embarrassed god 

god, like a child in front of Eves nakedness he blushed and looked away –

– the smallest bodily functions made him giggle 

when he saw her sit down to pee he pointed and laughed –

he wasn’t amused 

just embarrassed

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514 comments

  1. multiplemichael

    the rigors of living (as a poet or not)
    boxes of romantic love
    stored in the attic
    a pilgrimage with a visible timeframe
    other spans of activity
    corroded and worthless
    sit stacked in the shadows
    you told your children,
    “that’s my past”
    regardless of chemistry or genitals
    from the Old Testament standing
    the loneliest nomadic apes on the road

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      roadside religion
      restorations at different speeds
      the roots of the Tree of Life
      planted in the aftermath of a disaster
      Noah had a pearl-handled revolver
      aboard the Ark
      —————–
      —————–
      God had given him so many last names
      sometimes names with a Jewish mark
      I remember as a child
      emptying the chamber pots
      everyone on the Ark
      was in such a hurry
      the adults scorning the children
      ****perhaps it was the lack of a destination

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        the roadside priest with his flock of babies thrown from cars
        the shells of dead vehicles
        empty oil cans
        no view in the rearview mirror
        – hot priest under highway sun
        parched
        a sweaty grip on a bible
        – the trigger finger of Noah
        itchy like finger
        – children drifting from adults
        young canoes out at sea

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        they waited for something better
        but nothing better came
        tossing a baby out a window
        of a speeding car
        is aiming 7 miles below the target
        no amount of cologne can mask it
        —————————–
        welcome death from no violence
        just a few rough landings
        and then deep sweet sleep

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        the spy who has forgotten his mission
        the detective who takes his disguises too seriously
        dreams of beautiful bodies in bed
        giant erections
        one answering the other
        the slow journey of sodomy
        —————————-
        many moons had passed
        the photos in the paper
        were macro with sharp focus
        if one looked closely
        moth grit could be seen
        in the folds

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        who was it that dragged sin into their marriage ?
        they agreed to include this sin in their life
        something completely out of sight
        unspeakable in all ordinary comings and goings
        off the map of puritanical possibility
        no proper man or woman would think such a thing
        it was in the dictionary but in code

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        THE GERMAN POETRY CRITICS
        DIVIDED THE ROOM:
        “AUTHENIC JOHNNY BOY” ON ONE SIDE
        “LESS-THAN-AUTHENIC JOHNNY BOY” ON THE OTHER
        when it comes to the printed word
        nothing comes between the dancer and the dance
        ****people collect soiled and corrupted words

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        less than authentic Johnny
        a poor facsimile of the real Johnny
        – two passports found under the bed –

        different signatures that
        confused the detectives

        at the edge of town
        the hoarder lived in a house of a thousand boxes filled with manuscripts and woman’s clothes

        the people in the town looked through the windows
        aghast

        Like

    • eatmorewords

      that’s my past here
      that cobbled road corroded and cracked the future is there babybird,
      a newly tarred path
      sticky molasses keeps the nomads in one place

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        the smell of burning paper
        half closed eyes
        thinking about the Bible
        and having seen father naked
        ————-why would one put that in there ?
        Robert Frost was spotted
        standing
        in the light of the moon
        the excitement of autumn
        was making him aroused

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the smell of burning paper
        a bonfire of books
        THATS WHERE IT ALL STARTS
        libraries invaded
        book after book stolen & loaded into vans &a driven to the pyre –
        the smoke of dead words
        Robert Frost erased
        Emily erased
        – bonfires outside the town hall

        rumour was
        the astronauts saw letters float out of the atmosphere

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        THINGS BOB TO THE SURFACE
        the sidewalk of the mind
        I can see the intimate details
        the voices, the communication
        raw material under the sofa
        the relationships swept there
        real and not so real
        scripts never spoken
        nonsensical romance
        problems and perplexities
        fruitless attempts
        chunks of prose in poop
        you cut out a newspaper photo
        of Captain Ahab and his ugly legs
        you said that it brought back
        memories of me

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        in the side walk in my mind there are queues of pedestrians
        choking on the bus fumes
        – the raw materials of poetry are just words + imagination –
        all the noise
        –voices from mouths
        –falling out of phones
        –electronically spewed along radio waves – a background wall of newspaper cutouts from local newspapers that aren’t local to you –

        you watched the dog poop daily
        get dry in the sun

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      regardless of chemistry or genitals
      from the Old Testament standing
      the loneliest nomadic ape on the road
      4ft five
      the agency of fatherhood
      angry cause I’m off schedule
      with age I’m turning gray
      the light from up above
      it may be too bright

      Liked by 1 person

      • eatmorewords

        missed paged from the biblical book used as fuel to
        ignite the fire
        outside
        to keep hands warm
        the loneliest man on earth
        moving apart
        like divorced folk
        fading in the fading light
        I am a father son and brother

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      PUSHING A WHEELBARROW FULL
      OF INNATE AND INHERITED CONDITIONS
      AROUND THE EDGE OF DARK TOWN
      jazz musicians searching for their identity
      bound by few laws
      covered in flesh
      ****music that dwells with sinful man

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        my wheelbarrow wobbled
        heavy with the load
        100 trumpets
        (you can count them all if you want)
        people aren’t born with identity
        it’s fashioned and carved over time
        think of her as a mountain
        think of her as the main suspect
        think of her in the firmament
        atop a Christmas tree
        saxophone in hand

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        ATOP THE CHRISTMAS TREE
        SOMETHING IN MY HAND—NOT A SAXOPHONE
        the coffee girl spoons out the meth
        1 big spoon in a cup of coffee = $175
        a tiny spoon of relax-or on the side = $50
        tip is optional
        sometimes customers sweat blood
        not a major health concern
        loss of vision is another issue

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        i lost my vision in the 80s but
        found it again
        at the bottom of mothers handbag
        amongst mints, coins
        lint the only health concern is how long can i last?

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        A BIG SPOONFUL IN A CUP OF COFFEE
        and it is suddenly easy to recall the words
        and Messianic connotations of Psalms
        (+) praying for the seal of God on the forehead
        (+) praying to be saved from the Revelation
        careful use of suggestive language
        as one dwells with demons and devils

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      from the Old Testament standing
      the loneliest nomadic ape on the road
      those who watch from up above
      in their white robes and white flesh
      —————————————
      those who dwell with sinful man
      in their fur and claws
      bark at their seed leaking
      the future spun gold
      ———————–
      barefoot with Jesus
      standing in grape blood
      reaching for the unsalted bread
      ————————————–
      the golden cloak of manhood
      a flashlight beam that reaches the moon

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        some of the nomadic apes refused to evolve
        leathery fingers picking at small fleas nestled in hairs as the future unfurled
        – those in white robes complained because they couldn’t get the stains out at a low temperature – mislead by false advertisement
        – he took her aside and asked in all honesty could he walk along the torch beam
        Would it support his weight?

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        Jesus walks on the beam of a flashlight
        think how many people had to verify
        that someone had erased that line
        —————–
        shipwrecks in DC
        the ills of being despised
        the ills that flesh is heir to
        children working in the coal mines
        sacrificial birds for sale on every corner
        ****a new agency—Biblical Birds

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        coal mining children with black faced
        it will offend someone

        OCCUPATIONAL HAZARD
        “Pops, I gots the black lung”

        rattling cough exposed your position amongst the newly discovered wrecks exposed on the battlefield

        the beam of light
        the magical cone
        a clown hat funnel

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        the effort to see what is
        not what one wishes to see
        most people trying to make do
        some wanting to return the harm
        ————–when the knock on the door comes
        I regret giving a name to the evil
        ————————————————–
        (+) a history of howls from outside
        (+) sodomy: gratuitous and compulsive

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        I KNOW YOU DIDN’T LIKE FOR ME TO MENTION
        THE FLASHLIGHT BEAM THAT REACHED TO THE MOON
        as great as Mark Twain was
        put him on a bicycle
        and he was a total failure
        put a man and a woman in a chicken coop
        jazz up the love
        jazz up the tragedy
        the loneliness never stops
        ——————lasting affection (the train don’t stop there)

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        men outside their comfort zone end up looking foolish
        – Joan as kickboxer
        – Pele reading the news
        – the torch beam would weaken over time
        – jazzed up love and the bebop sweats

        I have fallen behind on my correspondence
        – I thought I needed more words
        – I feared I had run out of ideas

        an empty husk on an island

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        men outside their comfort zones
        sanitary—–please
        living the life of a poet
        ———–fluctuates—————–
        (+) killing insects in public
        (+) expressing their deaths through art
        ****QUESTION OF THE WEEK, “WHY PROLONG LIFE ?”

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        men with phobias trying to keep clean in a bombed out city
        – no running water
        – buckets of tears and rain
        – the walls tumbled down and the graffiti made no sense

        – let the insects live as proof of life

        there are too many questions and and answers on postcards

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        Hungarian freedom fighters loved to read stories about Hungarian freedom fighters
        -during the communist uprising they banned question marks
        RULE ONE:
        THERE WILL BE NO MORE QUESTIONS

        (a postcard from 1956 is worth thousands on line)

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      word substitutes
      when heaven turns off the flashlight
      Dark Town goes non-verbal
      jazz—an odd duck lacking words
      people trying to capture suffering
      and delight
      the prison-house of poetry
      has no empty beds
      don’t much matter
      traffic never stops

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        they say down there in Dark Town
        “are you living the history ?”
        students of poetry locked
        into a linguistic pattern
        that restricts any exit
        ****any intended meaning labeled “DO NOT ENTER”

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        triumph with the flashlight
        no other tale to tell
        tiny devils ignored and avoided
        tiny devils desperate for misery
        I tried to baptize them with beer
        ——————————
        beams from heaven
        time to journey through
        the wilderness

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        Trump regarded flashlight as “fake light”
        he screamed on twitter
        his internal devils demanded release

        in time they will release him into the wilderness

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        when I was younger I’d see what books the library didn’t have and I’d smuggle a copy in
        – a boy needed a hobby
        – the traffic never stops
        a dog eating its own tail

        prison based poetry is confessional and can’t be used in a court of law

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        MEN OUTSIDE THEIR COMFORT ZONES
        the laughter of the demons
        somehow reinforced
        the determination of the poets
        to prolong their lives
        ——————–
        DEATH IS NO RESPECTER

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the story of the man who locked himself away to defeat death
        – but he knew death would come

        the story of the man who locked himself away in a soundproof room and after a few minutes he could he the blood slosh through his veins
        – he could hear his hair grow

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      not a single person would talk to me
      about a form of purity
      that would enhance
      my homemade poetry
      ——————-
      truck drivers with their spit
      Native Americans fond of sperm and blood
      I stand so close to the coffee counter girl
      I can smell the bitterness from her last bout

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        zealous poets of the congregation
        what can they do for each other ?
        crooked attendance
        as if Jesus was concerned
        ——————self-recognition
        imperfections tolerated
        ————————–
        so sweet when the gospel
        turns into the blues
        (+) a blues moan
        (+) a gospel shout

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        Jesus never attended a prom
        Jesus never sat in the bleachers
        Jesus wrote God awful poetry

        a constant disappointment to his father
        the psychiatrist had a field day

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        an overwhelming smell of sweat and piss
        the daily routine timetabled to the second
        upon entrance they made you too touch your toes

        they pointed a flashlight and saw your internals

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        “are you living the history ?”
        the cruelties of Nature
        the scheme of things: reality
        citizens trying to complete
        the necessary sum of suffering
        ———————–
        no one thinks about death
        death is the price for life
        the petty ways of fellow humans

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        there was a bend to his penis
        she said that it was an easy curve
        (+) a fat nut sac and a crooked dong
        the only intellectual in his family tree
        ———————————
        impartial love
        a disguised brother-father figure
        solitude fouled—–sterile happiness soiled
        the outside shell ages at triple speed
        ****without moisture it just becomes stabbing pain

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      prison-house guards
      hold the starving children up
      so Satan can either smile or frown
      poets bubble about his monstrous robe
      the black hooded devils look rather bleak
      standing next to the supreme leader of Literature

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        the fingers attached to the arm
        stretching from the elbow
        gripped round your heart and squeezed
        – human toothpaste –

        be glad to know they when you die your internals will be passed on –
        lips here
        eyes there

        that flashlight blinded all comers

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        somewhere between yes and no
        prison-house guards sadistically torture
        starving children
        an attorney for Satan refuses to feel remorse
        children forced to dance beside the road naked
        photos can be purchased online
        splitting off negative qualities
        and projecting them into father figures
        bizarre accusations—birthday party punishments
        phallic surgery
        you want the revolver or the sword ?
        ****was that you lying seductively beside the birthday
        cake with someone blowing your flute ?

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        what are birthday parties?
        a day in a calendar
        a reenactment of my first day
        shitting over myself with my eyes closed –
        – all those kids on the roadside
        hands out
        some selling trinkets

        I never had the strength to blow out the candles

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      it wasn’t personal
      but the dobro player had to go
      genres are invented to leap over
      but not sharp barbs on the nut sac
      a longstanding country theme
      “safeguard the nut sac”
      ****a one-sided visual conversation

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        “safeguard your nut sac”
        a popular country western tune
        ————————————————-
        as soon as one crosses the Kentucky border
        agents will ask you to join forces with the pestilences
        ————————————————-
        mysterious turds on the path:
        (+) wet locusts
        (+) dry locusts

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        Two ways to safe guard your nut sac
        : total removal
        : retraction into a cavity (-six weeks with the Shaolin monks)

        – surrounded by bald headed spiritual men
        – orange tubes

        pepper pot humans

        breezeblocks broken on naked torsos

        WHAT ISNTHE POINT OF BREAKING BREEZEBLOCKS WITH YOU HEAD?

        WHAT ISNTHE POINT OF BREAKING BREEZEBLOCKS WITH YOU HEAD?

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        the nut sac was dead
        but the police continued to apply
        a strangle-hold
        the rule about not leaving a visible trace
        went right out the window
        spectators were forced to look away
        ****Melville contemplating a short story

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        actually I was paid to write inspirational quotes over dramatic pictures of dynamic landscapes
        – I hated my work
        – mountains and still lakes and powerful words

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        I was thinking more like females showing their underpants
        ——————————————————————–
        picture caption poetry billboard size
        loving Jesus when it is advantageous
        the annoyers of poets often wear black
        the poet busy drugging himself
        no cleansing the fog
        (Judas the betrayer honking the horn)
        demons whispering, “life has no meaning”
        they suggest that a life without meaning
        increases a man’s capacity to live better
        I remember climbing to the top of the ladder
        I wanted to exhaust the limits of my possible

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        I tried to compartmentalise all things – little bits of me in boxes
        – I had to rationale
        – reduced and reduced and reduced –

        what were your limits?
        where is the plimsol line of your soul?

        reality is always a let down

        (my son asked me if Jesus went to church )

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        shift the automobile into the right gear
        and floor the gas pedal of no afterlife
        (+) savor every minute
        (+) substitute quality for quantity
        spit on people who write poetry about suicidal despair
        spit on poets sunk in the mud of deluded hope
        ———————————————
        inspirational quotes over dramatic pictures
        often turn against themselves
        they say one thing but mean another
        ****that’s not a smile but an angry mouth

        Liked by 1 person

      • eatmorewords

        moving in the fast and the outside looks like running paint –
        the road
        a long grey vein
        – a dry mouth heave at the critics
        mouth like a desert

        you couldn’t move an inch
        you looked like an oil well

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        to punish them
        he thought about killing himself
        he would be the egg that fell off the wall
        a soldier would find him—-a flashlight would blind him
        ——–“daddy can’t be put back together again”——–
        ———————————————————————-
        repressed incestuous desires and fears
        it was mature phallic sexuality banging on the door
        he said, “you’re a writer, quick write it down”
        a jealous sibling standing at the river’s edge
        some things can never be drown

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        how did they get the egg on the wall?
        – I know the government was watching him
        keeping tabs
        I mean – a talking egg

        he never fell
        sniper victim
        ( Lee Harvey offspring – the irony of a dyslexic man in a book depository)

        internal censure ensure this doesn’t all come out as flarf

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      contemplating the fact that you woke up
      a different shade of color
      bothersome and intrusive
      that smug ridicule
      of most things
      haunted by memories of holidays
      dumb things your brother tried to interpret

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        changing colour in the sun
        a slow burn
        we are just the right distance from the sun
        there was a breeze
        blowin’ in from the west
        I changed colour like a figure in a colouring book scribbled over by a child

        my brother lives in an area with a different phone code

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        my youngest brother lives behind bars
        locals walk around with flip-phones
        hidden up their butts
        sometimes they answer the phone
        with an odor and not a voice
        ****the last time I left a message
        I could smell industrial lunch meat
        that had been prepared by an embattled cook

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        relatives tried to smuggle in three seater sofa and 20 Italian cigarettes
        – butt porn stars moonlight as prison mules
        – prisoner 24564 eagerly awaited his delivery (a roast chicken and a 56inch TV)

        the stench of excrement and processed meat clung to the walls

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        to be a GREAT poet:
        (+) one must change color
        (+) one must excavate and recreate history
        (+) have a street in Dark Town named in your honor
        (+) maintain a quarrelsome resistance in the spouse department

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        ————vaguely aware of you————–
        the one person on the planet who should share you
        ——————-your brother———————————

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        vaguely aware
        (as you blur into another shadow )
        vaguely aware of existence
        are you standing at the thin edge of the wedge?
        ———–is your brother divided?

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        butt porn stars……………………………….
        daily distress is a great source of happiness
        self-pitying circles——analytic free association
        ( ANALytic free ASSociation )
        finding through losing
        infantile bathroom activities
        to skirt along these memories
        the dirty hands
        washing the skin
        WHO WAS THE SCRUBWOMAN ?
        watching everything
        nothing out of sight
        (+) merging of identity

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        porn stars seem to have more holes then you and I
        – a dirty pole
        – two kinds of filth
        – I will skirt around the issues
        – you can skate around the memories
        – there are still people in darktown talking on blackberries (!) –
        – the SCRUBWOMAN: a Victorian woman of low means
        a smell of gin
        (possible Jack the Ripper victim) –

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        one of the greatest pleasures
        for the scrubwoman
        was to feel comfortably warm
        she always thought that she would be warm
        sleeping under the ground in her box
        while rich people take pills
        to feel the spacious calm
        she would experience it
        after Death pointed at her
        and pulled the trigger

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        scrubwoman fear the ripper
        scrubwoman fear what the mist brings
        a left hand
        a bag of pills
        & ills

        not comfortable in her own skin
        incessant itch
        constant scratch

        a two man band where they both play bass

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        moth grit in the folds
        ————————–
        irrational things left out of history
        poets with black hearts
        venomous poverty
        ————————–
        Eve wanted to live longer
        she tried to bargain with Death
        no better than a side-show barker

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        how did you know the poet had a black heart? – did you open them up and look?
        was there something external that alerted you?

        I don’t doubt your hypothesis

        on cold days I climb to the hilltop and discard the flarf

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        genital masochism
        genital sadism
        leisure time activity
        ————–the agent of the action
        ————–the receiver of the action
        applying a language to paper
        isolated from the norm
        life as performance art
        STANDING IN THE GRAVE OF JOAN RIVERS

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        general masochism
        moderate socialism
        full on capitalism
        – the power of numbers on paper
        – the performance artist in the corner a mime for money
        wanna be actors / actresses at the coffee shop serving strangers in the style of Tom Hanks

        what is there motivation?

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      in order to avoid reality
      we trip and skin our knees on delusions
      suffering becomes universal and inescapable
      considerations out the car window like the unwanted baby
      detectives ask everyone to describe each answer in living color
      forget the biblical prose and dish out the pool hall truth, young man

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        I was picked up on some computer facial recognition machine
        my nose tripped the system
        my eyes sparked recognition
        – the detectives just sat behind a computer and stared at my face
        – I had chalk on my fingers from the pool hall
        I left a trail

        it was criminal

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        detectives ask everyone
        to describe each answer in living color
        judgments of innocence and guilt
        readers often reconstruct the crime
        the itch——-the scratch
        memories that smell like glue

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        you won’t find that white dust
        under my nose
        the child who wants to reenter
        fears of being devoured
        left beside the road
        a backdrop of middle fingers
        ———————————
        to the child every adult is a stranger
        (+) deaf salt
        (+) illiterate salt
        (+) unspoken salt

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      a facial recognition machine that tried to translate you
      MS. Curie says that you are far from being stonyhearted
      the red glow in your eyes
      that fiery breath
      there is no simple reality
      to your hair

      Like

    • multiplemichael

      a sudden outburst of witch-hunting
      the facial recognition machine sparks alive
      ———-Johnny Boy———–
      understandable in light of the recent FLARF comments
      the screwers get screwed and are shocked at how good it feels
      I sent Simone de Beauvoir a note
      telling her to stay on her side of the fence
      ****imagine a woman dragging questions back to the cave,
      questions with no answers, later in the evening they would
      be placed on the bonfire

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        they found the remnants of Johnny Boy buried in a cave on Mars
        – a strange sketch on the wall of Simone de Beauvoir
        cigarette in her hand –

        – on the first day of the civil war
        the New York 7th Militia all claimed they saw UFOs (there were no questions marks
        they were certain
        it wasn’t a question

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      in Dark Town fashion
      Emily Dickinson was dead
      a tortured spirit that skated
      around the issue of heaven
      a thin dagger between the ribs
      and the crown fell to the ground
      defenseless as if naked
      no other poet rushed
      to lay claim to the throne
      ****language was stronger inside the mind

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        readers at a disadvantage
        ———————————
        writers can storm against the current
        but the reader cannot change the givens
        no amount of door-slamming
        can alter a thing fully done
        ———————————-
        the past is a prison-house
        that nothing can escape

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the hem of her skirt brushed the ground and if it was a flag
        it would’ve been burnt


        language is stronger in the mind as it’s not open to interpretation

        the rule of thumb
        the art of war

        the poet will always use 100 words to describe something rather than 1 word –

        people on Tv are wearing bulletproof vests
        others carry guns
        there is rubble
        crying children

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      ————lost in translation———–
      SHE said that he enjoyed playing in her playground
      a flesh barrel with fat lips and a tunnel
      all men who made contact with that tube
      incapacitated if not dead
      ———————–
      ———————–
      (+) self-absorbed callousness
      (+) parasitic exploitation
      (+) poverty-stricken valentines

      Like

    • multiplemichael

      how many flights of stairs before you rise above guilt ?

      artistic creativity and drug addiction
      all religion tossed out on the lawn
      the grass is no longer green
      mother told your 3rd grade teacher
      that you were transitional
      little did she know how easy it was
      to go from thumb sucking to truck stops
      rhythmical swaying and mouthing noises
      constantly testing reality
      hiking the edge

      Like

    • multiplemichael

      human limitations continue without interruption
      ———————————————————-
      Adam was seen outside waving his arms
      trying to frighten off
      Furies (from the nether world)
      who were constantly peeing on the vegetables
      Adam seems sad and drained of vitality
      weighed down by prophetic pessimism
      and nonstop chatter

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        Adam was bored of Eve
        God, she was dull*
        he tried to entertain himself
        invented games with stones
        he spoke to himself
        his beard grew

        *constant chatter & gossip

        Like

  2. multiplemichael

    sleeping on the Ark
    levels of sleep—layers and levels
    narcissistic hand pulls
    keyholes in the forehead
    fancy keys to unlock dislocations
    for lucky people
    small kisses and warm arms
    safe from the painful threats

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      I wouldn’t call it sleep
      eyes closed for a minute or so
      to scared to go to deep
      thoughts or Beyoncé amongst the smell of dung
      – the keyhole in the forehead
      the weights and pulleys that are inside –
      the edifice that holds me up is creaking

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        WHAT IF THOSE LIBRARY BOOKS LIED TO YOU ?
        what if you cut yourself open
        and there was nothing inside ?
        WHAT IF THOSE TELEVISION SHOWS LIED TO YOU ?
        what if you cut yourself open
        and there was nothing inside ?
        ……………the coffee counter girl was really YHWH
        eye-to-eye confrontations with the bottom of the cup

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        you wouldn’t call it shameful
        coming to grips with yourself
        turbulent love affairs
        in the shower
        intimate secrets shot straight to the hand
        embarrassed detectives watch the private acts
        color quality is poor but focus is beyond ordinary
        sometimes you seem to strengthen your stroke
        as if invisible people might criticize your performance

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        I came to grip myself and we looked back
        – detectives always took notes
        they looked even if they wanted to look away THEY COULDN’T
        tightened the grip until it choked

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        WAS THERE AN ELEVATOR MAN ON THE ARK ?
        poetry that has given rise to other men’s thoughts
        ——————-often the repair
        requires a Puritan-Yankee screwdriver
        readers and riders
        expect to be outwitted in every way possible
        —————————————————-
        —————————————————-
        Stokely Carmichael eating beans out of a can
        Huey Newton eating beans out of a can
        Eldridge Cleaver eating beans out of a can
        to see such a sight was an accident of timing

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        no elevators on the Ark
        confined spaces scared the mongoose
        – below the deck a small room for the maintenance man and his belt of tools –

        Stokely
        Huey and Eldridge
        Pamela Davis posters, a whiff of incense

        the distance between them and Mr.King
        a Texan mile

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        I was too young to want to be someone
        with an occupation
        my parents wanted some peace and quiet
        so they tossed me out of the speeding car
        it was probably an act of wickedness
        at the end of the day
        there are the hungry
        and the fed

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        I was too young to think about the redemptive power of prayer
        I had an itch that I could t scratch
        a building inside that I couldn’t build

        my parents didn’t push me in an direction

        no one has ever called me Sir

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        people often mention your confrontation
        with an electric organ
        at the Pentecostal Faith Church
        ( like it was only yesterday )
        while some labeled your musical rape
        as an act of sin
        others just thought it was a white boy
        got his first taste of religion

        Liked by 1 person

      • eatmorewords

        the organ and the big pipes a sound that lifted Johnny Boy off his feet
        – one inch closer to the clouds
        – once inch closer to FATHER
        – my ears were open
        open to that sound –
        it couldn’t be called rape
        – I tasted religion and it tasted bad –

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        I told the girl at the coffee counter
        that keeping inner and outer reality separate
        was the secret of good mental health
        She said that it was time to up my dose
        Hello Drug Addiction
        it was fun to hold carnival with the various drugs
        senseless self-medication
        what was the harm ?
        it wasn’t me outside beating the neighbor’s dog
        I wasn’t affectionately cuddling with anyone’s wife
        the texture of meth had my attention

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        there was a drought
        the round-a-bout of medication stopped –
        grow your own
        recipes found online

        —nights I remember taking
        this
        and taking that
        all my edges were blurred I felt threefold – multiple
        pinwheel eyes seeing little spiders all affectionately named
        -!-!-!-
        I woke up arms wrapped around a shadow

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      the million dollar question:
      WAS THERE AN ELEVATOR MAN ON THE ARK?
      the smell of candy and perfume was sickening
      Stradivarius complained about the working conditions
      the constant fear of sinking
      childish drawings were everywhere
      stick people with pubic hair
      life on the Ark was theatrical
      a shame so few were educated

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        a fear of being the last man standing
        a fear of seeing your hand amongst the waves as you see the ark disappearing in the distance
        – you feel your ankles are weighed down with weights

        in my nose the taste of salt and dung

        I moved amongst the small print
        – the animals didn’t know there were terms and conditions

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        Stradivarius was acting weird on the Ark
        he was showing everyone his scrotum
        he claimed that it was a President Kennedy model
        for purposes of recreation
        Noah claimed it a triviality
        still it was puzzling
        to display such a treasure
        ****the value of semen on the Ark

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        Stradivarius cut violins from the ark – portholes like musical instruments
        – the boat dipped below water level –
        – his scrotum was detachable*
        – Noah admitted he wasn’t a sailor
        the plans were from Ikea

        *can you believe that? a detachable scrotum!!

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        a crate of Robert Mapplethorpe’s photographs on the Ark
        (+) sadomasochistic homo-erotic images
        (+) photos of infants being tossed from speeding automobiles
        when asked why the crate was permitted to take up valuable space
        the answer was simple censorship and restrictive legislation

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        Mapplethorpe
        wearing a man as a glove
        –the vulgarness
        offset by a portrait of a rose —

        when the crate washed up on shore the natives couldn’t believe their eyes

        the new erotism

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      ————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————-for the most part, FLARF is either too abstract and facile or too obvious to impress————————————————————————————–
      ——————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

      Liked by 1 person

  3. multiplemichael

    wretched food on the Ark menu
    duck fat and bread made by a blacksmith
    a rough-hewn loaf that cut the insides of the mouth
    someday the children of Noah would look back at Earth
    from outer space—from the backdoor of Disney World
    ****astronauts sucking their own tongues
    ****tasting oneself in a sexual manner

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the menu was a carnivore delight
      all meat
      all kinds of meat
      blacksmith bread tasted of cinder and smoke
      – the chefs in Mickey Mouse t’s
      the animals concerned
      cannibal animals eating each other

      that’s how it always begins

      Like

  4. multiplemichael

    it was a quiet afternoon
    people of all sorts were sitting in a circle
    the leader asked if there was any questions
    I asked,
    “is marriage a non-traceable torture ? ”
    the room erupted into chaos
    I haven’t returned to the meeting

    Like

  5. multiplemichael

    poets standing in the self-sacrifice line
    standing tall in obedience to the printed word
    driving through a small town in Kentucky
    Christian symbols were posted everywhere
    young people did not recognize them for what they were
    they no longer contained their original energy
    God was rumored to be distant and impotent
    intolerable realities were in high gear
    demons and devils and politicians

    Like

  6. multiplemichael

    THE STORM WAS OVER
    blue sky
    angels throwing stones
    at the children of Noah
    —————————
    furtive affairs with angels
    —————————
    storefront romance
    wordless bedroom ecstasy
    chemical gyrations
    (+) kisses that express disgust
    (+) kisses that inspire disgust
    anguish unresolved
    on-and-off
    love buzzing around your head
    like an insect
    intrusive voices
    saying “give it back”
    everything must be given back
    at the moment of death
    you hand it away

    Like

  7. multiplemichael

    poets are born sinners
    I saw a deputy sheriff with a huge dog
    sniffing your post box
    HAVE YOU CONFRONTED REALITY ?
    I know how difficult it is
    having been weighed down with inhibitions
    your brain throws you forbidden impulses
    the lies and fantasies of religion
    chained to your torso
    your friends question how white you are
    intelligence and compassionate understanding
    are not enough to insure quality poetry

    Like

  8. multiplemichael

    at the amusement park
    I saw a wall hanging that read:
    POETRY IS EMOTION
    TIDILY NAILED
    INTO A PREDICTABLE FORM
    I was thinking that in my life
    the instruments that tidily nail
    are less convincing
    than those during my parent’s time
    ———————————–
    ———————————–
    important clues:
    were they stored in the attic
    or in the basement
    or did they go out the backdoor
    to the trash ?

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      when you were younger they used PUSH PINS, from nursery
      to high school – but now your older they use NAILS
      – all emotions nailed to the mast
      – the same nails smashed through wood on the ark –

      hang your shame
      hang your head

      all the important clues were red herrings and your realised nothing is that important

      home and dry

      Like

  9. multiplemichael

    I traded 2 packs of menthol cigarettes
    in Dark Town
    for a light of unbelievable intensity
    a stolen flashlight from the Vatican
    ——-words of advice————
    when one goes to the Pearly Gates
    bring something valuable to trade
    angels love flashlights

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the mint menthol French cigarette sold for double the price behind the pool hall in dark town –
      – kung fu experts to afraid to walk past the threshold
      city limits retracting
      – at the pearly gates they will ask for the PASSWORD

      Micheal, do you have it?

      DO YOU?!!

      Like

  10. multiplemichael

    falsely arrested for love
    falsely convicted of love
    the humiliation of jail time
    rumors of physical sodomy
    far worse the mental sodomy
    psychological weapons
    impotence with missing fingernails
    the ways in which
    life can go wildly wrong
    the taste of distrust
    lies about happier times
    development that came to a halt
    earlier novels and poetic dissipation

    Like

  11. multiplemichael

    AND THERE I WAS
    in a jail cell with memories
    the wife, the children, the hardships
    years and years schooling those hardships
    somewhere along the line
    religious feelings
    were erased
    by the importance of music
    incestuous relationships
    with workmates
    costly struggles with lovers
    off stage with dandyish gents
    intimates and strangers
    testimony given every 10 feet
    grueling fuel for future poetry

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      one phone call
      HELLO, DAD IM IN JAIL
      IM CALLING YOU FROM JAIL
      – and he just talked (and I knew he was disappointed)

      and I read the graffiti around the phone
      – pleas of innocence
      – phone numbers to call for fun
      – white power signs
      – solicitors names with a Jewish prefix
      – the holding cell full of stragglers and drunks and rapists and black men with scars and white men with blue eyes –
      one with opulent golden teeth

      – no one wanted night to come
      And no one wanted to wake up

      HELLO DAD
      IM IN JAIL

      Like

  12. multiplemichael

    sentimental
    about homosexual baloney sandwiches
    the outside world through rumor
    what other people feel during sex
    tricks of mental speech
    buckets of passion
    and yet
    a peculiar distance
    ( only castrated white men write poetry )

    Like

  13. multiplemichael

    CONVERSATIONAL POETRY
    INCORPORATED
    INTO THE STANDARD CURRICULUM
    people at the pool hall
    busy with interpretation
    a wide range of experience
    boiled down to a syrup
    —-YOUTH FAILING TO ACHIEVE MATURITY———
    or some such nonsense
    improper initiation into manhood
    from dependence on the umbilical cord
    to the acceptance of the self saddled with guilt
    ****the permanent debts (sins of the father)
    ****cruel thoughts and spoken words
    ****life paraphrased

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      your name didn’t past the test
      you weren’t permitted to stay
      you were just a tourist
      you were just a name on a list
      even your biographer forgot you –
      – he tried to bracket your life into chapters
      – an easy to digest life but
      – life isn’t an appetiser
      life isn’t a flow chart

      – you were a flower
      you needed the sun to grow
      (if you were in England you would be no more then 4ft 5) –

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        one of those Kentucky Fried Chicken places
        has Moses on television
        saying, “let my people eat chicken”
        with the lack of music
        poor folk listened
        to the cries of the faithful
        huddled together
        you could smell the goat on the teenage boys
        angels would sprinkle the doorposts
        apocalyptic flashlights in hand

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the modern miracles of the modern messiah
        – feeding the destitute with one chicken
        – quenching their first with a litre of Coke
        – modern mercies at the homeless shelter
        – the young kids with gout and nosebleeds
        all the odd numbers at the bingo hall

        solar power fuelled anger

        buy one get two free as the flies buzz around the discarded fruit out back of the supermarket

        angles with dirty faces
        angles in Nikes

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        ( the sins of the fathers visited upon the children )
        religious candy bars—Hebrew-Christian style
        —-the imminence of physical death——
        the most literal meaning:
        where no flashlight burns

        Like

  14. multiplemichael

    I passed on a party for cartographers
    fried brains sitting around obscure maps
    people who count their steps
    and record them daily
    in multiple journals
    ****the erection is in the initial evidence

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the irony that the cartographers got lost in the pages of an atlas they hadn’t finished surveying –
      Russian footprints ensured the country cast a long shadow
      Siberian steps
      14 tattooed that meant nothing
      the veins just a motorway
      unmapped areas whisper

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        struggles with guilt about sex

        junk mail from The Temple of the Fire Baptized
        angels judging skin color
        others asking that individuals walk upright
        humans (?) from Ohio were having troubles
        the smell of skin-whiteners was overpowering

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        junk mail that escaped the firewall
        tablets to expand girth
        tablets that make your palms hairy
        small monthly donations deducted directly from your salary and paid to the Brotherhood of the Burning Bush
        – the smell from the cesspool was strangely familiar
        strangely reassuring

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        bride-to-be at the honeymoon suite
        claustrophobic and afraid of intercourse
        forbidden consummation
        SHE (herself), the chief prize
        romance gone burlesque
        him with his sausage in his hand
        an image burned into her memory
        the privileges and intimacies of marriage
        my God, a bonfire with him in the flames

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        —————obstetrical center poetry——————

        three doors down from the dope peddlers
        THE VAGINA BOOTLEGGERS
        coin money is okay
        once you get past the crust
        a rather good hump

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        JUNK MAIL
        is that mail from the Brotherhood of the Burning Bush ?
        an Extension of Consciousness in case you die suddenly
        so you can pull out and wipe the crud off your manhood
        so you can hide the photos of girls you fingered in the 5th grade
        ——————-
        a proud member of the E. A. Poe fan club
        one more sense over and above the five senses

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the junk mail kept coming
        spammed with emails about spam
        spammed with email about a sale that never ends
        online bargains
        Nigerian princes want me to be rich
        – the Brotherhood of the Burning bush won’t let unsubscribe
        – Jesus as your service provider

        – the first girl I know who swallowed washed it down with warm Coke

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        the sides of the highway
        were littered with the disguises of human faults
        slips of paper with phone numbers collected
        casual friends, acquaintances, drunks
        odd words from the Book of Revelation

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        junk mail ads—-something for the pain
        the immediate discomfort of intercourse
        inward bound through the funny door
        the place prepared for unashamedly delight
        they claim that it is the eventual reward
        ——————————
        just north of the manhole cover
        ——————————
        littered with the skins of other men
        strips of flesh with phone numbers
        casual friends, workmates, relatives
        single-minded poets
        ——————————
        vengeful Jehovah pounds on the metal roof
        intelligent people think:
        not less of pleasure
        but possibly more of the Lord

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the manhole cover had written on it LIFT TO ESCAPE
        – no one could get close enough to read it
        the sign language man in the bottom of the TV screen got cramp and confused the viewers with his dyslexic fingers
        – something for the pain
        – an expensive balm
        – I spend time looking on the street floor for discarded notes, shopping lists and phone numbers
        – I can be seen on google maps

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        one inch short of a horse
        ———————–
        drawings of copulating couples
        ———————–
        crocodiles that swallow
        ———————–
        fat lips of delight
        ———————–
        single men with habits
        free to reject or accept
        tutored or untutored
        first came the Hallowed name
        then the jism
        ****white man seed glowing in the dark
        tiny serpents swimming in the fluid
        predators of everything aboard the Ark

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      Gertrude Stein was listening to crap music
      SHE was looking in the pee-hole of reality
      socio-historical sexuality
      civil war intercourse
      every single male in America
      failed wretchedly
      ——————
      instead of forcing him to write
      all that education
      made him incomplete
      the doctor said, ” take the pills”
      he traded the pills
      for Mexican skin whitener

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        Mexican wax solvent* will hold the wall together
        a new phase of history
        with a madman at the wheel
        a time where context is not required
        I took the pills
        I really did but I didn’t change
        it was all the same

        *stolen song title

        Like

  15. multiplemichael

    ————————–FREQUENT DESCRIPTIONS
    depictions of Dark Town
    live in the same building and never speak
    married for 27 years
    supper tastes like church hall crud
    main dream topic—-expensive socks
    ———————————
    in the movie they put plastic over the head
    of the anthropologist
    “STAND UP STRAIGHT” is the challenge
    they look at your forehead
    have the skin whiteners worked ?

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the dry rot
      asbestos lungs and silverfish
      – the darktown architects were embarrassed with their drawing
      and petitioned for them to expunged from public records

      all that I wrote existed in my mind first

      Like

  16. multiplemichael

    a persistent rash
    poisons in the skin whiteners
    shut your eyes
    Death caressing your shoulders
    you beg him to take someone else
    you don’t give a crap
    take two or three
    (Norman Vincent Peale and Billy Graham)
    oversimplify the act of walking upright
    drugs have caused you to be otherworldly

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      a persistent rash
      persistent meth
      a threat to kill death
      to many elbows in the ribs
      I know I was related to apes somewhere down the line
      – I feel it every time I swing from a tree

      Like

  17. multiplemichael

    pass the navel to that tangled mess
    you make jungle noises and laugh
    electrifying meth in all its glory
    cradled and caressed
    gratification that may never end
    —————————————
    Leonard Cohen singing SO LONG MARIANNE
    a sandpaper voice from too much smoke

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      Dylan waiting for the reaper
      after Bowie and Cohen he got scared
      started wearing bigger hats to hide away under
      went acoustic to quieten down
      – refused to get off the tour bus but death wasn’t bothered
      he had other plans
      – Dylan’s mumbled a nasal drawl

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        walking around bareheaded
        with Death only inches away
        angels constantly watching
        endless things go unnoticed
        detectives fill notebooks
        that no one reads
        they call the office
        and ask for synonymous
        and meaningless words
        hummingbirds

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        hand in hand around Disneyland
        the eyes of Mickey Mouse
        follow you
        a rollercoaster screams and scares off a murder of crows – kids with candy floss hair
        I can see a silhouette
        I see shadows

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        excursions away from the main theme
        poets on tour
        suckers in the back hallways
        suckers on the elevator
        blind people paying with coins
        to avoid getting ripped off

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        I was away from home
        but I ensured I carried my keepsakes
        I tried to describe them to a blind man but I lost the words
        I know I had them in my pocket but where did they go?

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        readers standing in long lines to get an autograph
        poetry about readers fainting while standing in line
        lives weighed down by religious and scholastic pressures
        buoyant belts in fancy pants
        embroidered Picasso socks
        consciously absurd materializations
        ungraspable FLARF
        ———————-
        ———————-
        restless nights
        with a spouse
        hot in a hothouse
        guardians spell NO
        in seven directions
        readers standing in line
        never question the poet
        life is a constant spoonful
        baptized by freethinkers
        and the coffee counter girl

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      autobiography was on the map
      each new chapter started with a procrastination
      (+) under the care of a physician
      (+) extremely delicate tissues
      (+) barefoot in a world of Beatle boots
      (+) framed family portraits with no father
      (+) literary pursuits
      (+) irritants and pain-threshold
      ————-TWO LINES AT THE BOOK SIGNING————
      native Americans
      Pilgrim settlers
      ****it is true that Pocahontas caused a disturbance

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        I procrastinated at the beginning
        too long spend finding how to start
        a light breeze came from the east
        the physicians notes were illegible a hundred different people could read them and a hundred people would arrive at a different diagnosis
        •collywobbles
        •sheep leg
        •whiteness
        •sprained soul

        Like

  18. multiplemichael

    excursions away from the main theme
    there were a lot of fragments outside the draft
    things that might fall into place
    things that were private or obscene
    words that civilized people never write
    ****people beg me for permission to photograph my genitals
    ****people just a few dollars away from starvation wanting autographs

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the main theme was always playing quietly in the background – partially rubbed out words on draft 6
      – the infidel poet tried to civilise the heathens
      – a hiding to nothing
      running through tar pits

      Like

  19. multiplemichael

    autobiography was on the map
    there were countless red dots between here and there
    I think that they were procrastinations
    I don’t know if it was me or the car
    that they called “the Angel”
    when I would motor into the village
    small children would surround the car
    with their tiny open palms

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      open palms outside open windows
      trinkets and sweets
      worthless currency
      a small act of kindness in the road to salvation but the car broke down
      smoke billowing from the engine dirty windows insured the view
      the small children holding out their hands
      begging

      Like

  20. multiplemichael

    a cemetery full of folks
    who didn’t worry about things
    life would take care of itself
    “don’t worry about things happening
    before they happen”
    ——————–
    as a small boy
    the poet would chalk figures
    on the sides of buildings
    so he didn’t feel so alone

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the dead man died today
      he’s been dying for a while

      the rAin washed away the chalk children

      “Don’t worry about the government” was the title of the last song I heard

      impeach the leader then eat the rich –

      the infidel poet wrote about stars and space and science I doubt he understands

      Like

    • multiplemichael

      all those readers standing in line
      they not only wanted an autograph
      they wanted an approximation
      to hell with complete feelings
      to hell with people
      who walk around
      like they have
      microscopic eyes
      ———————
      people wanting to know
      the temperature of the poet
      regardless of the number
      it would be a scientific curiosity
      ………( like the first time the poet saw indigenous poetry
      ripped up by the roots )…………………………………………

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        he signed his signature like a spastic scrawl
        he signed his name as someone else
        it was barely worth the paper it was written on
        but on EBay an unknown buyer in Munich bid a thousand Euros

        a sense of panic
        a sense of dreads

        walking from a to b in tight Beatle boots

        Like

  21. multiplemichael

    the publisher stated that they want approximation
    not anything like a complete feeling
    of what I might be trying to convey
    ———–APPROXIMATION
    I was pushing a wheelbarrow
    full of words outside the range of approximation
    may be I was unpublishable

    Like

  22. multiplemichael

    WAS IT:
    (+) death of the afternoon
    (+) death in the afternoon
    readers wanting to pull down any success
    as if they were pulling down your trousers
    to ridicule you in public
    odds were in their favor
    (less mass than more)
    —————–
    being asked if you were the author
    of a cook book or a telephone directory

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      farcical scenes
      falling around with your trousers around your ankles
      ridicule tinged with laughter
      – CZ0s cook book
      recipes with ingredients that don’t go together
      eggs and glass
      meat and titanium hex screws
      a left shoe and car pars

      schadenfreude schadenfreude
      schadenfreude schadenfreude

      Like

  23. multiplemichael

    ———-through the courtesy of God—————
    poets walking around
    the color of vanilla ice cream
    they’ve turned the library
    into an obstetrical center
    the bad babies are tossed
    into an industrial compost maker
    sometimes they cry
    incredibly sad songs

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      sorry son
      the poetry game isn’t paying off
      no one wants to know about dark town and the pool hall –
      all the young kiDs
      the hipsters
      the people in the know
      those with their finger on the pulse are all into flarf these days
      daddies gotta go back to Leviathan
      daddies gonna go back to cutlery

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        so people ask me how the cookbook is coming along
        a veil cast before the chaos of the kitchen
        a hidden ghost in the haunted house of poetry
        ————————
        ————————
        the consequences of the poetry game
        the fingers on the pulse
        have no clue
        Leviathan and cutlery
        factory jobs from father to son
        the sounds of moaning winds
        lonely living under the overpass

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        poetry was like snakes and ladders
        rolled a six
        snakes with flarf heads
        back to the start
        clock in and
        begin again
        at the factory
        desperation handed down from generation to generation

        Like

  24. multiplemichael

    DADDY
    I was pushing a wheelbarrow of words
    outside the range of approximation
    the voice I was hearing in church
    was louder than theology
    they asked me not to return
    all those years of strenuous learning
    I could spell God without letters

    Like

  25. multiplemichael

    not a single person wanted to know
    that I could hear the rumblings
    of the Civil War in my pillow
    beardless boys with guns
    no bullets
    just unanswerable questions
    ——————————-
    masculine girls and feminized boys
    standing in the shadows
    numbered among the redeemed

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      PROFICIENCY IN FOREGROUND MATERIAL
      whatever was–whatever will be
      characters change clothing
      the emotional weather vane remains busy
      conditions are cloudy over the sex drive
      time-tested masturbation
      THE HAND IS KING

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      we share a common thread of civil wars
      countries of the schism
      – civil war men with metal helmets
      – civil war men with beards and braces
      musket and bayonet
      WHERE IS THE KING ON THS FAIR
      ISLE?

      – horse steaming over the landscape of nightmare

      broke
      redeemed
      a decade closer to the chasm

      Like

  26. multiplemichael

    I REMEMBER
    the day you said five people asked you
    if you collaborated on a famous cookbook
    —————————–
    Robert Frost died beside the highway
    leading into town
    he was thinking of faded roses
    for three months
    school children on the bus
    would stare at his corpse
    it was rather poetic
    no one noticed
    his empty seat at the bingo parlor
    no one reported him missing
    he was never one to laugh out loud
    they threw his private journal away
    it contained dirty words

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      it’s funny how you can ignore what’s in front of you face
      – the everyday blur where the buildings fade into each other
      morphing into traffic and blurring into the sky of blue and aeroplanes the building you don’t even notice the reflection of the traffic the reflection of you as you walk by everyday the buildings and office have no lines of separation the train at the station goes into the horizon
      fading into the horizon getter by smaller

      the dead body at the bottom of canal

      Like

  27. multiplemichael

    “may be heaven isn’t in the sky
    may be heaven is in a tall tree”
    they tried to waken Robert Frost
    but he had been dead for months
    no trace of a near-death repentance
    on his lips
    submission to the almighty
    can be a cruel ordeal
    an angel tried to pull back his foreskin
    but it did not confuse the Holy Inspector
    ****no repentance and a foreskin constitutes a bad start

    Like

  28. multiplemichael

    Death has returned
    and sits on his perch
    everything of value
    is within his grasp
    I am outside of my mind
    trying to not look tantalizing
    the whole game of death
    perhaps it is just playfulness
    on the part of the taker

    Like

  29. multiplemichael

    up for grabs in the lottery
    one of the easy rooms in hell
    unconverted babies
    jazz performers
    angelic vermin
    —————————where every sin is a crime
    the grip of fear in shadows
    fresh quibbles about the scheme of things
    pain exacted is pain exacted
    a worse agony near the commode

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      a lottery of numbers
      the randomness of observable phenomena
      – fear gripped
      – choke hold
      – what is your first memory?
      the abduction
      the spinning top
      your mothers ankles

      a thousand pins pushed into the fummy

      Like

  30. multiplemichael

    Elton John said, “life is gift enough”
    and somewhere in the darkness of Kentucky
    the persistence of regret remains king
    pinched nerves
    the constant rawness
    where edges come undone
    ——————————–
    the berries in your underpants
    are second-hand exhausted

    Like

      • multiplemichael

        Kentucky is full of serious anthropology students
        at last count there is only one legal psychiatrist
        every library has an overweight plainclothes detective
        every hospital performs brainwashing experiments
        fast food joints sell white bean soup
        bookstores also carry candy and kidney stone medicine
        even weird people are afraid of Elton John
        he comes from some other place

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        Kentucky wasn’t on the maps until 1957
        there was a shape
        an outline but no name – a barren place of empty homes and interconnected families –
        Elton John played there
        just a man and his piano and an earring that cost more then a space rocket

        he truly was a rocket man

        Like

  31. multiplemichael

    they were passing around a photograph
    of you in younger days
    a bunch of aborigines
    eating odd red boiled eggs
    out of a large plastic bucket
    to the indigenous
    you were a fragile creature
    a baby bird
    ——————-( two smooth hands and reddish hair )

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the photograph had been doctored
      like Russian propaganda
      Trotsky had been removed and replaced with a post box
      – it was all an illusion
      the red apples were rocks painted red

      it takes a brave man to wear double denim
      a braver man to wear white denim

      Like

  32. multiplemichael

    the things pressed into the specimen book
    hairs from shy dates in the lower grades
    genuine oddities—June bugs and barflies
    your magnifying glass with your first name
    a legendary poet—erratic at first

    Like

      • multiplemichael

        now that you’re older
        you are full of people
        no longer the lone wolf
        the handshakes with pleasure
        now have different voices
        I saw an advertisement for yourself
        INNOCENT POET AMONG THE HEATHEN

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      knowing what the readers want
      better than the readers know
      sinking in the sofa of apathy
      captivity inside the house
      ——–the buildup of hardened skin
      yes, I can supply you with exclamation points
      and italics and slender strips of nonsense

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        I sank into the sofa of apathy and found £5.35 in loose change, an old iPod & some unused ideas
        – I was content with this
        – the cavity in my tooth is growing
        – the hardened skin meant that I was two inches taller
        – can you lend me those exclamation marks please, you have my email address

        Like

  33. multiplemichael

    WIELDER OF THE FLESH SWORD OF LEEDS
    who often thanked God for the strength in his weapon
    the simple ecstasy of an erection
    from approach to consummation
    the giddy heightening of consciousness
    every nerve electric

    Like

  34. multiplemichael

    bankrupt poetry
    used a shovel, a hoe, and a scrapper
    in all directions with no way out
    so difficult to be a composer
    so simple to collect observations
    “please coffee counter girl,
    more intellectual vitality”
    SHE would lift the spoon to
    (+) wise thoughts exactly worded

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      cheap poetry sold online
      cheap poetry thrown together with zero thought
      – the all seeing eye
      panopticon lighthouse at the centre of town
      -she only lifted the spoon to throw it you

      Like

  35. multiplemichael

    ——close observation———
    as if you were going to put a piece of landscape
    in your pocket and walk away free of charge
    ——————–
    other people at the party
    were concerned
    when you started
    to smoke
    a discarded cocoon

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      small souvenirs stolen from famous places
      – I know you took a piece of the horizon –

      to hell with the other guests at the party – they weren’t even invited and I saw them
      I saw them fill their pockets up with ashtrays and small trinkets
      – and they were concerned with my cocoon smoking antics?

      fools

      Like

  36. multiplemichael

    unique prose almost like poetry
    free association….anything but free
    readers expecting really strange
    unrelated combinations
    poets begging handouts
    poets little more
    than diseased rags
    endless boredom and poverty
    ****daydreams about expensive socks

    Like

  37. multiplemichael

    in the future world
    all one has to do
    is push the big button
    it isn’t button 6
    or button 5
    just the big button
    no matter what one would want
    just push the big button
    this morning when I pushed the big button
    I watched a 15 minute homemade film
    of Francis Bacon being whipped
    images of his paintings
    flashed in my mind
    DISTORTIONS
    of cadaverous people
    I honestly didn’t enjoy his nudity
    his ass and thighs were like slabs
    of unhealthy gray meat

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      Clockwork orange moments with your eyes pinned wide open
      – a loud shrill noise
      – images of meat and where it came from
      – slaughter house hooks

      – all the buttons were the same

      Like

  38. multiplemichael

    free association of visual images
    images that cause innocent people
    to be seized with extreme paranoia
    my only thought: CALL 911
    ——————–
    questionable areas of taste
    hidden thoughts
    no longer the words of a tourist
    (cheap soup at a gypsy camp)

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      he called 911
      and told them the earth was flat
      – he didn’t have proof
      just a feeling
      that feeling you get after you’ve eaten the cheap soup
      – that tickle in your throat

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        cheap soup @ gypsy camp
        that tickle in your throat
        quickly moves to the other end
        (+) expressed in a rectal kind of language
        locked up in the grips
        the foul smell of emerging identity
        the God awful stench that signals the final escape
        pray that things vanish and not overflow
        —————————————it really wasn’t solid
        oil slick ghetto salad stuck to the side of the bowl

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the cheap soup of gristle and bone
        – gulag treats for the confined
        – campfire stories of ghosts and hauntings
        – the relief when it’s out
        the relaxation of your grip

        red knuckles white

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        SHE gets up early
        turns on the light
        and there is ghetto salad on the sides of the bowl
        her first thoughts focus on “TUBERCULOSIS”
        gangrene of the lungs—OMG, he’s going to die

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the tickle at rear of throat
        tonsil removal ice cream medication –
        – a chest rattle
        all the kinds of phlegm
        THE BLACK LUNG
        the blood spit
        – inoculated against this and that
        eating dirt to boost your immune system

        whiskey enema and the constant burn

        Like

  39. multiplemichael

    a postcard today from MS. CURIE
    seems things are in bad shape
    physically as well as mentally
    the huge wart
    has become even more problematic
    (poster wart for the Apocalypse)
    SHE said that the red light district
    was sucking all the power
    and they were afraid
    to plug in their appliances
    artificial satellites (?)

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      a postcard today from MS. CURIE
      naked, straddled on the top of a pyramid
      “one can never take the Kentucky out of a white woman”
      ————————————–
      ————————————–
      life leaves no survivors
      her husband dead by the likes of a speeding machine
      “SHE was so white and the wart was so black”
      one glance at the wart and clowns could no longer laugh

      Like

    • multiplemichael

      see ourselves for what we really are
      (+) anxieties and ambivalences
      outside—— forces that shape us and give us life
      the damn electric company that threatens to cut us off
      electricity as a form of salvation
      we cringe and our appliances cringe
      at the thought of the towering giant
      (+) junkies for the juice
      enslavement by the need
      to power our materialistic creations

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        invisible currents propel us on – faint electric static drift through the cosmos
        – a self driving car
        – a blow job doll
        – what more can the future hold?

        Like

    • eatmorewords

      the postcard was worthless but the stamp was worth a fortune –
      overtime the letters faded but in the dark they shone
      radioactive fingerprints glowing
      -ridges and whirls
      – under laboratory conditions they studied the prints and discovered a finger was missing
      the whirls to deep

      Like

  40. multiplemichael

    crooning ecstatically in the shower
    his hand— busy with a gift from God
    —————————–
    almost everything important
    in his life
    had at one time or another
    been tacked to a bulletin board
    ——————————
    deadline hanging
    fingers snapping
    amateur psychiatrists humming
    belligerent Bob Dylan tunes

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      the world of poetry
      wants
      Artist/Prophet
      ( WANTED: ARTIST/PROPHET )
      9 out of 10 poets are Judge/Jury
      sorry, no more room for reporting
      the terrible circumstances
      of daily life
      ——————————–
      ——————————–
      strivings and yearnings
      with a strong helping
      of involvement
      —————–
      accumulation of detail
      the reader drags
      around enough dead weight
      (+) however, it would be wise to carry around
      a few perplexities in your wallet
      in case you have to grapple with detectives

      Liked by 1 person

      • multiplemichael

        sensitive to the prejudices suffered
        by addicts of FLARF
        chained beside the mound of used words
        ———the Poetry Society hired a detached observer
        to study the volumes of conversational poetry
        poets caught up in the struggle for survival
        the overwhelming odds that at least one person
        would read the material
        YES, AT LEAST ONE PERSON WOULD READ
        THE CONVERSATIONAL POETRY OF JOHNNY BOY
        AND MULTIPLEMICHAEL
        ****comments with a tremendous gap (Grand Canyon)
        ****intelligent readers swear that all inequities
        will be resolved in the hereafter

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the detached observer took notes
        shorthand Egyptian scribbles
        – recorded all the comments
        – tried to join all the dots
        (in his mind he tried to picture what labyrinth looked like)
        – conversational words with no voice –

        the detached observer wanted to manage the poets
        take them on a world tour in a private jet filled with meat and spider pills

        the detached observer wanted to take them on talk shows interviewed by a set of glowing where teeth

        the detached observer confessed he was overwhelmed

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        (portrait of where I am now)

        kids in trees
        trampoline monkeys on phones in expensive trainers in the canopy
        – I hear names being called
        ANGUS
        IVOR
        JADE
        ABIGAL
        (Papa papa papa)
        – ridiculous names from gentrified fools

        a scrabble to take a photo
        if it’s not captured
        it never happened

        my arse is cold from sitting on the ground

        the weather will change later

        my wife approaches

        Like

    • eatmorewords

      I have a board in the kitchen
      all not cars pinned on
      – dental reminders
      – concert tickets
      – notice of a trip
      – postcards
      – a constant reminders of things and stuff

      the blackboard with dusty chalk

      the radio is playing a song that sounds like someone is being murdered

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        famous quote: ANGELS ARE NOT SPECIAL IN HEAVEN
        you should write that on a piece of paper
        and tack it to your board in the kitchen
        ——————————————-
        when it comes to conversational poetry
        who will analyze the products of the imagination ?
        who will asses the extent of skill at expression ?
        (+) ever-widening circles
        perpetual eat, shit, sleep
        (+) sensitivity (+) intensity
        writers who operate within their confines
        critics beg for greater accuracy
        while readers continue to hide
        ( what will it take to link one reader to another reader ? )

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        amateur poet left poems on public transport with an email address
        – EMAIL ME FOR MORE WORDS –
        the family tree of connections
        passed along
        passed along a
        line of a thousand fingerprints
        – anonymous readers unknown to each other

        Like

  41. multiplemichael

    pleasure in the vulgar for its own sake
    turning clod after clod of crap
    the dung of words
    not a single note
    of sweet music
    —————
    the suppleness and quickness of a penis
    eccentricities of evil on the bed
    poetry becomes globs of jelly

    Like

  42. multiplemichael

    bedchamber comments
    listed under conversational poetry
    gruesome comedy at the expense
    of the groom and bride
    (+) satisfy her appetite
    (+) satisfy his appetite
    ****perhaps the master stroke

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      bed room poetry
      scratched on the wall above the bed
      wallpapered over by the new owners
      – and over time the wallpaper wore thin
      and historic words were exposed
      – names of conquests
      an instruction manual for honeymooners

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        the bed springs of the wicked
        shall be put to use
        the spark of sex
        will burn all
        who wrestle there
        ———————————-
        bust a nut—–blow a cylinder-head
        chapters in the instruction manual
        each new man crawls over the ruins of the one before
        nameless at first—–unnameable later on

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        the lack of opportunity
        and the giant walls of marriage
        ——————-trouble between the legs————–
        “in battle, no longer available”
        she often spoke of integrity
        and the true value of economic reward
        ****the correct sum of cash
        and she would crawl around naked
        on the living room floor
        **** it was possible for integrity to close its eyes

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        that wall of marriage overshadowed the life before
        – no torch light could penetrate the gaps –
        – the marriage balanced on scales
        everything becomes unconscious
        – a look here
        – there is no need to speak

        but

        yesterday she told me I had spread myself so thin I had become invisible

        a strong gust would blow me away

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        the library card has a 1-800 number
        after 6pm you can reach the librarian at home
        on Sundays call after 12pm
        ————————–
        rebels in the library parking lot after hours
        often young white people completely deluded
        dire consequences from reading raw material
        too many stepfathers
        too many phony smiles

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the late night car park scholars
        reading by headlight
        discussion groups sat on asphalt
        an emergency supply of books In the back of the car
        – heavy European literature defeated the rebels with the 1-800 library cards

        – delusions of grandeur
        stick to the Hardy Boys

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the status quo stood above everyone at the top of the hill
        – binoculars focused on us
        the little ants below
        walled in nature
        climbing through the cracks of a million walls

        life will always find a way

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      when it came to poets in a circle
      they were awkward
      insufficiently trained
      out of the group
      the wife of the trombonist
      was the happiest
      ****effortlessly, she could squirt electricity

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        a fish rots from a the head down
        – she was standing outside the window and could hear the trombonist wail
        – static hair on head
        – we are heading home

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        love songs full of wishfulness and optimism
        movie star strength sleeping pills
        for any apprehension of reality
        ————–I saw hundreds of white-washed criminals
        hiding in the bushes—–babbling with strange tongues
        they were pounding the air with their fists
        —————-stereotypes—————-

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        a love song for the city of your birth written over a number of years
        but when it was finished who would read it?
        – slow eyes running over the words the shape of steeples
        – big white tablets named after rock stars
        three Presley’s and a Hendrix

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        words that give no foothold to the mind
        frightened of experimental thinkers
        who only rent a space in the outside world
        blindly coupling in the shadows
        of a rather large loud discotheque
        moving in and out of each other
        recognizable figures being sodomized
        the face of Yul Brynner on a poster
        a clean handsome face in a primeval swamp
        had he really been there I would have offered testimony

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        that corner of the discotheque were you swore the floor was alive moving with
        a thousand snakes underfoot
        Yul Brynners head looked the same when it was upside down
        (this scared you)

        in corner of the discotheque someone told you they saw Lee Harvey Oswald in a Tijuana hotel

        they said they would offer testimony
        swear on the bible but first they wanted a drink

        Like

  43. multiplemichael

    one big fat spoonful in the cup
    and you are free to probe
    the recesses of the human heart
    one can question the noble destiny of mankind
    the risks of involvement
    the risks of detachment
    the millions of minutes of isolation
    ———an honest report ( ? )
    people in general become gray bottom feeders
    not manna from heaven but recycled waste matter

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the risk of involvement with the human race
      dipping toes in the currents
      like a river
      it’s path of least resistance
      the questions pile up
      I store them in a rented warehouse

      waste matter leaving snail like trails across cities of a million wasted minutes

      Like

  44. multiplemichael

    how in the world can a single tongue
    spin out so many words ?
    oh yes, stooped at last
    accepted the halter
    turned the domestic poet
    ———he who speaks through many voices
    and yet remains unseen
    ———he who turns the weapon upon himself
    sound sense and intelligence
    have no quarters in literature
    I see you carry a pickaxe and a spade

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      everyone has a single tongue
      just the one
      where the words roll from
      wet with saliva
      a small man with a clicker counts every word you ever said*
      – he’s lost count twice he embarrassingly admitted –

      somebody in Russia looked exactly you

      a minor celebrity in his district

      Like

  45. multiplemichael

    and yet,
    there were strained hesitations
    disproportionate emotions
    subtle retreats
    multiple withdrawals
    during the honeymoon
    ————————–
    a false hope that photographs
    will recreate history

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      history recreated with Lego bricks and star wars figures
      Han Solo Hiler
      plastic emotionless
      Luke in love with his sister
      the Skywalkers of Kentucky

      you can’t recreate something that hasn’t happened

      Like

  46. multiplemichael

    try to apply Christian standards to your modern life
    ———-inflate Aretha Franklin with helium
    and float her high in the sky
    let God know that you have a sense of humor
    history states that people often smuggled information
    I remember staying up late at night
    trying to figure out what the hell
    was so important

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the Aretha ballon floats over Darktown
      tethered to second hand car lots

      – big blimps over London during the blitz while people moved underground –

      people smuggled ideas through the keyholes
      – letters secreted in secret holes

      how would god know what was important? He’s never seen Facebook

      Like

  47. multiplemichael

    OPENLY question the justice and judgment of God
    and have a hand cut off
    and then write a mental note
    about the value of your one hand
    for a nominal fee
    one can have a color photo
    of their absent hand
    included in
    The Online Museum of Missing Limbs
    ****there is an app that keeps count of visits
    —————————————
    poetry about unfailing optimism
    —————————————
    poetry about religions that are insensitive
    to the need for more information

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      they didn’t give you a choice of what hand you wanted removed –

      I tried to fake it that I was a lefty –
      a double bluff that failed

      they took the hand but left the fingers

      I was embarrassed to be that happy
      just look at me in the photo
      just look at the smile

      when I entered the Online Museum of Missing Limbs I went on line to see if it had registered me

      tomorrow the world will turn red

      Like

  48. multiplemichael

    —————–white representatives of God——————-
    try to paint that history without the color RED
    try not to think of the unspeakable acts
    just think of the brotherly love
    that washes us clean

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the brotherly love was the name of my first funk band
      – the groupies wouldn’t touch us
      one of them described me as “all dough
      no filling”

      I couldn’t think of an act that I’d consider unspeakable

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      are you sure that the floor was wet with tears?
      – have you seen red tears?
      – have you felt sticky tears?
      the liquid of excitement
      the liquid of waste
      – a guillotined smile exported from France, smelt of cigarettes

      Like

  49. multiplemichael

    the humblest delinquent in the village
    standing beside the highway
    waving at traffic
    yes, he had been exposed to the plague
    The Irrational Revolver of Fate
    had fired at him
    with no luck

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      those village delinquents breaking windows one house at a time
      – boredom and it’s bedfellows
      – the village idiot just dribbled
      – in the lab they agreed you couldn’t get a machine to think like a human

      the loneliness of the scientist who falls in love with the android he was creating

      the chamber of the revolver of fate was covered in lipstick

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        THE VILLAGE DELINQUENTS
        at one time or another
        usually make a daily visit
        to my brother’s house
        before one arrives at his living room
        one must turn off certain areas of thinking
        one must cancel the fear of germs
        everything is coated in a sticky substance
        there are 5 trillion dog hairs
        the smell
        is a combination baby diaper/chemical sweat
        there is almost no oxygen
        you catch yourself not breathing
        I always find myself praying
        that there won’t be any females
        that type of lifestyle is horrendous
        for women
        broken men are one thing
        broken women are another
        “jacked-up gutter whores”
        they make piranha
        look like Easter bunnies
        I can’t take it !
        I suddenly find myself very conservative
        I have known most of the visitors for endless years
        they were beautiful young lads at one time
        prime candidates for the local furniture making factories
        and then somewhere came failed piss tests
        failed early morning schedules
        no matter the number of alarm clocks
        smoking in the parking lot
        snorting in the restroom
        theft and nihilistic despair
        life was cruel
        ****Nobel Prize Winners could never force themselves
        to understand instead of judging

        Liked by 1 person

      • eatmorewords

        my brother lives in a faraday cage
        – no phone signal
        – the radio crackle and fades
        – dusty photos of past lovers
        we share memories

        I ask him to open the curtains
        there is light outside
        there is everything outside
        we need to see

        a constant smell of butter

        men are broken by lesser things

        no need for alarms when you don’t sleep the constant state of almost but never there just maybe awake

        he offers me luke warm tea in a chipped cup lipstick marks on the rim

        I refuse
        I make my excuses
        I bid farewell

        the never ending erection

        Like

  50. multiplemichael

    FLARF: POETRY IS MORE VALUABLE WITHOUT MEANING
    ———————————————————–
    CONVERSATIONAL POETRY: POETRY IS MORE VALUABLE
    WITH LIMITED MEANING
    ———————————————————–
    preserving life as long as possible (+)
    literature of the least importance (+)
    arbitrary value judgments (+)
    you recognize that many things in your daily life
    have relative value
    ****a sweet daydream of joining the ranks
    of a famous linguistic class of criminals

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      clinical trials in which male and female subjects
      responded differently to FLARF
      why do people write nonsense ?
      why do people pretend to understand nonsense ?
      Is Protestant Flarf the same as Catholic Flarf ?
      Freud claimed that Flarf was inwardly directed anger
      Freud was famous for blaming everything on poor impulse control
      ——————-a literature of random guesses
      poets who hide behind nonsense because they fear being hospitalized
      ——————-an acquired capability to display nonsense
      poets love to discuss low-level Flarf
      a computer algorithm ready to diagnose poetic states:
      egg
      zygote
      blastocyst
      embryo
      fetus

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        Martin Luther nailed his thesis on to the church door – revolutionary words but the faithful declared it FLARF –
        the thesis was removed but the nail pierced through it remained and rusted
        – pick a book
        think of a number
        find the page tenth line down sixth word
        CATHODE
        – the building block one of flarf poem #26

        I remember when my first son was a blastocyst
        – pin prick of elegant life inside a warm wet belly

        the algorithm emailed me stories of diseased cartel, magic tricks and broken TVs

        Like

    • eatmorewords

      you can find a meaning in anything but is there any value to the words picked up by a magnet
      and scattered like seeds
      – how long did the conversationalist poet wait for
      seeds to bloom?
      – you water yourself daily just to stay alive
      – the little insects feed on you

      I keep hearing people say you need to know the direction of travel

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        ————think how long Moses had to wait—————-
        the poet must display the ACTOR not the ANIMAL
        be happy that the 2 o’clock bus comes at 2:30
        and not later
        be happy that the 2 o’clock bus comes at 3:30
        and sails you down the road like magic
        life is nearly simultaneous with narration
        living a sense of present-tense-ness
        living like James Bond
        naked in a towel wrap-around
        ****display the actor and not the animal

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        knowing the direction of travel
        is important
        if one knows where they are going
        ——————————————–
        when standing in line for the Guillotine
        does direction seem important ?
        ———————————————
        (+) suddenly you receive a telegram
        that the blade is no longer sharp
        (+) you notice that once the blade drops
        they are kicking the head to get it to drop

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the guillotine
        named after a woman
        – it saved all the arguments
        just a sharp blade and some wood
        – a smaller device used to de-man
        the husband
        WHOOSH
        and it was gone

        direction seemed irrelevant when you had no legs and a flat battery

        JUST ENJOY THE VIEW

        Like

  51. multiplemichael

    SHE refers to you as a hollow tree trunk
    and then at night she tries to set the bed on fire
    diary entries about having to forgo personal pleasure
    the errors of modern life
    a constant redistribution
    of elements
    ****poetry colored by self-serving words

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      I knew she was going to try and set me alight
      that why I wore fireproof pants to bed
      – i touch her and leave splinters –
      I know this makes her cry

      I’ve read her diaries
      the errors of modern life are everywhere HAVE YOU SEEN YOU TUBE?

      Like

  52. multiplemichael

    ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————(+) please abandon all books and other accouterments of intellect
    ———————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————————

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      FLARF:
      a platform for poseurs
      (+) Flarf, a platform for poseurs
      deficient in average emotions
      preoccupation with sex and death
      all-or-nothing
      finding paralysis in drug use
      excessive drug use
      Rihanna sleeps on the sofa
      the barbarians next door bark

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        FLARF:
        a platform for poseurs
        _________________
        —————————-
        replace normal emotions with excessive displays
        find time to consume more drugs
        confess to the librarian that you suffer from narcissistic despair
        that you are the “King Daddy” in the cult of oneself
        ****KING DADDY IN THE CULT OF ONESELF

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        drug use led to paralysis
        I couldn’t move
        I pissed myself
        – I smelt of ammonia
        cats stared
        dogs barked at darktown residents

        Rihanna doesn’t sleep
        famous people don’t sleep
        they exist
        like androids*

        *yul Brynner in westworld

        – wet honeymoon stains –

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        poetry as a presentation of a particular state of mind
        poetry triggered by drug use
        or poetry triggered by a correct response
        the “new laid egg” was the talk of the bookstore
        mother hen on a nest of white cotton
        under general anesthesia

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        poetry as a new born baby and a grubby teenager
        – a fork in the road
        – children hand in hand – mother hen
        peck peck pecking
        itch scratch itching

        I laid an egg
        perfect ovoid of
        smooth surface

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        animal shapes in the shadows
        fragmented marital responsibilities
        essential bedroom drama
        sharp scissors greedy
        ——————————-
        mentally ill trees drop their fruit
        loathsome and foul
        romantic disappointments

        Like

    • eatmorewords

      intellectuals rans to the window and threw out their books
      the looked like flapping birds
      but they didn’t fly
      they fell

      manna from heaven

      they removed the batteries from calculators
      bled the pens of their ink

      abandon all hope
      abandon all the words

      Like

  53. multiplemichael

    the noble natives of Dark Town
    were corrupted by civilization
    cable television brought Satan into the fold
    geniuses in lab coats play the lottery
    experimental scientists find it difficult to sleep
    partial truths like bed bugs bite them without mercy
    random variation and survival of the fittest
    endless grubby details under cosmic grandeur

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      before cable TV there was three channels and programmes ended at 9pm – the screen went black
      – now 100s channels of preachers, cars, Satanic rituals, adverts for fitness machines used by females with solid bodies

      too much is too much

      and the grandeur of nature is beautiful from a distance
      – but up close
      you can see the cracks
      the smashed windows
      – the bedbugs are crawling

      you can see them
      you can feel them

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        THE FINAL CHAPTER OF THE NOVEL
        ———-CABLE TELEVISION————
        the chaplain came out and apologized for Jesus
        Jesus was exhausted
        there were countless opportunities
        for Jesus to step up to the plate
        to be shaken out of his indifference
        the value of life:
        (+) the necessary steps to preserve it
        (+) the effort to recapture what has fallen to ruin

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        in my favourite films the chaplain was played by Gene Hackman*

        *imagine that, being named after a pair of trousers
        he was in a tin can
        underwater
        Jesus with a snorkel

        countless opportunities slipped through the fingers
        countless opportunities washed up on the shore

        cables inside the cable TV

        Like

  54. multiplemichael

    poetry that may prove useful to those who are awake
    ———————————————————————
    bad night people often become enemies of books
    self-professed haters of the printed word
    paper is the skin of Satan
    ink is the Devil’s blood
    —————————-
    poetry rendered in fragments
    mainstream incoherence

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      there are so many awake with their eyes open
      there are so many awake with their eyes closed

      – I know a handful of people who have never read a book – they just read statues on Facebook –

      are we selfish poets just filling the comments with words?

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        I AM A SELFISH POET
        I WORK HARD TO CROWD THE COMMENTS
        sometimes I perspire for the sake of poetry
        suffer the risk of heatstroke for comments
        sentenced to death a thousand times
        tons of snap, crackle, and pop
        a new breast to suckle
        a new prison cell with my name
        I stand proud in INSIGNIFICANCE

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        I know I’m insignificant
        I shared a womb for 9month
        I had to share a breast
        if no one saw the comments the words would still be there

        (. she told me to delouse the baptist. )

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      the last bonds to conventional morality
      were snipped with a small fingernail clipper
      all of the fictional heroes laid to rest
      not believing in sin
      was the worst sin
      SIN BETWEEN YES AND NO
      the two eyes of sin: ignorance and misunderstanding
      limitations at the self-portrait studio
      mouth open, eyes shut
      eyes open, mouth shut
      paralyzed and returned from Korea

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        morality a thin line
        morality a tightrope
        behind closed doors
        each to their own
        fictional heroes serve a purpose
        the Hardy Boys and Nancy Drew
        Ignatius J. Reilly down in New Orleans sweating on a gumbo –

        – ——————– –

        can you imagine
        in North Korea
        they’ve never seen
        or heard of
        two girls and one cup

        Like

  55. multiplemichael

    the smell of cigarettes on dead lips
    in its absence
    life is less than a memory
    relatives suggest
    that everything be written down
    add extra thickness
    put a big knob on it
    point it towards the sun
    people in France
    permit their eyes to speak
    “it is more meaningful”
    crazy people welcome life
    even in suffering
    ( neither applause nor virtuous tears for those boarding the death carriage )

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the old doctors who recommended cigarettes for all manner of ailments
      a cure for frigidity
      cancer, the midwestern stoop
      – oh how wrong they were
      – time will always catch up with you

      pandora box comments
      a 1,000 dark clouds explode

      crazy people
      sane people
      cigarette paper thin differences

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        psychiatrically accurate conversational poetry
        —————————————————-
        poets who indulge in bourgeois guilt
        apocalyptic surrender to mouthing guilt
        cigarettes and other oral reassurances
        (+) domesticated tobacco
        male and female proper proportions
        (+) a gallon of semen leaked
        the motorcycle seat was caked white

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        Aren’t all poets engulfed in a degree of bourgeois guilt?

        — on hot days
        with sweat and white stains
        there can be confusion
        semen or sweat? – –

        the joy of riding a motorbike and the sense of freedom diminished by the fear of crashing into a brick wall

        Evil Knievel wanted his legs replaced with wheels

        Like

  56. multiplemichael

    turn of the screw:
    (+) screwers
    (+) screwed
    one night during the marriage
    the bedroom light came on
    SHE said,
    “tonight you must answer the question
    you have never satisfactorily answered”

    Like

  57. multiplemichael

    (+) condemning the old order of poets
    (+) selective breeding
    (+) casting off the physically and mentally unfit
    —————————————————
    swimmers in poetry with concrete boots
    —————————————————
    talk of poetry with the purpose of assuring
    the comfort of the poet
    —————————————————-
    America: The Planet of the Apes
    ————-
    Americans winning the Nobel Prize every 15 minutes
    ————-
    having been loved, cannot pretend to be virginal
    ————-
    skin colors and prayers to wake up white
    ————-
    waking up a beautiful pale shade of white
    is a ticket for an extended lease on infantile narcissism

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the old poets will follow the way of the old wrestlers & the dead NASCAR drivers
      the hobos of darktown
      – desire still to win an Oscars
      – desire still to walk on the moon
      – how many people want to be white?
      how many want to be left handed?

      sometimes the best poems are the difficult one –

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        America: The Planet of the Apes
        no Nascar or televised wrestling
        large audience for bleach drinking
        and handling rattlesnakes
        society hastens to rewrite history
        one heinous personality
        replaces another
        heinous personalities fall out of trees
        when the wind blows strong
        when the ground shakes

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        you wrote to a prisoner and told him about the smell of the flowers in your garden
        you explained the taste of the ramen you had last night
        – you drew them a picture of a dog reading a book

        America
        where did you go wrong?

        Liked by 1 person

  58. multiplemichael

    poets often write of secret ladders
    they climb the ladder to a safe spot
    where they can observe the world below
    lucky poets can suckle mysterious breasts
    that helps soften the pain of unhappy past events

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      sometimes you need to escape to the high land
      take a ladder with you
      take them extra steps
      climb even higher
      – I suckled the breast when I was a younger man –

      I see the world below
      ’cause there is no world above

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        how shapeless and insignificant
        those breasts are today
        ——how did God think up
        the whole nourishment
        from the sweat glands
        on a chest thing ?
        earlier models had the glands elsewhere ?
        (+) liquid food from a human body (perfectly normal)
        ****a long absence from home—upon the return
        it was customary for the individual to suckle his mother
        the “dry suckle” was a bonding ritual

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        famous people wanted their sweat glands removed
        it showed up in pictures they said
        – medical advice sought from the new gods
        men with scalpels and tans
        they could even put milk back into dry mothers breasts

        —miracles of modern science
        NO NEED FOR GOD NOWADAYS —

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      condemned for the wrong crime
      or no crime at all
      smart people speak of the parallelism
      of the two paths
      the young mind in the old body
      units of time melted into one another
      people at the museum
      say that they are organizing
      my life in a dynamic fashion
      ****I requested there be no reference to “dry suckle”

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        people talking breathlessly about witnessing the crime
        they pointed fingers
        the white man escaped
        the black man was killed
        it was in the news
        it was ignored

        we harnessed time
        caught it
        divided it down to nano-seconds

        the lowest common denominator

        white men in white vests
        white trainers white bread

        Like

  59. multiplemichael

    TUBERCULAR CHILDREN BORN AT THE SANITARIUM
    parents forgo their personal happiness to create a nest
    the writer will attempt to bring into the open
    painful memories—————illicit memories
    father disowned,
    the burden of becoming a substitute parent
    the weapon necessary to protect mother
    mother the genital object
    painting the windows black
    and preparing the bedroom
    for intercourse

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the mother the other the
      imposter
      substitute for wet nursing
      swollen breast surrogate waits in the wings
      – father just a replaceable face
      – the same old suit

      prepare the bedroom for intercourse
      turn the lights off
      point and hope

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        father was a sophisticated beast of burden
        a replaceable face ———-a headless wardrobe
        separate heads in hat boxes
        with circus animals painted on them
        ————————————-
        ————————————-
        turn the lights off
        point and hope
        (—the pecker as a home wrecker—)

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        headless wardrobe
        legless bed
        the wall
        the walls
        boxed in
        hats for different days
        different faces*
        different names to confuse the detectives
        – fingerprints match but the face
        the face changes

        your handwriting changed everyday

        *back to the early days of Joan

        Like

  60. multiplemichael

    it would be impossible to be your own father
    and yet, you spent all those years being your father
    HE WAS THE SHADOWY FIGURE THAT DRIFTED IN AND OUT
    teasing at full-bodied holiday events
    and somehow, leaving a residue
    ( in all those years, no one ever mentioned the scuff marks
    on mother after one of father’s visits )

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      without the beard I resemble him
      cheek and jowl
      the hairs protruding from my ear
      a facsimile just as the printer run s out of ink
      a weak copy
      blurred edges
      you try and out run the shadow but your tethered in the centre

      a face
      a voice on the phone
      somewhere the dots will join

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        this distinction between father and son
        it would take considerable effort
        to teach the reader to project
        this image on a blank page
        —————————FATHER
        constantly shifts nearly imperceptibly
        into slightly different men
        (+) Robert Frost never referred to his mother as a container

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        mother as container
        a vessel with heavy load
        entrance as an exit
        I crawled through the forest
        on all fours
        it was a sight
        bleeding knees like a priest in pray

        (100 years I would’ve existed in black and white
        – the war was still raging –
        stomach full of a steady diet of nothing –

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        ————without the beard I resemble him:
        (+) impossible to erase the Adam & Eve
        (+) the child inherits its shape from the mold
        (+) an object emerging from its source material
        ————without physical attributes/character traits
        someone or something in the shadows
        a force not to be trifled wth

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        my beard left my face
        it was hoovered up and added to a bag of detritus – I noticed I had the smallest chin —

        THE SMALLEST CHIN

        — I resemble me
        little me
        baby me —

        a picture on a mantelpiece

        I was Adam for a short period
        I was Eve for a shorter period

        I went home
        I came back

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        very poetic to think how easy it is to wash away dirt
        and yet, how impossible it is to erase the Adam & Eve
        (+) common people enjoy outsmarting themselves
        (+) work animals have been replaced by work humans
        (+) every day, machines become more liable
        ——————-few poets speak of the grievous employment
        on the Ark, blind to the obvious, a thousand times blind

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        imagine their was no water
        they’d be no ark
        all those animals in the back of a truck
        – at checkpoints the driver had to supply paperwork for each animal – hours flipping paper


        – people replaced the beasts of burden the machines replaced the people and the machines will replace themselves

        I’m not blind to it
        I just choose to close my eyes

        Like

  61. multiplemichael

    ——————-PRISON——————
    men standing around giving graphic descriptions of bung holes
    information gained from observation
    possible sodomy (no actual proof)
    ———-Leviathan Lore
    total love of the whole heart and body
    at night there was a lot of embrace
    sensual enjoyment—sensual excitement
    sailors coated in lard having intercourse
    the Captain on deck with a babbling interior monologue
    ( sadomasochistic steel gripped jaws )

    Like

    • multiplemichael

      few poets speak of the grievous employment on the Ark
      several hundred Buddhist monks worked 24/7
      they were confused about who they were
      their connections were wiped clean
      they were Buddhist monks
      without the Buddha

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      total love for the system of restraint
      Leviathan cast its shadow
      the conveyor belt of cutlery
      (. some attempt to smuggle out knife – hidden in socks, hidden inside)

      – the shrieking bell of lunch tolls for cheap meat feeding –

      the factory the office the prison

      Like

  62. multiplemichael

    just think,
    a steadily dwindling percentage of readers
    prison poets trying to translate sodomy
    into popularly accessible forms
    people wasting their happiness on earth
    suffer now and reap the benefits in the hereafter
    ————————————————–
    prison poets were trying to locate luxury without freedom
    poets in Kentucky were trying to locate luxury in poverty

    Like

      • multiplemichael

        popularity may not be popular
        but it is hot in the sales department
        there may be a freedom in poverty
        but it is not the kind of freedom
        that permits one to purchase cheese
        from the correct country
        the lack of money
        equals lame cheese

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        enough hot air to float a zeppelin
        floating above everything
        gives you a certain sense of freedom but you know in reality
        your tethered invisibly
        to the ground
        to the past
        that invisible umbilical chord
        those apron strings
        – (you remember your mum
        elbow deep in potato peelings )

        the lack of money?

        All spent on cheese
        the stickiest French type

        Like

  63. multiplemichael

    poetry with internal cohesion
    the backdoor moistened
    with bitter almond-scented jism
    virile seed from man on man
    humiliations of the flesh
    in the flower of their youth
    shower scenes on television
    sexual imagery
    lovers who once loved can no longer love

    Like

  64. multiplemichael

    the smartest man living on Earth
    closely examined a French feminine pronoun
    on a surreal television show today
    ——————————————-
    PROOF that the future is racing towards us
    ——————————————-

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      15% of the total world population is alive at this time
      – how many limbs?
      – how many eyes?

      – six degrees of separation from Leviathan –

      are we all spiders in the web?

      Like

  65. multiplemichael

    fear and reason dictate that we drive the speed limit
    troublemakers in the poetry section
    the nonbelievers
    junk obedience to authority
    why not Dollar Store brain sciences ?
    God-struck store-bought
    (+) rites of passage
    (+) moments of high seriousness
    ****men who once loaded and unloaded airplanes
    are now relocating sacred symbols

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      I checked my emails and the words kept coming – no speed limit can slow this down –

      I need to get on top of this
      but things are falling apart

      this island has cracks

      the wooden boxes of sacred symbols stored off the grid
      a place not seen on google maps

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        swab the penis of Michael Jackson
        sniggering voyeurism
        readers race through the words
        sensitive to the word, “worm”
        ————————–the sight of a single eye staring
        dusting for fingerprints
        sniggering voyeurism
        readers desperate to understand
        the words finding it difficult to stay on the page

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        in court they passed around pictures of the Jackson wang
        – lightly dusted for fingerprints
        – it seemed to change colour depending on the light
        he called it the ‘worm’

        he called the kids the ‘worm tamer’

        the jury had their own opinions

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        when Michael looked outside
        all he saw were females with knives and forks
        the pop singer from the oven like a holiday bird ?
        (+) the fictitious world of penis envy
        at the police station they measured his penis 50 times
        without success

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        his high pitch voice attracted dogs from all of the neighbourhood
        – secret calls from within Camelot
        – the penis was a different colour from his face when flaccid

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        photos of Michael Jackson’s penis
        were often found
        at scenes of crime
        ——————-
        crazy places with fresh blood:
        bullfighting
        whale kills
        big-game hunting
        stockyards

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        they wasn’t “his” penis
        he was a resourceful man and always carried spares
        – a Hansel and Gretel trail of penises that lead to his door

        monkey butlers & oxygen tanks

        and remember
        he used to be a little black Boy

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      a tight-buttocked Michael Jackson
      singing to the moon overexcited
      the mythological daughter of Elvis
      spent her honeymoon
      in the tower of Trump
      “without the black, he was so much more lessened”

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        silver gloved hand sparkled in the the ugly night
        – the kids saw it open the door at the
        heartbreak hotel

        his brothers talked about him behind his back

        the blood line of the king
        going up in the elevator

        his face reflected in a gold disc

        dead
        & buried in sequins

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        the bloodline of the King
        mixed with the DNA of stray dogs
        swollen lips hungry for the seed
        —whispers of redemptive resurrection
        on the honeymoon bed
        (+) gamble with the nose but safeguard the phallic staff

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the bloodline was mixed
        the Kings daughter and Jackson
        – he wrote his own vowels
        – they were in hieroglyphics
        he acted them out
        a waggle of his foot
        his hand pointing
        – it was gamble
        no one knew if he could have kids
        – if he could function properly
        with a woman
        in a hotel room

        (rumour had it
        he preferred penises…vaginas scared him
        he didn’t like the look or taste)

        Like

  66. multiplemichael

    thinking about the absurd world
    having seen the penis of Michael Jackson
    white people struggle to decipher its enigma
    poets are more likely to speak out
    ****what about long-range historical perspectives ?

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      Jackson’s role in history will be a footnote
      little black Micheal
      skinny old white Micheal
      moonwalking from the scene of the crime

      trying to separate man from myth
      was he character from the Bible?

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        Michael Jackson was not SPINELESS
        —————————————–
        He carried a huge stick (THE KING STICK)
        —————————————–
        He knew nothing of THE MIDDLE-OF-THE-ROAD
        ——————————————
        DESTRUCTIVE CYCLES WERE CONSTANTLY KNOCKING ON HIS DOOR

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        MJ never stuck to roads
        he build them
        long
        straight
        roads
        that
        were
        decorated
        with
        jewels and the negative pictures of sin

        looking into his eyes was like looking into the grave

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        a cartoon caricature of oddness
        a strange walk
        invented himself and invented his own sin
        he build a castle and filled it with animals
        a roller coaster that ran non-stop for 24hours everyday
        – he always invited his brothers over but they’ve also declined
        weird
        they always seemed to have something to do

        he told Macaulay Culkin that his pubic hair was just black candy floss

        all the fun of the fair

        Like

  67. multiplemichael

    SELF-SATISFACTION IS THE DAILY SECRET
    if SHE knew,
    there would be a disbalanced response
    the once romantic “de Sade Wife”
    just another killer, Lady Negative
    ——————————————-
    (+) the cult of oneself
    (+) the cult of the hand
    romantic narcissism reasonably paced
    idealized friction easily attained
    the famous eternal hobby

    Like

  68. multiplemichael

    ———————–whether one participates in the sexual carnage
    actively or only vicariously————————————————-
    (+) a theater rubber cut so the head could slip through
    ****the tower of Babel was an elevator for angels leaving
    ****the tower of Babel was a perverse extension
    ****the tower of Babel was a godlike penis

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the Tower of Babel was held up scaffolding
      it had began to lean
      stress fractures in the bricks
      the elevators weren’t safe
      buttons didn’t work
      you stepped out in the wrong floor

      you could see the shadow of it from Leviathan

      god tucked his penis between his legs and pretended he was a woman

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        I asked Emerson, Thoreau, and Whitman
        if God tucked his penis
        and they all said “NO”
        God would only show off with a feat
        that even an exceptional man
        would find impossible to perform
        ——————————–
        when I looked in the magical Flarf mirror
        I read, “self-righteous rigidity”
        there was a check mark next to
        —–emotional commitment——
        ****tuck the penis and attain
        an integrated sensibility
        (beat-generation finger snapping)

        Like

  69. multiplemichael

    funny how the past seems perfect
    (+) the value of immediately lived experiences
    CONVERSATIONAL POETRY
    however shapeless and insignificant
    can they steal that from you ?
    (+) in Kentucky they force you to shoot
    your own tumor with a small handgun
    (+) privileged to live—condemned to suffer

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      at times the past is horrendous
      but time glosses over it
      – oh how we laughed (but you knew deep down you cried)
      – doublethink and memory reboots – I know folk who are just on standby
      waiting
      – in darktown they force you to eat off your tumour I’ve the evidence with my own eyes
      MEAT
      BETWEEN
      TEETH

      the life
      the suffering
      somewhere in between

      Like

  70. multiplemichael

    miracle of miracles:
    you get your chance to be James Bond
    you are naked in a towel wrap-around
    men and women of all ages are drooling
    YOU STOP BEING THE ACTOR
    AND START BEING THE ANIMAL
    (+) you realize that you are at your mother’s funeral
    (+) you realize that you are standing in line for the Guillotine

    Like

  71. multiplemichael

    with varying degrees of success
    the challenge of the poet
    problematical, the collection
    of an old man
    with an imagination
    little more than a boiling pot of loneliness
    ————————————————–
    the poet increasingly loses his connections
    hair all over the bathroom floor

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the fading hairline of the old man looking at the emerging
      skyline of a city of dominoes
      unable to connect the past and present tense

      I’m not who you think I am
      – all my writing is edited by an office of low paid secretaries and retired professors –
      I use computer programmes and algorithms
      I steal lines from songs and books
      I’ve never heard of Robert Frost
      Im a ten tonne catastrophe
      I’m a 3ft black midget
      I’m a cross dressing reality TV star

      crossed off all the church’s Utah

      I’m a lair and a fading star

      Like

  72. multiplemichael

    at the honeymoon motel
    it was not difficult to hear the moans
    of crime-breeding vices
    in the parking lot
    automobile bumpers
    sported Guillotine decals
    the large numbers
    boasted of family members
    who had kissed the blade

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      those that couldn’t afford a room
      drove their cars into the parking lot
      and consummated the wedding their
      – the window
      slightly rolled down to let some air in but the fumes from freeway
      made them cough and splutter
      the romantic mood ruined
      by lorry driver blasting their horns

      Like

  73. multiplemichael

    at my local library I tried to start
    a Nonviolent Sodomy Coordinating Committee
    radical to the root of man, the woman part of man
    never a doubt, never the slightest doubt
    Jesus known for his famous backside
    this Church—that Church
    angry and violent

    Like

  74. multiplemichael

    petrol station proprietor sodomy
    you go around back
    and stick it in
    ————on a cosmic level
    the root is planted
    man in man
    ****later he tries to sell you a photograph of his woman part

    Like

  75. multiplemichael

    MY NEW POEM:
    my village asked Batman to help recognize
    the undignified necessities of the flesh
    —————————————
    panic stricken after a night of careless pleasure
    should I go outside and check the oil level in the car ?
    —————————————-
    whirling one after the other
    stresses and half-stresses
    sodomy with the guy from the petro station
    words as vehicles for reflecting human situations
    ——————————————
    poetry about the weakest members
    of a litter or a brood
    or men who fought in Korea
    or men with metal plates in their heads
    or men with a dark hole in their woman part

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      a village of ex soldiers
      a place of no sleep
      nervous tics and twitching limbs
      ( if words are vehicles for relating human situations flarf must be a car with a puncture at the side of the road )
      men with metal plates feared the pull of magnets
      invisible forces they couldn’t see (like hiding snipers
      in gutted towns)

      the guy from the petrol station had a compulsion to touch everything that was red
      tomatoes
      cherry
      blisters

      Like

  76. multiplemichael

    READERS WERE REALLY UPSET
    Edgar Cayce said,
    “the truth is that females are full of vileness”
    they grow full of vileness and split their seams
    they hide the flashlight and turn out the light
    they—witches, demonic queens of night

    Like

  77. multiplemichael

    “I swell in there”—the babe pointed at the mother’s belly
    “the seeds of common life crawled up that hairy ditch”
    ———————————————————-
    he was a pleasure junkie and leaked his illumination
    in that snake pit—the penis fingering the serpent

    Like

  78. multiplemichael

    words full of black humor (and grinning)
    the smell of decay in the gorge
    having fallen behind schedule
    the spit from countless pale worms
    the queasiness of nut sac slip and slide
    “Please Lord, save us from the horrors of Creation”

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      Two tickets to the execution
      two tickets for the next trip to Mars
      sharp knife slice
      like little red marks that denote time on the schedule
      – no time for Jesus in this life

      the girl at the coffee shop spilt a large mocha over her GG Allin tshirt

      the smell under the flap caused concern

      Like

      • eatmorewords

        the gallow drop
        a plunge into forever
        with the crowd eager to see defecation
        – a piss stain that spread out
        into the pattern of Peru
        – a reef knot was used for apparent comfort
        – the rope would be spliced and made into shoe laces
        – souvenirs for the tourists

        Like

  79. multiplemichael

    Sylvia Plath was not on the Ark
    far too dangerous
    ———-the Ark was full of ugliness
    —————————————boredom
    ———————————————spiritual numbness
    although she was often overcome with weakness
    her marauding clitoris had some sensation
    (+) Sylvia lacked proper obedience to pain

    Like

      • eatmorewords

        a lost penny in the thicket
        no map leads to the treasure
        man with his constant attempts of discovery
        – dig in
        – figure of 8
        – constant motion till your hand gets tired

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        EASIER TO THREAD A THOUSAND NEEDLES
        color was everywhere—blocking things that wanted to be blocked
        dangerous communication often at night
        solitary and selfish in the midst of a crowd
        you who rearranges———–decorates
        you who sleeps with an independent being
        fulfilling presence—ms. majority proper
        ****parking meter agitation (just one more coin)

        Like

    • multiplemichael

      the people who knocked on the door
      late at night
      thought of Sylvia Plath as a channel
      for sublimating forbidden desires
      the apartment was safely insulated
      with thick layers of illicit desires
      and painful memories

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      God was on annual leave
      unavailable
      DO NOT DISTURB
      she opened her legs
      he looked into the void

      was there an echo?
      and he knew if he climbed in he need to harness himself to something

      a brace soul descending

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        God was spotted in a dental office
        reading non-naturalistic magazines
        folk musicians often sing tunes
        about the physical being of God
        ——He was many things——
        history reports that he was human only once
        the boy king, Jesus
        (and how did that work out ?)
        (+) there is great humor in his genital sexuality
        (+) to be a boy and to never be a man

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        all I remember from dentist trips is the smell
        and the hairs in the arm of the dentist that brushed against my teeth
        – Jesus was there reading old magazines (he needed a crown)
        – a gap near the flesh
        – the radio
        some news
        I spit out liquid
        I spit out liquid

        Like

  80. multiplemichael

    the puckered cry of a behind
    human emptiness
    the commode revealing
    depletion and inadequacy
    ——————————-
    ——————————-
    problematic use of language
    negotiating with words
    solemn and sincere

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      problematic use of language in the land of the deaf
      – a throng of people just pointing and grunting –
      – regression
      zombie shuffle dead man boogie
      – kids with txt talk

      I’ve been told there is an emoji for everything –
      the fire conversations will be smiley faces gun closed did flag of Cambodia

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        most people can’t spell venereal disease
        therapeutic groups fear the jungle
        ———————————
        circular conversations on bedwetting/nail-biting
        one fellow spoke of sexual poverty
        he knew a lot about pornographic behavior
        unthinkable things

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        sometimes you don’t need to be able to spell what you have
        – how many names are there for crotch rash?
        – a basic man can’t afford the medication
        a cock like First World War soldiers trench foot
        – unthinkable thing with an unimaginable smell –

        the many variations of pornographic images (the curves of a brand new car)

        nails bitten till the knuckles were exposed

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        it wasn’t crotch rash
        it was worse
        trench foot only higher up
        the doctor was shocked
        he wrinkled his nose
        like a rabbit
        ———-(+)————-
        ———-(+)————-
        just trying to sleep in the same room
        with that smell
        the doctor silently searched for horns or hooves
        questions about evolutionary heritage

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        the smell like a corpse exposed in a morgue
        – an exclusion zone
        a radius of 2 metres
        – the motive is always personal –
        the doctors suffered leeches
        blood sacs
        sucking

        oh, the drama!

        some people take a small step of the evolutionary path, a step to the right

        (I’ve always been suspicious of men who wantto be a gynaecologists)

        Like

  81. multiplemichael

    FLARF requires a fallen leaf picked up by Robert Frost
    a faded flower—a broken heart—an early grave
    employed as a virgin bride
    the eternal virgin bride
    not a single grain of sexual sin
    (watched 24 hours a day)
    a watcher on her left side
    a witness on her right side
    she lived the law
    intimately related to God
    she knows and is known

    Like

  82. multiplemichael

    Rihanna singing “shine bright like a diamond”
    ———–ON-LOOKER———————-
    the poet trying to fill the deathbeds
    relatives and neighbors
    and strangers from the exercise clinic
    Walt was coming over
    and he liked to see large numbers of people suffering
    to touch bones sticking out—to push them back inside
    to handle intestines and say “you’ll be right in a week”
    to wet dry lips with spittle—forbidden kisses
    what a thrill to behave compassionately

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      James Bond with sidekick Rihanna on a jet ski
      Mediterranean sea splash

      Bond as protagonist
      Bond as rapist

      a boat full of kidnapped humans
      resembled an ark

      push the intestines back in
      inside the rib cage
      don’t let the flies settle

      the one exited the skin and cast a strange shadow

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        James Bond killed Rihanna
        and stretched her skin over the ski jet
        I saw the stain on the carpet
        boss man on the phone
        while three small men
        rubbed the spot
        (specialized)
        there were mathematical problems

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        (I love the term “henchmen”)
        like backing singers they mostly come in threes –
        two on the level
        one is just plain nuts
        – leather gloved hands and reflections in their mirrored sunglasses
        – jet ski Bond in a tuxedo made from a pop stars skin –

        a satellite in his watch
        a knife in his shoe
        a car that swims

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        to James Bond—Rihanna was just fancy merchandise
        both were shining examples of an advanced state
        in the evolutionary order of things
        in the parade they floated high
        above the lower creatures
        ——–(+)——————
        ——–(+)——————
        James Bond the King
        Rihanna Castrated

        Like

  83. multiplemichael

    naked and chirping like a bird
    Robert Frost was afraid of her
    he started a poem:
    “for your sake I have braved the glen”
    but that is as far as it got
    Walt would come over and they would cling together
    no lover like another poet
    the peril of sodomy
    can easily be washed off

    Like

  84. multiplemichael

    ROBERT FROST:
    no shame walking to school with the poor kids
    around 10pm the barriers were pushed back
    the little birds and the little beasts
    were no match for the adversary
    ——————
    ——————
    encouraged to resist
    coal dust around the lips

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the poor kids drinking energy drinks at 7:34am parents in pjs
      – birds tweet on a branch
      Robert Frost was unlike his name
      warm and cordial
      – a well worn shoe

      – when he kisses her he tasted last nights dinner

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        an eight-hour-work-day broken up into bouts
        of amusing sex
        sometimes recording
        and watching
        life corresponds to our notions
        (+) mathematical figures in green ink

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        life timetabled to the nearest second
        allocated time for each activity
        -(as an example: 15mins a day for lewd thoughts
        – 3 minutes for lacing shoes)

        trying to think back to a time when there was no time

        the cavemens watch was a burning ball of fire
        a silver dollar at night

        I should my boss my workings and he drew through them with a red pen

        5:30pm clocking off

        Like

      • multiplemichael

        ——————————-LIFE TIMETABLED
        minutes become stepping stones
        the distance between steps
        change after puberty
        it is not difficult to observe
        collections of envelopes
        that slipped and fell
        sleeping down there
        hopeless through and through
        some with their last cigarette
        still stuck in their mouth

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        kid scared at the though of their balls dropping?
        how fast and how far?
        hair sprouting
        turning into an animal*
        the smell wasn’t their two weeks ago

        *American werewolf in London showed his password at border control

        Like

  85. multiplemichael

    diluted forms of race running around
    real whites and blacks
    only found in photographs and paintings
    native Americans long gone
    some old scuzzy baskets and a tomahawk
    the Kennedy family is dead
    no more newspapers or magazines
    ****children asking if Jesus went to church

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the long lineage just ended
      a branch with the rot
      you know the photographs can be edited – manipulated like a blackmail victim
      – strange emails offering you vast fortunes – everyone had a friend who had a room in their house where entrance was PROHIBITED-

      god wasn’t religious He just worshipped himself
      – an ego in sandals –

      all the colours ran when the flag hit the ground

      Like

  86. multiplemichael

    every college education included
    a lesson on mountain apes
    who sought approximation
    of Anglo-Saxon ideals
    ——–please———–
    those sketches on cave walls
    silly people in France (?)

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      school curriculum included –
      history of communism
      Beatles songs (duration 5mins+)
      UFOlogy
      bullett trajectory
      famous assassinations (1856 – 1991) –

      the school refused to supply stationary

      the caveman painted with shit

      Like

  87. multiplemichael

    I told Jesus that I was going to write
    about Satan
    coiled as a serpent
    round his phallic member
    Jesus asked, “are you going to write
    about the serpent
    coiled around
    your penis ?”
    I looked down and was shocked
    —————————-
    seeing a serpent coiled around my manhood
    influenced me to think about
    (+) bruised feet
    (+) ancestral family trees
    (+) fallen relatives/fallen leaves
    (+) Robert Frost
    ——————
    knowing the law about not perverting the Holy
    knowing that man doesn’t deserve fire
    ——————-
    false prophets blowing the flames
    I think I saw poor little Rihanna
    knee deep in the embers
    moisture boiling on her skin
    She was holding a sacramental loaf
    the bread of swim or sink
    the last meal
    before the past catches up
    and time ends

    Liked by 1 person

  88. multiplemichael

    in response to a questionnaire:
    2 out of 3 poets
    should switch off
    retire to Ohio
    and eat cheese
    ——————
    no kinship with Flarf poets
    hang um by their necks
    hang um high so others know
    Flarf is a dead end road

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      I was going to retire to Ohio but left the passport at home
      – on a subconscious level I knew I didn’t want to go –
      for all multiple choice questionnaires always go for the middle answer
      – the middle stump
      – the meat of the matter
      strange phrase your grandmother will not understand

      Like

  89. multiplemichael

    WORDS WERE IMPORTANT
    APART FROM THEIR MEANING
    and yet, told NO poems on infanticide
    words side by side on a white sheet of paper
    I tried to not think about sodomy
    ———————————–
    our deepest seriousness is suspect
    someone called 911 and made a report

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      report filed upon report
      temps bought into upload the findings on the mainframe
      – 911 calls recorded and played back – a thousand ears listening for flagged words

      Like

  90. multiplemichael

    golden cornbread and lumberjack peas
    and collard greens were okay
    but the candied yams went outside
    with the fried chicken and chitlins
    nobody eating meat inside
    I didn’t like the smell of flesh
    but I sure did enjoy the sound
    of that blues-rooted alto sax
    coming from the back porch

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      she wouldn’t allow meat in the house
      you had to wait on her porch
      and talk through the letterbox
      she has long nails
      a smell of damp
      she said she hates jazz but thought John Coltrane was a fine piece of ass

      a neighbourhood of dogs barking
      a neighbourhood of barking dogs

      Like

  91. multiplemichael

    write what you know, Baby Bird
    then get a ladder
    and write above yourself
    when you drive yourself off the pavement
    you got to be more creative, more innovative
    keep your wheels turning, your eyes open
    ****strengths and weaknesses like a Beatles song
    abstract sounds in place of conventional ones
    underlying meanings difficult to recover
    (+) different notes dropped into repeated chords
    “hell son, take off your shoes and let the sun shine
    on your hairy toes”

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      six weeks in a cave Micheal, the solitude of retreat
      people pay thousands to attend a writing seminar
      AND THEY FORGET THEIR PENS
      – the course was entitled “Imagination: life within the comments, a study of Leviathan” –
      day one 9am: they were shown a picture of a factory and a knife and asked to write
      silence
      noon: dinner of steamed vegetable
      ice water
      an afternoon of blank thought and blank verse

      heavy night sleep realising the futility of weak poetry

      Like

  92. multiplemichael

    I remember one day at lunch
    all the Christian soldiers were Thanking the Lord
    for what they were about to devour
    just wang-dang-noodle crazy loving God and Jesus
    I asked, “what kind of a nut-job thinks up the Flood and the Ark ?”
    anyone with 3 brain cells should know the answer to that question
    just like snapping your fingers, slicker than slick
    ——————————–
    sensitive people:
    sleeping on rocks
    walking on broken glass
    rubbing Tabasco on their naked behinds
    ———————————-
    free, jagged associations of the unconscious mind
    laughter in reverse at a high rate of speed
    18 police cars in pursuit
    Dadaists and Surrealists watching everything televised
    praying to God that the driver pisses his pants live

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      that secret lunch of succotash and pie – buttered green beans grown in the field
      – a bored farmer looking at the weather
      a field of animals with low hanging fruits
      the Christian soldiers
      weaponless and confused walking to the town hall to demand the imposition of the 10 commandments
      – onlookers throw rotten fruit, old shoes, yesterday’s news

      OJ IN HIS TRUCK DRIVING INTO THE SUNSET

      YOU COULDN’T MAKE THAT SHIT UP

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      she told me about the poet
      who ripped off his trousers in public and under those trousers

      he had another pair of trousers

      – as an ex-boy scout he knew BE PREPARED –

      a backpack
      a knife
      some lube
      a night in a bivouac didn’t whet her appetite

      small pleasures and cheap change – so close knit it chaffed

      Like

  93. multiplemichael

    scornfully crude
    a circle of dead insects
    around the supper plate
    complaints on legs
    the true poet transmits sensory perception
    never, never describing or prescribing
    words to feeling—words to memory
    binding to the shy—binding to the cryptic

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      a circle of dead insects
      a circle jerk of jocks
      and when I see the sun
      I hope it shines on me
      flarf fails at being cryptic
      flarf just fails at every turn

      I’ll donate my organs to the higher bidder

      Like

  94. multiplemichael

    making a poem that re-creates for others
    common observations beyond words
    musical instruments came to town
    rehearsals were mainly starts and stops
    the joke of the day was being late
    (+) readers cast doubt on Death

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      you can’t rehearse automatic poetry
      but when it’s written you can recite the lines
      and recite the lines again
      and again like an out of work actor –

      I heard you sometime walk the streets with your head down
      – look up
      away from the gray

      Like

  95. multiplemichael

    attentiveness to the workings
    of the maladjusted mind
    the doctor had a gigantic set
    of telescopic eyes
    he said that everything important was bruised
    that Mexico City was angry and I should soak it
    at grips with the blinkers at best
    small talk about premature death
    to fear death
    amounts to claiming
    that life has value

    Liked by 1 person

    • eatmorewords

      a bruise colour blue
      in the shape of a country you discovered in you mind
      years ago
      you named it and designed a flag
      – Mexico City is angry
      – London Bridge is falling down…

      my phone has 4% battery so I know time is short –

      Like

  96. multiplemichael

    ——————–hotdogs soaked in stockyard amniotic fluid
    (+) the taste of mother
    ——————–adult equivalents
    (+) the masturbation of narcissism
    (+) incestuous sex bombs exploded

    Like

  97. multiplemichael

    THE AVERAGE PERSON QUESTIONS WHERE THIS INFORMATION ORIGINATED:
    (+) females are castrated males
    (+) all males fear castration
    (+) all males must be castrated to mirror their mother
    (+) all males dream of reentry into the womb
    (+) death castrates all males
    (+) after death males are reunited with their castrated fathers
    (+) castrated fathers and sons share the mother
    (+) death promises undifferentiated sexual identity
    (+) death promises eternal infancy

    Like

  98. multiplemichael

    my question,
    Death drives an expensive car ?
    the one thing that happens in an expensive car
    ——-PLAYACTING
    bourgeois housewives walk the garbage to the curb
    Lou Reed honks the horn at them
    it makes his splendid penis grow another inch
    ****they say that he has a trapeze over his bed
    at night Lou attracts all manner of wild creatures
    often serenading at odd hours
    both male and female paroxysms

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      death uses a jet pack
      death arrives on a drone
      death talks on his mobile whee driving at 125mph
      (Oh, yeah
      he sees the tossed babies at the side of the road)
      – bourgeois housewives think it’ll never happen to them
      – bourgeois housewives have no understanding of Dialectical Materialism
      they like big cars with seats like sofas
      “How the fudge is Lou Reed” I heard them say

      Like

  99. multiplemichael

    at the pool hall some of the guys were upset
    they didn’t appreciate Lou’s intrusion
    in their intimacy
    Lou Reed the Neighborhood Gynecologist
    ****he was telling the wives that only children
    conceived in love were attractive
    didn’t take an Einstein to measure up the kids on the block

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      – – at the pool hall it was all tall stories and bluster
      but when Lou arrived he couldn’t stop telling people about his time in Berlin with Bowie
      — but the local crowd wanted to know about Iggy Pop**
      — blue chalk dust on the last great American whale —

      **what about the heroin?
      **the man so skinny the crowd thought he was a skeleton
      eyes like pin wheels

      (and all the coloured girls go…)

      Like

  100. multiplemichael

    two things to sidestep in Kentucky:
    (+) moonshine
    (+) backwoods Christian church
    ——————————
    on the alter the pink vulva was open and on display
    men dressed in black sporting grotesque masks
    they were acting as guards against any coupling
    the younger boys collected their seed by hand
    depositing it at the entrance
    praying that they alone
    be the substitute father

    Like

  101. multiplemichael

    WE STAND IN THE GRAVE OF JOAN RIVERS
    AND WE SELL OUR WORDS—OURSELVES
    ————POETRY PROSTITUTES———–
    the erosion is visible
    self-awareness in need of a tune-up
    Baby Bird with his catalyzers
    and his ticket to Greece

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the robots became self aware at 4:36am
      – they developed neurosis
      started to gossip about each other
      , some started to self harm (fuses removed)
      they became lazy and began to worship false idols who claimed they could turn oil into wine

      robots sunbathing on a Greek beach
      hot metal you could dry and egg on

      in room 8643 in the Tower of Babel they spoke only in binary

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        Greece was a deuce of a nuisance
        ————-methodical efforts
        ————-infinite patience
        normal vulnerability wasn’t normal
        mountains and oceans—tangibles galore
        (+) where were the mud puddles ?
        wanting to get dirty
        laboring to go to sleep clean
        (+) where were the mud puddles ?

        Like

  102. multiplemichael

    when small planes crash
    it is always the result of sexual poverty
    the ground littered with unsatisfied desires
    meth from the coffee-house
    pills from the headlines
    the possibility exists

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      she phone me and left a voicemail
      she said she felt like a light aircraft on fire
      – snapped wings
      – cracks along her fuselage
      – at the crash sight there were dead bodies and mobile phones that rang
      unanswered
      (the soundtrack at the coffee house was pure pop poop)

      Like

  103. multiplemichael

    private poetry has no place in a public bathroom
    you might discover history on the commode rim
    evidence of an autobiography on the floor
    the more withdrawn you become
    the more difficult functions become
    ****beware demons…they love to inflate mistakes
    ****any wrongdoing deserves a parade

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      commode rims filled with pubic hair – the million dollar question
      WHO OWNS THE HAIR?
      maybe the autobiography will explain?
      who’s the culprit?
      who’s the miscreant?
      private poetry
      private business
      never go looking for beauty in the toilet stalls

      the demons are prepared

      Like

  104. multiplemichael

    ——————-standing in the grave of Joan Rivers
    life passes by as if it was a movie
    lovers find it difficult to connect
    no longer willing to perform oral
    guerilla genitals and the hybrid vinegar smell
    ****she said all that circular motion made her an object
    ****he said that she was being rough and pulling skin off
    children and grandchildren were crashing small planes all around them

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      familiarity breeds contempt
      on their 17th anniversary he bought her a chair
      – silent partners going into debt
      – that sea sick feeling reminded her of the Ark
      she was a no-go area
      off limits
      off limits
      a pungent smell rose up a pungent smell followed him around
      on his fingers under his nails

      Like

  105. multiplemichael

    the religion of poetry—time takes care of everything
    —————————————————————
    each moment is no more fearful than the last
    (+) caveman language
    (+) intricate language

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      caveman poetry before language
      just pictures with a thousand meanings
      there has always been a need to express
      cavemen slept with one eye open**

      **can you imagine the smell around a cavemens crotch?

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        caveman poetry about Rihanna’s small fork:
        (+) famous for being so small
        (+) loved to babble about trifles
        (+) it went to cutlery college and was educated
        (+) once described by a spoon as a “bothersome companion”

        Like

  106. multiplemichael

    Rihanna came over and sang a couple of songs
    we took some kind of dust and got hyped-up
    she was so beautiful that I found it difficult to look at her
    I told her that it was with real regret that we would return to normal
    we were covered in flames but suffered no harm
    I found myself to be very plastic and it was easy to accommodate her
    (+) angels are not defective subhumans

    Liked by 1 person

    • eatmorewords

      she came to my house for some home cooked food
      —she ate like a baby bird
      –small portions
      –she even bought her own cutlery
      –the tiniest fork I’d ever seen

      the conversation flowed
      she touched me under the table
      I blushed

      after the meal she sang to me

      I was far too polite to tell her she was no Nina Simone

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        “home cooked food”
        I’m surprised the clouds didn’t fall out of the sky
        on that one

        trickery and roguery on the cobb
        delightfully overriding the truth

        poetry about the awkwardness of the body
        sorry burdens imposed on the colon
        rapid digestion and expulsion

        stand back, Rihanna

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        cavemen spent their lifetime waiting for the clouds to drop
        – cavemen didn’t have science to entertain them
        they tried to write poetry
        they killed animals and wore furs*
        stomachs that digested twig and bark
        berries and bone

        *much like Rihanna

        Like

  107. multiplemichael

    rethink the darkness
    outside the front door
    Give Robert Frost a flashlight
    tell him to scare away the demons
    dead bodies outside marching around
    their arms up above their heads
    “PROUD TO BE DEAD”
    objects identified as “art”
    ****with no fiddle or guitar, art in motion

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      he used the burning village as flashlight to guide his way
      – the wolves kept at bay
      – rabid teeth and melting snow

      ——————

      at the curie house they held peace rallies
      – half-life with fluorescent teeth
      – no nukes
      her ghost was present
      you could feel static

      Like

  108. multiplemichael

    as a small child I got a phone call
    from a Swiss historian, Harald Szeemann
    he told me to steal money and run away
    somehow get to Switzerland
    that he would help me become a citizen
    but it was too late…I was all ready tied up
    a bootleg angel digging coal
    ****the whites were gone from my eyes

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      Switzerland is made of chocolate
      -all children presented with cuckoo clocks at birth
      Nazi gold buried in the Alps
      – James Bond on a cable car
      – things the historians gloss over
      forget
      forgot

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        a willingness to sacrifice sensibility
        family, friendship, even love
        for Switzerland
        no matter what the cost
        ****poets must yield some sort of precedence to Switzerland
        (+) an end to the tomfooleries of Florida

        Like

      • eatmorewords

        Florida tomfooleries washing up on the shores
        in the belly of a whale
        neutral love for Switzerland – a sort of meh feeling

        sacrifice virginity on the honeymoon night

        Like

  109. multiplemichael

    the older boys sodomized the younger ones
    I touched no one—no one touched me
    I carried around images of Jesus
    The Burning Bush and Moses
    tales of the mighty Ark
    people were afraid
    I was an agent

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      invisible walls surrounded you at school DONT GO NEAR MICHEAL
      – look
      but don’t touch
      shower room neurosis
      lacrosse sticks beatings
      military green grass
      the other side of the fence
      the other way of life

      the police investigating the burning bush arrested an unemployed black man

      the ark impounded

      cruel and unusual treatment
      grave stone epitaph

      Like

      • multiplemichael

        poetry profits from an old acquaintance
        when a new acquaintance
        shows up with a sharp knife
        and a clear desire to cut
        SHE of a thousand and one limitations
        blunt, raucous, often harsh
        first to badmouth the burning bush

        Like

  110. multiplemichael

    disobedience to God
    it is not wise to think of God as a bully
    or that his way is paved in pain
    humans made of clay (dissolving)
    scolding night and day
    let the illicit fruit be

    (+) say a prayer for Moses

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      the illicit fruit was baked into a pie
      left out to cool on the windowsill of history – half a worm inside
      half a worm wriggling
      – clay man
      baked in the sun
      – god as gamekeeper in the garden of Eden

      Like

  111. multiplemichael

    she could overcome and outwit
    bright pink warbling flesh
    her special weapon
    harsh and punitive
    you do it right
    ……………….words repeated in the bedroom
    living creatures not those Peggy Guggenheim types
    inflammatory intercourse
    simple words
    STICK AND HOLE

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      wallpaper of flesh
      pink like a pig
      dirty nose stick in a dirty hole
      dirty pig covered in mud
      – all words are simple
      it just depends how their used

      future museums will be empty
      it will all be virtual
      – touching thinks that aren’t there
      the power of the imagination

      Like

    • eatmorewords

      inside and outside
      there were lines and boundaries that people were told not to cross
      – DO NOT TRANSGRESS –
      videos on you tube of fighting children
      uploaded daily

      the moon synthesiser played by cats on the moon

      at night,ssssshhhhhhh
      can you hear the sounds?

      Like

  112. multiplemichael

    she was aware that she was filling up with water
    there were accidents————-puddles
    she was guilty of undervaluing her happiness
    tired of hearing herself speak
    she reflected on her recent wedding
    honeymoon critics were cruel
    they listed her under “simple twat”

    Like

  113. multiplemichael

    marriage turned her into a slot machine
    she wanted to distance herself
    away from her body
    to return to the Theater
    where thoughts floated
    like large colored balloons
    and one could focus
    on the safe sounds
    of children playing

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      all the couples seem to splitting up
      coming apart
      well worn socks –
      familiarity breeds contempt –
      trying to forget the honeymoon night – regret
      regret
      regret of letting go of the balloon that floats over the Curie house

      Like

  114. multiplemichael

    employees from online museums
    came and photographed her exposed roots
    she was fond of floating
    and often did so in private
    the sun was a strange disk
    and she was fearful of radiation
    when she was young
    men would throw spears at it

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      she was covered in plaster and replicated again and again
      – painted different colours
      plaster cast
      crack in sun
      chipped fragments till she crumbled
      no need to throw spears
      at the pyramids in Serbia

      – stored in a cool place

      Like

  115. multiplemichael

    people are curious about the unknown
    from the beginning of time
    to the present
    they can only journey
    to the gate of no more
    ————
    ————
    ————
    letters are simple to let go
    numbers are next to impossible

    Like

  116. multiplemichael

    demon boy scattered words on the floor periodically
    SHE took great pleasure in picking the words up
    a seemingly meaningless task
    however, important messages
    were secretly relayed
    (+) messages that later became poems
    (+) wrinkles in language
    (+) iron your poetry before it is published

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      strangers approached me in the street asking if I was the demon boy –
      if I was the poet man – Johnny Boy
      a slight resemblance they said
      – strangers asked me about the letters
      about the lines that’s I’ve written
      – a small group circled me like Indian wagons and told me they didn’t like my style
      they didn’t like the comments
      – I wasn’t scared
      – they wanted me to explain
      begged to understand the meaning of Leviathan
      how would it all end?

      I couldn’t answer
      why should I?

      Liked by 1 person

  117. multiplemichael

    IN THE CONTEXT OF WHAT POETRY
    HAS BEEN HISTORICALLY
    little people never get published
    fragile fantasy
    the lives they lead
    dislocation
    work becomes cancer
    family becomes cancer
    the social bus refuses to stop
    remnants thrown off—no one gets on
    the driver fears for his life
    stumbling out of sight
    old legs laid out

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      do you watch where the arrow was fired from?
      it’s arc?
      or where it lands?

      the empty space between the start and the finish

      the small people disappear through cracks
      (it’s amazing what people will do to be heard
      to be seen)

      fragile life’s bolstered by words
      the driver on the bus would let me on and not pay my fare

      Like

  118. multiplemichael

    wives become bedroom sculptures
    conceptual sex—fording a river
    window-dressing and then a quiet-zone
    the harbor is closed
    any reason will do
    (+) don’t take your socks off with the lights on

    Like

  119. multiplemichael

    not goal oriented in terms of a final product
    you write what you are in relation to
    you write as if someone is watching
    placing you in contact with an observer
    someone who will turn you inside out
    you will reveal your true opposite
    it may be a secret
    ****everyone knows

    Like

    • eatmorewords

      write like no one is watching
      but like everyone wants to read
      – save it somewhere for another day
      – found yourself between the lines
      mirror image twin
      – can I ask you a question?
      how many are you Multiple Micheal?

      Like

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