Tuesday, January 31, 2012

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thunder peal her mother told me to leave her alone that she was married now and had a baby I wonder if she still likes hockey players  my sights are set on 200 tonya’s eyes full of pilgrims she is taking off her costume of unhappiness I am helping her burn it in the fire her dear body was always ready no matter the hour squeaky bed spring her loud moans she is not the dead little girl hiding behind the bushes we buried the devils upright there is always someone who drives us to the saloon to wash down the vagabond blues tonya prays to me I am her saint she calls me saint hugo I am the master of the rainbow in the dark (hail Dio) to be spoken in the silence of the night when tonya is sleeping too many women have hurled themselves out the windows for me to be selfish with my love with each step there is a madness born of my erection my horn of perdition my forehead touching your mountains I have killed the goat and we had a feast tonya played the tambourine and Zelda the castanets while the little school girl played the claves the music we made was wonderful my tongue between their legs humming my own little tune god bless America land that I love she has highs and lows that almost break her I sent tap to fetch miss palm she could play the violin and tap could dance a beautiful dance as long as you kept the noose around his neck once you removed the rope the spirit would leave him tap was a good little boy who said his prayers daily asking for forgiveness of the vile things I made him watch sometimes he would participate with a little coaxing once I had Zelda blindfolded and tied naked to my bed I had her worked up into quite a froth and I commanded tap to go in there and finish her off at first her was frightened I told him to not say a sound and Zelda would not have a clue as to who was fucking her this gave him the courage of a Cossack tap climbed up on top of Zelda and fucked her like a true troubadour tap had found my add in the local music store I had been giving drum lessons and he saw my piece of paper on the music store’s bulletin board and called my number soon her was over every day participating in each and every debauchery and on Sundays he would go to church with his mommy at the foot of a dormant volcano the things we had not yet learned about tap and humanity he taught us that a soul could be damaged beyond repair that the prayers of the faithful could not bring him out of his spiral tap had asked me once if I had sold my soul to the devil jokingly I said no that I sold his to the devil how those words now haunt me to this day for he eventually did lose his soul and I wonder to what extent I am the cause he went on to live this completely different alternative life that I was unaware of at night he would dress as a woman and suck old businessmen to get money to buy drugs he was married and had two sons that this time there was great hatred and a great love that existed together we knew nothing of this until he tried to kill himself tap took a bottle of sleeping pills and drank a six-pack of beer and then started the car in the garage with the door down his wife came in and called the ambulance tap was away in the psych ward for over a month when he got out he confessed to everything he said that he didn’t want to live anymore that life had become unbearable he was addicted to pain pills and was smoking meth he worked extra jobs and started pulling tricks to support his drug habit tonya told that once she

Monday, January 30, 2012

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the ground a normal squish caught between my toes dancing to the music and those on the ground are dead the lap dance of death jesus wanted a dog he is dragging his wounded leg I am downloading the free sex tape she is eating her satanic cupcakes we removed her sixth finger with a Swiss army knife and a hot iron eat me drink me make me you god people appear out of nowhere the character is vulnerable finding myself living in the sorrow see the irony the metaphors a deep dark hole exposed to magic the thoughts you think inside your head is a matter of social control you cannot fight your way out of the box you have been socialized to think the box is real thus your mind constrains you if we stopped paying the politicians would anyone still run for political office the little school girl says that we cannot tell big stories of the world only small stories what we know battles in an arena with other ideas to see which ideas win out it is a battle to the death those ideas that win live on and those who are defeated get lost in the miasma of competition fading away from the sight of glory as I make love to you my body is transformed a horn grows out of me and I slice open the flower I force the flower to see rain and sunlight to open its petals painfully for the first time the nectar of the flower is so sweat it is exhilarating she is kissing my feet the arousal of her feet fetish I once had a female doctor and a female nurse both bending over me feeling my feet it was an orgy in the doctor’s office they were both breathing heavy feeling my feet for a pulse I have supernatural powers I unzipped my pants and they took turns kissing my balls and sucking my cock I was not sure if it was spiritual love or plastic love an increasingly hypoxic state of the brain I tied them both up and beat them with paddles and whispering obscene words into their ears asking them if they want me to treat them like dirty girls at one point the doctor disrobed and laid on the table exposing herself for my inspection I put on a pair of rubber gloves and examined her beautiful cunt the nurse began handing me medical tools to insert inside the doctor’s vagina fanny hill she is painting in water color the monsters that she sees outside her windows she claims that they are circling around her house I show her the bite marks on my ass from my doctor she was a shipping magnate heiress it was a simple package of madness the severed body parts of Mickey mouse autoerotic sex and gender tonya puts on her bunny suit I am setting the walls of fire bronco billy and mark twain were peeking in her windows they were dressed like john Wayne gacy clowns the stench of death trailed behind them I am reading her a poem from Rimbaud “as scummy as I can” tonya showed me her scar where they took the baby out she said it had a tail and horns she said it reminded her of me she still thinks I’m hugo everyone thinks I’m hugo I am writing down all the words to your war song as you sang for the dead as they lay dying in the streets where are their bank accounts where is their trust in lucre where does the leviathan lay rotting she says her prayers through spiders’ webs she said that they just learned of the cancer on Saturday I am squeezing her avocados seeing if they are ripe we understood about steeples everywhere that a stone is still a stone as we spoke the eulogies of chaos she sticks her ass out the car window transubstantiation told me that it would soon be spring the earthen pot the

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watch a musical as they faded away then a crowd of bystanders would clap as they passed the threshold they get dismantled and thrown away they burn the body parts in a oven out back it smells god awful when they have that sucker going full blast it reminds me of that time when Frankie burned up that cat I dragged miss palm by her ankles and tacked her up in the whore house making her a semihuman sexobject randomizing her lady parts I am selling the boys tickets for a go at her she was born straight out of my head and into my loins she has been banned as obscene in 13 countries I can’t dial her up on pay-per-view a prophet of sexual freedom she is supporting my writing habit by selling her body we have to put oil into the glass pipe and martin needs new shoes and musical notes to pin on my lapels the courage to say fucking everything as I remake myself in a demonic image I caught her dialing the exorcist and I told her to stop I am a philistine make no mistake I not riding into the sunset on a white horse there will be no need to write my biography when I’m living it on the page she said that we had met before I told her that I would have remembered meeting a girl like her I dialed her number and we talked all night long she looked like the devil in the morning I told her it was a pleasure talking to her she wanted a drink something special we were talking about people who were dead she called me honey she always called me honey she told me about her job pulling feathers off of chickens the phone was red in a red room there was no one inside it was empty she is wiping the magic off she is shouting for the guards to open her cell door and let her out I am outside in the lightning next to the highway they all like sausage on their pizza she says that I don't look like myself today raw spooky shit I did a great job a real professional job giving her the once over a magic moments are brought to you by Dr. Loophole and his pharmaceuticals she said yes and thank you she put a spell on me with her hips her breasts and her lips she is lost to the world around her calling people new names that she has invented for them she tends to unravel when I probe her for deeper meanings deeper into her foundations those secret places inside her heart the secrets that never see the light of day so only takes them out and plays with them in the middle of the night she conceals the conflicts within her she is undecidable a contested terrain what she says on the surface cannot be understood without understanding those things that she hides away in her heart a misrepresentation of reality there are only competing versions of reality unavoidable gaps in meaning that the readers fill with their own interpretations it is within her nature to produce meaning she strips it from our meanings removing our natures she propels us exclusively into the future she believes that we are destined to be locked up in the prison house of love she wants to save me she ways that her world is falling apart I tell her that it is not her job to save me she has to save herself she is calling our attention I don’t know anyone called Bethany sending her in the mail piece by piece  no eyeballs no hair no teeth traveling people a little tiny slave a normal day with my slave I wake up in the morning and take my slave to the shower my slave scrubs my back the special one goes to my paradise the safety of her boobs making the tiny people worship me crushing them under my feet I didn’t see them on

Friday, January 27, 2012

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death his bag is full of magic potions and if you look the wrong way he will pull your eyeballs out electronic eyes he looks like a young man just out of bible school he has this angelic look to his face but his eyes are dark saucers of evil when you look into his eyes you can tell that he has no soul thanatos faded glory oil burner liquor store dim neon a broken jukebox Madonna iron maiden slipstream nightmare discotech technique motels rat traps black lights trailer parks locker room chokeholds strip poker gang bangs obscenities twenty dollar bills razor blades window sills the medicine show all night drive-in theaters vultures six-packs gym socks quarter gram oil change hash oil midrange listening to Stevie nicks eight track tapes and a darth vader bong a smokeless one hitter running water barking dogs sangria rib eye steaks and pinhead joints a magic eight ball pinball wizard Frankie got a tattoo that said acdc Frankie threw himself on the floor and crawled over to Dr. Loophole asking him for another fix a manipulator of signals and the signified he is all about deferred gratification he is an expert in social control he hooks the wires of the bomb to frankies flesh openings appear magically to insert the wires it was like Frankie was born for this miss palm suggests that Frankie was a test tube baby Dr. Loophole shows us his badge it says government inspector he knows how to make a person want to die there is a brown paper bag full of money on the kitchen table it is payment from frankies cooperation once the great satan has been killed then we can collect our money miss palm and I are talking about running away to Biloxi Dr. Loophole is using a black and decker drill to put a few suggestions into frankies mind he is making Frankie realize that there is something horribly wrong with him that he deserves the abuse he is receiving miss palm and I are getting our documents in order we will be processed through the government redistribution center little girls walk by and sniff our legs miss palm has a badge tattooed on her left nipple it gives her the right to what the hell she wants to she has searchlights installed in her bedroom and Dr. Loophole recorded each and every sexual encounter he had a whole library of tapes that he was studying his dissertation was on feminist pornography he kept asking me how I was feeling as he showed me picture after picture of lesbians without symmetrical breasts once he saw he was getting nowhere with his method of inquiry he asked if we would like to smoke some hash miss palm thanked him for letting her use his heater she always got cold when she stretched out on the examination table most of the time he didn’t talk to us he just mumbled things to himself as he put us in positions and snapped the camera when Frankie blew up in a piggy wiggly the next day I was too surprised they started to gather up all the political deviants and put them in detention centers these detentions centers were operated by the federal emergency management agency they set a curfew and anyone found on the streets after ten o’clock at night were taken to the fema detention centers the young were sterilized and the old were euthanized if you were too old or weak to work they put you to sleep they were real humane about it they had observers from amnesty international making sure that the old people didn’t suffer before they killed them they

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instead of bondage the blubbery crack of I don’t believe you I’m always wondering what miss palm is thinking with that blank look on her face an expression that only Picasso could love she is leaning over a gravestone and smiling like a vampire there is this raw sexiness to her as she sit atop of the dresser her reflection in the mirror is enigmatic miss palm has a troubled child her child is possessed by a demon she and her husband have spent all of their money seeing doctors and psychiatrists the tried everything that science has to offer for help but to no avail their only hope is nanuk of the north he has been making a living casting devils out of people he pulls out a bottle of special sauce from his bag of magical tricks and sprinkles it on the forehead of the possessed then he speaks a few magical words and the person jerks and contorts and the demon leaves in a big pile of vomit this is what he did for the barmaid he charged the turk one hundred bucks and the barmaid was free from truck the demon she was embarrassed and a little befuddled to have been possessed by a demon this was a little more than challenging to her faith in Tim as the supreme lord and master of the world why would tim allow such a thing to happen to her when she had been laboring so intently in his service this is when the seed of doubt began to creep into the heart of the barmaid someone once said that there has to be faith before there can be doubt Frankie is so ivy league smoking on his pipe he begging his girlfriends to send him some money he is building a table top nuclear weapon he wants to destroy kitchens all over the world to speak of honesty a true honest between naked bodies arms and legs entwined with the naked truth a truth that is only between us being a dog a puppy a mutt I had plans for this bomb big fucking plans explosive plans I was going to put inside a wall mart or a target and watch it blow all the shoppers up you clean the dishes off the table and we examine the schematic how to build the elephant we have a truckload of pieces we just need to figure out where they all go Frankie drags in this huge piece of metal and starts banging on it with a hammer the sound of metal against metal reverberates the trickery between us Frankie has found the timer and is attaching it the devices chassis there is a medusa of multicolored wires each are assigned a special place and a special purpose I am listening to the mothers through the wall they are talking about Dr. Loophole how he was conceived in a row boat on lake Osage his father was a pharmaceutical rep and his mother was a nurse in a county clinic that mostly treated whores and old junkies how did have enough sense to die already the flesh that fades slowly turning metallic she said the doctor told her not to put any weight on it so I told her to get on top with my two hands I lifted her ass up and down she tells me that Dr. Loophole is a meat trader he doesn’t care about the atom bomb he is mixing up the methamphetamine the doctor has a lab in his shed out back he is cooking up the stuff night and day he has a whole crew that sells his stuff on the street you pinch some fat from your leg and stick the needle in you feed the solution slowly she had a big hole in her leg a drag on the industrialized world Dr. Loophole is taking his patients out into the woods and leaving them there they die from exposure to the elements everyone has learned to snarl at his approach he is doctor

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punctuation no line breaks no connection no meaning no hope in this world harpo is building a big transmitter he wants to sailor fuck mommy the preponderance of fetishes and fixations freudian motifs that tremble on the edge of terror or orgasm harpo is building an enormous psychological power the very things we were suckled on from the tits of society our culture is a bastard with no place to call home this is sick and dirty and infantile  strap on and hang on the dime store psychologists trying to find my deficiencies through my writing they want to tie everything back to me back to a repressed need that was never fulfilled this is not revelations don't accuse me of painting a picture of evil that I see in the mirror evil wears us all the cat is dancing on the table the building is on fire the firemen are busting through the door with their axes a pop age gone loco an upside down story out of the vinyl deeps miss palm wants to visit the electric Eden she is sure that there she will be able to get even everybody loves our town especially at night when all the lights are on the birth of the soul and everything that comes after absence emotional outburst miss palm is screaming at the cat five mean years she is listening to the music the beach boys I think not the monster it once was from noise to silence miss palm is all about science and romance a disk saved on her computer I love her madly I love her in an age of lost innocence she has lost her modern innocence once in love with a dualism that subjectivity and objectivity were exclusive the universe divided at the seam with the ought and the is inspiration comes under the apple tree miss palm is under the tree talking to a snake I think his name is henry matters that can be spoken of in the old way with a stick he draws a circle around the tree by the force of words I saw a wall of flame circle the tree I try to explain to miss palm that she cannot escape her past experiences that the past choices she has made as taken her on a ride to the pace she is today rather good or bad it is the result of a multitude of experiences things that she did and things that happened to her fitting together in a human algebraic formula miss palm was dressed in the thoughts of the dead she wants to build a space colony on the moon you have been convinced that the existing social system of inequality is both inevitable and rational it is in the best interests of the world that you suffer the world needs someone to step on so why shouldn’t it be you we can come up with a thousand reasons why we should be wealthy and why you should be poor we have scientific studies to back it up along with the precedence of tradition a long valued and established tradition and by the authority of god he made us your masters if you do not love us then you do not love god you love god don’t you miss palm has internalized certain values and norms that have taught her how she should behave and to accept her subordinate place in society these beliefs and values that miss palm has been taught work against and hinder her desire for freedom and self-fulfillment  she is repressed through entertainment and consumerism we have become a part of this mechanism for repression if our writings do not challenge the human brainwashing that our world leaders engage in then we are pawns in their game we are just as guilty as those who exploit us and take

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up against me outside of myself henry says he is writing a sonnet a sonnet for miss palm he is certain then she will love him so interwoven with everything we feel we share the suffering I sent henry to the store for cheese and crackers I still had a full bottle of wine a red wine from davenport it awakens a will in us to struggle with the pain I am mired in my own substances I pull the matches from my pocket and light the joint henry has his eyes closed and there is a smile upon his face I know he is thinking of miss palm the same look I saw upon his dead face as he lays in his coffin tell horatio there are no more beggars to feed we have brought them all into the hall for the royal feast one wants to be afflicted with this alien pain an insidious temptation in the anguish as miss palm hands all the guests a flower without risking what she risks we are full throttled we are all soldiers fighting for her cause I knocked down the walls that were erected to protect her I want her to be exposed to be vulnerable to need saving because she has not yet lived enough I want time for her to flourish to grow wings and fly up to the heavens her life is a radiance that is shed upon the lives of others I am a lucky recipient of this radiance I bask in her light I am greedy with her light I want more and more I have not yet loved her enough I need to set free this tension that is building up inside of me an insidious tension like taut strings metal strings that someone is scraping a serrated blade against I cringe at the crunchiness of the anguish I howl at the moon clawing at the ground fulfill this beast miss palm I am bound by my suffering we are bound together by my suffering only you can free me release me from this pain my sweet love my sweet miss palm to hell with your hosanna and insurmountable ways view the sufferer’s contorted hands his grimaces hear his sighs and moans he has no faces no surfaces and no place all his resources are failing is dignity only something we have in death than what is this thing we have now is it character do the living have character and the dead have dignity is dignity only something that can be seen in the past tense miss palm cannot be envisioned in her singularity I would sell you to the circus all ten toes and ten fingers showing you the slimy under-section of your dream most people don't understand the word postmodern it is a word for eggheads someone in the other room was talking about hegel there is an irony about the way she speaks miss palm lives in an atmosphere tranced menace a kind of watered down version of your hardcore pornography her face contorts in agony over the mutilated corpse her face changes more than once into someone else's face miss palm had forgotten her lines and comes off as stiff and uncomfortable no one is worrying about it henry keeps painting pictures of little girls he has reawakened the venomous charisma ravaged and satanic he is giving her a monstrous does of pcp not political correctness a cruel child's parody of a damaged individual miss palm is alienated from pretty much everything except the particular obsessions she has developed she is immersed in the minutiae of her own fantasies I reached a point where I decided to write what I wanted to and I don't give a shit whether any one likes it or even gets it and I know many people do not get it that's ok there are always plenty of love poems that they can read even though this is a love poem it just happens to be a long one that disregards the rules of convention no

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opening her up a metaphysical poet she is on the front burner the blue is coming out she is overwhelming playing with herself in front of the window it didn’t seem like two hours miss palm thinks she is falling for me she is smoking my last Turkish cigarette she is lots of fucking fun everyday telling them to go suck it she can’t explain how she gets so delusional blaming it on the antichrist she is a different breed always for sale busted piano keys and I liked her better with blonde hair she is waiting for the sun to rise to expose her nakedness between her legs is a heaven and I am converting to her religion I’m beginning to believe in miss palm more and more I think she can walk on water that she can heal my leprous soul bring me some fire in this cold wasteland my oxygen reserves are almost depleted she is creative and inspiring wrapped up in her plastic she is warping my world with her happy birthday wishes the smell of lake water and gasoline I am becoming one of her bad side effects I am sick twisted and decaying living in a small cloud of fear driving down every night to see her behind the garbage can looking up at the big buildings spraying pesticide on the people it is a waltz she is worried about her dream I am watching her over the surveillance cameras I’m not talking about miss palm feeling the Formica I found something at one of her meetings calling the front desk they say that I was never here she was sent here to destroy me there was an angel in the corner reading high times I asked her if she was a model I am proud to be her host her roommate is talking about her how she is a beacon of knowledge I am the man behind her with a passion for the doing a passion for ideas I am diving within her with my passion awakening inside of her a vast reservoir with honesty and integrity a giant ocean of experiences she is sweeping the floor sweeping up the time they want to know if they will ever see agent smith again a change in her voice our deaths have been separated broken opacity the sickness is this life enduring the inanimate it is this one thing nothingness we return to the pot of boiling soup miss palm imagines it to be potato soup I have seen this annihilation miss palm is underneath me holding me up being a foundation I slide inside her the last moment in my time it is a moment without duration an instant an instantaneous cut in the line of time we look forward to seeing your materials will they be in color it isolates me I am looking ahead to see things to see possibilities paths implements obstacles tasks and opportunities to see miss palm in the flesh disrobed of her glamour her witchery and slum godlessness utter impossibility advances toward me illuminating the expanse I wrestle miss palm to the floor and pull the evil out of her with long silver tongs to struggle with the negative is the key to discovering being miss palm looks into the abyss and the nothingness of death gives her new life a purpose for living a reason to climb up onto the pole of anarchy fuck your kings and queens we are selling this life to the junkman he collecting old skulls mine is a little cracked but he still wants it I been using it all these years to hold all of my junk pat and vanna drinking margaritas she turns the letters pat is feeling up the contestants merle haggard is in the hospital someone died today but I can’t remember who stalking me like Heidegger I know they are real because they talk to me I understand them a mobilized power her life is my life that has broken off from me I still can feel her