I.
I want to write the
putrid essence of my soul onto good white paper.
I want to shit hot
farts into the mouth of god.
Debased by the inch
by inch regression,
from the infant
universal soul
into the age of
accidental consciousness
that blemishes my current perception.
We are a
dis-embodied sense of mutual pedestrianism.
I am the core and
chronic function of a stubborn entity.
Me and my
subconscious are merely frienemies.
It’s the end of
these, pedigrees, pretend to be you and me for a minute.
merely combinations
of who gets the chemistry to concoct the recipe
let’s let ourselves
allow the permission set to a level where we can compromise
that’s when we both
realized that these letters generated by
the inebriated ether
from the words which
constitute the concepts and constructs representing
meaningful
information form the basis of our communication.
I’m talking to my
selves again. Passionately disassociated like the frayed
ends of a rope, like
the fibers of a thread un winding from their woven string.
But that’s the
thing.
I like to get wound
up.
Around a single
idea.
I at any single
moment am inconsistent over any period of time.
I scatter brains
unfit to call my own,
I let the good times
roll up on a pack of guerillas,
menthol
revolutionaries, urban explorers,
conquistadores, all with a blade to clean,
dirty stainless
steel in the hearts and minds of passive
murder accessories,
witnesses to crimes consent to let the assailants walk
around in business suits,
It is the plain
apparent truth, that justice must be taken, and is never granted.
3/14/2012 10:17 PM
No sense like the
better butter peanut spread
with a blunt knife
on the split top wheat bread.
I jam buried in the
preserves
and I deserve that
glass of milk,
my udders done
over-performed.
I buzzed, I’m
swarmed.
The honey drips down
from the hive,
I’m cultivated,
grown from a culture
well saturated in
essential essences and effervescents.
And I smell like a
sculpture le penser.
I cling to buildings
like a flames get-away.
Who’s that creeping
up the fire escape,
As if you weren’t
following along,
I’ll make it sweet,
find the bliss
and expand it
make it righteous
like the light of a torch on your own
dark island.
I starve medical
patients of their remedies.
I supplement the
income of mentally retarded game show hosts.
Such a service to
the community.
I wish them well as
far as the arrow goes,
the robin hood who’s
brow is brooding
sings as humming
birds sip orchids blooming
those winged bats in
church’s steeple ominous
nomen sacred
namesake shake down
the fathers license
plate entitles offspring a leg up
its delimited by the
concentration of the trickle down.
