dilemma
if your wife/mother/father/lover was a werewolf would you:
•feed it to the homeless
•lover her unconditionally
•poke him with a sharp stick
•donate the thing to science
•shoot it between the eyes with a silver bullet
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Eatmorewords's Blog 
Unconditionally!!
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I would ask a werewolf to:
wear thick blue eye shadow
jut her chest out
combine white spaghetti strings
with red bra straps
a short, short skirt
strike vampy supermodel poses
say my name real slow
make come-hither eyes
have gorgeous undulating privates
be gender resourceful
always pick me as her favorite
always volunteer to pay for everything
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ONE NEVER HEARS THAT PHRASE ANYMORE
a happy meal at McDonalds
mature women who celebrate their objectification
eating disorders and body-image
plus size that seems average
plus size that seems enormous
circus tent and smaller
full vixen attire
“Hi, I’m Barbie”
“Hi, I’m Britney Spears”
women brought back to their feminine side
a beauty pageant illusion of womanhood
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the irony of a happy meal
who’s happy?
– the chicken?
– the cow?
– that clown?
– the obese four year old a with mass produced toy?
– dead end job prospects at the drive through.
– I saw her, she was 74% fat, plus size drinking a Diet Coke
– everything was ironic
the ugliest person at a beauty pageant
admittance of feminine under duress
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everyone at McDonalds standing in line
experiencing penis envy
speculating always comes up with falsifiable claims
———————-*————————-
the lady at the library desk calls children, REPLICAS
offspring and their survival
young hominids
700 Robert Frost books
not a single book on birth control
or STD prevention
at one time there was a book of photographs
soldiers from the Civil War and venereal disease
death by cannonball would have been more desirable
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people in general searching for potential boundaries
………………….costumes, props
exaggerated poses on the street
desirability is questionable
historians with yardsticks
measuring
the distance between the self
and the self-as- image
the visual pleasure of people passing by
entanglement encouraged
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the visual pleasure of people passing by
parasitical and self-indulgent poets
3 copies of Robert Frost
a coupon for another
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the visual pleasure of people passing by
one would guess they do secondary
and menial things
velvet ropes holding up the curtain trousers
pockets full of prayers
“please Lord, half-living is not for me”
love as vague generalization
sex… guilty of plagiarism and bungling
the powers of delicacy long gone
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females with penis envy while standing in a queue that never moves – boastful remarks will be proven wrong –
all claims WILL be investigated –
unwanted offspring congregate at city hall
STD outbreaks at times of war
women in the factory making bombs will explode at night
death by cannonball would have been more desirable
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the sign read, “BICEP-BULGING ARMS WELCOME”
blaspheming at the library in the religious aisle
the librarian calls it “the weedy path”
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invisible boundaries restrict movement
invisible fences & ghost lines – those on that side of the line VS those on this side of the line –
people buying disguises to hide true feelings – using theatre props to hold up their edifice –
yardsticks used to move dog poop then used to measure the historical distance between truth self and public persona –
visual images of people passing
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people passing by
members of the poetry congregation
errant literary judgments
ridiculous Robert Frost shoehorned
squinting —fresh from under the rock
fame, thick and suffocating
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WHY WOULD A GROWN MAN WRITE POETRY ?
(+) FAME
(+) MONEY
(+) WILD SEX
——————-
——————-
good works will be rewarded
Sigmund Freud played an audio recording
of his wife whining
everything comes at an expense
more urgent
and tight as hell
random sampling of people
airport restrooms
stand back and stroke your citizen
think about creative writing
and what you’re going to write
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CHOKING OFF POETRY
the smoke of cremation ovens
an amount never negligible
—————————–
the best poets, dead
long dead
each poem a witness
of unhappy business
—————————–
you have a choice:
(+) footnotes
(+) a giant swallow from the frog pond
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grown men have experienced too many words – the are leaking words –
they can only be stored in lines
– no reward
– no kudos
– no pictures on magazine covers or red carpet walks – no reward
– grown me with ALL the alphabet
standing at the urinal thinking of the next line
standing at the coffee shop thinking of the next line
standing at the edge of the continent thinking of the next line
airport restrooms of random people
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the crematorium chimney reached up – a brick arm searching for stars – the smoke became the clouds and it rained dust for days –
the best poets, undiscovered
below the comments, a witness to this
the last century before automation
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THE LAST FIVE MINUTES BEFORE AUTOMATION
memories wiped and replaced
with a brother—well-behaved
small paintings of flowers
a sea-wave smile
on a windless day
promised Italian cigarettes
and seahorses for sex
—————-
—————-
a curious man
an automaton
nuts in a knitted sock
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before automation they implanted the memories
– they sacked the flesh –
– removed the humans from the factory and oiled the machines on standby –
– the machines don’t have brothers,
the machines don’t get paid –
– machines repetitive movements like honeymoon athletics – hammer and sickle
floating seahorses
saltwater breeze rusts the machines –
man with wrench
– the nuts and bolts tightened
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lose the humans
lose the conflicts which plague humans
the factory almost the wilderness
animals and insects cut up by hungry scissors
exactly what is the right kind of life for machines ?
———-computer driven machines with dialogue
tractors that plow the ground like a groom on the honeymoon
callous from years of rubbing on corduroy sheets
machines without thighs, loins, or early novels
machines who don’t know Herman Melville
or dream of a Moby Dick
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machines with a sharp apprehension of reality
a morning alarm in the factory
wake up and investigate
the library with its biographies of metal parts
philosophical dualism—rubber and plastic
posters of Herman Melville near the latrine
a man before modern literature
who earned his living by writing
poetic imagination mixed with fact
they tried to poke out his eyes
they extended the penetration
and then SHE
gave him generalized distinction
a dry spot on a library shelf
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CAREFUL
they will try to sell you
an inaccurate religious map of reality
thrown bricks are not uncommon
drowned pets and possibly sodomy
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slowly orbiting away from human traits – the automation of daily life
minute by minute
watching the second hands tick waiting on the alarm to signal the end of the shift
the end of the day never comes sooner enough – the hungry stomach rubbles for sustenance
– the hungry scissors needs to cut
– robotic hands never tire
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bright spotlights—an important announcement
“MAN POSSIBLY HAS A SECOND SELF”
themes and attitudes and clusters of themes and attitudes
whispers about dongs dwarfing in size
owners afraid of the bottom inch
the willed resistance of the bottom inch
devil figures with measuring devices
self-preservation on the radio
ants that seem aware are afraid
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modern art images of squatting men
trails of ants going north and south
a well taught insistence
on keeping the family unit together
the instinctual alarm clock screaming
as the graveyard goes to sleep
the morning shift girdling to go
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they did try and sell me
not wholesale
but bit by bit –
each part came with a certificate of authentication used later as evidence,
a true article of faith
– drowned pets in hessian sacks at the bottom of the canal and dead saviours hanging from crosses –
it really is all the same in the end
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—————————-SHE—————————————-
one could only question a heap of pretentious nonsense
with covers dyed indecent colors
pillowslips for the mind
crime crime crime
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easy to remember the first time you saw the words
———————–successful copulation ————–
genuinely shocking when the shine was gone
when the best photograph haunted you no more
without recourse to history or a wordsmith
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the ants criss cross in a mess of little dots seen from a far
– a intrinsic logic we can’t see
– between shifts stuck in the greyzone
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words from a psychiatrist’s couch:
as the graveyard goes to sleep
the morning shift girdling to go
****autobiographical poetry
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ANTS WITH SEXLESS BEDPARTNERS
experimentation with orgasm
unintelligent nightly strokes
the private mind
a museum of perversity
****a slight burning upon urinating
with no loss of interest and pleasure
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autobiographical poetry
I was minding my own business before poetry
living undercover with the wackos and crazoids
anonymous handjobs
self-trumpeted
consequences
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in the back room of the pool hall
the conversation was about
WHY black slaves were in the spotlight
(so white slaves could suffer in silence)
****history is famous for buzzing around
never prospering, blossoming, or bearing fruit
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a strong number of paramours in poetry class
amorous yearnings to the high heavens
romance—meet trickery with trickery
hysterical readers were alarmed
acts of mutual assistance
non-dictionary words
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always crime that intrigues the minds –
pictures of scenes of murder, killed by a variety of weapons : poles, cables
knives and guns
run over by a clowns car that fell apart –
a pillow case with eye holes cut out scared the bejesus out of young Michael
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easy to recall the words on the wall – the words of the translator that flowed across the bottom of the screen
– sex acts in the shower, teenage twitches – red faced shame in the room with your parents –
the best photographs burned as images into your skull
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the private mind is private until the poet turns the thoughts into words –
lines and shape written with carbon / 26 lines and shapes*
*endless combinations
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without poetry the words lose their weight and float
a
way
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the non-dictionary words are street corner slang
waiting for acceptance
waiting for appropriation
waiting for Kanye to hashtag them –
then the world will drown in them until all meaning is lost and they go the way of dead continents and extinct
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plagiarism and non-dictionary words
the sweat and corruption of plagiarism
self-immolation and the $25 lobotomy
you find yourself on a wall
about to fall
—————————————————–
—————————————————–
memories of stubbed toes
bruised shins—twisted nuts
common filth with a hint of nastiness
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savage lovemaking—the bed and bedclothes
torn to pieces
fluids leaking from the embryo cylinder
conveyor-belt vagina
———————-
———————-
semiliterate detectives
go-go dancers
TV dinners
Jell-O
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this is direct plagiarism
“plagiarism and non-dictionary words” – see I stole that
didn’t cost me a cent
– mr egg on the wall
the grazed knee the ripped denim
– a hint of nastiness behind everything she said
– the arsonist just liked the patterns in the smoke
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an entire night of musical architecture
landscapes come and go
many people find themselves capsized
penthouse poets never walk through fire
assignments of elevated duty
spider pills and cigarettes
exotic coffee with other night creatures
a life of charm and fancy pants
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plagiarism and non-dictionary words
readers sniffing stink bombs in the poetry of others
well placed turds from Robert Frost
Miles Davis and a string of dead white women
innumerable blondes with bottomless holes
“if you can’t ignore something then twist it”
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wake up
investigate
record in a pad
revisit
review
moby dicks birthday
yesterday
a man of modern words
walking aloof
never spoke to a female
shy dry spot never touched
I could literally write line after line
Herman Melville dartboard
glass eyes role across the sawdust floor
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