polished turd
the new year
will stick like shit in the grips of
your shoes.
It is here
the emperors new clothes,
this polished turd.
And what will it bring…
A map?
A skeleton key?
World War 3?
Will you find a clue in a
fortune cookie?
The thaw will come
and then it will look like the whole
world is weeping.
Bins overflow with cans and cardboard.
The cold pavements look like platinum.
Eatmorewords's Blog 
OMG, ARE YOU LIKE THE MICHAEL JORDAN OF SCATOLOGICAL POETRY ?
HERCULES WAS TASKED WITH CLEANING THE AUGEAN STABLES
WHAT WILL JOHNNY BOY PULL OUT OF HIS HAT ?
POOP-GRADE DATA FOLLOWS YOU HOME
WILLINGNESS TO COLLABORATE
CONSTANT GREEN LIGHTS
FIVE WORDS OR LESS
EMILY DICKINSON
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BLACKLISTED INTELLECTUALS
PRONOUNCED MOTEL RELIGION
ZINOVIEV AND KAMENEV DEAD
WORDPRESS CENSORSHIP WIDESPREAD
WATCHDOGS AND DETECTIVES
ORDINARY AGENTS AND SPECIAL AGENTS
THEY PUT YOU IN JAIL
IF YOU DENY THE HOLOCAUST
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EACH LETTER OF OUR THOUGHTS IS INTACT
—————————————————————–
YOUR LIFE—-MY LIFE
PREFERABLE TO NO LIFE
I VISITED THE NEW YOU
WHERE YOU ONCE WORKED
WE HAD HERBAL TEA
AND DARK ITALIAN CIGARETTES
THE NEW YOU SPEAKS THE MODERN TONGUE
HE TOLD ME SEVERAL TIMES THAT I WAS SAFE
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the cold gravediggers break shovels in unforgiving earth – the corpses don’t care they don’t mind the cold – the smell of funeral death and fresh flowers in cold air and new dawns –
if you squint hard enough they say you can see the soul leave the body
the words arrived as normal
no delays due to new year rushes – the new me
new glasses and a longer beard – the meth heads of Florida and the devil folk of Kentucky
nothing
no rabbits from my hat
we push each other on
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MM the MJ of scatological poetry – full field press – 27 letters –
throwing brown balls at the hoops –
red square on the back board –
it gives you something to aim for –
a lighthouse in the dark
the honeymoon grapple
shooting fish in a barrel
the hair on the triangle
spectators at court side – Jack Nicholson and a shit eating grin –
the 9ft point guard with feet longer than the alphabet –
Emily always liked a man with big feet –
cowboys don’t exist on this island no need for biblical bogeymen –
just bank robbers and child molesters
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GONE BACK TO MY HOMETOWN IN INDIANA
THE HOUSE AND THE CHURCH ARE STILL THERE
THE TREES HAVE GONE GRAY AND BALD
I SEARCHED BUT COULD NOT FIND A SINGLE WHITE
SPANISH PEOPLE HAVE MOVED INTO THE ARENA
THEY ARE BUSY DROPPING BABIES
AND WORKING AT THE FURNITURE FACTORY
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WHAT STARTS OUT AS CHEAP LABOR
TURNS INTO FRACTIONS
AND WHITE PEOPLE IN TRASH BAGS
CAN NO LONGER ADD UP
LANGUAGE ITSELF IS PATRIOTIC
ENGLISH—FIRST, SECOND, THIRD
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the coffee girl emerged from a fog of steam
amongst beans
awkward as she passes change and touches skin – drinks in skyscraper sized cups – status symbol beverages for the lonely – she thought a script writer was following her around – taking notes
I had a loyalty card for her
a charity box on the country “REBUILT LEVIATHAN”
people has fractions
not quite whole
pieces of people fitting each other
( jigsaws a funny word )
expensive flower baskets hang from the rafters
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the script writer may have been the new you
IF ONE LOSES CONTROL
THEN PROSE TAKES OVER
CADENCES AND RHYTHMS
PROSE IN MASQUERADE
POLISHED TURDS GALORE
MULTIPLE MEANINGS
MULTIPLE MICHAELS
THE GIRL AT THE COFFEE COUNTER
HAD COMPOSED A FEW POEMS
ABOUT BENZEDRINE
AND MOTORCYCLE ANGELS
CEASELESS TOIL FOR PLEASURE
WAYWARD AND MORE WAYWARD
WILL SHE STUDY YOUR HANDS ?
THE WAX FROM OLD CANDLES ?
AS A PILGRIM, YOU SHOULD CONFESS
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coffee shop girl writes the menus in meter –
tapping her foot as pipes steam
as the angels arrive on motorcycles –
angels with initiation ceremonies behind closed doors –
membership cards and benzedrine pupils
dilated pin pricks
nosebleeds and hangnails
the after hour activities of the forks coffee girl
pictures of Emily and dirty spoons
stained brown
I always give her a tip
coins in a cup
collaboration and mutual aid
**she told me that she didn’t like men with long nails and no interest in music
***if I had dug up my granddad and told him about all of this he would have died from shock
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A skeleton 3
A skeleton high…
what will be the next metamorphosis to come?
Check out my new poem…
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===============pictures of Emily===========
driving for hours
thinking about the past
and lovers long gone
bohemian women
with habits
bohemian women
with tails
the transparency of relationships
young women with beautiful breasts
older ladies with inner-tubes
throwing rocks at Catholics
taking Jesus from the cross
I had no idea
he was middleclass
endless nights in motels
years free of employment
wealth rewards youth
doing everything possible
to not touch the ground
we bought our stuff on a boat
big bags
we purchased in bulk
never completely out
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LIFE WAS FULL OF UNDERCOVER AGENTS
MEN AND WOMEN
BIG DONGS
LITTLE DONGS
WOMEN WITH BIG APPETITES
WOMEN PROTECTED BY ARMOR
LIKE A SOFT-SKIN ARMADILLO
WOMEN WHO DRANK STRAIGHT FROM THE BOTTLE
CRYING SCENES AND TRIPS TO THE HOSPITAL
ALL THE JOURNALS AND FILES AND CODE NAMES
*swiftly discarded and swiftly replaced
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WORST-CASE SCENARIO
JOAN ON THE MEND
TRAGIC RISKS
HUMOR FROM THE GRAVE
GLUE THAT WILL HOLD
SEX IN SPREES
DRIVING OUT OF CONTROL
SEX IN TREES
HUNGRY BEARS FROM ALASKA
INDISCRETIONS
EASY TO GET DISTRACTED
SKIP WORK AND SMOKE A ROCK
SUICIDAL SEX WITH A TEDDY BEAR
ERASING WORDS DIRECTLY FROM WILLIAM BLAKE
PERSONALITY TRANSPLANTS WITH A HANDGUN
BULLETS RUBBED CLEAN
ABNORMAL PERSONALITY TRAITS
TAKING PILLS TO STAY IN THE MIDDLE
NEAR THE AVERAGE JOHNNY BOY
TAKING PILLS TO STAY IN MY LANE
*on the ride home—taking pills for thrills
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OH BABY, BORDERLINE MENTAL ILLNESS
I LET ERNST KRETSCHMER SPEND THE NIGHT
WE COLORED IN HIS COLORING BOOK
HE FAVORED SPRING HIGHLIGHTS
I ENTERTAINED DARK BROWNS
LOTS OF MEDICATION
TO SURVIVE
A PROPHET IN A NEST OF TRICKSTERS
ERNST WAS A BLAST ON METH
HE SAID THAT I WAS A CRIMINAL
I LOOKED OUT THE WINDOW
AT ALL THE GOVERNMENT AGENTS
I MUST BE A CRIMINAL
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taking pills to keep afloat as all things up front converge – head is filled with concrete –
get out of the bath with a dirty face
– a mood board all black
– building a case, the detectives fabricate and coerce
– she seeks solace in Switzerland – fake passport
fake passport
fake paperwork with a new name but still the personality of a tree
she kept dropping peanuts and was shocked when an elephant showed up at her door
old time religion given to the peasant as a weekend treat
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at the seance they tried to connect with Joan – illegible writing and a deaf ear caused confusion –
at midnight they summonsed the soul of Noam Quivers –
refunds were demanded at the exit
——————————————
**a mysterious voice emerged from the ether (where else would it emerge from?)
-flowers wilted and died, animals howled,
the circle of interlinked hands was ripped asunder,
broken,
fine bone China cups fell and smashed,
the candles extinguished by sudden gusts
eager talk of Joan quashed under the weight of the strange timbre of NOAM
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AFTER THE SOUND OF A HYENA LAUGH
NO ONE WOULD USE THE FRONT DOOR
AS IF SOMETHING COULD SMELL THEIR BLOOD
THE FAMILY WASHED WITH LEMON JUICE
IT WAS THE SWEETNESS OF THEIR BLOOD
THE ENTIRE FUTURE WAS AHEAD OF THEM
*there were some snags with the fires of menstruation
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CUT THE CORD WITH AN AXE
CUT THE UMBILICAL CORD WITH ONE BLOW
A CLIMACTIC END TO A LONG STRETCH OF TIME
DREAMS ABOUT THE CHILD BEING A MUTILATED CHRIST
BIRTHDAY GIFTS WITH MALLETS AND CRUDE NAILS
A LIFE OF INTOLERABLE RELATIONSHIPS
ANONYMOUS SUCKS IN PARKING LOTS
PAINFUL BANGINGS IN MOTELS
BEING A LIVING CORPSE
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mechanical decision made automatically – non sentient metal arms push and pull –
(reconsider the decision)
assembly line conveyor belt –
relegated below the plimsole line – crashing waves at the edges spill onto shore absorbed by sand
she liked the explosion – that moment when things happened –
not just a small leak,
dribbling out,
over the edge,
I have stood at the edges of four continents
dogs got a bone
eyes, reptilian, spinning in sockets , can see round corners
——————————————
the beginning of the records when the needle dropped in told us that we floating in space
——————————————
this is following nothing
——-
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WORKADAY WORLD—BUTTOCKS ABOVE DE’ SHOULDERS
EMBARRASSMENT IN THE DECLINING DAYS
BRIEF, HUMOROUS POOPS
IN THE CAR
MIND YOU NO ONE ELSE LAUGHS
FIERCE OUTCRIES
PERHAPS NOSELESS
AND EYE-EATEN
CHAPS
LIGHT UP ANOTHER WINSTON
A PERFECT CIGARETTE FOR FALLING OUT OF LOVE
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EACH DAY IS DIFFERENT
EACH DAY IS THE SAME
ARE THERE GROUND RULES ON SMELLS ?
ACOUSTICS FIRST
SPLENDID SOUND-BOX
I MIGHT ADD
GENDER ANTAGONISM
ESTRANGEMENT
ARBITRARINESS
AND THEN AN ANGEL LEAKS ARITHMETIC
AND TIME RETURNS UPON ITSELF
*I have witnessed rage for angelic arithmetic
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poor old Emily
when she asked where do babies come from
she was shown a picture of Leviathan
none of that honeymoon tango
forget the sweat & reverie
babies made like cutlery
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HAIR-SPLITTING COMMENTARY ON LEVIATHAN
LINGUISTIC FIREWORKS FROM THE BACKDOOR
IMITATING THE SOUNDS FROM HEAVEN
THE MAKING OF THE SPOONS AND THE FORKS
POETS WITH PARACHUTES
EMBARRASSING BROWN STAINS
IRRITATION AND A MILD RASH
CLICHES OF EVERYDAY LANGUAGE
WE LIVE IN THEATER, IN CONSTANT CONFLICT
*poetry in a chaotic jumble of words
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poets in space
zero gravity and a cargo of heavy words – poet club –
underground meetings and the exchange of harsh words –
(. the first rule of POETS CLUB is. )
– membership in the post
– a badge and a handshake
– monthly newsletter
the heavier elements weigh us down
a poem a day keeps
on the rock
floating to the limits before jettisoning from the fuselage
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BABIES MADE LIKE CUTLERY
MOTHERS ASKED TO PARTICIPATE
IN THEIR OWN VIOLATION
“CHILDREN OF THE BIBLE”
FLESH-LOATHING WOMEN
HIDING FROM NOAH
“PLEASE LORD,
PROTECT OUR
WICKED WRINKLE”
THERE BE NO APPLAUSE
ON THE ARK
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AND THEN AN ANGEL LEAKS ARITHMETIC
AND TIME RETURNS UPON ITSELF
PECULIAR TURDS
COMMUNICATING WITH LOGS
PHILOSOPHICAL POOP
AN ASSORTMENT—SO TO SPEAK
A DISTANT COUSIN
FAMILY TRIBULATIONS IN A CIRCLE
YOUR BROTHER GOT STUCK
HOLDING THE BAG
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POLISHED TURDS WITH SILVER LININGS
FUNDAMENTAL INGREDIENTS
IN JOHNNY BOY POETRY
COUNTRY POETS CRACK CORN
HACKED-OUT ARRANGEMENTS
IMITATION FLARF ?
WET BLANKETS
PEOPLE ON FIRE
ROCKING EUROPE
STRANGE HEART BEATING
BRUTE BLOOD-SHUDDERING LOINS
COMMON DENOMINATOR LINKING BEINGS
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TEXTUAL PLEASURE
CATHARSIS
YOUR BROTHER HOLDING THE BAG
CONTORTIONS ON THE WIFE FACE
SUPERFICIAL SIGNIFIERS
FASHIONABLE
AND BUOYANT IN POUNDS
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POLISHED TURD IN A BATHING SUIT
RECLINING ON A SOFA
VISIBLE HAIR
BUOYANT AREAS
———–POETRY————
PSEUDO-BABY BABBLE
SPOKEN WORDS SOUND WRONG
“OMG, WHERE ARE YOU FROM ?”
*she said that her body did all the talking
*impoverished for intellectual exchange
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MANUALS FOR REMOVING HAIR
A PLOT WITHOUT RESORTING
TO THE WRITTEN WORD
THE BATHING SUIT
FROM YOUNGER DAYS
ESSENTIALLY PICTORIAL
*no secret that you peppered her good
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visible hair removed by pulling at the root
available hair on line
human wigs
spoken words hang in the air I have seen people trying to grab them
& locked up in storage unit for future use
never seen a bald animal
never seen a bald Rastafarian
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never a manual on how to restore hair, a plot with a gaping hole, a bald head shine like a halo –
stuck in the bath until you shrunk – pictorial representation of pivotal moments
a slide show of memories
NAScars still go round in circles
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THAT STRANGE BATHING SUIT
SUCCESSFULLY MANIPULATING
EVERYONE AROUND
MAKING DUMB PEOPLE SMART
BARELY LITERATE PEOPLE PHYSICAL
POETS WHO TOY WITH LANGUAGE
——OFTEN LEAVE——
PAINTER PALETTES IN THE TRASH
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BELOW DECK WITH THE SAILORS
AMONG THE EATERS
RATHER THAN THE EATEN
MISADVENTURES
ACTIVE STRADDLE
HAIRY LEGS
TOUGH OLD BIRD THIGHS
CURVED PLEASURES
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BELOW THE DECK
WITH THE SAILORS
EVERYTHING WAS POISONED
——————————————-
THE LANGUAGE BLACK
the language black with poison
LEISURE GRAVITATES
SUBTLE PLEASURES WITHOUT POISON
CUMULATIVE PLEASURES
SOME SOAKED THROUGH BREAD
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LIFE IS JUST TELEVISION
YOU’VE SAID THAT A THOUSAND TIMES
MALE ADOLESCENTS AND THEIR TASTES
NO MARY TYLER MOORE IN THEIR PANTS
LIFE WITHOUT RISK
EVEN THE SLIGHTEST DISCOMFORT
HUFFING AND PUFFING INTERCOURSE
WORKING TOWARDS RECOGNITION
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THE IVORY-MERCHANT FORSTER ADAPTATIONS
OF JOHNNY BOY AND HIS DAILY LIFE
——A VOYEUR OF COMMENTS
TRYING TO GAUGE THE FLARF
TRYING TO PHOTOGRAPH HISTORY
WORDS MISUNDERSTOOD
OMINOUS CLOSE-UPS
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close ups so close you see pot holes in the skin and through them to the bone –
adaptations of books
turned into films and computer games – a scripted daily life of car crashes and queuing –
hanging around corners
hanging around below the radar
what do you do when you’re not in the photograph?
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OZZIE AND HARRIET IN THE SHOWER
WITH EXTREME STEAM
THE CAMERAS ARE TURNED OFF
ROMANTIC FANTASIES
FREUDIAN FURY
step outside the photograph
THE FEAR
OF BEING DISCOVERED
IN ONE’S DECEPTION AND PERVERSION
*born without childhood
raised outside parenthood
jaded tastes/narcotics
poetry and death
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AND THEN AN ANGEL LEAKS ARITHMETIC
SHADOWS CHUCKLE ABOUT PAINLESS ADULTRY
SEX OUTSIDE THE LITTLE HAPPY HOME
——CINEMA OF BRUTALITY——
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THE POLICE MAY KNOCK ON YOUR DOOR
THEY ARE QUESTIONING ALL POETS
WITH LAST NAMES NOT ENDING IN A VOWEL
*plea bargaining and dust-settling
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the woman with fork fingers makes the ideal dinner date
but disillusioned about use and function
the fork in the road leads three different ways
a the plague town on the horizon, bring out the dead bell ringers burn themselves clean
resignation notice written twice and never sent
beer can philosophy for the filmmakers
Ozzie and Harriet aren’t known across the sea – just two names amongst a dictionary of thousands
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THE WOMAN WITH FORK FINGERS
——————OR————————
A WOMAN WITH FORK FINGERS
one has retired permanently
the rest are available for cash
AUTOBIOGRAPHICAL SNACKS
WHORES, MADMEN, AND SPINSTERS
CROWDED IN THE POOL HALL BACKROOM
INARTICULATE SPEAR CARRIERS
CHEAP WHISKEY BRETHREN
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sex sandwiches
someone will get the crust
shadow puppets with no strings
– thin lines
thick margins
– days of brutal beatings
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hide behind sofas as knuckles rap on doors – the poet underground – handshakes and passwords
– they said they had my fingerprints
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THE POLICE KNOCK AT THE DOOR
————–SUDDENLY——————-
YOU BECOME AWARE OF THE BIND
OF YOUR IDENTITY
A SKINLESS SELF
IT IS EASY TO SEE YOUR NAKEDNESS
THE POLICE ASK
IF YOU ARE THE GENERIC MAN
YOU TRY NOT TO LOOK
AT THE EXPLICIT DRAWINGS
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THEY FOUND YOU UNDER AN AVALANCE OF BOOKS
MARRIED—ATLEAST PLAYING HOUSE
KEEPING HOUSE
OTHER POETS TRIED TO TRANSLATE
YOUR EDITIONS
PHYSICIANS SODOMIZED THE WORDS
PASSIONS AS DOMESTIC DUTIES
LOW LEVEL EXPECTATIONS
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at the line up the police couldn’t find 15 generic men – all shapes and sizes – all manner of oddities and hair
long and short and feet in trainers and shoes – and could they point the finger at you?
– and before that,
when they knocked a flurry of activity to hide the items (words swallowed, cutlery thrown out of the window etc etc) –
you let them in and offered them tea
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AT THE LINE-UP
THE POLICE RETRIEVED VARIOUS
UNCOMMON WORDS
WHETHER OR NOT THE ANATOMY WAS CORRECT
TAX BOUGHT GRAMMATICAL MACHINERY
POETRY LISTED UNDER “SWEET PETUNIA”
POETS WITH PIXIELIKE FACES
POETS WHO QUESTION
IF THE POPE
IS A BACHELOR
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ONE LINE AT THE POLICE STATION
——–IMPOTENCE
ANOTHER LINE
——–POVERTY
MEN OF UNKNOWN BIRTH
BIBLE MEN WITH WINGS
FAIRY-TALE MONKEY MEN
WITH LAYERS OF PROTECTIVE SKIN
MASTURBATORY LAYERS
PRAYER-BOOK RUB-OFF
FORESKIN IN THE WORST OF WAYS
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under your bed the police found maps of leviathan
designs for hybrid cutlery
pictures with no eyes
unreturned library books(fines totalling thousands)
all covered in dust
then police up went on for miles
handcuffed in servitude
it wasn’t what you expected
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bungling double life
the same clouds as yesterday
the fence around your nostalgia
legitimate planks
footprints from Eden
open wounds
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WHAT CATEGORY DOES ONE PLACE
A PRAYER-BOOK RUB-OFF ?
ELEMENTS OF ANIMALITY
REMOTENESS AND THE HAND
REREADING THE STROKES
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footprints from Eden just suddenly ended
abduction from the sky?
no signs of God or spontaneous combustion – no tangible truth –
-at best we a settle on your third guess
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YOU SHOULD HOUSE THE INHABITANTS
THAT ESCAPED EDEN
EXPENDITURE WITHOUT LIMIT
EACH DAY AN IRREPARABLE DISASTER
OH GOD, HOW COSTLY IN THE END
*your pig of nostalgia can never poop enough coins
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they tried round up the escapees
chased them through fields and cities, across rivers and barren lands
how much space between the seconds?
heavy breathing
fear of capture drives some one
-reluctant nostalgia at a time never forgotten
– no chance to cash in
so you throw the coins away
– trinkets with germs
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TALK OF TOSSING
THE COINS AWAY
WILL DRAW SATAN
WANTONLY VIOLATING COPYRIGHT
MAY WAKEN THE GROWN-UPS
TO FIND YOURSELF
ENTIRELY COVERED
IN INVISIBLE FAME
SHAG TOBACCO
BLACK PIPE
TRYING TO RETAKE
THE PAST
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THE THANKSGIVING TURKEY WAS SWEATING
DIRTY BIRD DEODORANT
CINEMATIC VOCABULARY
CONTAMINANTS
FEEDER DUCTS
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seasonal bird
goosed existence
living to die
is the way of the meat
philosophical birds accept this
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caught you reading polo-neck poetry
stringing words together
puppeteer poetry
guilt-soaked emotions
exhaustive interplay
everything moneyed
at least everything important
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how could you have caught me reading polo-neck poetry?
– it was in a dark room and I was wearing black, daddio.
– dark poetry in black rooms
black poetry in dark rooms –
– everything is important
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