back to hell

might i add that 2 of my friends took the "test" and they are deserving of the eighth level of hell. their level is that of fraudulent pandering, which doesn't seem all that bad. well. it apparently is. who knew.

i like to listen

when it comes to the aural arts it's all acoustic upload happy giddy take it all sides forget the off switch just let it farm you to a jumpy sweaty darkish
streetscape without a lot of think. and it isn't a bad place to veer, you know, sometimes. especially if you take your eyes out and just go in there blind and hungry, it works

all ears and tappintoes in the sunparlour

experienced some big sound from 2 talented
individuals, then i brought the magic home on a shiny disc, and yes, it still blows my mind today.
my, were they good!

perhaps

i'm having fun

gotta watch that timer

aka:
it still sucks to be black in 2006


voyeuristic tic-tic-tic timed living
for release at the break of clay
and the head tossed back, ha!
dust swiped fist bitten lip caned
mutton legged don't get me started
with those small hands poised
and a smile spit out a tooth
a line of candyred as he cusped
go on fucker you called me nigger
but the dog bit ME first he said, but
the dog bit me first...
and hey, nobody cared
by then, everyone wanted a piece
of that fuck-you pie. a jaw was careless
tarmack and he didn't give a damn
just wanted revenge. anything in the truck
oh, that woulda been swell. i could feel
every pained breath taken and every wild
swipe come curse yeah he's pissed, i'd be
starry livid. so hell, it was coming fast now
but then we got our breathing synchronized
gotta give him credit. cuz the boys, they were
all riled up, especially the ones goin' at it
in the truck. i'll hit ya he said. yeah i'll hit ya.
if ya want me to. i will. i don't know how he
ended up then smiling cocked up from that
broken mouth like a pacified baby. i think he
knew. said he's alright man, yeah, he's
all right. but i'm just a poor sod in the wrong
dialtone in the wrong coloured flesh bleeding
the same cup of red on the white tile floor




and that is a true tale, more or less, saturday night in the back of beyond...

someday

blanche is a really wonderful weird band.

velour and wool

how do you get away with that? he asked
what? i asked, in return. velour, he said,
velour and wool, how do you do that? but
it isn't velour, i said, and i rubbed the nap
and had to reconsider the definition of
velour. i still don't think it is velour, i said.
i think it is, he said. and wool, that is wool.
well, it's some form of spun plastic, i thought
but couldn't see the point of a long drawn
out diatribe on the nature of the beast, or
the beast's clothing, so i mumbled something
incoherent. probably about wool. and i couldn't
for the life of me think of an answer to how
i managed to "get away with" velour and
wool, so i left. and the night was cold. but
i was warm. you see. velour and wool...

sinko

.
.
.
.
.
five.....
just like sesame street
cross the street5xxxxx

nerve block

not so bad. blank. i said so like i know so.
blank as a blanket about the neurons. sleepy
and curled up. puffy myelin caked
with creative
anaesthesia filling vaguely lemony. a voluntary
removal from the simulacrum
in the basement. shhhh childless children
and a warm orange glow ensues. kindness. i
think it is love. but she knows better.
escargot style.but she likes the sound
of caracol. ca. ra. col. can see a caracol rolling
down a hill but not an es. car. got. although
she doesn't want to roll anywhere. just
retract shhhh hold in breath 30 seconds
jelly from the salt in the tears. bring the air full
circle blow in suck out. but like breathing warm.
blanket against my blanket. like the boy
soft, he liked his
blanket, and she laughed but
she was wrong. shhhh come sing our crumbs
he was war orange till he spun
apple green. whirrrrr
and the purple boy shimmered crisp
regal before the air left the building.
and the brave boy wants to find
a new blanket. and the girl knows
she finds the holes. shhhh brave boy i worry
and she loves again like a big day coming.
but this time it's large like red
but better than red.
it doesn't hurt in the camp tonight. so shhhh
in the orange.
in the coracol. in the garden. in the biscuit. in the
warm blank sleep of a dormant starless sky.

there should be locks

on these things
timed entry to the internet
haha, but i'm not really kidding at all...

if i wasn't so sad

really missing my dad today.

my dad loved silly too

yeah. he was a fan of absurdum anglicum. and he would have loved this parody.

when fall comes to my park

fingers curl involuntarily
hunting pocketses for digital slice and dice
they left his heroic body on the side of everest
but they really howled leaving the take-away on the bus
it was 10 i think, cowboys, that stumble, while the sloe-eyed smockfrolicking little match girls with tiny smiles and a few smokes bit lipped hunched against the wall in a row pop em off duckieDU ankle strap a little tight leaving a small patent welt that rubs uncomfortable
i shift my bench to find some pale sun dapple
he smiled a shy tooth for me and the 9 remaining coatless hands shoved deep in the pockets showing a bit of green lining shiny tatter
it's the cold wind coming to the small city
dirt eddy in the parking lot that had sparkled like a new girlfriend back in june
telling the same tales like old grinning ginwhores huddled in fine balance
laughter bites the low cloud then bounces back into earshot
and there's no hurry cuz there's no where to hurry to
except the cold wind noticing noone playing ball

7th level and i'm not going to do a damned thing about it

did one of those online testing things, which i'm not going to link to...and somehow despite feeling quite smug about morals came deserving of the 7th level of hell, the level for the "violent". hmm. great. but was geatly relieved to read from the next test only had a 23 % chance of going postal, despite being 72% loser...ah yes

tiny good deed

just purchased 12 dollars of totally unneeded chocolate from a poor kid who's been roped into door to door panhandling...

ahem

comment *spoken* in the "i have a theory..." voice
by OD is meant obsessive disorder?
yeah, kinda. my obsession is with the draw of this goddamned e-world
it's so new to me and god it's a drug . shouldn't be should it?
but booze shouldn't be either( cuz it's so lovely whan it wants to be! )
as all addictive substance
anyway hunting for and finding stuff like this shimmer that gets the nostril hairs just that tiny bit erect is what i refer to in my sweaty obsessive metaphors, speaking of context

i love idiocy

i truly do
thus i share this gem
which is amusant and also,darn it, just so uplifting!
plus i sorta know the band

sound playtime

the glassengine is fun to toy with.

cats and rats

it's raining

uplowed sticky side

(porno is e-bate)

tiff my jpeg baby
you're such an advanced search engine
images more>>personalized for home use daily hourly
scan the document with your inkjet full
____________________________

check( )compose
chick(de)compose
____________________________

download the trebuchet
skinned puchase vehicle
between pages thinly oiled
oxygen backed latex
clean caramel fetish
and i'll meet you in
suburbia storageshed
sometime right about 6
with your cellphone
on vibrate

4 fred 2 months

play ded

snap

the narcissist's daughter

do you want her wurds silent. she spoke
so precisely a talent she learned from
the writer. she can play that play happy
or hapless unincised smile like you smile
at summed other to please gadfly blood
red so human. to banish her stinger
too salted for skinless flanks grate till
the breathing stops shudder just give
your small purpose a wall to nail carcass.
comfort is alkaline meted circumstance
extrusion unkempt and unprodigal
what did you subjugate she will not
subjugate but bandage all wounded
till sun clots up cretinous noone you
mother you made her all mirror and
contrast material instinct sublime

sPillage

small
vacantsign of the eyes
times the trite misdemeanor self spreadlegged
scene so white. how fitting
gotowar .kill the intended. shut his head down
she fucked as an homage to his death
comatose but for three bubbles hunched deep in the throat
when the windcame windcame up and took the house( goawaywhispergoaway )
the kleenex box landing where it had been before
quietly

warcrime

too many too many tomb any tomb any

sept 16 didn't

the id wasn't fake this time
just had the thumb over the birthdate
laughingfuckingstupid doorpet
there's a nonabiding citizen
holding the vital ugly
with pennedkisses and wordfueled bravado
heat up the suprasternal grift in high amperage
predigicalldisplay:prekatycouric:afternine
butpreeleven
prepostpostmodern but for the brashglamour
ripped punknoiseshithead
who told tales of dead boys in a manner
more real than any fancy frolic
as he pinned his heart to her chest

i can see clearer now the brain is gone

although some of this tralala i gurge out is a tad friable wrt validity this is in fact totally true...today i met a man who had had a space occupying lesion in his brain last year and his only symptom was that when he looked directly at something it was more real . his words. honestly, how betterthanlife is that?

the odd wurd

ever have difficulty reading that odd mash of letters with the wobble that they oh so cleverly add to ensure ( yeah right ) that invader cyberhovering computers don't send you trite spammy vaguely cheery virus infiltrating what? what exactly do they send you? links to what? if you hit those sites what happens? a flower grows? what?
anyway, sometimes i can't read the fukn wobblewurd. that's all i want to say.

don't choke, oh sweet ivorypearlescent goo: come on, you know better than to surf and eat!

this post is rated pg14 for sheer unpalatability.
on that caveat of entry...
it would seem, gloriously, that i have motherlodeacne last few days hitting conscious pustularpain level awareness. the krakatoapolyphonicSPRAY syndrome, how could that not hurt?...sheesh. and my dinner was good really when i wasn't wondering how my chin would morph and envelop the nearest 3 tables of benignlydrunken smileyfaces in a sugarpoppin' cometodaddy pusfest.
and you thought noone commented because the content was wang!.. no darling, it's all about interfacing your spiritual advisor, pimping your friends, and keeping it lightheatedly amusant for theidledropperbyers who wanted nothing more than a cheap setabarbells or a good moist grope...
off to pop or sleep, how dilemma laden...i think i shall become a consciencious objector to honeyyouisaflippin'grown-upgrow-up! getting adolescentangstyskindisorders. like zits-a-go-go.

of substance

saw the movie version of this very recently, you know the, what's it called, not cartoon, but overdrawn (?) digi reality version directed by this guy. a lot of image. not to mention a lot of hunter s. style bugs and fast cars. robert downey junior gesticulating just like pitt in 12 monkeys. that being said, yes, i liked it. but i like terry gilliam's visual paranoia better. if i had to pick.

beasts and breadsticks

heard someone singing along to lyrics yesterday
some country horror, and i'll be damned if the lyric wasn't
like 2 sparrows in a hurricaaaane...
i had to point out that was one of the worst lyrics i have ever heard. it even beats out ...don't think that i can take it cuz it took so long to bake it and i'll never have that recipe agaiiiin...
these 2 do, however, depending on the accent and cadence of delivery, ur, rhyme

bending over spreadlites

have a coffee and watch everyone
boy or girl alike stutter
belt cinched in the crotch there make me shift uncomfortable in ice
just watching over the top of the viewmaster
scanning viewslave
quiet stealth voyeurispo
towel the hands after
i'd arch my tongue if i had one word
to moisten the phlegm

july 7, 1974

the death
came as an accident
on the hottest day of the year recorded from a backyard birdhouse
by a kid who dug meteorology (cuz he got a book big with graphs)
so much
he called the station daily excited so he got a job, sorta
in the summer
doing this stuff so he missed the 1306 bus
and as he walked to the park
cuz matthew, matthew had a kite
he didn't see the manhole

Glen Baxter

makes me smile

i love this

this is really quite lovely
as is the hypnotic score

ouija

kinetique haikuish -/+

putting of own head
not ergonomically sound
up own backend

so yin/yang sugar bang

:ingredients

three hundred and fifty five

starched and pressed

subset

:grunge

subsubset

:sugarbaby

raw glycogen :so pps

ache und drang

the work is down

what i did on my summer vacation:
1. made the work
2. hung the work
3. showed the work
4. hated the work
5. loved the work
6. defended the work
7. ate drank shat the work
8. sold the work
9. talked the work
10. unhung the work
11. mourned the work
12. plus a whole whack of other stuff...
and the vacation part mwa-ha-ha-ha life is so funny and not ha-ha funny all the time although enough of the time to make it all perfectly palatable, when i'm not crying into my keyboard

five years 0 and 5

0.

had a tv 5 years ago
it was right about now, about 10 (TeN)
got the call from the courthouse
cadence soundfear ( he was real then i knew his voice )
he told me to turn on the tv
had a tv five years ago ( and a couch: green , warm leather crackle )
again over again mesmerising
on the tv TV! i had
five years ago
called my father ( although i never called him father )
he was home that day five years ago
had a father five years ago
turn on your tv dad ( i called him dad )
dad we are all going to die
it's war it's war on the tv
he said oh

__________________________________
5.


the war never came but it kicked boot in head quite the same
took punk outta punkrock
further the floor shook and openshhhhhhh
and life fell in the hole and buried sinewedconcretespurt
white parchmented gasps d.u.s.t...
memory holds fingers open and blood bits fall gracelessly
carnal vicious striving to survive this glass space
( and the angry strive angry )
that doesn't exist except on the tv TV! 24 hours a day candy
buy vega$ fleshy
bam bam bam how many beats
how many 5 years
menage a melange wordless
a memorial tiffany tryst
there are no people left ( rightleft _ ) on the tv TV!
they left 5 years ago they left 50 years ago they left 5000 years ago
they all walked over the landbridge and they cry
they watch bigger flatter tv TV!
and open popcorn and flavoured stopping by
while the wind blows candied dust napalm
monkey holes in the stratosphere
where bling is king beheaded
and somewhere dusty they lie
studying the stars

the internet humptycrunchy

last year i took a test
do you sometimes feel down, depressed, ahedonic, bungled, divided
or otherwise talentless?
can you feel your fingerprints?
do the birds drop out of the trees when the sun goes in?
can cherries ever taste?
do you ever find carbonbased comfort?
have you hovered lately? was it ecstatic?
your score is 6.
you should call you nearest health professional
immediately
imminent risk
i said immediately
non(comfortable)conformant
not at all well
the funny thing was, when i took the test, last year,when i took the test
i felt quite well, that's the funny thing, last test i took funny
quite last i test ,year it was,last when i took it
the test
and now i don't, but i can't find the test that will put it right

actually

despite the late hour the headache the size of, um, my head, i feel remarkably well. not great mind you, that is okay. pillow/nuzzle/comatose

you see

there are the anarchists and then there are the masturbators, and they are not necessarily mutually exclusive.
on that happier note, off to join society. briefly.

i mean

i have to go to the grocery store in my car and buy things and participate in social intercouse and discourse...veneer. blister. ooze. neck wound without a head, wonder if anyone shall notice...

this is just no time

for a breakdown
won't do at all
no time toulouse, ya know
no just won't do
pull up pull up

just what

am i doing?
am i?
am?
m?
m?aking big holes in atmosphere fill will antisentimental amoral certitides asunder kicked over stink garbage
m?aking excuses, amends, up time, over, a fucking mess of tracksuited observation in poly bags like life thrust away
excuse: donated
m?aking the demon explode lying down with it's love autoerotic
suffocation with little mice dreams in those precious 5 minutes like teasers
hitting the button because sleep is drugged and safe like heroin isn't
hugging the razors because they know my name

big and mean

it would seem the paintings scare
well
also got they are bright
well yes
crisp

he shall dance

with a kickstep FANCY nice smoothness how the girl lives around the corner touching the bushes by the back door smelling her fingers after

speaking of underwater

a stingray into the heart

i'm not that upset

yes i am
liar
pants
f :IRE""""""""""""""""""""""pffWHANG------------uh uh i'm hit

anonybloggy

this mysteryblog thing is odd.
feel so outKAST Llike waaaaaterturBid
and chrnD up. far noise spurns close small movements greyTshirt
yellow PANt who gives a damn about the machine of bloG it's all a CUMon
to get a laff *comeincUMin* pull an audience *lovemyplatterof foldeddusters( hey, it's a brit! ) andiamo ( a latin LOVER ) mon amie ( whatgivesusthe NEED )
what FILz the need. KNEED in the groin. that hurts. byeTRALALAspoonspunspineless
slowquietbreathing RR 16
HR 86
BP 130/82
it is a bit high for a longlife GURL be gurl not aged not that side of mortalcoil.

_____________
okay. time to go do more stuff...

hahahaha

ha!ha!ha!ha!ha!ng the work tomorrow

wurds go latex

it's all muffled today
underwater probably
it's late and i ate odd
foods, though the hummus was divine
yes, that must be it okay, sleep
now
before the sun comes up AGAIN and it's time to go back to
it's all muffled today
underwater probably

look at that smile!

my teeth are growing exponentially
bigger and bigger by the second
that's quite a mouthful
soon they shall have small roadways
and mapped out future subdivisions

can't really join a boy's club

because i am an hermaphrodite

i've started a club

that members only can read
those who can elevate gently to a 45 degree angle hovering with pale turquoise

repeat after tea

a..ah...voy,VOY...DANCE
techniques

a different teacup

okay this whole blogworld is frickin strange. because there are buckets and i do mean buckets of shit to read and wow there are a lot of bitter AND a lot of funny and i think i like the funny better because damn we all float the same magma when it comes down to it. sad is okay. bitter, well, i don't like. ( must banish self of karmic blackholes. remember the weirdos who have made me laugh and smile. i LOVE them all ) and this isn't how i normally ( normally, yeah, look at meeeeee, 2 e-whole months of this spin and i'm an expert! oh funneeee ) write, but is this good or bad. like life, i am eternally distracted by shiny objects, like minds...
lately, the blogs from australia are magic. i think they put something in the water down there.
plan on going sometime before the next millenium, once i figure out how to tie my trousers up and pivot to a happier version, i think soon. dreamt of dad last night. and a stranger with a computer. IN the dining room. WITH the candlestick, oh wait that wasn't it...

must stay quiet

perhaps the girl with ink shall not stain his STAIN pillow
with salt and hot hunted kisses how i recall his tautness
not do that mind wrap of the nook in his arm where my head fit so well for so long
it's better to see him now like drapes accessorized

must up

damn what food in that fridge
that doesn't have a light blue film
with teeny hairs and eyes like peaches
left in the box
yoghurt for longevity
and tofu for moral superiority
caramel for depravity
and tomatoes for my lover's longing