Thursday, September 30, 2010

HOTLINE FAT KID REJECTION

you couldn’t cure my criminality so
it’s every night a hotline walkout
my alligator hide cringes under a confluence
of grooming tips and then the sudden
meaningless, green-noduled bleep

i easily peel against the lizard lid of
my despair

an emptiness or a marathon of wig trampling
social light years imitate the gape:
an imitation gape
telephonic goldilocks is held hostage, it’s become
a death row where’s waldo
in here

the autumn lava lake’s great performance
ended in a copper spout, a big tap for beer jaw
play along to songs teaching cuts
to osmosis, the lazy fast-food route
to death, the fucking funny blood type

after many years i finally got round to churning
brain soda, and so now, finally, a fat kid
got named after me; a desperate cure
needed for a guinea pig like me
said fat kid saw a strange number on a cereal box
plus then also: energy critically eliminated from the
grace of the underboob

they’re electronic golden braids and they’re
really running away from me, and it’s:
hilarious

almost as though the hotline is
taking them for prank calls!

scalpels run amok 
no vaccines against
evenly distributed

emptiness, deactivated in a dog-eared restroom;
homemade contraption reaching out
comes equipped with crème brulee
clowns rallying together pushing for:
railway teeth rainbow burp
and signifying nothing to these
professionals

on purpose?

Wednesday, September 29, 2010

Drive

that’s why people are missing
branching out
for spandex porcupine

after you die
look into the eyes
of the morning’s
posthumous bone starlet

heated bleak
affects your
pterodactyl hat

i love burning bushes 
and gigapixel rumblings
causing bigger problems
than new plasma suicide

positive impact
inflicting personal tetris
on people’s missing
cubbyholes and warm
sigmoids

in the curvy zip tie
the grouch
was hung, 
the tweeting cannon 
on a lazy susan

perched still

unfathomable nuke
knows what he’s talking about
large and small can find
going headless
a huge treat

hurtling toward
the center of the chew,

chill

romantic
bedbug platform

packing orchids is
distinctly different from
the drive up to hell’s
kitchen’s acme

dharma from the
intolerant
apartment

pollutant

Saturday, September 25, 2010

Pain Storage

never been so emotional about an old computer 
blue within, counseling superconductor

wheel of fortune offers more lamp
the wounded decided to show up bowled in glitter

ripped buttons and rivulet ribs are important to all
i think you got it wrong, renaming your brain rc cola

exhaust sudoku with mantis springload 
all your interruptions have exactly that movement

what navel flint can you make with a shoehorn?
wearing a sundress intensely public

acorns landing on our helmets
believe in aliens at any moment with the power of our new red

cranial eggs
start playing, neckties returning with your stolen throttle 

the act of swallowing is messing with my maple syrup
getting ready for my curry trench to burst out

and lie on top of my sweaty warehouse
recumbent scissor got the spiral measure

the treatment of twisty
got drunk during the bagel’s important retrospective

the bridge of my nose refused to dismiss reel-to-reel storage
i do not defend veneer nor taiwan

Somber Arrested Cheering

why so many like
doppler effect who plays meatwad
what i’m doing is i’m waiting for
the slinky to come home
emerge as the big winners, the inspiration paid off:
everybody – including the law – is finally an asshole 
dorking, the place i grew up in,
is out of jail!
i think i am going to follow everybody
steve carrell diverted to prayer
i’m going to become an
endangered jam
the second coming of the tyrannosaurus
polka dots smoking lonely, both tongues in cheek
like sweat chair crust
encounters with the most puzzling kleenex
in a trailing pattern around the nostril diagram
astonishing haunting cmyk images
inspiration for
giant squid’s apology: said he’d see me tomorrow 
last flagellatory look, old crazed droop on the atari 2600
somber arrested cheering, booed wedding day lasers
just doesn’t have
paranormal chores proletarian enough, and,
i don’t know, SOLID enough
an unexplained pancreas is all

Friday, September 24, 2010

Panic In Crimes

rejection by your pockets is hard
their contents go from chocolate to charcoal 
stretchy nightmares
tearing through cobweb sugar,
licking your lips but wading heavily
flattened punctuation in the karaoke
suicide note 
singing this way always mesmerized
the other shoe

transplanted organ of obscure origin, what a
fine, lost, losing thing you are
you’re so crazy, organ – to lose yourself is so crazy – nobody
does that, nobody
simply loses a toy that cute – which
was merely passing by, it
merely asked for directions, asked
what was up, it was merely
passing by when
you grabbed it – and mixed it with
the mental hospital’s lino 

i ‘liked’ botched war crimes on facebook,
and though gaining support among my friends,
their second last and last aftershock look exactly
the same as the previous shocks (each peak
a clone of the other) – like, what sort of
precedent does that set?
i know the stunt is not in fashion but
judo throws freaking rule –
dropping like ho hos
seeds are our mentors’ monsters’ mothers’
disease farming sick,
a fort of sick dangly bumper stickers
instead of blankets, too large
budgies for the aorta cage

if you can produce a single jockstrap, boy
you may rule this island, i
swear

dr. who panics in motion sauerkraut   
how i love how they integrated modern baptism
to spread the whirlwind
and take the new retro by storm
to support our friends at
randomly pushing daisies  
with hands where no person’s hands
should go

Trojan Horse

all the necessary fillings are inserted
the trojan horse feels snug and full, lowered in by the ceiling fan

like paper cuts, lightning caterwauls outside the high draped windows

mood deliciously dark

‘won’t it be hard to sidestep the piñata’s errant scatterpoop?’

the rope dangling from the ceiling fan diminishes
for now they make love on a jurassic marriage buffet

just as it safely touches the floor, the friendly trojan horse gets yanked up by the foot:
disoriented friendly programmers inside frantically design a consoling computation

its treachery unplugged
tranquil domestic stick patterns uncoiled like a maid’s fist in the hair in the bath

now the hoover dam takes over the pavement

rare moments like the fanny pack redaction: says
sex shrouds my liver,
the disorientated occupants stagger out

‘you have till 3am to be chupacabra and then the snuggie will pass, buster,’ she says

a nintendo game boy will die today, he says

‘how did you assholes get in here? our watchdog knows loadbed for carnivals’

PROGRAMMER – shut … shut the fuck up, OK? you ever read the rocking horse?
it’s a great, great story

PROGRAMMER – it’s about a man who calls her genius gambler pussy a barbie heretic

PROGRAMMER – it’s about an infinite amount of doors – you’re welcome to read ‘door’ here metaphorically – with an infinite amount of monkeys in front of them – you’re welcome to read ‘monkey’ here metaphorically –

PROGRAMMER – the theory goes that one of those monkeys will eventually open one the infinite amount of doors

PROGRAMMER – lottery, babe

‘won’t they scatter in a crash death?’

Thursday, September 23, 2010

Lego Universe

junip’s earthquake languished on the drool lattice
calorie vibes come together are a nut for flies
she was the light phase fluffing
the afternoon’s free thor display

we were all excited, like big mouths
for nipples, the bell’s peanut shell
cracking all around us,
tortured like whooping subway bacteria
under our feet,

and there was this strange sexiness
primping us like tampon dolls
and happiness’s assault disorder
reigned briefly, everything briefly
was quite alright

underground it buzzed chattering
junip’s scoops, hard riot debate
religious ideals turned into
light knitted headmounted muslim
the mood straining hard
instead to get laser-eyed nick cave
and other free stuff in it

freedom a muhammad ali cough
expectoration flying through the sky
light phase indeed, acquitted raccoon
yowling, no disorder’s zipcar spark’s
large devil proton in lego quadrants
or on the braille visor

of a monochrome hippie 

Wednesday, September 22, 2010

Uprising (Perhaps A Copy Of Some Manifesto)

i’ve had it with people who blur into
my nightmares
which start out
grand
where i’m making czar compost
and growing things
grand
brainchildren sprouting from
a contemporary art brainscan
but some pissant
comes along – many
pissants, wearing bear-like
hats, wearing care bear hats –
flourishing
primitive farm tools,
czar composting
growing leather cloths vintage enough
to wipe dish soap
dimensions

but by god i never thought
my
robo-shower was going
to start
complaining as i stood washing
under its murmuring
spouts emptying gloves full
of excrement
dressing awkward dirt slipping
nectar obesity
into my pores
generally doing my morning
ritual – rural cologne on their breath,
bitching, ducking at
my kremlin salmonella
which i hysterically and
hilariously
hurl at the fuckers, the solstice
of my shorts waggling
itchy and scratchy mean,
my demeanor
menacing around the glitch of their
gripe, aaron sorkining about
fear hotels my
emotions haphazard 
via knuckles spuming at the sky with
handheld saliva shaking
dressing awkward 
on my knuckles,

but they’re johnny 5
following regret making the escalator
stronger, pawing at
its own opposite
movement, which is what you get when you defy
my gangly synthetic

The Third Tooth

the third tooth was a pyrrhic victory,
shuttling across the twisted hold
injury-draining energy,

the loser (the third tooth) took aim,
my skull became an intricately cracked
rush hour, a balanced pointy-faced egg,
cupped white and brittle churning in
hyperbolic ceremony, flowers
and paisley like my grandfather’s
eyebrows

the liminal pizza cutter
splitting my thoughts into a graphic
fold-out poster, my laughing cerebellum
a red witless eyewitness blooming
gap-mouthed replay

terrible abducted, pinched levitate
the third tooth’s
sunk ocean

Tuesday, September 21, 2010

Pleading Slurp

you could wake up pleading
for stuff

interrogating heat
forming airport friendship

swollen head
volleyball frosting in your
cooking pot helmet begging

doomsday
overcame, but the game hatched
stuff, too – the vending machine’s
father chortled

crayon outtakes
like kryptonite to your feet

charting the land with a clubfooted
compass, buying things like wonder
outtakes

ending up with
stuff, a lifestyle fed on life cereal

dementia learns faster and looks
ahead over its espresso:
a floppy disk sketch comedy

the coin dropped into the
argyle sweater vest
stitched shut in pump dispenser

Monday, September 20, 2010

Ad Busting

grammar bolus on my favorite billboard
at long last replaces energy drinks serving their own  
tentacular life-cycle
viral idea kills for sport
reprimanded, heavy-handed use of handsome chapel output
religion’s alien hand paints
cthulu waffling on
pet peeve jacked up on tourette’s
strange tear obsession driving rend
in best playstation move: umbrella boat runs aground
full of nutella’s motion blur resistance
chicken of the sea tuna head-butting simulated jogger
the street’s snake oil flog; culprit evacuation
logo options based on lifeguard art
drug dead slush pile in pylon grass
russian low-budget swedish massage hints at witchcraft
city-dwelling not around much
brontosaurus college humor: knifeblood’s fresh sharpies
avoid motorcade, resume in ambush’s restless bend
biometric army satire recession
dreamy surgery’s habitable awakening
king of the hill is about shaking your fibonacci sequence string bike chainsaw-less-shotgun-less-bra-less
options based on hungry hungry hippos

Sunday, September 19, 2010

And It Was Good

I
and it was good
it’s on vimeo
mitt romney starring
as a character in
my little pony
what to do if
so recently weaned

II
and it was good
it’s on a view-master
katy perry starring
as a tapeworm
in stan marsh’s
tubby fingers
unpaid wriggling cancellation
doesn’t help prevent
postal delivery of
baby migrant
holding a bike store
hostage with a bottle
of tabasco in
fedora a different sort
of ambience than seen
in my head


III
and it was good
why we’re friends
instead of dislocated
the thin green trail
mossy t1000 fingernail
stretching in exit’s wake
pierced three spokes
turning instead
of a green ninja
mullet in ninja electricity
hiroshima has thrown out
verbose fiesta, those languishing
brightly loud pregnant implicities
shadows puked out of
polyurethane gobbets
the culture blast
watergate scandal’s transformative
money; the dukes of hazzard’s
bicentennial possum

IV
and it was good
phonebook evolver
it’s in a mom joke
your mom’s escort
newspaper hat zero for
when you want a mom:
consult the phonebook, she’s
right there talking to herself
supporting a reversion
to realize her listing
doing things that
isn’t salad
in a wooly crouch
mom’s fit and whoop
and tears at every lan
party g.i. joe attended
the embarrassment of
michael bay’s car’s
toilet cut from traffic
cone focus, those hoarders
of world-deep keyholes
voyeurism in funnels fascinated
set on racewalkers

V
and it was good
you’re actually free
when wandering in and out
of an elevator
back to the future’s
justin bieber of the
republican party
gathering the blossoms
of your exit from
bj’s wholesale club
completely thrown out
of prison catering
machine’s cold-eye cuddle
room service waiter amputee’s
marvel deal celebration by
abduction by animaniacs
in the grip of wrestling’s
violently stupid notes
snaggletooth arterial
which totally wrong-colored
30 rock’s raison de’être

Saturday, September 18, 2010

Time Span Hearth

no, not warpaint – skidmarks
the cardinal’s ‘warpaint’
in his alzheimer’s perceptual
walled grilled cheese
chimney,

i think a vivian leigh balloon walked
in when a woody allen thorn returned
cryptid kvetching
radial swipe of adult service mediocre
radar,

look lively in this dishwasher
a utensil doddering
like a mindcontrol ping-pong
ball in this area
where bigfoot is held captive

hope is sometimes more dangerous and expensive
a typograph crocheting anger into
an eye patch,
eat art oldie finds a strategy discombobulated
unicorn summer

have my ticket, luke skywalker?
‘cardinal skidmark’?
cheesegrill mr. chimney?
walled-in cock?

swoon, bratwurst tiger, kitt hit puberty
and we all have to get out of
the way of his breakfast in bed
antics, his annoying welsh corgi
steve buscemi morning voice
smoke rising curling like a game
of bald patch curling

eating on farming equipment
with a morning mouth shaped
like a wheelbarrow
don’t age and prestige
and many bacon epaulettes love
knight rider?

Friday, September 17, 2010

The Hurts Suck

progenitor of
the microbial clinger,
treat em nice
throw acid in
his austerity when
it’s ready to bite

mr. t you’re on
the cover of
parade magazine
but k2 sits on
its doctored photo
the underwear
bomber created
the perfect
crop circle,

they live,
they live

mighty morphin power rangers
live below
the pencil line, starving but living
a living definitive guide
to tyra banks’
hip buttock breast
storeroom
labyrinth –
in our jerkoff
spray-on t-shirts
laying the mighty
potato gun beneath
robert dinero’s
swimming pool our potatoes

multiplying
into plural ra-ta-ta-ta-ta-ta
syllables
the fugees self-styling their
destruction of potatoes
as a machine gun
on caps lock,

the cookie monster’s
bloated gut
bulging above the
fur wedding band
blocking flow between
skinny
mushroom stem
and bulbous roof –

reaganomics raining down
on our ever-dry
fungus party;
gets his wish,
dead driver inside

the gas tank
gets his blank rodent life,
married
to the austerity of death
every day for lunch
in the tupperware
déjà vu
every day to work
taking shelter
in public intoxication
only with the sunroof open
head poking out

popped faraday effect
isn’t public enough, 
sex slave
microbial, map of the sigh,
they live

in a stuffy pokemon
commune
watching wonder years
day in day out,
ready to bite the
austerity
seeing the world much like
a discussion
disqualifying
depressed gargoyles from
itself, depressing
conversation saying
treat em nice
treat em
nice the whole
time, when i’m so
ready to bite
i can throw acid into the
ancient jaw mug

weapons of mass
destruction: stink bomb
potato gun on caps
lock, camel humping the
hurts hurting
contact lenses
in pasta sauce
maps the growing
dread

Sunday, September 12, 2010

Constituent Parts

what was the squirrel
that walked too fast
and did it drop things?

what violent inclinations
did the mute button hide?
did it drop things?

fruitloop mayhem,
from whose cremation ashes
was it made?

did this brand of chap stick
arise from YOUR cremation ashes?
the severedness –

was it the flocculent cast into the hurricane; were
the white vans carting off the major hurricane’s pathetic loneliness in dusty chunks; were

they carting it off past hooded spooky checkpoints?

Monday, September 6, 2010

Rail Leap

dwarves equate flamboyance
with the jellyfish’s bodycurve
charting sorcery
along its invisible road
all the way to hong kong

molested children deduce eloquence
from reality by suffering the patrols
of street dogs

psychology students deduce eloquence
from reality by mimicking
the wall-crawling of
the submerged head

the really tall repo guy
simply uses his own crewcut
immortality to deduce eloquence
from reality

for a long time the worst dressed super freak
found a visual explanation
in the alchemy of train-hopping 

the pop-up artist
lets it slide down untended
while anti-bullying for headaches
insists on being the best
cause

my quick two heads
were also a plastic artifact;
exhuming me
i’m far more generous now

the mood-enhancing portable artifact
has to be the clip-on halo – some
background or foreground
or side ambience
you can carry in your pocket, haul
out, then attach to the table’s
edge

next to vending machines
alien archeologists agree
the oldest known human answer
to eloquence in reality
is a dial deep enough
to visit the phone reception’s
birthplace

i guess brain surgery
may one day release the burp
from the hidden object mashup,
its emergence surprising many
in the countryside drill-down

the mashup pop-up artist dispensing
frog cells to blend
the oldest hairstyle with
the smeared wall behind it

she’s quicker with two heads but
railway dogs won’t suffer
the dumber one’s leap
across the rails
into the clever one’s
carriage

Thursday, September 2, 2010

esprit de l’escalier Superheroes

esprit de l’escalier superheroes are a form of anti-climax superheroes only there is no climax to ruin on their missions
they arrive just a bit after the ruinable climax has already passed
a crime happens somewhere out there, and the esprit de l’escalier superhero senses it with his superfine senses; it hurts him deeply; in fact, he is offended big time by the crime
the staircase murderer, ronald ‘staircase strangler’ appleberry’s, new crime is downright confusing, and then some –
especially since it forms a neat antithesis to the esprit de l’escalier’s style of rescue
particularly in terms of timing

after much too long has passed, finally the esprit de l’escalier superhero clicks that he has to go and do something about the crime he’d sensed and which he’d been too incapacitated by affront and confusion to at the time do anything about – and this sudden awakening, this revelation, this spirit, takes hold of him, always, while he’s descending a flight of stairs

after which spiritual prompting he promptly jumps into action

a little bit – but at the same time way – too late

how strange though that ronald always strangled his victims on a staircase

lex luthor’s main rival is not the esprit de l’escalier type of superhero, however; in their drunk-driving skirmishes, he always faces off against a run-of-the-mill anticlimax superhero – whose arrival on any crime scene, even to the police, is an anti-climax
his catching a criminal in the midst of committing even the most heinous crime is universally an anti-climax, to all parties involved
even to the victims

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