can’t use the machines
he’s locked
locked in there
a professional in slippers
the comfort of familiar surroundings
he touches machines
that he can’t operate
a gram stolen from hospitals
hidden inside his veins
pin pricked
Fall over Elvis
burn idols – he
stepped in what was left over
after he had eaten –
the vomit
meat hanging from bones.
It wasn’t like that then
it isn’t like this now
so face facts & remove that moustache it only hides things
tiny morsels and crumbs.
Eatmorewords's Blog 
……………………………….HE TOUCHES MACHINES
……………………………….THAT HE CAN’T OPERATE
undifferentiated semantics backdoor kindred phenomena
pitted against other-worldliness UFO maids and monkeys
poetically transformed smells………apes stink !!!
people leave comments in semantic circles
they claim to be intelligent
they have to tell me that they are horses
oh winded lathery horse enter my parlor and introduce me to your horsedom
often an unknowable is essentially knowable
I touch YOKO in places that I cannot operate
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UFO MAIDS AND MONKEYS………………………………….EVOKING TOO MANY FINGERS
…………………………………………………………………………….TO BE A TRUE HUMAN
WAS IT A MACHINE THAT KILLED HIM ?
A METAL OBJECT REPUDIATING ALL PHILOSOPHY
HE WAS FILTHY RICH AND YET A BEGGAR
THE GRAND SEDUCER OF BILLIONS OF EARS
IF YOU LOOK CLOSE YOU CAN SEE HIS CREATIVE POWERS INSIDE MY LOBES
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OBJECTS CARRY WITHIN THEMSELVES ELEMENTS OF INADEQUACY
YOKO WAS FAMOUS FOR HER SAP OF CREATIVE POWERS
CREATIVITY ALONE OR UNDER COVERS
YOU COULD TASTE THE SALT
HER BLOOD ICY COLD
SHE MADE HIM SIGN UP FOR DEATH
THERE WAS NO PROTECTION IN HIS DOMESTICITY
SHE GAVE HIM A RED MARKER AND SAID “COLOR”
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PREVIOUS SPLENDOR… THE SOUND OF THE HORNS… HEAVEN HAS STARTED
MEANINGLESS LIFE NOW TURNS INTO MEANINGLESS TORTURE
OUTSIDE THE WALLS OF HEAVEN IS A NIHILIST PLAYGROUND
MEAT HANGING ON BONES
MEAT HANGING ON METAL
THE POSSIBILITY OF THINGS BEING BETTER THAN THEY ARE OBSERVED
IS IMPOSSIBLE WITH A BATHTUB RING OF HOPELESSNESS
WEAKNESSES OF FAITH AND PERSONALITY
MISSING FINGERS IN CONTEXT
………………..HE TOUCHES MACHINES
………………..THAT HE CAN’T OPERATE
ALL POETRY MUST RHYME………..ARBITRARY BUTT PLUGS
ALL POETRY MUST RHYME………..PERVERSE USES FOR TAMPONS
ALL POETRY MUST RHYME………..SENTIMENTAL YET PREPOSTEROUS
AT THE VERY TIME THE EXPERIENCE IS ELUDING THE MATH MEAT CUTTER
WHAT A VARMIT WE CUT ITS HEAD OFF AND NOW WE CANNOT CATCH IT
THIS IS A POETRY WORKSHOP WE MUST COMMUNICATE
PESSIMISM HAS NO PLACE IN THE COMMODE
JOAN RIVERS IS ELUDING THE FAMILY
HER HUSBAND WAS A MODEL HUSBAND
HE FOLDED UP PARAGRAPHS AND LINED HIS SHOES
HE TREASURED THE NAUSEA ASSOCIATED WITH PERSISTENT IRONY
IRONY WAS LIKE A SENIOR CITIZEN SEXUAL COMPULSION
I AM NOT GOING TO SAY ANYTHING ABOUT OLDER WOMEN
BITTER PEANUT BUTTER……….YELLOW STAINS ONLY ON THE LEFT SIDE
MAN AND WOMAN WITHOUT HAPPINESS
MAN DIES WOMAN PURCHASES NEW FACE
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OBJECTS CARRY WITHIN THEMSELVES ELEMENTS OF INADEQUACY
IF YOU BOUNCE YOKO LIKE A BASKETBALL HER UTERUS FALLS OUT
THE POET HIDES HIS FACE..STUCK ON A PRIMITIVE LEVEL OF INFANTILE SEXUALITY
NEUROTIC MENTALITY IN 2013………THE ROLES OF SIGNS AND SYMPTOMS
ALL-TOO-HUMAN ATROPHY…..CUT IT OFF…..PULL IT OUT BY THE ROOTS
NOTHING ESSENTIAL ABOUT THE POET HAS BEEN DISCOVERED
SELF-CONTAINED POET SHAPING HIMSELF TO THE FULFILLMENT
CREATIVE PURPOSE POWERS THE ALARM CLOCK
A CRUEL HYPOTHETICAL CENSOR STANDS GUARD
OBJECTS CARRY WITHIN THEMSELVES ELEMENTS OF INADEQUACY
IF YOU BOUNCE YOKO LIKE A BASKETBALL YOU’VE GONE TOO FAR
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a row of husbands with secret codes are activated on a whim – Joan has the codes – she dreams them and captures them like swollen butterflies in new mornings
when the future poet has no rhyme an online form can be filled – everything is so easy these days it cheapens the process –
it’s just a magic trick –
monkeys with a typewriter – paintings of souls going to hell – a fear of irrational numbers – untidy mind – backtracked lyrics imply darker forces – she fondled sharp knifes – aberrations of celestial objects – fear of the full stop – splattered butchers apron – the sinew – meat rind – the fall of the Roman Empire – driven half mad through starvation – the hallucination of concentration camp victims – a line in bingo
Julian was just a footnote – his name always ended with an asterisk – he was simply know as the “other one”
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THE LOVE FOR THE SPECIAL MEAT………..SEDUCTIVE ALLUREMENT
6000 POETS CRAVE THE MEAT BUT IT IS UNOBTAINABLE
IT EXISTS IN AN IMAGINATIVE LOCATION
A SECRET EMPTY SPACE
DIFFERENT PEOPLE KNOW DIFFERENT DIRECTIONS
IT IS NEVER AT THE END OF A STREET
IT HAS NOTHING TO DO WITH POLAR BEARS
POLAR BEARS ARE NOT ONLY DEAD NOW BUT ALSO IN THE FUTURE
THEY ARE ATOMISTICALLY DECEASED…THEY HAVE EATEN THEIR CHILDREN
THOSE THINGS IN THE ZOO ARE NOT POLAR BEARS
THEY ARE DISCARDED MODELS WITH DAMAGED DNA
THEY CARRY WITHIN THEMSELVES INADEQUACY
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A ROW OF HUSBANDS…..REDUCED TO PERSONAL CONCERNS OF THE WIFE
YACK YACK WIVES LIKE VULTURES OR MOTHERS OF VULTURES YACK YACK
PEEL BACK A LAYER JOHNNY…..REVERT TO AQUATIC LIFE JOHNNY
COUGH UP A WORM………….PUNCH IN A CODE
SWOLLEN BUTTERFLIES TRYING TO RECALL TUBULAR BELLS
THEIR INTUITION INFLATED LIKE A BALLOON ON MEXICAN METH
THAT LITTLE GIRL SWALLOWED A PIANO AND MADE DEVIL LIKE DO-DO
VOMIT ACROSS THE ROOM……EPILEPTIC CONVULSIONS
THE BED WAS LIKE A CRAZED CARNIVAL RIDE
MORBIDLY RESTRICTED BY A STOMACH FLU DEMON FROM HELL
PRIESTS TRIED TO PULL THE PIANO OUT THE HARD WAY
EVERYTHING GOT OUT OF HAND
THE MOTHER OF JIMMY THE PRIEST WAS PERFORMING ORAL IN HADES
SHE WAS VISIBLE IN THE DARKNESS
A LIGHTED MATCH
THE CIGARETTES THE BOOZE THE PUSHING JESUS AWAY
MOMMA WAS ALL ALONE BECAUSE JIMMY WAS ON THE FAST TRACK
HE WAS BENT ON HIS LEISURE
ALL ALONE LIKE HIS MOTHER
THE CIGARETTES THE BOOZE THE REPEATED PUSHING JESUS OUT THE DOOR
COMPLICATED PSYCHIC STATES THIS UNITED NATION OF MUDDLES
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REPEATING A RHYME THREE OR MORE TIMES
COMPLEX PATTERNS FORMAL STRUCTURES
FEMININE RHYMES WITH HELLO KITTY PUSH PINS
EVIDENCE OF REFRAIN…..STANDING AT THE URINAL
ANOTHER HAND GIVES YOU A SATISFACTORILY SHAKE
EXOTICISM OR HUMOR ………TO HELL WITH ONLINE FORMS
PECULIAR POETRY IS HERE TO SAY
WHEN JOAN FIRST WENT TO THE DOCTOR
HE ASKED HER IF SHE HAD EVER HAD THE DESIRE TO SWALLOW A PIANO
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people with mental poverty try to sell possessions for ideas – a day of no thoughts is the slow death of man – half chewed half formed gristle –
cat scans reveal different synapses in the poets brain – internal roadmaps taking us away
from the butcher
from the factory
from the mathematicians
from Kodiak bears to polar bears – caged and asked to form sentences for scientists – tests were commissioned –
they shaved their heads & wired them to electrodes – they held up postcards and told the bears to draw what they thought was on the back of them – they always drew picture of HER –
the models inside the bear costumes shivered and tried to reconnect their damaged DNA – their bee sting lips
their tiny bones
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WHEN JOAN WAS 10 YEARS OLD
SHE WAS INTO SELF-RIDICULING
THIS MADE HER PARENTS VERY UPSET
HER DAD WOULD SAY, “WHAT ARE YOU A COMEDIAN ?”
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I PONDER WHAT TONGUE-IN-CHEEK POVERTY MEANS
UNEDUCATED PEOPLE ARE ALWAYS CONCERNED
WITH STANZAS AND RHYMES
ADHERENCE TO THE PAST
NO INTERPLAY ONLY “THE EXPECTED”
CHURCH LADIES WITH MAGNIFYING GLASSES
INTRICATE PATTERNING
SOMETIMES IN A SENSE OF SUBTLE MUSICALITY
I CRY WHEN I TOUCH HOMEMADE LACE
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THE AESTHETIC EFFECT OF SOMETHING MONSTROUS:
poor people selling their possessions for ideas
A DAY OF NO THOUGHTS:
no higher pleasure than hooking a new thought on the tip of a poem knitting needle
MEAT MADE IN A FACTORY:
oblivious to the bleak surroundings lab-meat re-evoking mobile fetters
SCIENTISTS INSPECT THE BRAIN OF THE POET:
the poet loves his existence more than himself
INTERNAL ROADMAPS LEAD TO CRIME:
stuck in a feudal system where performers are kept under control
FROM THE BUTCHER:
an unornamented personal existence….everything is red….talk about karma
FROM THE FACTORY:
workers alien in spirit….pockets of emptiness….children with gallons of snot
FROM THE MATHEMATICIANS:
the boundless complexity of organisms in a dark forest of hello kitty push pins
FROM KODIAK BEARS TO POLAR BEARS:
adult bears with necklaces made of baby bear bones learn to paint like Picasso
THE MODELS INSIDE THE BEAR COSTUMES:
just a few minutes in the suit can harrow up the soul
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I collected lace from mourners as they left the cemetery – like the body they came to mourn its served its purpose – I recycle the lace and sell it to the new mourners – there are always new mourners – life begats death –
star crossed lovers
can’t have one without the other
life is a waiting room for death he said when he returned from the war – the sons of suicide are always susceptible to self destruction –
I have one black suit for death occasions – one white shirt – frayed at the wrist (right arm only)
I have masks I wear at these occasions – Yoko mask with horse hair – a mane
in fact-
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She was a comedian of sorts
she made people laugh but this was normally at her
not with her –
her parents never demanded of her – no parents ever demand of their offspring “what do you think you are? A poet?”
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I LIVE SOMEWHERE GUILTY OF WALKING ON THE MOON
AN OCCASIONAL FLIGHT TO THE MOON
THE EXPLORATION OF THE MOON TERRITORY
CORNERED THE MARKET ON MOON LANDINGS
THEY BROUGHT BACK A FEW SOUVENIRS
ROCKS NO DIFFERENT THAN EARTH ROCKS
THEY MAY HAVE BEEN EARTH ROCKS
EVERYONE KNOWS IT IS ALL A BIG LIE
WHY ELSE WOULD YOU BOTHER TO GO TO THE MOON ?
NOTHING THERE !!!!!!!!!!
LOTS OF NOTHING RIGHT HERE ON EARTH
I WOULD RATHER THINK ABOUT MODELS IN BEAR SUITS
DID THEY MAKE IT HOME AFTER THEIR GIG ?
IT MAY BE THEIR FACES THAT WASH UP
DO YOU FEEL EMPATHY FOR THE KNIFE ?
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THE ONE THING I COULDN’T STAND ABOUT THE WORKERS AT THE CUTLERY
THEIR CHILDREN ALWAYS HAD HEAD COLDS AND WERE FULL OF SNOT
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lack of vitamin C lead to yearly colds –
fevers – kids shaking like shitting dogs – a steady diet of reconstituted meat – children under the age of 7 are 34% snot – asbestos factory
no fruit allowance
no fish
lack of iron
bow legs weak gait
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I have written a poem about the moon landings – about the unfortunate deaths of those involved:
death by cattle stampede
shaving incident
suffocated on fur
murdered by a rampaging bear in a busy street –
there was no jack ruby moment – no one stooge used to kill rumours
about the conspiracy of landing on a rock –
lets be frank – it was just a ruse to piss off the communists –
no one wanted communists on the moon –
I read that people only buy souvenirs to remind themselves of places they’ve been –
the last gig i went shock my organs about inside – my ears rang for 24hours causing a temporary feeling of vertigo – I fell down twice – no one offered to pick me up – they gave me a wide berth and pointed – I heard whispers –
they will be the first band on the moon –
I bought a face at the gig – a branded knife for which I have only sympathy
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WHAT GOOD IS VITAMIN C IF YOUR SCROTAL SAC HAS BEEN DISLODGED ?
SQUEEZED DRY FROM PLEASURE……DEPLETED
IT NOW HANGS IN A HORIZONTAL RATHER THAN A VERTICAL
(would a cannibal find it appetizing ?)
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HER CRIMSON JOY WAS A CROTCH OF JELLO
AS A PEEPHOLE…WHO OR WHAT WAS LOOKING OUT ?
ARE THERE LESBIAN LIZARDS ?
SALLY, GO ROUND THE ROSES
EMILY DICKINSON NEVER SAID THOSE WORDS
ALTHOUGH SHE HAD NO MONEY
EMILY WAS EXPECTED TO PAY HER FATHER RENT
death tending daddy……….womb to tomb
HER POETRY WAS AN EXTERNALIZATION OF CONFLICT
WITH A STRONG MAGNIFYING GLASS YOU CAN SEE WORMS IN HER WORDS
SADLY, WORM FACES ARE INDISTINGUISHABLE
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TONGUE-IN-CHEEK POVERTY
IS LIKE COMEDY WRAPPED IN BACON
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SEXUAL INITATION AT THE MOUNTAIN ABBEY WITH THE MONKS
TO STUDY FOR THE PRIESTHOOD WITH OR WITHOUT EXTRA SKIN
SOME WOULD SAY THAT IT WAS AN OVERWHELMING EVENT
A TAUTER TIME…. FIRMER BUT LESS DRAMATIC THAN HIGH SCHOOL
CARNAL AND SPIRITUAL COMBINED….QUESTION IS, CAN YOU WALK AWAY ?
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THE FOUR SQUARE FLORIDA SHROUD
BACKED BY THE LURKING APE
WITH A MASK OF A GRIZZLED KODIAK
OH DO PRAY GENEROUS APOLOGISTS
ALL THE FROZEN OR PETRIFIED FACES
TENNESSEE WILLIAMS
HAS THROWN OUT THE WINDOW
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BURIAL IN A PRISON
PRISONER FOR LIFE
WASHED FREE OF SKIN
ELECTRICITY BENEATH THE FLESH
THEY SAY YOU CAN SEE THE LIGHTS
A LONG RUNNING JOKE
BOB DYLAN ERASING THE TWILIGHT ZONE
HIS SOUL INSIDE A MANNEQUIN
PEOPLE IN KENTUCKY THINK
HE HAS A SINISTER VOICE
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ANONYMOUS SEX
ANONYMOUS FACES
FEMALE MUD-WRESTLING
IN RURAL INDIANA $5 GETS YOU IN
STRONG ARM MARAUDERS…..BETWEEN AGGRESSION AND LOVE
CIVILIZED POETRY BECOMES UNCIVILIZED…….BROKEN BONES NIGHTLY
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PHOTOGRAPHS OF THE FROZEN OR PETRIFIED
THROWN OUTSIDE BY FAILURE TO SANITIZE GENITALS
I SAW TENNESSEE WILLIAMS WASH HIS HANDS
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OPENING UP AND BEING VULNERABLE
BOY, THERE’S A TICKET FOR YOU
ENTER THE ARENA WITH YOUR GENITALS ON DISPLAY
NUDITY IS A WEAPON TO WIELD
TRY TO THINK UPFRONT
CONSQUENCES BITE FROM THE BACKSIDE
EACH DAY IS BITTERSWEET
SMART PHONES HAVE NO BRAKE
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AN INTELLIGENT MACHINE WILL MAKE EVOLVED COPIES OF ITSELF
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photocopiers don’t evolve
they are plagiarists
copying the work of others
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a string of 111s and 0000s leads back to her – she had read your correspondence, opened your mail – edited / censored words – others emailed DEMANDING YOU LOOK AT THEM – bragging begging letters through future methods – in my spare time I design logos for companies that don’t have objective reality – they DON’T EXSIST – future rooms – Otis men in parallel places always moving vertically till vertigo makes their nose bleed – my eyes are heavy my limbs lead – i am concurring her in my English mind
I
am
Yoko in a kimono
smartphones have no breaks but you can’t take a photograph with a car
lost phones down the back of sofas and tomorrow a thousands sofas will ring
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DEMANDS FOR AUTHENTICITY
LIKE PERFECT LOGS FOR THE FIREPLACE
FADE, WILT, SHRINK
WHAT DIFFERENCE WILL IT MAKE WHEN
EL SALVADOR MOVES NORTH ?
MEXICO WILL STOP IN CANADA
GUGGENHEIMS WILL FLY TO SWITZERLAND
GROTESQUE COLLEGE KIDS WILL PICK FRUIT
SCARRED SCHOOL DROPOUTS WILL MAN THE SEX TRADE
A PILLOW CASE OVER THE HEAD………DO YOUR THING
YOU BE BEGGING FOR THE MACHINES
MACHINES WILL BE NAZI-BETTER THAN PEOPLE
JOIN THE MACHINE UNDERGROUND !!!
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MACHINES WILL HAVE NO MOTHERLAND
MACHINES WILL NOT WEAR TIE-DYE AND SLOBBER VIETNAM
ALL TRACES OF THE 57,000 DEAD AMERICANS ARE LONG GONE
PEOPLE ARE JUST COUNTERFEIT ANIMALS
STUCK IN A RELIGION THAT PREACHES THE
USELESSNESS OF COMPETING
FOLLOWING JESUS’S EXAMPLE IS TOO EXCRUCIATING
HELLO KITTY ON THE SMART PHONE
HELLO KITTY IS THE OCCULTED JACKPOT OF INABILITY TO REACT
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BOW LEGS WEAK GAIT ( IS THAT CODE FOR BILL GATES ? )
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THE MACHINE SYNTHESIZES THROUGH METAPHOR
RISKS AND ERRORS/RISKS AND TERRORS
TINY TUBES BEHIND THE EYES STRONGLY STRESSED
FALLING PREY: THE TESTS OF TIME/THE PASSAGE OF TIME
DEFLATING THE TIRES AND GOING UNDER
DON’T TELL THE RENTAL PEOPLE
RENTAL EMPLOYEES ARE WORN OUT, INERT, IN AN INSUBSTANTIAL WAY
HANDING YOU THE KEYS IS AN INFRINGEMENT
ON ALL THOSE YEARS OF SCHOOLING
DECAYING TEETH FROM ALL THOSE YEARS OF SCHOOLING
……..THE ONE DESIRE: BUYING ITALIAN CIGARETTES WITH A DIFFICULT GERMAN NAME
A RING OF KEYS THAT OPEN NOTHING
LOST EXOTIC RENTAL CARS/ONE AMISH BUGGY WITH BURNT-OUT RIMS
MACHINES MAY MAKE PROBLEMATIC POETRY AT FIRST
BUT HANG ONTO THE DOTS OF YOUR UNDERWEAR
MACHINE MADE POETRY WILL BE LIKE PETER FONDA ON A MOTORCYCLE
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A POET WHO TORTURED HIMSELF AND HIS READERS
HE LONGED TO REACH THE FAR-OFF LAND
WHERE POETS SMOKED ITALIAN CIGARETTES
AND STOOD PROUD WITH THEIR SACS
NEARLY TOUCHING THE GROUND
TO DESTROY THE EXISTING SOCIAL ORDER
TO RETURN TO A WORLD OF APES
NO MORE SAD BOYS, SAD GIRLS, OR SAD TOYS
THE WORST THING THAT COULD HAPPEN
WOULD BE SOMEONE MIGHT TOSS SOME POOP
OR WRITE ONE OF THOSE JAPANESE POEMS
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MACHINE MADE POETRY….YOUTH READING BOOKS
JOHNNY BOY SMOKING HIS SHEPHERD’S PIPE
PREDICAMENTS OF THE FUTURE
I WANT MY ITALIAN CIGARETTES
MY TUBE OF HAPPINESS
MY RUB-ON PAIN KILLER
UNSPOKEN HAPPINESS
BELIEVE IT, COMRADE
JESUS WILL COME DOWN
MY PRIVATE DEITY
BETTER FRIENDS IN DEATH
ADAM AND EVE FADE AWAY
JOAN AND YOKO FADE AWAY
I HOLD JESUS IN MY ARMS
I CRY AMID SINFUL ECSTASIES
THE RUB-ON PAINKILLER
IT MAKES ME SEE THINGS
IT MAKES ME FEEL ALIVE
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machine made poetry will be like Peter Fonda on a motorcycle
THE HATEFUL WORLD OF PEOPLE WHO WORK AT FOOD MARKETS
SIGNALS WITH SUBSTANDARD RHYTHMS
YOUR OUTFLINGINGS ARE ON THE CURTAINS
MOM IS GOING TO BE SO UPSET
“JOHNNY BOY, YOU ARE NOT SERVING GOD BY SHOOTING GOO ON THE CURTAINS”
MOM HAD TWO DEMANDS: MORALITY AND USEFULNESS
LIFE WAS OVERLOADED WITH A WIDE VARIETY OF CONSEQUENCES
SNAKES IN THE CHOIR WITH ALTERNATIVE NAMES
WOMEN WITH THE RIPE EAR AND GIANT GROIN PILLOWS
AN OLD STORY THAT LEAKS DURING SLEEP
THE PANGS OF LIFE TESTED EACH MONTH
BURNING RED UNDER THE FUR
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——————-OH YES JOHNNY BOY——————————-
WOMEN WITH THE RIPE EAR
YOU HEARD IT HERE FIRST
CAN YOU IMAGINE EVE SITTING IN THE WILD WITH A BABY ON HER LAP ?
WHAT ARE WE GONNA DO TODAY ? THEY HAD NOTHING BUT THE NATURAL WORLD
THERE WERE NO MARKETS…NO DOLLAR STORES…NO TOILET PAPER
THEY DID NOT HAVE JESUS TO PRAY TO OR REST HOPE UPON
I’ve read that Adam was so beautiful that Eve drooled when she looked at him
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HUSTLER MAGAZINE OFTEN LEAD TO OUTFLINGINGS
ONE SORT OF LOVE MUST BE REJECTED
BEFORE ANOTHER CAN BE ACCEPTED
PROGRESSIVE ACCEPTANCE
EVERY NEW BABY
PROMISES HOPE
CONTINUITY OF THOUGHT
IMAGINATIVE EXCURSIONS
DEFEATING THE WOLF
AT THE DOOR
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EACH NIGHT YOKO AND I PRAY TO GOD
THAT HE WILL GIVE US THE WHITE STONE
AT THE END OF ALL BEING
THE WHITE STONE IS A TOKEN
OF FAVOR
IT IS A TRUE SIGN
THAT ONE HAS CLEARED
JUDGEMENT
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LIFE SEEMS FULL OF CRAFTY FABRICATORS
SOMEONE HAS BEEN MAKING ART IN THE CATACOMBS
GUILT-RIDDEN ENEMIES OF GOD
EXPLOITATION OF WOMEN BY MEN
EXPLOITATION OF NATURE BY HUMANS
THE SOILING OF BEAUTIFUL THINGS
GROTESQUE AND OBSCENE MIRRORS
REFLECT FEMININITY IN ALL ITS GLORY
MULTIPLICITY CAN BE SINISTER AND SUFFOCATING
PLEASE DON’T TAKE PHOTOGRAPHS
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SOMEONE INVENTED ROCK AND ROLL
TO SMOTHER THE SOUNDS
OF THINGS THAT NEED
TO BE HEARD
WHEN THEY CHOP WOOD
ON YOUR HEAD
YOU ONLY HEAR DRUMMING
I LIVE ON THE FRINGE OF THE JUNGLE
AT NIGHT I CAN HEAR THE NATIVES
ANIMATED ONLY BY THE MOST BASIC INSTINCTS
I AM BUT A CAUCASIAN PIECE OF CHALK
I AM NOT HARRIED BY APPETITE
I SUBMIT TO MY LORD
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NOAH ASKED HER TO BE ON THE ARK
SHE SAID NO THANKS
SHE LOVED DANCE, GESTURE, MIME, MASKS
SHE LOVED DRUGS AND NARCOTICS
AND TECHNIQUES OF ALIENATION
WHY BOTHER BEING IN A SMALL STINKY BOAT
WITH REALLY TROUBLESOME RELIGIOUS NUTS
AND FIERCE ANIMALS SEA-SICK BEYOND BELIEF
SHE WOULD JUST LEAP INTO THE WATER
AND INHALE DEEPLY
MOVE OVER, JESUS
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COMPULSIVE IRRATIONAL SEXUAL INSTINCTS
TO BURY YOURSELF IN THE HEAT OF A TROLLOP
TO LOVE THE TASTE AND TEXTURE OF HER HAIR
TO SLOBBER IN THE GENUINE SUBMISSIVENESS
NEVER THINKING OF THE SWIRLING TIDES OUTSIDE
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THE BEATLES WERE TEEMING WITH BUFFOONS
BUNGLED ATTEMPTS AT MURDER
STAMMERING CONFUSION FROM HEAVY NARCOTICS
CONSTANT SEXUAL FRICTION
YOKO BEING A BROKEN HARP STRING
ON PAUL’S BASS
RINGO WITH THE CLOWN NOSE
SELF-PITY…MELODRAMATIC POSTURING
JOHN DENYING HIS PEASANT BLOOD
DIRECTIONLESS, CONSTANTLY STEALING
GEORGE WITH BROKEN WINGS
COURTEOUS, COMPLIANT, HEAVEN FOCUSED
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rock n roll is a portal itself Jerry Lee Lewis was born in a thunderstorm god fearing Kentuckians vomited at the thought of his hips
Elvis shared his hair
everyday I can hear the clucks of natives
horrible things in the canopy
people have started to kidnap the maids and drill into their heads to remove the scriptures they will cannibalise the words and spit out shit
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rock n roll is a portal itself
Jerry Lee Lewis was born in a thunderstorm god fearing Kentuckians vomited at the thought of his hips
Elvis shared his hair
everyday I can hear the clucks of natives
horrible things in the canopy
people have started to kidnap the maids and drill into their heads to remove the scriptures they will cannibalise the words and spit out shit
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Joan was on the ark
she stowed away in a trunk marked “anonymous mush” –
she packed 4 faces for the jaunt – the animals smelt her up and down – they sensed things were wrong –
the animals skipped tutorials in favour of fornication and vomiting – Joan never meet Yoko who was in her cabin in a narcotic fug
Jesus appeared in a vision as a fish large scales down his side shiny skin oily
no one noticed him
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WHEN YOKO WAS A CHILD THEY REMOVED HER LUNGS
SAYING THAT SHE HAD TUBERCULOSIS
THEY KEPT THEM ALIVE IN A “MAW-PAW” ROOM
YOKO LATER IN LIFE PURCHASED THIS ROOM
AND HAD THE ENTRANCE PERMANENTLY SEALED
THAT NO OTHER LUNGS WOULD FALL VICTIM
( a “maw-paw” room is a place where one person’s happiness
injures the happiness of another person )
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the lungs were replaced by machines controlled by pulleys and levers – if you put your ears close to her chest your could hear the winches strain – tiny lungs – two small bellows –
days spend sitting in front of the sealed door – Sean records her random acts of kindness and posts them on the internet – he is a proud son
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quivering lungs dear Johnny Boy
after they legalized the organ whorehouses
I was no stranger to the Lung Brothel
the smell of pink moist lungs
intimate scenes from a Peeping Hole
Antony and the Johnsons on the screen
gesture, mime and sounds of trapped-beast
rather eccentric but a bucket of boiling jism
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you said “spit” but possibly you meant “spurt” ?
I thought that I was safe
but I was holding my own hand in the dark
there was no substitute for myself
FRENCH AVANT-GARDE WAS BANKRUPT
they are so terrible at math that they can’t tell time
non-digital clocks are worthless
even with digital clocks there’s the problem of am & pm
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before Sean goes to sleep he always thinks:
“how can I toughen the fibers of my integrity ?”
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No one has the need for clocks – they have phones – no one needs cameras – they have phones – no one needs TVs they have phones – no on talks because they have phones –
bankrupt but we try and keep the words alive – a broken clock is right twice a day – but it’s still broken – CALL THE OTIS MEN screwdrivers needed FIX TIME –
time is measured differently these days:
the time it takes to smoke a cigarette
the period between Joan’s new face
meat decomposition
etc
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POOR SEAN WITH HIS LIPS OF RIDICULE
VISIBLE IN THE MIRROR
BIG JUNGLE SNAKES
THE TRUE LIPS CAN NEVER BE KNOWN
THEY GUARD THE ORAL PRIVACY
AS A CHILD THE PRYING PARENT
AMATEUR PSYCHOANALYST
IMPONDERABLE MYSTERY
JUST THINK……………….
YOUR FATHER IS THE BEATLE KING
YOUR MOTHER A BAG OF BONES
THREE POUNDS TOTAL
SECRET LUNGS AND DARKNESS
A VOCAL CAT WITH ITS TAIL ON FIRE
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MOTHER FIXATION LIKE A NAIL IN A BOARD
DEFENDING HER HONOR
HER TINY BONES
AND FEATHERS
LAUGHABLE
BUT NOT WITHOUT PAIN
TABLOID ISSUES: SEXLESS INCEST
OLD FORMULA UNDERSTANDING
THE HOLLOWNESS OF LIFE
800 MILLION DOLLARS
SHE CAN’T LIVE FOREVER
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YOU STEP OUTSIDE ON THE STREET
UNEARTHING TAKES PLACE
A MENTAL DERELICT SHOTS YOU
BLOOD BECOMES ABANDONED HOPE
ALL THOSE THOUGHTS
ALL THOSE SONGS
BABBLING THEN BLANK
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OMG, UNCHARACTERISTIC PUGNACITY:
TOSSED POOP
JAPANESE POEMS
EVANGELICAL SALAD DRESSING
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the tossed salad dressing tossed from the human pipe –
bad mistakes don’t always wash themselves away – you can’t always burn it clean –
nightmares of corridors closed doors the fear of what’s behind them –
small rodents scratching
blue corpse hardening
hedge fund meeting
the last political prisoner
she found a way into my heart – she shrunk herself and crawled in – just add water and she’ll expand to normal size – she’s magic
a magician
tricks up her sleeve
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what the hell did you mean
when you said that YOKO
owed her origin
to a calculus of utility ?
god bless all the things
that can lead to our extinction
zombies to consume our soft goods
Arthur C.Clark laughing about ballistic missiles
get smoked up with Arthur
joke about science
the world’s smartest computer
without common sense
our pursuit of knowledge
limited by YOKO’s vocals
defensive shields by Joan
———-Pandora’s Box
relinquishing dangerous sex
we know that she is strapped
to your western leg
like a butterfly
eyelashes on the head
the showstopper dong
are you really Frank Sinatra ?
the apples and pears
painted by Cezanne
in the ape sac
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playing honeymoon with Yoko
drilling through the icy crust
sticking it in isn’t as easy as you thought
it means resolving a multitude of engineering obstacles
you stick it in and it comes out the other side
(instead of bang-a-gong you bang-a-lung)
you can see the bulge inside
the challenges of burrowing
you think about the access hole
being lowered nose-first
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YOU THINK ABOUT THE ACCESS HOLE
BEING LOWERED NOSE-FIRST
IMAGE-PRODUCING
A GIGANTIC ABSCESS
FULL OF CHRISTIAN PUS
SUNDAY AFTER SUNDAY
AND NOW YOU NEED TO DRAIN IT
THE LIES, THE BASENESS, THE HYPOCRISY
YOU HAVE TO DRAIN IT
IT HAS THE POWER TO INFLUENCE
YOUR WORDS…YOUR IDEAS
TO EMPTY YOUR LIFE OF ITS MAGICAL CONTENT
TO KILL YOUR DIVINITY
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IT IS NOT THE PHONE THAT WILL RING
RATHER YOUR SEXUAL INSTINCT
SUBMERGED DEEP UNDER YOUR SKIN
A RINGING PROPHET
YOUR REVOLUTION
WILL BEGIN IN YOUR PANTS
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she was her own math sign – the sum of the square of the length of her legs equals the square of the length of her hypotenuse – she was all length no substance – no heavier than air – mathematical patterns comprising the measurements of her body –
the worlds most powerful computer hasn’t seen the sun and can’t touch it’s own keys – it’s mute and cold
let us determine our end – let the zombies know I have the cure
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THE GREATER THE STRUGGLE WITH YOKO
THE GREATER THE NEED FOR DECEIT
—where does freedom lead Sean ?—
THE DIGUISED SEAN IS ANXIOUS TO PROTECT HIS DISGUISE
HIS MOTHER WITH HER WITCH-LIKE EYE OF THE WORLD
HER INNER EYE FROM MENTALLY KILLING HER PARENTS
HER BROTHERS AND SISTERS
HER HUSBAND THE KING
YES, THE BLOOD AND HAIR KEPT LOCKED AWAY
ALL THE ACTS OF LIVING
THE GOD-AWFUL TRUTH
THE UNSPEAKABLE TRUTH
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SEAN AND JULIAN
TWIN POLES OF PRINCE-LIKE EXISTENCE
SEPERATED BY A SWAMP OF NAUSEA
FIXED…UNABLE TO MOVE BECAUSE OF YOKO
HER TIGHT GRIP ON THE PURSE STRINGS
CONFLICTS BETWEEN APPEARANCE AND REALITY
TRUE FEELINGS LIKE OUTHOUSE RATS
THE INAUTHENTICITY OF PERFORMANCE
ROLES MEN PLAY FOR HUGE SUMS OF WEALTH
ONE, AN EXTERNAL REBEL IN REVOLT
THE OTHER AN INTERNAL MOMMA’S BOY
DUSTING HER FEATHERS
EMPTYING HER POOP BUCKET
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HOW COULD THERE BE NO NEED FOR CLOCKS ?
RIDICULE COMES HOME LIKE A BOOMERANG
PEOPLE WITHOUT CLOCKS ARE FRUSTRATED
CURIOSITY SLEEPING ON A PILLOW OF IGNORANCE
CAN THE SECRET SELF BE PHOTOGRAPHED ?
FERRETING OUT FACES…PAINFUL CAMERA CONFRONTATIONS
CROSS-EXAMINED PORTRAITS…BLINDING LIGHTS
YOU OFTEN HEAR, ” I WANT TO BE MY OLD SELF “
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ONE MUST PAY HOMAGE TO PLUMED MOMMY
TRANSPARENT ON DRUGS
TO HONOR THE DEAD KING
LEGIONS OF ANGELS
MAN-MADE ROCK AND ROLL
SECRETS AND WORMS
HIDEOUS CONSEQUENCES
DISEASED LIPS
RED FROM THE FATAL WOUND
TRYING TO SUCK OUT THE BULLET
LIKE A BAD SNAKE BITE
UTTER NOT YOUR SYMPATHY
STYLISTIC HAND WAVES
ARE OKAY
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DOES YOUR COMPASS WORK UNDER WATER ?
MARTYRS KNOCK ON THE DOOR
WANTING YOU TO SHARE THE SUFFERING
YOUR HALL PASS FROM SCHOOL
SAVES YOU FROM FACING GOD
CARNAL SATISFACTION IS THE TICKET
YOU CANNOT SPEAK THE WORDS ALOUD
DEATH-DAY HAUNTS YOU
A CIRCLE ON THE CALENDAR
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THE WHOLE TALE OF YOUR LIFE ON A 3X5 CARD
PHOTOCOPIED A THOUSAND TIMES
UNTIL WORDS BECOME INHUMANLY COMPRESSED
TRIUMPHAL EXCLAMATIONS BECOME LUMPS OF DUNG
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nothing works under water – your lighter becomes frigid, a useless piece of metal – rusting in brine –
fish fuck in their own waste – why do you need a pen that works under water? Why do you need to know the time? – tell me why…
(…NASA wasted millions inventing a pen that would write in space – the Soviets used pencils – )
resurfacing with the bends my hall pass is lost like the English pensioners lost in Kentuckian backwaters –
I asked her to blow my trumpet –
I meant what I said
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WEDDINGS THAT HAVE NO OBJECTIVE REALITY
BALD BRIDES IN PLURAL LOST IN BETROTHAL CITY
SELF-CROWNING WITHOUT A HOUSE OR A HOME
RHYME, RHYTHM, PUNCTUATION HIDDEN
DREAMS OF ESTATIC DISRUPTION
IN THE CURIE HOUSE
EXPANSES OF TIME
AND A SOFA THAT RINGS
SOFT IMPLICATIONS
FOR THE REAR
ORNAMENTAL HAIRS AND COBWEBS
THE FRUITLESS CROTCH
THE EMPTY GRAVEYARD
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a life stored in a Rolodex –
fingered and flipped a thousand times – words become smudged leading to confusion amongst those who have inherited the device – mis dialled phone numbers – unanswered calls – dead air echoes around the Curie house
do I look like all my humours are balanced?
Multiplemichael ensure the plug goes into the right socket – manuals can be supplied for a small fee – well, that’s what she told me
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the arrangement of words
like roads on a map of Kentucky
detours to different metaphors
young people jumping off cliffs
holding photographs of meat
question marks for the police
undertakers and parental guilt
to digest their experience
in so many words
brute physical facts
wakeful screaming
outdoor parquet
with a voice
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THE WALLS WERE PEELING OFF
THROBBING WILDLY
SLIDING IN AND OUT
PAINED-SOUNDING GRUNTS
EMILY WAS AT THE WHEEL OF HER NUB
A QUICKENER IN THE DARK
SINGULAR AND IMMEDIATE
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DANGLING UPSIDE DOWN NEAR-NAKED MEN
STRONG SADO-EROTIC THOUGHTS
EMILY HAD HER MANSERVANT
HER WOODEN TOY
AN OBJECT WHICH ABOVE ALL
HELPED HER TOUCH HEAVEN
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OFTEN THE DAYDREAMS OF EMILY BURST INTO BURLESQUE
PETTY-BOURGEOIS EXTENUATING CIRCUMSTANCES
SEDUCTIVE PERFUME FOG-LIKE OVER PURITAN DECAY
THE POISONOUS EMILY DICKINSON
SMILE BUT DON’T TRUST
LUNGS FULL OF ROSARIES, TAPERS, CRUCIFIXES
MENTAL TORTURERS FROM YOUTH
PATHETIC AND LAUGHABLE YET DEATH SERIOUS
THE GRIP OF BARBARIC SUPERSTITION
THE DELIRIUM AND ITCH OF PUBERTY
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LINING HIS OFFICE WALLS FROM TOP TO BOTTOM WITH MEAT
THE STRANGE JOYS THAT FLOURISH IN THE MIDST OF EMPLOYMENT
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SORRY WE GOT NO MIDGET CLOWNS
OR MOCHA-COLORED SKIN DRUMMERS
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but we have white denim with pee pee stains – front centre – incontinent Sean – excited like a monkey with a banana – leaky meat
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NO LONGER A CREATURE TO BE PUT ON A PEDESTAL
LOTS OF SPIT IN THE HEAT OF SEXUAL STRUGGLE
RAPID PLAYMATE UNDONE AGAIN AND AGAIN
TUGGING HOLY JESUS HONEST-TO-GOD TUGGING
THE HAMMER, THE BIBLICAL ANVIL—PASSAGE THROUGH
SUITABLE LANGUAGE FOR INTERIOR REFASHIONING
THE READER A PARTICIPANT, TONGUE TOLD PRAYER
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WORDS ARE HOLY TICKETS TO DESTINATION
FAR MORE LIKELY TO ARRIVE
IF YOU ELIMINATE CERTAIN WORDS
YOU SAY, “SUCH WORDS SIMPLY DO NOT EXIST”
LARGE FINGERS ON EUROPEANS
ARE YOU AN OLYMPIC ATHLETE ?
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shady figures and street corner hustlers trying to sell tickets to see the new words –
they say they’ve invented a new vowel –
WHY WASNT THIS ON THE NEWS? – people always want arrive but forget the journey is more important than the destination –
I demand a refund
I won’t retrace my footsteps
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one may demand a refund
but in naked poetry
there is no refund
the experience undergone …recounted
past tense…tombstone paperweight
lips of animal hide without speech
signs of punctuation—verbal screws
a poet wanting an excuse
a courtesy flush
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on the geographic globe of Earth
with one single thought
how heavenly the iridescent blue-black
of the bulls in moonlight
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the black bulls who look blue in the moonlight and only be described as that –
no other descriptions will do –
no other words can add to their majesty – we know they’re black and it’s the lunar light that transform them blue – it’s alchemy
I see it out of my window every night – even the drums don’t startle them
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RETRACE THY FOOTSTEPS ???
WHAT YOU HAVE INHERITED FROM YOUR MOTHER AND FATHER
ALL SORTS OF BELIEFS AND LONG DEAD IDEAS
LIMITATIONS IN UNDERSTANDING
SERIOUS FLAWS
UNHEALTHY SKEPTICISM
johnny boy to set the crooked straight
————-can you remove your cargo from the dollhouse ?
CAN YOU REMOVE YOUR CARGO FROM THE DOLLHOUSE ?
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the drums speak differently to different people
the passive infant in the adult body
a grown man as if he were a child
let the cargo go
leave the dollhouse
wave bye-bye to the servant girls
lusty pressure-gauge boilers
inferior and unreliable
loaded with words
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a masquerade within a masquerade
the changing shape of shadows
notions of sanity
painful consequences
I fixed your thoughts in good faith
I made you wash your hands
removed that silly mask
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bad meats lead to dreams of military ghosts tramping across desolation – tree stumps in mist –
echoes and screams – faint –
a far cry from summers in the factory
a far cry from the algebra on the blackboards – knee skinned on concrete –
slowly fading the lights going out in the auditorium
the play within a play
the mask
charade –
only a few can follow this thread through to the end – a rope with knots –
How much is the Curie house now they’ve found the secrets under the ripped wallpaper?
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the boiler room below was fit to burst – a need to release some ballast – to become untethered like a boat at sea(sailors raising the anchors)
she will need to be more than a passive bystander – more than just a spectator
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READERS SQUEEZE THE POETRY
TRYING TO GET SOMETHING TO MOISTEN THEIR LIPS
HOPING TO DISRUPT THEIR EMOTIONAL INVOLVEMENT WITH UNREALITY
THEY WANT POETS WHO ANCHOR THEIR WORK IN THE PHYSICAL WORLD
A MOSAIC OF PRECISELY OBSERVED DETAIL GLUED TO CREDIBILITY
NOW IS THE TIME, JOHNNY BOY
TURN YOUR FINGERS INTO A BALLERINA
AND DANCE ACROSS THE KEYBOARD
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curie house footnote:
an essential part of the truth is teetering near the abyss
I will tie a rope around you and toss you over the edge
just blow the whistle if you need help
you are looking for concrete imminence
feed the fiction to the baby birds
come back with the facts
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I tried to correct the DNA but I cannot divide the tangible from the fantastic
poverty has robbed me of my superman vision
life viewed from a distance seems a blur
derision and cruelty color the shadows
nothing protects one from rejection
what fun is a coloring book
without colors ?
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wives like vultures
mothers of vultures
???????????????
life through a jeweler’s glass
alarm clock hallucinations
there are no normal people
few ordinary events at work
elevated villains who skillfully
avoid and subvert
wake up johnny boy
time to percolate
no pantomime on the bus
darkness and impurity are everywhere
try not to sit on sentiment
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simple happiness is forever out of reach
sorry about the lack of unique gifts
stupendous exhilarating love
harmonized sexual feats
bedroom athlete/oral magician
actions that defy all the physical laws
is that a TRAPEZE ?
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Sean and the other naughty boys liked to touch the horse hair
on the buffet table they liked to touch food that was vaginal
they were over-sized goblins
compulsive on every level
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she told me to wake up but I wasn’t asleep –
the feeling the memory was just out of reach – a blue sky turning something else –
unseasonal – hot flushes at that age or time of day
she made ice sculptures and willed them to melt
to puddle at the base
the futility of her actions
little johnnies hands have been busy
she stored tins for winter and waited for evil blizzards –
hammer nails pins we were all once athletes flexible now
I just don’t know
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YOKO HAS TWO SONS—ONE POMPOUS ONE NAUGHTY
STOREKEEPERS SELL THEM PUSH PINS AND STRING
AND DVDS OF MARINE CREATURES ALL WET AND SLICK
HAUNTED BY A HISTORY OF FAILURE
THEY DREAM OF INHERITING WAREHOUSES OF CASH-MONEY
A RESOURCE THAT CAN OFTEN TRANSFORM THE ORDINARY
PROTECT ONE FROM BEING AT THE MERCY OF FATE
POSSIBLY REDEEM AN ANGUISHED CHILDHOOD
FEELINGS ARE TRANSLATED INTO THE ACT OF EXCHANGE
LIBERATING STACKS OF PAPER MONEY—STAGGERING GOLD
THEY ARE TODDLERS WITH ELASTIC IDENTITY
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LOOKING AT POINTERS IN BED WITH INSINUATION
VALIDATED BY VAGUENESS
SUPPORTED BY CUMBERSOME MACHINERY
SIGMUND FREUD HAMMERS AND RUBBERBANDS
VARYING THE TEMPO OF INFORMATION
CHOOSING PRECISELY WHAT ONE READS
WORDS ARE CONTAINERS OF STRESS
POETRY PEOPLED BY PARALYZING REASON
WITH LESS THAN EXPECTED CONTROL
READERS HANDCUFFED
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I tried to correct the DNA but I cannot divide the tangible from the fantastic – ONLY MATHEMATICIANS CAN MAKE THE FANTASTIC TANGIBLE
poverty has robbed me of my superman vision – BUT IT HAS GIVEN ME NEW EYES TO APPRECIATE THE EVERYDAY
I LOVE CRACKS IN THE PAVEMENT
STARS IN THE FIRMAMENT
NAKED TRESS
life viewed from a distance seems a blur – UP CLOSE ITS JUST PLAIN UGLY POOR JOHN MERRICK BAG HEADED SEPIA TONED
derision and cruelty color the shadows
nothing protects one from rejection
what fun is a coloring book
without colors ? BURN IT NOW
IGNITE THE FRESH MATCH
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SEEMS EVERYTHING IS RUBBER-STAMPED
A DAILY CINEMA LIFE
WIDE-ANGLED BLUE-BLACK BULLS
DICTATES OF THE ROVING EYE
THE LASH ON THE BUTTOCKS
A NEW INTIMACY
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———————-YOU NEVER SAY ANYTHNG——————————-
WAS “SHE” THE WEB OR THE WEAVER ?
A SPECTACLE THERE IN THE SPECIAL LIGHT
WITH HER MAIDEN BROOM
A COLOR SONG SHE DID SWEEP
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LIFE RUBBED OFF THE CANVAS
A KIND OF DESPERATION
A FALSE IMPRISONMENT IN TIME
REVERSIBLE PILLS
YOU CLAIM TO RECREATE THE MAGICIAN
BLACK SPOTS BEFORE YOUR EYES
AS YOU GO PEE-PEE BEHIND A BUSH
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WE WERE GOING FISHING
I ASKED YOU TO COUGH UP A WORM
AMUSING WITH YOUR TRICKS
LIKE NOAH PEERING IN THE REARVIEW MIRROR
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IT CANNOT BE DONE YET IT IS DONE
YOUR DAY-TO-DAY WORDS PAINT A DREARY PICTURE
AN ACTUALIZABLE REALITY—A PLACE WE ALL NEGOTIATE
HOW CAN THE GRUESOME ENDING BE CORRECTED ?
POETRY MAKES FOR A TRANCELIKE ENTRY INTO THE THOUGHTS OF OTHERS
WE CANNOT GUESS THE ANSWER AS WE SEE THE FUSION GROWING
SYMBOLS OF EDUCATED SIGNALING ARE POSTED ON CAVE WALLS
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HAVING A BODY THAT WORKS—-NOT A SACK WITH HALF A HEARTBEAT
A HEALTHY PULSATION NOT A RUSTY ONE—-MIRACULOUS TONIC
ANTHROPOLOGISTS WEEP AT THE SIGHT OF THE BLUE-BLACK BULLS
THEIR SEXUAL AURA IN THE MOONLIGHT—LIBIDINAL SUFFICIENCY
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the new boots rub and cut the blisters that form
the skin changes
I cant walk a mile here –
the rituals are memories –
an empty sac
dried husk
what can be done
can be undone
the pins pushed deep deep
deep inside this winter
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blisters on the feet are a cruel trick of the new boots
feet kept in the dark but never conquered
too many years exposes one as a ghost
creative work is a lock with no key
——-recovery of the past——————
once vigorous now the smoke visible
to Kentucky
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FLUNKED BECAUSE OF SELF-KNOWLEDGE
THE LIFE OF LOVE—DIGNIFIED HAND WARRANT
A COMMUNITY OF MEN ALL GROIN DIGGERS
WHEN MEASURES ASK TO BE TAKEN
THE SLENDER LITTLE TORPEDO EXPOSED
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she holds no truck the naysayers – smashing porcelain
her raindance doesn’t bring a deluge
the clouds won’t move
wont budge these inadequate words
more hands to the pump
all exits are covered
a never ending chain
no two links the same
the head and tail
a Möbius strip tightrope we walk along
through a telescope, they can see me on the land between the lake
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grave fillers
groin diggers
shafts of light
torpedo pants
flesh wound
flesh wand
smoke and mirrors
the little things
nicotine kisses
a time when she tasted of bubblegum
when teeth clashed together
the half smile at the damn that wouldn’t break (now it just leaks constantly)
she smelt like a flower
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you were in the cemetery reading gravestones
pins in your pocket string around your neck
a different sort of bad boy
10 years old and drinking brandy
too young to have imprisoned wants or Jagger on the wall
all those choices unknown
francs have no value in Kentucky
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———–deep inside the writer——————
Freud was handing out notes about pins pushed deep
he voted for noses to be out of the bathroom zone
properly socialized people never smell their filth
sprays and rubs and three baths a day
abstract blobs that smell like Chanel No. 5
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the black bulls are really the sweets of sin
a source of pleasure—an opening in the skin
pulsing tempo, warm butter, almost turning blue
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LIFT HER BELLY
AND DISH OUT THE NICOTINE KISSES
LURCHES IN YOUTH WHEN TEETH CLASHED
THE EDGE OF DISCOMFORT VISIBLE
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youthful lurches, i remember them – long days never ending – bubblegum on the floor – empty paths somewhere ahead over there or under somewhere over there
by the sea up in the air –
all the earth under our skin all written in books –
calendar pictures on a fridge –
I wish I could draw this
there were people at the carnival I knew I’d forget
just straight away, I would forget them
jettison the lot
a stampede of blue bulls was the scene last time I lifted her belly
then she showed me keepsakes of forgotten generations and we laughed at the history books
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laughing at history—-the last time I laughed at history
my hair was frozen and I was 100% dead
having fallen in the water that surrounds Alaska
it was kind of funny–I didn’t laugh long
what was a nightmare, a fantasy, a deep-seated death wish
would have made Freud proud
each day from the moment my eyes opened
to the time they closed
I tried to kill myself slowly
I joined in with other people
and helped them die also
our narrative was one of death
we were bad apples
we were hollow inside—coated with the residue of sin
we measured up to the code we had inherited
we were Americans with asphyxiating fingers
guilty of never finishing what we started
guilty of abandonment
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no longer maintain borders
big bold letters
departure from living
capsizing literature
shipwreck daddy
slip through the fissure
dissolve among the elements
one-legged and fiery
hellfire burning
apprenticeship
‘I’M ME !!!”
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SANDWICHED IN TIGHT UNDERWEAR
COMPRESSED AND CRYPTIC
VIRTUALLY INDECIPHERABLE
WORDS DROP BEHIND THE BUSH
DICTIONARY PAGES TO WIPE
THE THICK SMELL OF EDUCATION
KISS THE TWADDLE—NO WAY
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SHE CHEATS AT CROSSWORD PUZZLES
SHE GETS ANGRY WHEN SHE READS ANYTHING WRITTEN BY FREUD
THERE’S MORE TO THE STORY THAN THE DOUBLE FUNCTIONS OF THE ORGAN
—–YOU GET HYGIENIC KISSES————-
SHE HAS TURNED INTO A CON ARTIST
WANNA TALK ?—UNCRAFTED JABBER ABOUT VAUDEVILLE FRIENDS
UNSETTLED IDEAS ABOUT GENDER AND PAYCHECKS
NEVER THE DIVIDE BETWEEN HER THIGHS
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YOU WERE SLEEPING IN THE BATH OF NONSENSE
NONINTELLECTUAL PLEASURE
POETIC DEHYDRATION
POETIC FATIGUE
SHE IS NOT A VEHICLE OF ENTERTAINMENT
A HEDONISTIC RECEPTOR
FUN THINGS….NOT NOW PROBABLY NEVER AGAIN
SWALLOW YOUR SPITTLE…YOU’LL NEED IT LATER
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LIFT HER BELLY AND CHECK OUT THE IMPLANTED ELECTRODES
REAL CARNAL KNOWLEDGE MAY BE AN EXPERIMENT
VOLUNTEER FOR PLEASURE ?
A SEXUAL OYSTER
THE CORRECT SIZE
FICTION, NONFICTION, AND LOTS OF FRICTION
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FASCINATION WITH THE NEARLY IMPOSSIBLE ?
SATISFACTION DERIVED FROM DOING COMPLEX TASKS
CEREBRAL AND TEXTUAL MASTURBATION
PIRATE PHRASES AND FANCY CLICHES
STEREOTYPED BODY FRAMES
SIMPLETONS IN CLOTH TENTS
sadomasochistic candy made in Kentucky
playing gramophone records
and thinking about the girl next door with three fingers
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we orbited around each other like satellites – elliptical revolutions to arrive back at the starting point – she touched raw nerves, exposed them as we circle each other
predators –
She wanted to show me things inside her walls teasing me with the unknowable – with the stuff that was just beyond our understanding but we have time – we always have time to act out these scenes
her Suduko puzzles are written in red pen – angry numbers that defy maths – in Kentucky 2 + 4 = 8 – they have their own way of doing things – the retired people in the bingo halls hide their numbers away
It’s their secret
Ssssshhhh
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SKEPTICISM—-ALWAYS SKEPTICISM
WE THREW AWAY ALL OUR TOILET ARTICLES
THEN WE PURCHASED NEW TOILET ARTICLES
I SAW YOUR PHOTOGRAPH ON ONE OF THE BOTTLES
I DIDN’T SAY A WORD TO THE MERCENARY WOMAN
LIKE A DANGEROUS CIRCUS BEAST
ONE CANNOT MAKE TOO WILD OF A GESTURE
HAD I MENTIONED YOUR PHOTOGRAPH
I WOULD HAVE BEEN SUBJECT TO DESTRUCTIVE FORCES
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GIVE ME A LIFE WHERE UNDERGARMENTS ARE A SOURCE OF HUMOR
I WANT EVERYTHING EXAGGERATED….OVER-THE-TOP
I WANT GOD TO JACK-UP OUR TAWDRY REALITY
RAPID CHANGE OF MOOD—ESPECIALLY BEWILDERING RANTS
IF IT IS INAPPROPRIATE—I WANT IT !!!
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ALL THOSE ORBITS CAN LEAVE A BAD AFTERTASTE
KENTUCKY PEOPLE WEAR BREECHES AND BOOTS TO BED
PARASITIC WOMEN TRYING TO SELL POWDERED SUGAR AS COKE
THERE IS NO PROPER PLEASURE IN POWDERED SUGAR
POSSIBLY A PREOCCUPATION WITH SHADOWS
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SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE SHE
————DEINDIVIDUATES AND DEPARTICULARIZES——————-
YOUR LIFE IS A PET SHOP AND SHE RENTS THE BACKROOM
SHE PROMISED YOU A CORNUCOPIA OF DELIGHTS
WHY IS IT YOU FEEL NOTHING ?
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poets with their love of words –
what would they do if they were erased? – taken away
burnt in a town square –
hidden behind a family portrait on a
wallpaper walled –
what would they do? Invent a new alphabet? start afresh, from a to where?
we learn a lot from these times,
it sticks to us like paint, tarred & rolled in fur
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POETS WITH THEIR LOVE OF WORDS
SERVANT-WORDS
WHAT IF THEY WERE YOUR SISTERS ?
WHAT IF YOU HAD TO WATCH THEM BE HUMILIATED ?
MISERY IN ITSELF SEEMS TO BE A MOTIVATION
POETS OFTEN LOVE SWEET STICKY WORDS
THROBBING ORGIASTIC WORDS
HEAVY INEBRIATION REALLY REALLY HEAVY INEBRIATION
AN ATTRACTION TO BLINDNESS AND WHITE CANES
ONLY BLIND MEN WALK BY THEMSELVES IN PUBLIC
IF YOU MOLEST A BLIND MAN YOU’LL BE DOING HIM A FAVOR
YANK HIM OFF HIS CALCULATED MARCH
IF HE HAS A GOOD HAND MAKE HIM USE IT
“MONKEY FEEL MONKEY DO ”
RECREATIONAL PLEASURES OF THE BODY
BLIND TO THE BACKDROP OF WORDS
BLINDNESS OFTEN DELAYS AND REROUTES
BLINDNESS OFTEN INVERTS AND DISTORTS
ITALIAN CIGARETTES AND WHITE CANES
HEADLIGHTS SHINE ON EXTERNALIZED DARKNESS
MINOR POETS LIVING BESIDE THE ROAD OF LONELINESS
NO ROOM FOR MAILBOXES….WAVE AND MOVE ON
ROBBED OF A BETTER LIFE—SORRY , NO UPBEAT MESSAGES
NO SAILORS IN A CIRCLE PLAYING AMATEUR JERK
BLIND LOVERS ASKING FOR RENT MONEY
PUSH PINS ARE REALLY ALIENATED COGS
YOU TAKE A BATH IN THE KITCHEN SINK
I TRY TO TALK TO YOU ABOUT SITUATIONS OF PASSIVITY
“I OUGHT TO WANT TO BE ERASED”
NAUSEOUS AT THE THOUGHT OF ERASING WORDS
NOT A NEW ALPHABET——PLEASE !!!
I JUST LEARNED TO SPELL QUEZTALCOATL
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“I GOT A FISH-HOOK IN MY EYE AND YOU WANT TO TALK
ABOUT THE DIFFERENCE BETWEEN CLITORAL AND VAGINAL ORGASMS”
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POETS WITH THEIR LOVE OF WORDS
SERVANT-WORDS
NORMAN’S MOTHER RANG THE DEATH KNELL
CADAVERS UNDER THE BLANKETS
OTHER SUCCESSES AND FAILURES UNDER THERE ALSO
YOU LOOK LIKE A CLICHE IN YOUR BED
SO MUCH DISTURBING MACHINERY IN YOUR LIFE
—-have you ever prayed to wake up Norwegian ?—–
WORDS ARE WOUNDS—-LOOK AND BE HUMILIATED
THE TRUTH IS NOT PRETTY
WE WEAR OUR SINS
LANDSCAPE OF FLESH
A HEAD FULL OF CLOSED AND GUARDED DOORS
POROUS THOUGHTS
TRAPPED IN THE SCHEMES OF OTHERS
ROLE PLAYING FAMILY MEMBERS
THE BEDRIDDEN WITH BEDRIDDEN PROBLEMS
BLIND MICHAEL ALL ALONE
SELF-EXILED PETS IN THE STREET
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the burial ground for erased word –
a place, sorrowful dark
as we search on bended knees for the right letter to finish the twenty second paragraph – digging up vowels and worms
dirty nails,
just to finish
Normans mother was hot in her youth – sexy as any winner of every beauty pageant this side of the lake – but thing change – her rocking chair creaks and rocks so the blind can find her –
crazy lady all trussed up in black
no fear of the machines – she couldn’t fear anything without a heart
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POETS WITH THEIR LOVE OF WORDS
SERVANT-WORDS
NORMAN’S MOTHER WAS NOT ONLY BEAUTIFUL
SHE WAS INTO PSYCHIC X-RAY
EVERYTHING SOLID LOOKED HOLLOW TO HER
SHE SAID SOMETHING ABOUT FRIENDSHIP
THAT TURNING TOWARDS ANOTHER PERSON
MAY ALSO BE A TURNING AWAY
LANGUAGE PUTS MANY DISTURBANCES UNDER CONTROL
JOHNNY BOY ALONE COUNTING BACKWARDS
ATTENTIVE TO HIS INDIVIDUAL ANGUISH
HIS GRAMMATICAL SWELL
A LAST GASP MOMENT
THE FEELING UNSURPASSED
HIS COLOR OF THE DAY
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POETS WITH THEIR LOVE OF WORDS
WORD-SERVANTS
WORDS THAT WEAR NON-STOP SILK
CAUTIONARY TALES (TAILS)
FAMOUS FOR YOUR MISREADINGS
EUROPEAN LADIES WITH VISIBLE GEOGRAPHY
LAWLESS SAVAGES WITH THE HIGH END REAL ESTATE
BUT ARE THEY NEW ? REALLY NEW ?
EVE WITH A NEW WIG AND A FRESH GROUPING OF CLICHES
EMPTY SEX OR EROTIC EXPERIENCE ?
“SHE’S HAD SURGERY—–LIKE A BEAR TRAP”
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“IF YOU TRY TO REMOVE THE FISH-HOOK FROM MY EYE
I WILL GIVE YOU A TRAUMATIC EXPERIENCE WITH
AN ANGRY HAMMER”
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AN ECONOMY OF PLEASURE
TICKETS TO SEE NEW WORDS
HOW MANY CAN YOU MEMORIZE ?
YOU ARE SO TIRED OF NUMB AND DEPRESSIVE TERMS
( remember the mother who threw her baby out the window so she could meet new people ? )
RECYCLED WORDS
CLAPPING HANDS AND GRAMOPHONE WORDS
VERNACULAR CULTURE LIKE BROKEN GLASS AND FREUDIAN SMELLS
A HUGE CIRCLE OF FEMALE URINE ON THE FLOOR
TAWDRY REALITY IS NOT NEW
EVE OFTEN WORE A BAD WIG
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I HAD A DOUBLE-FEATURE WOMAN FOR OVER 9 YEARS
SHE HAD DUAL APPETITES: KLEPTOMANIA AND NYMPHOMANIA
WITH LOTS OF EXCESS CASH THERE WAS NO NEED FOR CONFORMITY
SHE WAS LIVING VISUAL PROOF EVEN FOR A BLIND MAN
WHITEWASHED AND SMELLING OF ROSES
WE BECAME MONSTERS OF PLEASURE
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SHE BECAME MY EMILY DICKINSON
A LADY QUICKENER IN THE DARK
SINGULAR AND IMMEDIATE
IT WASN’T UNTIL ALMOST THE END
THAT SHE MENTIONED MY BLINDNESS
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blindly I touched her face
tried to feel what she looked like – judged the contours –
a mountainous crag –
a forest under her nose
maybe, calloused hands can’t judged the beauty
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I AM NOT A DETECTIVE
BUT HOW DOES ONE GET CALLOUSED HANDS
AT A KEYBOARD ?
MOONLIGHTING NO DOUBT
A PROJECTIONIST AT AN ADULTS-ONLY NICKELODEON
“JOHNNY BOY, WE NEED OUTSIDE ASSISTANCE”
—EXTRANEOUS TO THE ORIGINAL CHARACTER OF JOHNNY BOY—
ANONYMOUS JOHNNY WITH THE MUSCULAR HANDS
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SEMEN THE SIZE OF CATERPILLARS
SATAN CALLS THEM BABYLON LICE
BITE MY THUMB AND THERE WILL BE MORE PEARLS
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Fur balls spat out in ticklish frustration – hair at the back of throat constricts –
la petite mort –
I’ve seen God – looked him in the face and collapsed –
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calloused hands
a keyboard missing the vowels – small drops of blood on the E key – midnight typing but it’s only 20:03 and my headphones are telling about ninja spies –
I try and join all these thoughts together – the words I’m reading – the music in both ears – the pictures I can’t draw – flood the senses –
the duality of butthole surfers – my mind tries to escape through my ears – there isn’t enough space
sometimes it all mixes into one where I don’t know where it started
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trying to sleep with an auto-stimulation lever in your shorts
rats keep trying to push it for sugar and drugs
Honey, are these commercial rats or local ones ?
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the pins pushed deep inside
all this singing–all this dancing–and now black cat cake
mister happy is not only awake
he is fascinated
an apron of hair covering the pervasive bowl
deep in the darkness the flashing muzzle
earthly love is sheltering…measureless
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SUBVERSIVE OF CHURCH, STATE, OR KENTUCKY
PLUMP-LABIAED VAGINA WALKING ON THIN LEGS
POETRY ABOUT A STANDING FULL-STROKE
WORDS SHAPED INTO TIGHT BOUNDARIES
AN EARLY MORNING SHUDDER STROKING
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early morning blood rush –
up with the sun – blood converges at the centre – a twitch – she not there
not beside you – (all this was a long time ago. I remember) – keepsake fondler – her favourite words echo &
ricochet like squash balls across parquet flooring
there were no boundaries she wouldn’t push
no edges
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ATOMS TWIRLING AND SWIRLING AROUND
IN ALL THE DARKNESS AND THE FRIGHTFUL QUIET
THERE WERE TINY LITTLE MOANS
THINKING OF ODD POSTURES
AND WOMEN IN WHEELCHAIRS
AND MANIACS WHO MAKE BONES CREAK
—————————————————————-
—————————————————————-
at the Catholic School they teach drinking, gambling, whoring
HURTING AND HARMING…ALL MANNER OF TORTURE
IMMEDIATE EMPLOYMENT FOR SPIES
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SIMPLETONS TRY TO DISGUISE THEMSELVES AS COWS
SORRY GUYS, WE DO FILL IN THE BLANKS
BUT NO ONE CAN FILL THOSE HOLES
THERE WAS A GIGOLO FROM PARIS WITH LIPS LIKE A DUCK
HIS KISSES PUT A HURTING ON THE EARTHENWARE GIRL
I WAS THINKING IT COULD BE WORSE
HE COULD BE A ROOSTER
OR A BB-GUN AND PUT OUT AN EYE
THE LOCAL GIRLS HAVE BEEN INVADED AND REINVADED
FORMER LOVERS NOW PILLAGERS AND SCAVENGERS
PEOPLE GET UPSET WHEN I WRITE THINGS LIKE THAT
WORDS HAVE SUCH DISRUPTIVE POWER
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ON SOME PRIMITIVE LEVEL I WANTED TO USE THE PUSH PINS
TO MAKE THEM HOLD UP PICTURES AS IF BY MAGIC
“LIVE TONIGHT WITH PUSH PINS”
ENGINEERS AND TRAINED FOLK UPFRONT
PEOPLE WITH BRIEFCASES TO SECURITY, PLEASE
I ONCE SAW MRS CURIE LIFT HER SKIRT
I COULD SEE THE MACHINE INSIDE HER
I SPEAK THE TRUTH
I AM NOT AFRAID OF CRAZY RUSSIANS
WITH POISONOUS BLACK CAT DUST
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WHY ARE YOU SO PARANOID ?
IT IS MY EYE AFTER ALL—–I’M THE ONE IN UNGODLY PAIN
YOU WITH YOUR STOLEN GAUGE
I DON’T WANT YOU TO MEASURE THE DEGREE OF PAIN I AM EXPERIENCING
“I AM NOT A MACHINE INSIDE ANOTHER MACHINE”
I AM A HUMAN FROM SOUTHERN INDIANA
THERE IS NO INVISIBILITY IN MY FAMILY LINE
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why question my conversation with the Elders using an Ouija board ?
day after day of you skirting the obvious
god only knows, I should pierce your privacy
your hidden secret core
you keep leaving clues about a PSYCHOBIOGRAPHY
what the hell is that ?
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her second hand Ouija Board was missing letters – she wanted to know if the Beatle ing was there – the board said n –
cheap tricks at the bingo hall –
cheap thrills in the bedroom –
the elders think of better times gone – they never look forward as it’ll never be better than their black and white history – sepia past
– seedy times
they hold no truck with this pyschobabble – with all these terms
all these ‘issues’- they would call a spade a spade, drink strong liquor and breath in lung-gulls of fresh air
Back than
no wanted to be Russian
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SWALLOWED WHOLE
OPEN-EYED
NO MAN SURVIVES
*there was a short eerie set of instructions that I didn’t follow
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ANATOMY IS DESTINY
EMILY SENT ME SEVERAL QUESTIONS
what about a woman’s body with a man’s mind ?
what about a man with a dog’s nose sniffing ?
can desirable masculinity be measured in inches ?
will earth let go our foot ?
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A cat with dog paws?
elephant with a giraffes neck? Tusks ten feet off the ground?
a snake with hands?
naked inches make some blush
(but only when the inches are millimetres masquerading)
tell Emily to email me the questions – I’ll put a smoke on her face
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I am a man ( or so I was told ) and yes,
I have been swallowed whole
but my eyes were closed
*man, by definition, reads no instruction manuals
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the pins pushed deep inside
barefoot pain
autobiographical poems
CAN IT BE TRUE ?
escapist poetry ten cents a page
how much more direct can nudity be ?
hostility and taboos and your sharp haircut
SHE carved a nasty cut on your head
Johnny Boy, have you no modesty ?
to undress in public and distrust your audience
sex-role norms and the legitimacy of thoughts
you talk big about your loaded gun and your bottle of rum
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UNCORRUPTED BY ELVIS MUSIC (casting off the Precursor)
OPEN IDENTIFICATION WITH MALENESS (on the rungs of the daddy ladder)
CURIOUSLY AT ODDS WITH BEING A SUPERMAN POET (to never lose to never win)
TOUCHING PHOTOGRAPHS AS IF YOUR FINGERTIPS WERE YOUR EYES
THE DRUMS OFTEN SPEAK OF SORROW
FOOLISH WOMEN WITH GOURDS IN THEIR PANTS
RATHER BIZARRE AS THEY WALK LIKE MEN
WALK LIKE MEN WITH SODOMY ON THEIR MINDS
WHAT WORDS TORMENT THEIR SOULS ?
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NO MATTER HOW MUCH YOU DIG IT IS NEVER YOU IN THE GRAVE
YOU CANNOT BE EXPOSED BECAUSE YOU ARE NOT INSIDE YOURSELF
EMILY TOLD ME THAT SOMETIMES THE RANGE OF THE SOUL IS VERY WIDE
HAVE YOU NEVER ASKED A QUESTION ?
UNDER THE X-RAY NO SKELETON
INFORMATION PREVIOUSLY CONCEALED
YOU’VE GOT SOMEWHERE TO GO
REMEMBER THE LAW OF MOVEMENT
“PRESS FORWARD”
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BEING DOOMED TO POETRY
WORDS SPEAK OF THEMSELVES
A DRIED UP POET IS NO LONGER A POET
EMILY IS DUST—HER CRACK CRUMBLED
I PAY PARISIAN WOMEN TO FIDDLE MY GUITAR
AMERICAN WOMEN ARE ALL THUMBS
LIKE DRINKING SALT WATER FROM THIMBLES
NEVER-RETURNING OR EVER-RETURNING ?
CLOSE YOUR EYES AND FEEL YOUR LIFE
YOUR ECCELESIASTICAL TONGUE
EMILY WILL RUB YOUR ORAL LANGUAGE
PHONETIC EJACULATION MINUS SWALLOW
TO PULL AWAY, COUGH AND SPIT
BLASPHEMOUSLY
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over time all graves become empty –
all graves disappear –
and buildings will be built on the dead and their DNA will seep into offices and carpets and their ghosts will haunt the computers and they will never show up on x-rays –
they will always be invisible –
deep down you know this –
always pressing forward as there are no roads back – no u-turns here
I have a question that no one answers “who are you?”
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THE PIPE IS THE CONFLICT OF MASCULINE INSECURITY
THE SMOKE IS SELF-INVOLVEMENT
EVEN JESUS TREASURED EVIDENCE OF MASCULINITY
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HER UNDERWEAR WAS TOO BIG AND HE COULD SEE ONE SIDE
OF HER CRUSTED DIVIDE
THE DIRTY BORDERS OF HER PLAYGROUND
WHO COULD CHART SUCH A LANDSCAPE ?
ANY YEARNINGS WOULD BE UNNATURAL
DESIRE GRATIFIED WOULD BE CRIMINAL
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IN HIS DREAM HE TOLD HER
“YOU MUST DIRTY ME FIRST”
ONCE POKED—THE INCHES CANNOT BE FORGOTTEN
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UNBENDING TESTOSTERONE—-PSYCHICALLY GUILTY
THE DRUMS AT NIGHT AND THEN THE SOUND OF THE SHRIEKER
PHYSICAL LOVE IN A ROOM WITH A CRUCIFIX ON THE WALL
OVER AND OVER AS A SIGNATURE MOVE
WHODUNNIT MISTER DETECTIVE ?
*a libidinal itch is handwriting on the wall
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WHAT OCCASION DEMANDS A POEM ?
the exhaustless heart of Jesus on his birthday ?
affecting passages from the Ancient Tragedies ?
right-minded ?
serious-minded ?
generous-minded ?
puzzled friends from Kentucky ?
and through Johnny Boy’s lips
blow the trumpet of poetic fury
Platonic Prose worthy of the earth-bound
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you talk big about your loaded gun and bottle of rum
all I ask is for you to bring poetry back to its correct channel
fear no more the light of the sun—it is your friend, your Holy Ghost
I see all the attendant problems with writing
stuck to your jacket like hungry bats
I say, “throw your jacket away”
start the greatest work which your mind is capable
ignite the spark and ride the agitations of enthusiasm
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empty in the face of the complexities
the sometimes cruel nature of language
simplistic and artificial suits on actors
legitimate puzzlement to real beasts
only god-like creatures
could find feeling, sensation, emotions
and a billion other things in written words
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POETRY UNDERSTOOD AND MISUNDERSTOOD
AT THE SAME TIME
POETRY TORN AND TATTERED
NOT LESS REAL THAN THE ORIGINAL
THE CAGE DOOR IS OPEN
THE MASTER IS SLEEPING
POETIC EXPLOITS FOR SALE
POEMS WITH TINY CURLS
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poetry is sleeping with anthropologists in a small tent
using scientific matter to keep the fire roaring
long, thick descriptions of undercover meat
magnified anxieties circle intellectual life
Sodom and Gomorrah are in England
playful and entertaining if not instructive
you yourself a heap of push-pin confusion
each doctor points to excessive stimulation
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YOU TALK BIG ABOUT YOUR LOADED GUN AND YOUR WOODEN LEG
RISK-TAKING WITH A KODIAK BEAR
A MISTAKEN BEAUTY IN LOWER MEXICO
ALLEGORICAL LANGUAGE IN A METH LAB
EXTRANEOUS CLUBS AND SPADES
WALK HOME WITHOUT THE AID OF THE EYE
YOU, A STRANGER TO THE PURPOSE OF SIGHT
PERSISTENT UNEASINESS ABOUT THE MISSING LEG
PUSH PINS IN YOUR THEATRE OF MIND
INCESTUOUSLY ADOLESCENT
POSTCARDS FROM A HORSE FARM IN KENTUCKY
FADING COLORS ON YOUR STREET
THE CONCRETE IS GRAY WITH SIMPLE IDEAS
SEEMS EVERYONE IS DEPENDENT ON YOUR MISSING LEG
(neo-Freudians try to bum my Italian cigarettes)*
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GOING TOO FAR WITH HIS SISTER—SO HE CUT OFF YOUR LEG
TORMENTING HEAT IN HER UNDERPANTS
METAPHOR MAKING LIPS
A LITTLE GRIEF FOR A TRUCKLOAD OF FRICTION
TRIVIALIZING YOUR LOSS—CIRCLING DEVILS
INCHES FOR A FOOT—TORMENTED INTRUDER
THE ULTIMATE VALUE—NOT SOME DUMB TATTOO
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you talk big with your whiskey and full-blown narcissism
no one offers you a last-minute antidote
these are modern times and you must deal directly
with the obsessive attachment in the mirror
the fictional invention of yourself
a collage of partial identities
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a cripple cut off
one leg on the clock face
dependent on mechanical devices
in fantasies he replaces her
pale rubber for a clean flame
thank you God for that sin
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I AM NOT THE GUERILLA OF DEATH
PEOPLE WHO DANCE DEAD
THEY HAVE NO CONNECTION WITH ME
IT IS TRUE MY LIFE IS A DARK MOVIE
EACH DAY FALLS APART
PEOPLE PISS BEHIND MY EARTHLY WALL
SMOKE AND NOISE AND VIOLENCE SHIVERING
I AM OFTEN CLOTHED IN LOSS AND LONGING
SEALED AND SAFE FROM THE DIRTY BLOOD
I CARRY THE NEW COVENANT IN MY HEART
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dark movies noir
black and white but we need
shades of grey
lost companions are shadows following
there is so much to explain
so much hidden away
hairshirts worn that scratch skin itch flesh scratching daily
____________________
I once emptied the contents of my mind onto a piece of pristine white paper it was a typhoon
a maze
all cobwebs in corners
a hole hidden from the sun
often illuminated often forgotten
Normans mother owned a gun called Clyde
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Norman’s mother’s gun, CLYDE, is very famous
her husband purchased it from R. Neville, a military chap
R. Neville was a rather special military fellow
he was a prisoner of war in Japan during WW2
his prison camp was near the Mitsubishi factory
that the Nagasaki atomic bomb visited
R. Neville and a large number of prisoners survived
it was totally impossible but it was strangely so
you would never know R. Neville ever existed
had it not been for his outspoken views on UFOs
seems he had inside information about abductions
and US government involvement with flying saucers
and the curious beings inside them
anyway, on one of his famous white clothing tours
R. Neville found himself in need of cash money
Norman’s father traded money for the gun
the gun was CLYDE
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surrounded by endless questions
how did the entourage survive ?
light colored clothing
behind masonry walls
the choir of virgins
that sang over the prisoners
jubilation in a landscape of destruction
the prisoners were marked
for future UFO activities
R. Neville perceived himself
as a passive sufferer
a guinea pig
for big heads
or worse
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the earth R.Neville occupied was full of churches, ravines, shops, magazines and from up there
way up there they watched and it was still a motionless still blue
the pyrotechnics of the war turned the blue to ochre,
red,
orange and they came closer to inspect
R.Neville and Clyde were on their radar – stooges of intergalactic conspiracies
the other prisoners were just bystanders, pit part players used to validate the myths – he survived as he was part of something bigger
the government will deny all of this
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Intergalactic guinea pigs in tattered army surplus clothing –
men, ghosts of their former selves in landscapes of destruction – all of them marked for future use –
glances in the empyrean vastness – the men as sentinels
watchmen
watching and waiting
R.Neville a flag bearer for things unknown but always out there
waiting
a plan devised by big heads in secret rooms
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that plan was adult participation in the world
someone has placed a lock on the gate
foolish people outdoors
we sleep safe no more
I beat not the drums
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I have never mentioned the ceaseless wail of the Sphinx
poets claim death sleeps at the feet of beauty
self-suppression threatens their existence as writers
someone push them back into childishness
someone wallpaper over the door to heaven
stop looking at God as He drifts farther away
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the Beatle king would say, “open sesame”
and she would give access to the charmed circle
one size fits all
the wet zone
the pink alphabet slot
He was a juvenile devil
restless, passionate, on fire
*Yoko to stray from the path
**Yoko from the thicket
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Yoko
a meat eating vegetarian
a whole cast of unsavoury men
but she good in a hat
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R. Neville spoke many times of the Sex Church
it must have seemed so far away from the prison camp
2 buildings at the mouth of the harbor
only a few miles from the atomic blast
R. Neville never actually saw the flash
he was busy stroking a Japanese moustache
there was always plenty of stickwork for an open mouth
R. Neville was an extremely handsome man
even straight men found him pleasing
while other prisoners were working underground
or being tortured in ungodly ways
R. Neville would bathe and shave
and then perform peculiar/robust sex acts
on Japanese soldiers and military personnel
their sticks tasted like pepperoni
and their holes like green persimmons
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poverty and pride—2 chapters in your new PSYCHOBIOGRAPHY
a mock heroic effort ? one more inch donated to “domesticating”
I liked the piece on hypothetical girls and idleness
wanton damsels with clean jewels
possibly from the Sex Church
greater comeliness of the spirit
———-??????????———–
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remorseless drum-beat refrain
a rotting corpse
died for his misdeeds
and those of his father
wounds of love
broke neck
one lip gone
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constructed for safety and security
our tiny vista is not large enough
for real engagement
urban concrete for children
metal trees and broken glass
the smell of serpent pee
*music scolds a barking dog
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SELF-RECOGNITION
NAKEDLY BELOW
ANDROGYNOUS
DECENTLY SHROUDED
SILENT….POSSIBLY SLEEPING
*I pray we outgrow earth
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the inner life can be a dark experience
words having sprung spontaneously
prospective readers must give way to intended recipient
(yes, there are readers lurking in the bushes)
“wanting God, we care not for less”
*their sex sticks numbered by hand
*public questions start with a raised hand
*the physical world is full of hostile hands
artful representation of the small matters of life
portraits of appetites—-spiced pleasures
imitating the impromptu in youth
the outworn self a total shipwreck
a wide range of nuance and tone
becomes a painful toot and poop
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the words aren’t spontaneous – this alphabet is old – what is spontaneous is the way they come out – they way we put them together
small stones building Babel
watch out
they’re taking notes
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I thought I had escaped the agents
I thought I had removed all the bugs but the shadows are still out there –
-men behind newspapers with eye holes cut out –
comedy detectives in a town full of concrete –
-they don’t have a clue
they haven’t earned their medals – their résumés are fraudulent tales of heroic actions against a backdrop of insurmountable odds –
-a retired detective is never truly retired
-a retired magician still does tricks
-by the roadside
the discarded thumbs of forgotten hitchhikers –
the tumbleweed of out time blows through the scrolling news bars cathode ray tubes
– we only like the sun as we mathematically the right distance from it
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baptism by suffering
—-increasingly verbal and reflective
steady toothpick legs
on a path long washed away
the thick dark current
*your willingness to plunge into wordpress
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no one has a pacemaker here – someone beside you to keep pace – different gaits & remember to at least breath –
the heirlooms are dusty now
cracked around the edges
a useless metaphor
I’m sure
*quarantined from WordPress
*remember the angry emails
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“I ride and I shoot and I call my pony, Francis May”
dwellers by the creek with memories sour
boys, how do you sleep ?
all those thoughts you’ve tried to leave behind
the big picture is not a pretty sight
*shrunken skulls stuffed with intellect
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as though you were being watched by big heads in secret rooms
they try to confuse you—-openhand or tightfist ?
chainsaw baby—facing governmental lobotomy
radium rain outside
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she is more than an answer in a crossword
more than a blank face in a colour by numbers paint pad – misrepresentation of the facts –
three out ten things
seven of the other
twice the length from here to the middle –
a thousand fingers rub sharp edges –
the detective spends all day indexing evidence, a slow slug up a mountain, indexing dead ends –
Normans mothers eradicated the clues – underwear stretched to ripping point
the open hand technique
horse stance
laughing at the patty patty sound
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extinction was inevitable
the Neanderthals erased all their poetry
they collected ancient tools and bones
and left them as evidence
someday, humans would guess wrong
they would overlook the fact
that the path goes in both directions
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sometimes I get email for MITOCHONDRIAL MIKE
what the hell does that mean ?
my family in Southern Indiana
opted to face death
rather than form families
with creatures
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while the earth returns to a healthy state
I touch Yoko in exchange for commodities
I fear reeducation camps
A JUDEO-CHRISTIAN FELLOW IS SHEPHERDING
LIFE IS HELL AND DEATH IS WORSE
* why would anyone sequester carbon ?
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there was a hammer to smash brittle bones
your poetry was pronounced in English
—-Jesus was not a work in progress
you have a nasty habit of wounding some of your words
the planks of your intelligence was “schooled”
I smoked cigarettes with the boys from Neander Valley
one summer I showed them how to build a scaffold
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Neanderthal man serenaded his woman with noises not words –
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AFTER YEARS OF SPECULATION:
NOT A SINGLE ANALYTIC BRAIN IN THE ENTIRE COUNTRY OF FRANCE
*narrow brown eye probing
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dancing on a burning floor
all substitutions are loathsome
with no external force he could make her glisten
a gentlemanly caress with the eyes
heaven’s glue came undone
Puritan Bats flew out to the rescue
dust from the handiwork of God caused coughs
“sorry sir, no visitors to that slice of landscape”
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outside the area known as KENTUCKY
Neanderthals used symbols to write poetry
just think of the size of foreskin
on their steeple’s finger
*cornucopian plenitude
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always the relentless turn of the verbal screw
exhausted from you standing on my fingers
“please mister, if it be your will
grant me an excuse
from pain”
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something I have no right to
yet I pray will be allowed
*the hurried slowness of desire
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a thousand fingers rub the sharp edge
the shadowy figure of God cannot remove the pain
at any length, it is permanent and rather complex
I’ve seen you trying to measure it
before the others made shine
you are very brave
seemingly unstopped by any punctuation
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Norman’s mother bought her underwear during the Spanish Inquisition
all torture inflicted was washed clean
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in Florida, detectives often spend the day
coloring hanged witches
in Salem activity books
*coloring books are only a temporary relief
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before the stab of death
the iridescent blue-black of the bulls
the bedroom window of my youth
bizarrely, the utmost cherished moment
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the darkness was alive
like a swarm of bats circling a lone figure
a darkness that was more than the absence of light
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THIS DARKNESS YOU SPEAK OF
TROUBLED NOT BY THE SHADE OR DEPTH
THE SMELL—DEAR LORD, THE SMELL
BEYOND OLD HAM AND PINTO BEANS
BEYOND NOSTALGIC CAT URINE
OR BAT POOP IN A BAT POOP CAVE
THE SMELL IS A STUMBLING BLOCK
CHARACTER ROLES MAY BE REVERSED
POSSIBLE ANTHROPOLOGICAL PROBLEMS
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IN THE ROLE OF A NARCISSISTIC POET:
sadly, one must jump off a tall building to obtain recognition
(latent construction of buildings with pencils does not count)
*decentered subjectivity is something to think about
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WHAT DO YOU SAY WHEN THE WIFE ASKS IF YOU ARE REGULARIZED ?
YOU THOUGHT SHE WOULD ENCOURAGE INVENTION
WHEN SHE WAS YOUNG SHE THREW STONES AT THE MOON
NOW SHE GOES TO BED THINKING HOW MANY PLEASURES
CAN SHE DENY YOU ?
*there is no nostalgia in shared family spaces
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THE WINDOW OF EXPECTATIONS IS CLOUDY
ANTICIPATION IS A NASTY GLASS SHARD
BLOOD DRAWS ATTENTION
I HAVE TRIED TO PULL EMILY DICKINSON FREE
HER LARGE KIDNEYS LEAKING
DOMESTICATED AS IF IN PRISON
UTILITARIAN WORDS
I SMUGGLED IN SOME BLUE NOTES
SHE WOULD NOT TOLERATE MONGREL WORDS
PASTORAL EMILY WITH HER FLOWERS OF SPEECH
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EMILY OFTEN SAT IN A POOL OF YELLOW MYSTICISM
DEFICIENT PERSONAL HYGIENE—IT WAS NO ROSE
THAT SMACKED THOSE WHO BREATHED IT
SHE HAD A PERSONAL ESSENCE
SHE SAID, “THAT BE MY CONFESSION”
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previous tinkerings,
the odd modulation of frequencies,
the blackboard scribbling erased with a broad swipe told her my dalliances with invention were fruitless – she wanted hard facts, not fumblings with the truth,
nothing outside her parameters
– I wanted to tell her I thought she smelt of dead raccoons, smelt like damp Kentucky caves
but I couldn’t, why would I?
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RUMOR HAS IT THAT THE DEAD ARE RESTLESS
SIN EXISTS IN THE GRAVE—CONFINED SIN
INCREASINGLY ANGRY IN THEIR HOUR OF NEED
IF YOU COULD SHINE A LIGHT ON THEIR FACES
YOU WOULD BE SHOCKED AT THE SHAME
BURDENED WITH THE PEACH OF FLAMES
*unfathomed Kentucky caves—another way of saying “graves”
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someone said the feminine voice was Yoko
SCREECHING !!!
yaps and barks and a voice that seems whining
pornographic thoughts every second
unmarried women float through the mind
vulnerable healthy clean
————————————————————-
machine-made poetry
peculiar limitations
poets dependent on each other’s recognition
to prune their language in the dark
——SHADOWLESS——–
wanting a declaration
a test of sanity
a high wall
thinking in another manner
like squeezing the juice out of an orange
and replacing it with urine
“have an orange”
poem-of-the-month
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the urine orange from the piss tree – pissy juice drips in the dimple of the the girl with the Kirk Douglas chin
badges of dogs on her lapels and a scarf that is a noose –
a man who looks like a younger version of me –
skyline of building ziggurats ahead
memories of Mesopotamian sacrifice
– we took a trip in a plane and landed in a land of neon lights and electric toilets –
she borrowed something from here
stole something from there -stored it it all in a neither here
nor there
and today the clocks went forward
i lost an hour
i blame the farmers and their over familiarity with livestock
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SPELLING AND WRITING ARE THE OUTLETS OF COWARDS
NOT A SINGLE HERO IN AN ARMY OF POETS
VIOLENT FANTASIES RIDE THE SCHOOLBUS
12 YEARS OF HIBERNATION, TIME SERVED
THE NEED FOR IMAGINARY FRIENDS
A TIGHT GRIP ON THE CLUTCH
LINGERING A BIT
SEAMLESS STROKES
WAY, WAY TOO MANY STROKES
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PSYCHOLOGICAL SCARS SLEEPING ON PASSIVE HELPLESSNESS
LIFE TAKES PLACE AROUND OTHER PEOPLE
SIGN UP FOR THE “FREE RIDER” PROGRAM
THE POETRY LANE LACKS SELF-DEFEATING SLOW-POKES
THE HUMAN DRIVE TO ENGAGE IN SOCIAL INTERCOURSE
PREFERENCES THAT LEAD TO SATISFACTION
PSYCHOTROPIC MEDICATIONS
SYMPTOM SUPPRESSIVE NASCAR STYLE
DREAMS OF ABRAHAM LINCOLN PASSING LOGS
THE COINS IN HIS POCKET HAD RADIUM TARNISH
INSECURITIES THROUGH OVERCOMPENSATION
DENY RATHER THAN RECOGNIZE
FEAR WALKS NAKED
NO SURROGATES
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words as masks which the poet can hide behind – everyone is taller in real life – poems add pounds on to skeletal frames – your real name is a well kept secret
online competitions to guess the truth behind the moniker
pin the tail on the donkey
nail the donkey to the floor
in and out friction
burns soothe lubricant grease
looking for a place to drop anchor
a safe harbour
a clear passage
the sailors tattoos failed and rub off on her skin faded colour bleached by the sun
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the egg man said that each day was an unhealthy, childish investment
dozens of dvds of the egg man toying with his unit unsheathed
he referred to it as his Big Charley rifle
his bang-bang shoot-em up manhood
an instrument of different colors and textures
he liked to think it was more than a handful
it always seemed to be lurking
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it cast a long shadow on how summer days – female hobos in men’s shoes screaming at buildings – fat kids looking like lazy Buddahs – sugar rush tramp scabs
the shit between their toes which the crowd swoop down and peck at –
black winged sleek crows know not of sodomy
their shadows are cast long
behind oils drum flames
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FREUD SAID THAT FEMALE HOBOS GO IN BRA CUPS NOT MEN’S SHOES
WAKING LIFE FROM THE MOUTH OF FREUD, DREAM CREATURES
THINK HOW MANY TIMES YOU’VE GONE TO THE BATHROOM
ON THE FACE OF OUR GLOBE
HEAVY CURTAINS AND LOCKED DOORS
A NERVOUS HAND, CURIOUS FINGERS
THE EGG MAN WAS NOT ANONYMOUS
* where the hell did he get those pants ?
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anonymous poems found in famous Kentucky cave
endless old words declaring love
I tried to sell them
but everyone all ready
had a handkerchief full
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ANOTHER VOICE SINGS SOFTLY BUT NOT FOR YOU OR ME
FASHIONED FROM MERE WORDS, OUR IMAGE OFTEN IN INK
CHRISTIANS ARE FOND OF POINTING OUT
THAT HAPPINESS IS ABOVE THE BELT-LINE
ANYTHING ELSE BELOW IS BOILING IN THE LAKE
SUGAR-COATED SODOMY, POKED AND PRODDED
NURSERY RHYMES WRITTEN ON RESTSTOP WALLS
DIFFICULT TO CONVICT IT OF LITERARY GREATNESS
THE EGG MAN WEARING HIS STAINED BURLESQUE PANTS
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———————-GONE TO THE BATHROOM ON THE FACE OF OUR GLOBE———————
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A WORD-GATHERER ON THE LONELY MOOR
HIS POCKETS FULL OF VERSE
HOW MANY TIMES WILL THE POET
SQUEEZE HIS SORE SPOT ?
WANTING TO KNOW ALL THERE IS TO KNOW
EVIDENCE, SOMETHING UNDER THE NAILS
SOMETHING UP THE NOSE
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———————-THE EGG MAN WAS NOT ANONYMOUS——————–
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(Totally out of synch)
fat bulletts sleep snug in the chamber – sleeping monster waiting the laws of science
take hold
through trigger
hammer –
through barrel
pushes through waves
impact trajectories tracing the lines
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I NO LONGER COLLECT YOUR CONTRADICTIONS
APOCALYPTIC POETRY
THE PROOF IN DOMESTICATED SUNGLASSES
THE MIRROR DOES NOT LIE
WHAT IF THEY WEIGH YOUR SOUL ?
DEATH A TERRIFYING ABODE
A WORLD MADE OF URINE AND EXCREMENT
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THE READER’S DISCOMFORT
ASSAULTS ON THE BACKDOOR
A DIARY OF ABRUPT COMPLETIONS
AN IMAGE OF HUMPTY DUMPTY
HUSBAND, WIFE, OR BOTH ?
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— A WORD-GATHERER ON THE LONELY MOOR—
CYCLICAL MODELS OF THOUGHT
INTERCHANGING BEGINNINGS
A FROG, AN APE, A CAVEMAN FROM KENTUCKY
COMMENTS TO POETRY IN A CONTINUOUS LOOP
EMILY DICKINSON IN THE HIDDEN WORLD
SHE REMAINS THE NARRATIVE BEHIND THE NARRATIVE
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—A WORD-GATHERER ON THE LONELY MOOR—
REMEMBRANCE OF A LOST BLISS
PILLS AND SWEET NAUSEAS OF VARIOUS KINDS
ALICE WALKER BONE METH FROM FORKS
FAMILY AND FRIENDS ACTING ON INSTINCT
23 LOVERS COLLAPSED
AND DE’ MANHOOD
STRONG
READY TO GO
THE TIP WET
WITH GLOW
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Reblogged this on multiplemichael.
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