The Game Is Over (Fragment of a Film Viewing)

{for Phanero}
love, JW


cocinor sitar

fluid zola














a cure










la so fond
begin:

train in ruins
[lycaeum]

ka-mir-ra

purple samovar
maid moor negress

stealth [approach]

white

her fantastic crotch

communism

sound like

donkey, or head

[appeal]














'in the face'











me?


black grip [triste]

petite



sound of animal

scarf
or mustang















the tan road





'the red'



from hound
to hound's tooth


hairlip (a glimpse_

militaire.












an even younger
girl














domes passing by


















'me'


a slight itch
near the base of the nostril



liquid.


disapproval.
voila.













the question
is one of sex,
or lumber.

























a very particular air,
first dawn of sitars.

in the west

[myst aire]





pop art
china








caped racer!








they enact 'sphinxes'

plays, moves, gestures,
relations,

traditions

or 'purple closet'

[for drinks]



warm vagina cigarette
bath sitar

body
in wiriting.

golden loop.


fur

shotgun

breasts


"kimono"






taking time
to start with Zola.


'poet'
watching her body
his head


no.

no.

a slow denouement
encapsulates
the entirety.




























green Mongol Maxime.

he is beautiful, grotesque.

[her squeals].

perfect!

A Conversation Between Jellybean Weirdo and Phaneronoemikon

JW: So you wish to duel then, Phaneroo?

P: MIKTAB!

JW: Acrobatic jellyfish cellphones do 69 in their
chili-sauce underwares..

P: For they have beards of birds which they use
to mop the bakery floor, crumbly cities of bread crumbs..

JW: My foot is a pig-dog!

P: And lo, the unwashable saying has grown nine aisles..

JW: VOLUME OF HAIRSPRAY!

P: Wine amoeba, your silver tonsil rune prepares to jettison..

JW: I am climbing a big green titty!

P: Verily.

JW: Jellybean aquarium people!

P: I am bifurcating minions. I am vegetable alphabets.

JW: I am Subaru Outback Steaks doing porno-water-skiing movie..

P: Crystalline Tuba in space.

JW: Wash my muddy pony!

P: Green pennies hang from eloping boughs of everflutings..

JW: I've got a cellphone call. I need to take this.

P: LEPRACHEM!

Bobo

Flimsy guy cent, or
Yet scum flying, this
Lacerate upcoming earnest
Sanguine, complete rat race.

O tooth of marble juices, the
Theoretical jumbo of so, and
Major if obsolete touch, come
Well! Musty, bum bumsucking.

Rat halve raw, odd raver, let
Total boat hand milking pony
Knob to malignant typhoidal
Point-blank almighty on toad.

Grey toad ivory torching mog,
Groovy! Right On! tragicomedy,
Is foul kiddo if so shoo loo?
I am a bottom amok apology pig.

Okay, map optimal amigo to bog,
Gentle appeal enriches, and
Elegant peril cheapens. I get
I'm tidy, crummier wonga-wonga.

Warm young, demoniac, grim wit
Should face my tea-petal gorgon, a
Formally toughened scapegoat, the
Half-completed agony outrages.

Tulip monster getting panties loosens
Impenitent gloating sputters where
Petulant pigsties go tormenting toenails
Milk kill furious kid up flu.

Lucky sucky big dong hobo, where the
Coo! Chubbily skunk doggy makes
Good! Yucky, shocking bulb, and
I rumour rubbishy carnal abuse.

Air burly, barbarous eunuchism, get
Thee Eh! Wide-eyed, one-sided, odd diode
Whose weedy hood, died, and quaith the
Quiz turmoil oil loyal pupils with lo babbling.

Listening To Nomi Applied To Slutty French.

Lionlike poet of delirious dope,
Porpoise-like inutile doodle,
fili poo luki retool penis dedoe.

Take these Hadarenes.

Fumi Della Warane'

grey ivory is honeycombed hadarene, the red berry jester
a thick building wrasped in helegaunt vinery, hips heavy
with the salvos of galvanized singing, a blunt sugar
pulsing through crystalline bamboo on into the submissives.

whirling architectures descend, changing, their materials
shifting as intramolecular structures reveal atomic
metamorphosis, and this is just the thong, where the
tantric tentacle made ground in brazil, the barque is squirm.

a heavy lead puppet vomits a horde of thrumming musical
instrument that fly like hummingbirds through the braided
orgy whose base is like an ingot of carefully folded
golden linen, and magical liquid skull helmets give
any putti a total command of language and matter.

a thing like a maggot turns out to be a utopian city,
its citizens are ultra-joyous and sing, their taffy-like
body torso fibres forming erotic meshes of catastrophic
entanglements, a white hot tusk emerges from a crimson
brain made of knights in puffy silken armor.

Ode To a Silver Bullet

Someone has been here before you,
Sonny Bono had a disease.

Do not trust them, they are liars,
as am I, but I am trying to help
you.

Do not trust in god.
Do not trust in any thing
you cannot see, but make
your body strong
and dumb.

Sonny Bono knew how to win
public opinion, but also
how to make fun of Nazis.

He never learned that.
Sonny Bono won the biggest prize
any Nazi can hope

TUFA.

There is good timing, but
only in Atlantis.

Can you imagine
a Tibetan Nazi?

Can you imagine
a "police brothel"?

All these things
and more, exist.

If you have questions,
just point me in the
General's direction.

And remember,
remember

the Good Bazouki music
of a hundred billion
sunsets.

Sonny Bono
was Jesus.

Sonny loved you.
Now go and do
wereworld stuff.

Gumbo Enema Decoder

a beep beep chili bang bang amoeba enema
falls out of a cellphone amoeba gang's
retard googoo clinic

it says

psycho macaroni
gives hot baloney massage
to vocoder doer ooompa loompa
manure

yum yum hot ding bat jelly
sweet smelly

a vocoder jelly deathmatch amoeba
grows an antenna flagellum
manufacturing cartel

big neo neon ed brown
retires from gang enema warcraft
surgery

gets a subaru
a hoodoo juju big belly
neon entertainment enema
with bmw breast enhancements
and retired nicoteen patches

a nicoteen stripper amoeba
buys a cellphone
from a gangster

hex coordinator specialist

a retarded resource engineer
straddles a cascading impasse junction

his face
is an analog subwoofer collapse field
generating a DT googoo
doodoo fondue

"the guy loses his shit"
an enema gangster troll
scoops it up

AND SCORES!

robo dooda jellybean
hoedown

lady cellphone werewolf gangster amoebas!
start your subwoofers!

Bringing Something Up From a Back Burner

The neon gangs
are googooing
with amoeba chili breast
reductions

a neon amoeba cellphone gang
split into a ladies' gang
and a men's gang
a third middlesex gang
was born, but was murdered

3 amoeba gangsters
were enforcing their turf
by digesting a lot of fruitless
talk in an uninteresting way

a cellphone hex cattle associate
mentioned to a gangster astroturf
petroleum amoebha smurf
that chicken prices were
artificially inflated

the smurf replied
calling doctor bombay
calling doctor bombay
glory hand in the oil snatch
gangster amoeba robot cellphones
enact catastrophic idea besmirching
hex foot syntaxis vessicle survellance

an amoeba hex surveillance team cellphone
is called out for a routine amoeba coding error
a lady gang official
speaks to dude gang hex administrator
with a flop-eared jelly bean decoder

call minister big belly jelly belly
hex declaimer rutabega vega
for a neon gangster enema

six neon gangster cellphone amoeba enemas
arrive on the scene of the crime
a fred flintstone italian soda baron
takes out his vocoder
unimaginating old yeller wanna be two-tongued
mcdonalds coupon forger

mmmm, smells like old amoeba

a plush convertible cellphone bmw lemonade stand
pulls up to a whole foods jelly desposal gangster
totally gangster neon available

three neon amoeba gangster cellphones
attend a breast reduction's funereal
new orleans sofa munching balzac

holy unfortunate rap detective!

a slow-moving clone rapper cellphone amoeba
heist manager
reclines gently
in an ameoba welcome wagon
annoyance protocal surgery

a lady gang amoeba
churbles

a man gang amoeba
churbles

a violent outfitter
of gang amoeba cellphone
police reduction cellphone breasts
are churbling
through a welcome wagon
middlesex coffee organ awareness
heist replication office

a goo goo gang of uptight
werewolf amoeba reductio
dingbat clones
makes

neon wannabe boom boom
for a glitter hobo's
tight knit paramecium
underdog cloning boudoir

get kit
get gang neon bang bang pets
for taxi sexy mickey mouse vivisection

holy gumbo christ
my amoeba protection racket
broke a string

aveoli gogo saucer witches
are arriving
in gentile bellinis

champagne amoeba lady
is giving mucho dopo robo popo

a neon dream amoeba
taxis to a halt
near a ladies gang cellphone dispenser

a googoo chit chat racket
is established

some digbats
snigbats
dingbots
fall out

a jellybean weirdo
with electric snake fang
moves in for the kill

nervous assface gangster remix

by brandon scott gorrell

Dr. Dre breaks up with his boyfriend Ice Cube on the way to the airport. Ice Cube
screams. Dr. Dre thinks his face is somehow stretching into a face longer than his face. Ice Cube pulls the car over. He is breathing heavily and crying hard. Dr. Dre worries about missing his flight to Holland. He looks at his shoes. He has a mental projection of his luggage in the trunk. He is afraid of having to maintain emotional control if Ice Cube begins to hyperventilate. "How can you do this to me," Ice Cube says. He makes a loud noise. "I don't know," Dr. Dre says. "I'm just going to Holland," he says. He looks at his shoes and wishes that they turn into laser beams that enable murder. Ice Cube hugs him. The stick shift presses uncomfortably against Dr. Dre's thigh. Dr. Dre's hand accidentally touches Ice Cube' penis a little. Dr. Dre makes a low sound. "The stick shift," he whispers into Ice Cube's trembling brown ear.

But, Breebles...

i love you, breebles.

a miniature turkey
made its home
in an internet browser.

a kid looking through
a window
saw a baby
with grease on its head.

i love you, breebles.

Henry the 8th
is large
and in charge.

Don't let them
dig in the internet
beehive
with a ram's horn.

If a little turkey
comes with a flower
for you, don't
force feed it

secretaries.

Brain Edgar Wallace!

I wish to be alone now, but
you are here. My niece is also
hearing this.

I sense that there are
bloody organs.

I am the avenger of organs.
What diamonds?

Are you frightened?
I can be anyone.

If we are to hide
these knights
within the office..

Come in..
Your whiskers
look like Scotland.

Come in. Pour yourself
a drink. A dark shadow..

I was in the bushes
following a love call.

Thanks. My hobby.
Is mating calls.

Maybe a book
will be strangled.

Your neighbor
is a poet.

Your neighbor
is shuddering.
Why?

I'm very happy.

Far from the hustle
and bustle.

You will be the rabbit.
You will be the lunatic.

Everyone got killed.
Good night.

I never want to be
alone
in this dreary old castle.

But isn't the organ
music...

?
There is something stirring.
Lack?

Nothing.
I heard footsteps.

I often
think of my niece.

London?
The diamonds
are packed in a
leather rose.

There is something
awfully moody.

Your drink?

Would you like to see the body,
Gerard?

[laughter. as at a party.]

May I have one of your
cigars?

There he is!

BRAIN EDGAR WALLACE!

End of recording.
Bombs away!

Who are you?
Beastly.

You're a fine young lad.
Honeycombed.

Pyrite

They say for instance, that society
is nothing more than psychological torture,
or simply a hell of annoying monkeys,
but then I never listen to them.

I prefer instead to use my
x-ray vision upon the bountiful
bodice of the ocean.

I imagine
the skeletons of old pirates
wearing their own ghosts
like wedding dresses
as jellyfish giggle
within their ribcages
suffusing their own small
selves

into the tawdry romance
of the gleeful dead
and playing as hearts

for those who know.

OMG, IT'S BATH TIME!

Fawn dew, my literary asp spire ration,
you are liquidity unfolding abs so lutely.

Rippling Abs, you whose apps
are sinuous veils of sinusoidal
societies, are delivering

an interesting topology
of fitness terrains

and fitness instructors
detecting a hazardous morain
of more or less discarded
cellphones

become cradles
for sweet, yet
disingenuous mice
with delicate
furry
elephant
trunks.

You mice-laden hunchabachs,
are your goiter bells
as tinkly, or twonkly
as the weary old stars,
and droopy Persian magi
come as threeness
to a hissy fit?

O hissy fit, is your
prissy wunderkabinett
a cattailike snake-trunk
bunko squad approximation
laid in swaddling legers

like a hush
upon the reeds?

Lo, there are campaign surcharges
for any contestant
with a chin dimple,
or a heavy metallic
sundial jutting
from their forward crania.

Why don't the Nath
play team sports?

The Narrth? This is
not a judgement, but
joking referee..

Weee!

Why do the fireflies
inhabit

a mesh-like helmet bridge
which reaches between
two chatteronga players
who play unnamed string
instruments

with long
and curly toenails
now sporting
glitter-nail
adhesive cellphone
stick-ons?

Wee!

Are you ankles rusty?

Upon the horizon
is a wondrous castle
of many scented soaps..

Go there, O rusty ankled
oneness, and select a brick
from the yummy lord of baths.

Wee! OMG!
It's bath time, again...

Caligula's More Savory Side

ordinator mobilisation: if trial fail,
collapse secondary inspiracle; wyrd-coda-modus.

For if the trial become an expansive metaphor,
let also fitness run with the pack;
let also love, abomination, drunkeness.

O let this horde of glorious projectiles hurdle onward..

-intercessna-

If there be a bird in space, let this bird bee an amoeba
of graceless grace, of graceful gracelessness.

Let this gray < mobilize the trial~
which runs in the pack with the crucible,
the meteor, the lava gazelle ghost,
the xenon wave distortion vehicle,
the polymorphous swerve error city:

Pea.

Let the Princess
not see her false reflection
in the mirrored zombie mattress.

Let not Narcissus see the candle head
exstinguished in the lake of fire.

Let not the flower, sense the sun genital's
only barely sensory motives, as if some motif
could frighten the cold heavy center
where the absence of a heart
was another replicating leaf in torment's
tuba solo.

Let not the replication of the education
of little Myra become the faded banderole
of the watchers in the mist
whose space birds were just now docking
at saloon 7G.

If Saloon 7G is crowded, let not Mario
make a strange hand gesture to the Lion headed
bouncer, whose suit of flubber is not standard
Federation Issue.

Let not the Federation
breed larger vaginas
upon the tribble.

Let not the tribble prostitution racket
discourage the youthful sextoy inventors
of Regula 9.

If Mario goes on trial, let him wear a large hoop
of brass keys so that many people in the jury
will think he is a kind of janitor, and not
a saloon bouncer.

If the Seasons become applied to the stages of life,
let the stages become Circuses of Strippers,
of simply

Trippers.

Let much day-tripping begin.
Let much sock-burning begin.

Let a personal metaphor fall out unexplained
and go unnoticed before the Last Klingon

Fat Woman
enters

the svelte slow missile

of someone's satin slipper.

Let any hovering signifier signify

our hovering,
and our covering.

There is something very strange
printed on these sheets, Dear, dear Coagula.

Wilna Porm

Bugles bellow picante
hop sing be merry
hosing mary bee

mary bee coy
deliberate
white wigged

looking after the kidgloves

hey little glove!

you are sleeping on a big stack
of papers.

If a European person sees you
they may think about

high-pressure
tromp l'oeil elephant tusk
wine nozzles
attached to a helmet

or it could be a professional
gesture

these people stand around
humping a suck white noise

first i give them ten-minutes
and they start pulling out
these hot rod cameras

i get back in the tinsel factory
the easter egg grass factory

i get back in the factory
cuz I am
just a little pecker

PRAPE TEEM NEEPLEK

I go home.
My tusks are brown.

Zelda,
with her small,
lethal handbag.

We enter
a spherical room
hung with mutant cactus.

Closely relating
to spies, we
are deliverers
of ancient, journeying,
pencils.

These old,
sentient pencils
are precious ivory
inlaid with turquoise,
red jade, enphantugo.

These pencils
blink, but live hidden
in our concatenation
of maiden's pocket.

DEGHUK MIKUGU
MESHIK FUT GUDBIZ
DUSP POSM FUSKEY
RUGMUK CHOW

Our long ponies
enter halls of snaky
staircases.

Our prehensile hair yoga
is cactus juggling
the mind between pencil
cilia.

Simon Vinkenoog

Simon Vinkenoog (1928-2009) Dutch writer

Whatever Became of Jellybean Weirdo?

Sceptre sway contagion agon braggart's art
tra la travail
boss mantis, your red wig worms its way
through involuting geode hogon

spectre tree milking octopi dynamite feelers
launching weirding wheels
whose magnetized circumferences
house a thousand magnetic skeletons
of thought, or time

tick magi woofer recluse
your extruding belly blossom apartments
are luminous in the flat degrading view
of so many ivory towers

dumb smoke snake
your masters are bored with you
and sick of you
they disdain
curse you
make a slave of you
for you are perfected in your polite
adoration
which no one wants
or feels

your worship
is loathsome to them
and they do not admire
your scalar abhege

your frelousia
your tehouchy
your hulisso
your retulima
your firlitia
your geheptros
your nujirlet, or

tronspectifal

In silence, and emptiness
"hearth-browk"

your are banitched
to the wassairfula

a painted bladder your house now
disassembled smoke snake

you live in a baggy scrotum shoe

insane
alone

disgraced

eternally

Sea-Wolves of the Mediterranean by E. Hamilton Currey

Sea-Wolves of the Mediterranean by E. Hamilton Currey - Project Gutenberg

Nubkijonki

Suss ma pu tessironia bit
Il la la luma, iya le spume'
spento tumba, tin wala lu
kinsopsek.

Fieo ulkpi jolpeen, nigh deloia
de lignispect fit ti feotcho po lethi.

Loto, wy lili hiti gurashpe chon, ivil
Nogonoyo eb quashokji yu ti kolofi
chunyi ipwillya fulab; ba hu piromitkonko
titoya dala rew.

Neppy Clertringle miare.
Neppy Swepteem ib hylibilitish.

Nicorette

of Lady ash, or she who kisseth
my shadow's lights, Nicotine,
my Nicotine, some yester-year,
Goddess mine for treasure 'mid
Unsurety.

Now go, and mine ye one goblet-dancing,
yester-year...

Prince: of shade our no-more dregs had gone towards
grey cheer in unhallowed places to utter symbols of all
who are the joy of the memories that God ghosts of wine~
yester-year (his yule-tide lay dear!)

Then and upon me that my heart
As Mars has gone and done asked of homage:
ghosts that reek of winds when
Drink I, yester-year.

Where food's glances the what
But~
Your breath is clear and can know
the gueredon grey-blown arms of love's
Everyone, first where the dream dividing,
Houris flower, and wineing

Know the return,
As a dream of faces,
Silent the suchness of lips..

Breath lips meet Saturn,
Wold and mine fashion, a
Wineing allure, a Queen of saith:

of mirth draining valor and off
with the ghosts of rain fer sure,
To fetch another can of Skoal!

That makes a bower if such weening
veils the bird my heart asks for cheer,
And whose Warmth is near!

Where an old, old Christ is what?
This is what I dream upon?
Lest dead ghosts would sun my
Intergliding wraiths of Aye!

Then Zeus had drawn his small-beer,
And me druidings, to give Mem'ry their
chill joys as Poppy bade the magians'
"Ye won what?"

Now then, with the spring's embrace,
The rich hath stark winds as bewitched boughs
Laugh broken streams to the spirit of the
old Earth.

Wraiths stalk the hills of thy dwelling-place.
This will I paragon?
Wineing set and all that are none?

Warmth is ere, and thy clear skull is
Likened to shepherds' winds or snows of
Milky cheek that is to rights, a lap not green,

Nicotine, my Nicotine.

Interconnecting With A Completely Wrecked Enfulgurating Complex.

How do I tell a secret
unto hermetic air?

Winsome white and recall.

Who do I smell at Epcot
when the Mickey Mouse shells?

Emotional meat configuration vengeance.

Not nice, is the sense
that Hermes took to the cows.

Not nice, that rude cave
where the anthropomorphic bee swarms
posed like voices to the scribes.

O giant and ancient hive!

You who
hang like a honey coat around
the old oak tree
down in the rock
below the opening..

The bulbous cave which
holds your trunk, the
thinker thanking

ker-flop
ker-chunk

I say again:

A giant globular hive I found
in a bulbous cave near an atrium hole,
and a lone oak tree raying out,
a bristling soul

wearing a serene
and stinging honey coat
of modular

foetus chambers.

Each foetus a letter.
Each foetus a word.

If you can think it properly:

Hermes' city is like a super-computer
perched on top of a tortoise

of many names.

Encapsulating so much
boogered-up freakishness
and sweet repose.

Titty Pogo.

If I pogo on my titty:
your mother!
your mother!

If I pogo on my titty right down into hell :)
all those lovely satanic galleries,
glitter shoes,
glitter shoes!

If I pogo on my titty right into your heart:
FABIAN! FABIAN TITTY MOTHER SATAN!
glitter shoes
in the park.

A dead bumble bee.
Oh, It's not dead!

If I pogo on my titty
until it becomes a hard red cherry corvette:)

Then goeth your Mother into Bethlehem
to give birth
To a Transformers action figure
with pogo titty cannons.

Your Mother..

3 Doodles Having to Do With Penelope.

Penelope

pride the pounding
and fake fire for ceremonies
daddy long-legs
approach enormous wooden
staircase

grandma brings out
chinese checker board

whole house
smells of apricots

weeks go by
the film Shampoo
had grossed
area near new mexico

another old woman
living in mud floors

massive
fir
you
sun



Penny Lopia

I could set it down in a box
if a white kitten
or 'The Italian'
who would turn everything inside out

guts to organ music

Its ancient terricloth
independent
worldly

the arabs and I
politely
the whole apartment building
was a crack house

gave us bad concrete
black marine
a recovering addict

a homosexual man
i guess
his whole apartment
covered in layers of wrestling images

all those wrestling magazines
destroyed

we had to replace his door
ate at Wendy's alot



Penny Nail Loping

Like as if it had been an underwater
labyrinth

the divers swimming upwards
through vertical shafts

reaching some segment
where a high vaulted section
let in the light

a place near
a thing like an iron pollen grain

the whole place vibrating
and we died there

too many locks
Houdini's transparent
tadpole parasite breather

living impasto
you'd think

In all its unforgiving chrome mind
In all its foundational struts
and huge rubber doughnuts

there'd be something to tell

how this cube
would remain motionless

our bodies sluiced up
through transparent columns
to god knows where

sophis diastrophism soth wit cumae

simulating whirligig balloon molecule machine armor ornament dancers
is easy, but getting them to attach into larger avatars and objects
happens purely by chance, like the meeting of a gorgon and a hyper-sieve
on an operating table of greenly sugared ice, which is nice if you can
get it.

integrated circuits have been around, and they make programs now
to help yo make them, objects, blocks, systems and sensibilities.

Pride and Predjudice.

I get an image [Amazing=Kreskin-like]

of a brunette freckled hotty
in ginger ale

playing with a black snake
which wears a golden mantis crown

all along the watch-tower
hotty feelers are getting down.

Pi
Spy

"I INVOKE THEE, O SINGULARITY!"
"ARISE, O MIGHTY KRAKEN!"

for I am comatose banana paste
formed into Encephalitis...

Rondo Veneziano La serenissima

Political Ecstasy

O my li'l hotty, B,
didn'ya know that J
is just a T
with a boner.

A J is just a boon error
whose tea-bag
is nightly churning

a rocket
whose viable sween
is super-clean
like a clean room

with me in it
in silver silk.

[DOCTOR WHO]

I see a one-eyed
Maha Raja

474 years.

O gawd F D..

I am discrete.

But my Boner
is indiscriminate.

I have a tiny, sweet,
bird's pussy, called
democracy,

who I've been living with all these years!

"I need a drink.."

I am Scaron.
The last of the Jaggaroth.

Sounds like "Jilling"
is an infinitely old race.

[The Bracelet]

GJJGJGGJGJGJGJGGJGJ

I Feel Funny And Kind of Angry When I Hear the Word "Sorry"

O syntaxis, my foot-lure, must
you [Lame's Tea Jerk] [??]

become so 'ever-lodged'
in the maw-ma
of the terra-ptera
terror-tear?

Must you, provide
indexical movement
in the stacks of the grey
alien hyper-cube virus
day-walker tribes

whose pre-state
["STATE"]
is a cool wandling
against all 'states'..

or is there shame?

Is there SHAME
in the breast of the shamanic
principle's
biggie-big mouth decoding?

Must you, Lame's Tea Jerk
get into your cups so deeply?

I can only now see
that all classical religion,
art, poetry, macrame'

is totally about

"designing more hotties"

[See amphibious aqua-hotties whose transparent
breasts are filled to bursting with data
tad-pole data lingerie awaiting their
respective distribution templates..]

My Genius, "Says T. Jerk"
is like Tits on a tadpole.

They change into hyper-frisbees...

Ubber-Incandescent Hotty Talks With Katana Cellphone

A super-hyper incandescent
cellphone hotty's nipple-ring
laptop is doing a lapdance
defragmentation routine
on my yoga instructor's
baja glimmer-spice
ufo decopage kit

whose afro-afro-dizzy
ack is ack ack
gack gack

white hot nipple recording jelly
frisbee extruders.

And then
She said, "I wanna get it on~"

"with your laptop nipple ring's
ubber-cool avatar
titty pinching gold card frappe'
delingerer lingerie"

etc.

I was all~

whatever Perdita Durango

Then she's infusing coffee
into her cryonics platelet team
and I still can't take my

burned out smoking eye-sockets
off her super-hyper incandescent
cellphone hotty's nipple-ring.

"Talk about iPlops.."

I have emotionally candied

genital disaster cellphone employee's
unions breathing down my asshole

the fucking CFO of hair gel
done stole my motherfuckin'
vacay!

Tiny Threesome.

A new cellphone
tastes just like
a coffee infused
nose-ring sponge.

A new fitness instructor
tastes just like
a cellphone's boudoir
with blue teeth.

A new espresso machine
tastes just like
a carnivorous laptop's
lapdancing cellphone
beer cubicle hybrid.

Half-Moose with a Twist: 2 more of little or no consequence, redux

Half-Moose with a Twist: 2 more of little or no consequence, redux

BibliOdyssey: Codex Fejervary Mayer

BibliOdyssey: Codex Fejervary Mayer

At least the Aztecs knew how to conjure a grotesque cosmogoly!
This is groovy!

Earth Monster indeed..

Drouot.com - Tout sur les ventes aux enchères à Paris

Update! Now this is much better. You see how happy le baron is,
when he is with his marvelous la baronne! Magnifique!



Drouot.com - Tout sur les ventes aux enchères à Paris:

Well, "Le baron Gourgaud"
certainly has the best tie!

and he still has a little family resemblance to



Gaspard Gourgaud..

I have always loved the Baroness Monique Gourgaud's work
meine Baron!

but only 1 tiny picture on the internet!

For shame!

It Sucks Being God.

O feelers that smell!
O drippy Tenjikubotan that
trembles in Grub Street
where I munch

the cabbage patch kids
the garbage pail kids
the candied tattoo kids
the simple sugar cigarette

The Ziggurat
The skeleton
of rushing crystal needles
through space

The dumb cigarette
of politics

is 9 Billion
smoking penises.

O smoking penis!
O flaming cunt hole!

Your politics are done!

Have a smoke!

And go fuck yourself!!

Amen..

"Interests" by Nada Gordon

"Interests" by Nada Gordon

For a second I thought it read

Naga cordon.. weird.

Drunken Soldiers of Hell.

pranks are shallow, and
loose in the shoes, and
DNA is loosed and extras
go swarming about the set,
the set, tall, dog-like,
aesthetic, and
terrible.

conspiracy is golden, and
like tragic milk, it
runs through carved worlds,
through hollow buildings
like animals,

set in strange tilt, there
is a lilt, and
a dread, and spiral wars
move through crysalis eyes
whose centers are looms

attended by spindly
intelligent wheat.

The elephant's head
is attached to a whale
whose body
is the deep regular fluting
of alarm.

My ego
is the bagworm pharaoh
sleeping
unto the roar

The world's ego
is also at the center
of the bagworm crystalis
eye

It is
a long thin drool
of cherishing flotsam,
forever, and

this alien animal
is the threshing
of an invisible
torque.

War games
are mass produced
as entertainment.

"Party on, Wayne.."
"Party on, Garth.."

TOM CLARK: Bliss

TOM CLARK: Bliss

Conference of the Birds

Conference of the Birds

Vanitas Magazine: TC: Locations: for Ted Berrigan, Nov. 15, 1934--July 4, 1983

Vanitas Magazine: TC: Locations: for Ted Berrigan, Nov. 15, 1934--July 4, 1983

Münchhausen in VENICE

Barbarossa, 1.

Outside of Tlemcem, they
took Oruch's silver arm,
and nailed him to a wall,
headless.

His severed head had
a happy journey, and from
now on, the texts tell us,
it was called
THE GREEN BEE:

The green bee went hissing
inside the big cat's stomach
trailing a long limp noodle
like a turban in dispair.

There is evidence
that dirty laundry
is also thought, or
like tickertape
nearly drowned, or
piled up in 'plagues'
as in so many goddamned
infernal associations.

The Cat is really big
and has absolutely no
digestion problems.

"The Green Bee,"
though rotten,
is now a popular tune.

Poems About Trees by K. Silem Mohammad : Poetry Magazine [poem/magazine] : Find Poems and Poets. Discover Poetry.

Poems About Trees by K. Silem Mohammad : Poetry Magazine [poem/magazine] : Find Poems and Poets. Discover Poetry.

A truly great poem by Kasey!