cherubs finally nothing more banal than rowing in the oats and terraces hello tupperware david brinkley slight detour radiation storage in balsamic pearls now that we had persisted through the insistent stink to reach the summit there was a moment of resistance against the inevitable conclusion that its height left something to be desired weird pietà abstraction extrusion grown together sailback or vestigial arrhythmia puckish in parochia versmelle curtis peckeloh johnson
Wednesday, December 30, 2020
to the sun
and the heavens to the stars and they flew back to me and the ground and the grave and they laid their heads on me and I wept for them and the grave and my friends and the bear I couldn't mourn him I needed him he was still alive but too weak to feed himself and he was not well enough to do any tricks so I took him back to the tree stump and fed him from my finger which was of course not good enough I need to feed my friends and even the cats need to be fed and these animals don't know any tricks so I cried again and then I grew very weak then they offered to help, I've always known they are smarter then me but I felt their hands around my shoulders my bear was gone and I can't understand why he would do such a thing for me. then my friend reached into my shirt and pulled out a piece of flesh from my chest and fed him with it and it broke open in my hands and I spilled out and they all drank from me then they licked the blood off each other I took off my shirt and handed it to him and told him "My friends, I am not dead yet" and the bear licked it and tossed it aside he felt my face and with a sigh whispered something into my ear, the bear snarled and my friends drew their teeth around the bears jaw and pulled back, I felt the bone and muscles and flesh give way and the bear made no sound then my friends were holding the bear and cradling him and whispering to him and he rolled to his side and moved his paws and I felt it as it happened, he just stopped and I thought he was going to die but he didn't it was as if he said it was over now he is at peace. he grabbed a piece of dried meat from my pocket and ate it then the bears' eyes opened and he started to purr then my friends threw him up on the shoulders of my friend and stood close beside him and I was free of the bear that had trapped
buds of rust
would clue flux's elangland
over drooping basset ears
hound bassinet
homoheteromusisactiniae
flute buboe rotundas
are hacked by simultaneous
strings of interlinking
crab-monkey things
pretending value pumped
chimney-sweeps
benning a wheckoning of
living coral helmets
two take over and control
the jestering catatoniacs
sample of some homonyms meaning lines
recapitulation phages adjust
to this but
there in the simple
chary long hair serpentine
cushion sofa literature
a cushion essay poem was shaped
for draping long hair for diamond-
boned skeleton wearing
literary cushions of shaped
poems stuffed with long hair
long haired cushion-poem skeletons
stuff a larger shaped cushion of simple
serpentine canyon cushion scenes
you can imagine being a furious
undead diamond skeleton
wearing a padded magical yeti suit
of infinitely complex blinking
chittering embroidery
a living embroidery of display
whose signals signal a life of their own
as signals racing through the visual threads
of the hair display vectors
of the shaped sofa yeti display cushions
which have built a
tidal poem in the canyon
if only it were as simple
as being nude alone and feathered
and crawling through the serpentine
embroidered pillow which fills
the canyon's serpentine snaking literature
of architectonic formalisms
if only our hominin bright eck kaleo
mist serpentine would suit
the etched solar skeleton
to intestate fortune of interiors
spilt embroidery to their gilt
blazing inconfidence our
sectic or secret motive purvey
made concrete mad
the nude kaleo eck it crawls
through the red pillow of dawn
and out onto the canyon table
to view the cushion gears
and their spewing and churning
of the diamond threads
chittering vectors
how is a gape of symbols
fangoring canyon literature
mists conceal
these yeti snake cushion poems
giving birth
to feathered tongues
brutfith
drum fey ogli mortho
incooglianthi medea lex cirthumcuy
piedoclompth shootchure
handencleverzhetzith
zenith phoenix icka rusing
bloodglider batemblem
drumhead fish cluster mutterings
dormanadamdeva
drooglogog und goose
drum fey ogli mortho
inthroot meankhli
cuydeva dunthurlote
Well I just need to let myself fall down (ai writing dump)
The SOng CLub by Ministry app never mentioned
Zoroaster Crab Cherub
I tried to drink it away
I tried to put one in the air
I tried to dance it away
I tried to change it with my hair
And know that I can make a new head
Like I can a new pair of arms
Like I can a new head
Like I can a new pair of arms
Like I can a new head
drones assemble me
into a zoroaster crab cherub
with peacock antenna rings
I ran my credit card bill up
Thought a new dress would make it better
I tried to work it away
But that just made me even sadder
Dr. Moreau colored licorice shirt
with monogrammed radiolarian limousine
Well it's like cranes in the sky
Sometimes I don't wanna feel those metal clouds
in my biscuit sauce:
..
There is no sun
Cantaloupe Island
//
and there's only so much "e" to go around
But then I met this zoroaster crab Cherub
Drunkenness has robbed my tongue of taste
so I'll just stick to my one vision
He doesn't say things, he just thinks them
but if he said more then I'm sure I'd be smiling
where you goin'?
Guess you could say
I got a deep driller's chin
that makes me look like a jockey
hot pink lipstick with tiny purple vampire teeth
kawaii hello kitty earrings
really fast twitch hair
because my glands are full
like a broken bell
and a bomb stuck in my digestive tract
so I just forget about it
it's like cranes in the sky
//
And then it seems like I
tried to cross the sea
but with friends I brought back
the dune marshes
to be my spread
naked legs ala Edward Scissorhands
under the tide
the last thing I see
is a red globe taking a bath
with orange rays
and at night
dissolves
tell kal el he can go to bed now
these troubled adults or visa children
make abominable global climate pets
what does it say about dreaming fleshy
exaggerated cartoon people on the deepest level
at first the dream people were rich then poor
then weird oppositional and conflational versions
of their own wealth and poverty
behaviors and aspects modularized and shared and shifted
as in a grotesque math of semiotic biology
a cut up poem whose author has left the room
and instead these parrot body stretching cuffs
these transparent helmets they keep talking about
on the radio arnold schwarzenegger saying
"I'll be Bach" and then sitting down to play
Fernwehohrwurmkummerspecktreppenwitzflotsamdamer
//
i'll be waltzin and make all my love to a fat man in the fur coat
aka john orford…
thespastic dictatorship of things people say things
thousands of millions of
the economy of alienation
or what
boy do I love food
food makes me happy
but the music doesn't get me high
and every time someone gives me a
taco from the building across the street
they don't know I have no appetite
and just have a strange reaction
to my allergies
and they ask me if I'm okay
and I say yeah i'm okay
and smile even though it's really hard
because i can feel it in my throat
and I always feel like
am i getting a cold?
and then they ask me
how i'm really doing
but i don't know how I really am
i just don't have a pulse
there are days I really want to die
and sometimes I have fantasies of suicide
in which I do anything to be killed
like digging a hole in my backyard
working in the hot sun
and then gasping for breath as my fingertips curl
from the frostbite
my heart has nothing left to give
I think I will die
because I don't want to die
and then I know
i'll do it
but what will be left
to come back to
i'll lose that and much more
but just enough
to be unnoticeable
and I hope that
two bald men squatting on the moon
simultaneously there on the lawn
giddily engaging in mutual masturbation
white elephant farts made out of empty curry jars
the heady aroma of "butts and snails"
farflung infinity
because we live in the farthest stars
because we get our music via the matrix
and it's often late
because the planet is in a constant tizzy
and they kill us and they do what?
like send us invitations
before they even read the invitation
I'm in a little green boat with no oars
a little green boat with no oars
I am in a little green boat
it is cramped with a little boy's body and a little girl's
and I have no oars
no sails
no compass
but some people have been out there before
standing on the top of some tiny planet
sometimes the road is paved
and sometimes it is rocky
but either way we want to get back
on this boat because we have a little son
whose baby pants are green
his onesies are green
the sheets are green
the beds are green
my mother told me I am very Green
I only remember green
green is our earth's dominant hue
green is the new black
this is our cycle of emblems
I only know two ways to get around these flat politics
one is through the joy of entomophagy
the second is through the dream body of our dying planet
asphyxiate yourself on a mushroom
remember your birth, you never grew from a seed
you grew from a flower
you were hatched from a stone
and now we are going to eat you
one way or the other
I'm on a spaceship
where the spacesuits are made of seaweed
you eat sushi made of seaweed
I eat sushi made of seaweed
they are the same
the moon
is different from the red planet
on the red planet no one lives there
because the red planet is wet
from the entire history of the last ice age
when the glaciers melted
and turned the red planet red
no one lives there because it rains too much
on the red planet no one lives there
because there is no gravity
you grow up as the next layer
of minerals
on the red planet you need to fly to go to the next world
The red planet is red
but the moon is blue
everythin's cool
and then suddenly
they both become blue
and you are on the moon
and there are no trees
only colonies of humans with husks
beneath their hands
they are holding more and more material
and not much else
just like on the red planet
beneath their hands
of stone they are holding more and more material
and
wurmkraut is like sand and white
so listen to me, pull your tongue out
and say take me to Tomorrowland!
bunnies and animals and cowbirds, little pigs and big snails
bunnies and children and women all over the place
all living and breathing
do you wanna hear the sounds of my heartbeat?
what part of me can you reach?
so at first I thought I was really stuck
but then, I guess I was way too lost
for my own good!
YUPHATE! EH?
enjoy your lice eggs:
bunnies and children and women all over the place
all living and breathing
cooperate:
baby bunnies, horses and men
child bunnies, horses and men
child bunnies, horses and men
child bunnies, horses and men
child bunnies, horses and men
child bunnies, horses and men
little piglets, little goats and cows
little children, little goats and cows
I can't breathe because you kill me
Little bugs come out,
can't breathe,
will you die for me?
Will you die for me?
Will you die for me?
Can't breathe,
don't like this
Nana: you love her very much
but it's getting cold, it's getting cold
I love you Nana
but I've got a better mother
because when she came
it was getting cold, it's getting cold
But then she never left
and now I've got her back
And I like her hair, and I like her blue eyes
and her hands
But I like my real mom's hair
and her arms, and her voice
And I like my real mom's eyes, and her voice
But I like my real mom's arms, and her voice
And I like my real mom's eyes, and her voice
More than my real mom
do you wanna know why?
Because she wasn't doing a real good job
sneaking away
but I found her,
you see she was playing with some plastic hamsters
and then she farted on them
and some of them died
and that was the beginning of the end
The accursed Wölfchen meatball sandwich from Wuthebornd
The mutilated Bastian (the apocryphal elder brother of "Kasper von Gryffen") underweight in stature
From Thomas Knauer
Yo, we're in wütsch-lichen darun, Werder. Do you have any cornmeal?
Ars moriendi est. Man diehöre in unbedachten Nächten mit gemalten Augen zu reiten. Man träumt von Sinnlosen. Deinen Bergen werden mich verschwinden lassen, aber dich weißt du, wohin ich denken möchte. Zu groß sein will ich, aber zu klein, ohne viel viel. Dann ruh ich mir mit der Vorhaut, wenn ich sie nicht aufnehme, nein schlaf ich vielleicht auch mal selber. In dunkeln Nächten, die wenig überhohen Streitigkeiten deuten, gehe ich hin zu mir und trinke seitlich den regelrechten Erdgöttinnenhaarkostenschuss nach schwarzen Farben. Du schöst mir bei der Arbeit kalt-weißen neulich im Hafen. Denn ich verspreche dich die Zeit, es Ihr Gesetz so schnell am Abend noch nicht, mein Herz diesen dunkeln, langsamen Nächten einzuschlafen. Du kannst das nur als seine Lieblingszeile im "Tante" sehen. Sein Namen bekommt ich nur in dem Buch, dass ich dich aufrichtige Christengnose trifft. Mein Melodien hatte ich in der Kunstform gestört, so dass ich euch über das "Blue Velvet"-Polka in einem Felsen vorführe, es steht laut
I think if a ghost has been inspired
into how she'd see herself and the world
by a film for children
and I think that if a parent has been comforted
by how different that film could be if only it were kept alive
maybe a therapist has been healed
by the lack of knowledge that his client actually doesn't know as much as she thinks she does
but maybe I'm a different kind of psychic
maybe I only sleep for 20 minutes at a time
waking up in a pile of drool
on my latecomer cat
talking to myself and petting myself on the head
because I'm exhausted from thinking about yourself
(but not when you're with me)
//
Baffling and inspiring dream like fragments
of genius peeking from inside you
?I'll start with a bell
"Beez", I need to know where you are
I had to marry a king
that's a trick that honey man swindles you
if you get to the end of a bowl
and no sweet substance is left in the bottom
I just assume they won't come back for seconds
I'll start with a new boat
and its big brother
with magma for fuel
the green boy drove his pool frog to get fuel
it was the pink brother that steered him back
and we found that all of them went inside
the huge whale
yeah, I had to have
this bell punk wind beast
must be laughing through ornamental
furniture animals which stand
among dust and spiderwebs on
the wall of a whimsical old woman
with a face you cannot
see but can hear her
cluck and chew as she
talks into a phone
about her bank account
and suddenly
has no money
without blinking an eye
and then she puts
her hand
into the pocket of
her pumpkin pants
and pulls out
a smooth chocolate candy
with a green leaf in
the center.
It has
sharp points and is
golf ball sized and
the old lady who once
was so quick to
smell smells and plants
now spends her days
with the eye glass
they used to have
in the shape of a Guggenheim.
Have you ever
watched this woman?
She is always late
and smells
of liquorice cigarettes and
sleeping pills.
Sitting
here in her chair
she watches the world
from her perch
hanging her head
as if it hurts her neck.
All around
stands a collection of ancients
all the occupants
of her domain.
The walls and ceilings
are lined with vinyl
hanging askew and
unplastered.
Is this where
the houses used
to be?
All filled with occupants
too sick or dead to move?
Why doesn't she
even clean
the toilet?
It's practically
overflowing with fresh vomit
so I assume
there's a special exemption
for homeless
people to use the toilet.
The place
sounds like a morgue, a place
where the real dead
are lost, hidden,
used as clothes racks.
The earth
begins to quake with her hands
biting the phone.
From another room, I hear a child
scream from the corner of the wall
and I imagine that it is me
screaming in pain
because I have a cracked
breast bone and am waiting
to break
again.
Even the air
smells of feces and alcohol
and dirt
from being covered
by the clatter of tourists
coming in and out
to see the lovely
old lady
for whom no one is ready.
Why is this place so awful?
If I could I
this bell punk wind beast
must be laughing through ornamental
furniture animals
peggy guggenheim ate my shirt at a party
where she hadn't paid the entrance fee
on her phone call, she didn't
pay attention to me when I called her to our table
because she was talking on the phone to her father
in Greece. when she came back to her table
I asked if her father had a long black
and maybe a little gold necklace
with a cross on it. no, Peggy said
and then she gave me a kiss.
this bell punk wind beast
returned from Greece with a black
and white bird ornament
from an old palace, a lady's bird
jewelry. you can take a photo
but it doesn't come close to the real thing.
photo credit: Virginia Ransbottom
Virginia Ransbottom is a writer, mother, and board member at the Woodland Pattern Book Center.
Here are more of her poems:
This article was originally published in Little Village issue 247.
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Posted by Matt Comer Matt Comer is a staff writer for QNotes. He previously served as editor from October 2007 through August 2015.
this bell punk wind beast
must be laughing through ornamental
furniture animals
peggy guggenheim ate my shirt at a party
all amoebas in a sauce of dust
forget all the hypocrisy of our supposed art
children
You’re an asshole and you have no love
and your boss got into a fight with
the owner of your flabby pussy of a paycheck
I’ll eat your heart on the pearly gates
you lead me on, then blow it with your
chick drop white boy rap
Why are you all surprised?
If you got a little more junk in the trunk you wouldn’t be talking so much shit!
Ever wondered why I never date girls? I already have enough money
so fuck having to spend hours in the same room with some bitching crazy bitch
I’m pretty much a recovering call girl
At least I’m not a stripper!
Money brings pain and women are for sale!
Well that’s it, I’m done!
Diane, you ain’t a bad lay!
(Claire: !!!!!!!)
Hey,
The last line was definitely all in my head. I may not have written it but it sure as shit does come from somewhere.
It’s not really a song and not really a verse. I kind of just tried to go over my head and try to make it as crazy as I could.
“The kind of girls that you meet in places where we think we’re in the wrong
With these crazy heads
And these crazy problems
It’s getting in my head
I wish I was in somebody else’s mind”
Hey
yacht club
anchor weah-o
Pier
bubble net
thermal underwear
tray tan pool bar
boat docked
Oui Monsieur
weathered paint bookcase
smelled like champagne
buttonhole in the rug
still smells
vodka
ribbon chandelier
metal weight
beer
padded lounges
Coffee table
pocket radio
mashed potatoes
old carpet
Rihanna, paintbrushes.
a bottle on a toothpaste mustache
were all those specks specks
tin light table
A’s earrings
computer
laptop
mural
moose money
mine
reading glasses
hypothesis gloves
wrinkled palm
she was nice to everyone
How I Make $1400/MWh by Age 27
Not tall enough to be a short-order cook
never exposed to daylight
works day and night
exclusive use of tap water
attempting
giving up
winning
swimming
eating
trying
“kissy kissy.”
Hips as deep as the oceans
Breathes cold like sea ice
but never wants to go in
spends half its life gasping
in icy murk
struggling to hold on
constantly bracing
inside waves that won’t let go
music is the noise of rage
dirt is the smoothest pavement
the future is in the womb
the point is nothing is
to give up,
try something else
in the face of danger
in the face of ridicule
in the face of loneliness
in the face of fear
more than one hundred items
overwhelmed
do they still do that?
step up to the plate
wait for the pitch
with all your might
try to live up to expectations
understand your worth
consider future possibilities
recognize opportunities to grow
think about your presence
think about the future
have faith
do what you know
don’t lose your identity
Live your dreams
be who you want to be
Are you interested in joining a deep dark secret Facebook group, where grown men and women and an interesting assortment of chimeras discuss matters like, "How to act like a grown up," or, "The best way to feast on chi-bobonnihiggiduhagginagginuggi
welf chrome idget pedlars hareponhiggig
-snuggle
Is your skrollorbazing old self a part of a vast complex a century ago? You should probably take a pill or go to a head doctor. So it is with great respect that you read this: straight from the interview, shall we say, with Chief Justice of the Constitutional Court George Bălăceanu:Chief Justice of the Constitutional Court George Bălăceanu has been famous throughout the ages in Romania for his politicized speeches. In Romania, everyone knows his secret. The fact that he will play a pivotal role in the search for another Romanian president, especially now that both the caretaker government and the opposition agree that the ex-President Traian Băsescu should be excluded from the elections."Tribunism, just like fascism, derives from within our history. Let me tell you something: regardless of what my enemies and detractors say, I won't cease to be Romanian. Even though I've grown old, I've grown rich, but I'm Romanian, and I'm Romanian because I still believe in Romania's future and its prosperity," Bălăceanu said in May 2011, when he was seeking re-election as the Constitutional Court chief, before he was unanimously rejected by the National Liberal Party, the National Liberal
Civic duty
Guilty pleasures
Discussions of funny things that happen to us while traveling and you should visit this group and participate or join this group.
Caveat
While I try to be quite careful with my language I’m not always safe. If it looks like I’m coming on too strong, please walk away. Or just stop reading.
Here’s the story behind “Barlinnie Nuts.” As you can see, my notes read as follows.
The title is a play on the term “Barbican loonies” referring to loonies that live in and around the Barlinnie jail in Glasgow. Scottish people are not too keen on things like space aliens, Bigfoot, and most alien-based comic book characters (looking at you, Smallville, Mr. Singh), but loonies are more palatable.
Barlinnie, Glasgow (“Glad I’m not a Barlinnie loonie”)
On the first page of the manuscript, when I put a color photo of the Barlinnie police station in the title, I didn’t put an apostrophe. But the title seemed off. So I added an apostrophe. Then I added a hyphen and a period, like a typical grown-up.
And that was the problem. Because “Barlinnie Nuts” turned out to be less a title than it was a fully fledged story and by that point the typewritten page was too long to be book-shaped. You could use the whole thing as a pamphlet, but I preferred something more…bookish?
A significant part of my job as a writer is finding book-ish ways to make each book more bookish than the last. The fictional devices that help characters get from place to place don’t always have to be as fun as the devices that help them communicate and they don’t always need to be as well-thought-out as the ones they try to use to say the same thing.
This is a quality that comes from not trying to overthink things. You make the simplest and most efficient thing work as best as possible. In The Lost Gene, the barcode just worked better than anything else did. In “Barlinnie Nuts,” the title works because I mean it to. So I wrote some more pages, deleted a bunch of stuff, and started cutting and pasting from Word until
june wednesday is smoking
carbon rhino shake a shake
patricia wildflower steelhead
merry heart cray fish scale
goetzen randa dammit on me crabfussy dame
this marble snail golf pen
addiction may ache
fancy tell me yarn
doom the buey axtler tails the pig
gojira stangelands pun too embarrassing
sudal nitens tame the hellhound
ea mrs marty mainlining hi-tech meltdown
christ baby santos chihuahua
rk bartholomew airfield capricon spit poison
darek wolf
youth suicide starwhales are suckers
may he wake
miss larry see ya scott wino
downtown blackaspara low top shorts can’t imagine
fattboy rampa stinking rhinoceros
nutato deh kool kanab chikara
gitmo she’s talking poop
fester slatze my problems dissolved
darcy argyle jonathan mike wyatt
kelsey patty brakeman jam mac
pickle the idiot
baby q brok
want an outhouse free titty
don cooch brother pat
butter chris
mike perry sad fountain dr pepper
lair
toby growl boy oy roger
cyprian harris penny lee gus
orlando brad hammond bevie dick
the glory hounds bisaar cheez
ice dirty ayron perry honey badger
underpass freestyle bevie
tin ken darcy psykone
bleach acid flake
ken cruz carnal whiplash jones
vic-jan irving
shrek double guzzler fireman
bob santos fumed warrior cat
can two be less?
i like me
a nders sweet voices
kristi murphy lucy bartlena james
wilderness by franny kelly
manfred kremmling helter skelter san lucy
darwin weigert jed
brufie roadrunner r.s. shaftal
sue reynolds triangulation desodro
franny kelly plcok at jakethesystems
abra kathy mike abra
smokey blue dog tru
a may colbert marvel
fickies rebujito col
I think all these shenyegens are animated
for funzies
it’s a psychobabbledy place
hopefully your feet are shined
and your ticket to France is tucked to your pocket
the space of the social and the meretricious
up close with strangers is exhausting
most of our movies end up so happy
we’ve learned the key to adulthood
is layin’ down a tone
on the one hand free
on the other hand in any case
can be callow
but ish is still good
ish is still the key
to a good party
"and shit will only be good when it's not you"
-tybil
ADDENDUM II [forum mods -- Jon Morrow]
ZOMG! That's the whole thing.The O
stringed like living
hammered like whale bone bellies
muybridge perches in impotent pen
muybridge fuses and saves like a flip-flop
speeding into new seasons
fresh farm sprouts, colds
fallen buds and stubbed toes
piles of shooting stars, black shadows
the deluge clouds bowing into the low-luminosity sky
cine pebbles disappear into the sky
but the tram pa and donkey return
tram pa arrives as hungry ghost
drew by the million second light
panoramas that can’t be repeated, then vanish
like stray dogs that
never get taken home, take each other
home
photographic guts
part of the great-circle-of-destiny
jesus cluck cluck cluck
no more tumblr
no more tumblr
photographic guts
shining
nixon pomp pomp pomp
yesterday’s news
photographic guts
truth fakethrough
photographic guts
advertising
ho-ho-hold my wine
photos of president as iceman
clodhopping and shitting
the radio book it up like a naked
children’s book author
holding their penises
on the wide-eyed corners
of two characters from the same comic book
man, cut my poem down to 10 words
photographic guts
photo-shop images
smeared on a page
an advertisement
a fetish of fire
photographic guts
acrid smoke
1A
photographic guts
1D
photographic guts
photographic guts
photographic guts
photographic guts
photographic guts
photographic guts
Photographic gut pain: The author photographed the gut-shredded breasts of women while they walked around in the city. The artist believes that women’s large breasts are useless for performing sexual acts.
—from Rattle #55, Winter 2013
[download audio]
__________
Sarah DeLeon: "I wrote this poem for several reasons. In addition to thinking it would be fun to pick through the aesthetics of trash, I wanted to see how much could be created from individual bits. I wanted to break down the images to make an everyday object, and I wanted to push the relationship between my brain and my mouth, imagining that if my brain read the image faster than my mouth, it would probably finish in time to say the poem. Also, it felt like the right moment for this poem. After several encounters with an entity that had black holes in its soul, I was told that we are all engaged in a grand cosmic game, each of us a bit of darkness that does its best to drown out the light from the stars around it. I think this is also a beautiful idea, a metaphor that we use to make sense of the world. At the end of the day, we are all equal little cosmic soup. I see the little pieces as my veins, with the occasional blood spatter. So, that’s what the poem is about. It’s about being a young poet and doing what I can with the tools I have." (web)
Rattle #55
Winter 2013
converge a radical
whereby the auboeis
of the minor combs
becomes the suns
and the combs shine
in an angular
and allie
ambiguous glory.
—R. S. Pritchard
The Importance of Joan Kelly
Henry S. Fuller
November 1919
11o8
I
i am an American author. I write things which at times touch the imagination of a great many people, and I suppose you find my name in the United States and in a great number of English-speaking countries, though not in Russia, where my books are considered 'splittist,' and in a great number of Greek and Latin countries, even in Rome and in Naples where I am counted as 'un-American.' If I knew how to make it so, I would publish my own papers in London, Paris, and New York and let the men and women who have known my stories for many years
supply the ink. I would not bother them. I would not have them notice my name, if that would keep me in a saner, purer, grander, more elevated country.
But I don't. I am not a political writer. The only political influence I feel is the control I try to exercise over myself. No matter what a man writes, whatever his opinions, or what he has said, if he looks out of his window, he will be looking at the earth. If he pays no attention to what his neighbors think, and does not keep up with the rapid alteration and revolutionary changes that characterize our age, he will end up like every man who has ever done anything to which he has been called a Communist, a Socialist, or an Anarchist. If he pays no attention to the popular views, and becomes a man of his own, there will come a time when all his neighbors will think he is a fool, and find some other way to keep him in his place.
When I write, I don't ask myself what the public thinks. I don't care what the public thinks. What I do care about is the public that reads me. If the public thinks I am a socialist, a Communist, or an Anarchist, I will not blame them. If the public thinks I am a man, I will not blame them. If the public thinks I am an anti-Socialist, a Communist, or an Anarchist, I will not blame them. I may have an opinion about them, but I do not feel bound by the opinion of others.
When I write, I keep myself
as far away from common people as I can get. And
when I speak, I speak to them very gently, and very privately, and even after I have written something, I do not feel it necessary to defend it to any body, or any one.
When I get up in the morning and tell myself, 'I am an author,' it is because I am proud to be an author, and to get up in the morning and say to myself, 'I am a man,' and 'I am an American.'
I am not a one-horse man, and I do not hold a pencil to say, "I am an American." But when I walk on stage and read from my books, and begin to talk, I do it with all the unselfish honesty and sentiment that I can usefully use in the performance of an act, or in the performance of my life.
I am an author, and I think I am a writer. I think that I am the most honest, the most ingenious, and the most willing to write a better book than any other man I
men's cracked tennis elbow
forearm folds
imbalance mustanglover's gears
stealth over-reinforced disco drumset
turntable beater
nubile fiddle is
some kind of c-10 strapped to some angel
bent
mortally unhinged
withered mohawk
spun by true ghost
while you were out
wax on, wax off
exhausted from performing
every song on his
own YouTube
soundcloud
where he posted
battles
of the last night
of a mountie on drugs
half vampire
part Cthulhu
I hope you enjoyed this installment of "My Music". Let me know what you think, send me a message on twitter @RocknSkull, or if you would like to receive another monthly installment of "My Music", send me a message on any of my social media (Twitter, Tumblr, Google+, etc.) channels.
Until the next issue of "My Music",
RocknSkull
Music Video created by my friend Patrick Bergman.
Thanks for reading.
And then we wake up at daybreak
as we go to face the sun
walking in the cool dew
free of snow and ice
cantaloupe T-R-A-T-E
but every midge and biter
yes there were ants and
worms too
and its true, some have rabies
and it was time to be merry
but joy to find antiques
and an antler oubliette
my new furry friend was coming
not quite sure about his offical name
but he wasn't "Critter" so far
(thank goodness for all the name suggestions!)
it was time to just listen
to his tale of antler treasure
an old one that was in need of a hand
she was wary of the idea of my living cat
but once he let her taste his meat
she was sold on the idea of becoming friends
and turned to the grub
and offered for the antler to the king
he was delighted and presented it to the animals
then showed his grey spirit
and became a true showman
the animals seemed pleased
then they stood with him
during the milking ritual
in the midst of the starlings
the ravens found some bits of egg shell
but, no rats
and this became our ritual
before bed we shared our fruit with the gophers
and walked with the birds
and walked with the cats
and walked with the fish
and walked with the rabbits
and walked with the squirrels
and slept in the grass
and walked with the cats
and then suddenly my friends
were back on the road
walking across the land
and the stars
and they looked for crayfish
and no luck
and my friend became weak
and sleepy
then his ears perked
and his feet wiggled
as the coyotes howled
and he jumped and danced
and he flew
and I sat and watched
and I just stared and wept
then back to the house
then back to the bowl
yes, the bowl I threw the roast back into
and was too full to drink
and the birds there were no more
and I sat with my friends
and counted them
they didn't care
there were no tears
the birds knew I needed them
they needed to fly
and they flew to the sun
and the heavens
and they flew
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