Daily Archives: November 21, 2022

My Words are Gold My Intentions Whacked

AND everyday i’m cool — if i can have your attention
please: if i rest a moment near the well of despair  
wishing young heart’s clean skin like jesus postal fire
my needle: LIKE FATHER’s STEP-FATHER SUN BLOWS!  Such fear!
Yeah yeah oh fuck yeah so stuck in dark heart-break love
wail upon the heart and guitar strings : walking around
so cute grabbing screws and how i hate how Jerry Lewis laughs
when soviet union wants to destroy us (Beaver’s mom sucked
the reason I cannot walk right for a few days)
   Oh! Goldie Hawn on Laugh-In has
perky tits and Mary Tyler Moore
   abandoned her kids:  kill the
messenger carrying kool-aid to Uganda
for that sick reverend:  i love U S of A
and even the world — don’t care about that
i’m a poet who describes the world with words
     —  sure, that’s it.
sure, now in 2020’s we’re animals antelope
without stomachs but butterflies of lies
and France we saved oh wait — the whole fucking world
but your teachers are showing titties instead of teaching
how many of us lost lives so we can dip and rip and trip
and get on a mic and spit ~ so funny, when you’re forty
you’ll see how every single person is a ghost that stands up
saying:

  We’re all the real ones
     fathers and mothers
  children and creatures
 who fought to speak shady.

Come on.

:: 09-02-2015 ::


My Cat Ate Your Dog’s Bone

My cat ate your dog’s bone and i hate how you do that
with your hair _

  Today i found an angel inside my Sunday morning
bagel and my dog found god
   i like puzzles
  like my insides
 i adore me but hate it  and eat acrylic chocolate
and smear it in my hair
  So, worry?  No worries.
If tomorrow is today then yesterday is now
  i am excited because my life’s contusion
is my brain / unscathed is my heart \ so happy
because today my cat ate your dog’s bone and how
every morning you do that : every candle tip o’flame
is a universe of perversion__
yea.

:: 11.20.2022 ::


My Lips are Two Needles

My lips are two needles
sewing moments of Voices
that laugh, scream, and cry

Alas, until the jewelled joy of birds
echo as Ecstasy survives like the mourning
dew as rapturous angelic wings; we cry.

THERE is a fire:  it is within all things.
As all which yearn as mating moods like Spring;
It is not the devil within the details but
joy and perfect passion which smells as
young women who walk beneath a summer sun.

/and pity those thrust-minded thrilling things
who yet have to go around again within a ring
called life;  divine a fathomed tenderness
of those who do not see or hear . . .
those who have no choice but rummaging through
LIFE!

:: 10-31-2017 ::
:: 11.20.2022 ::