Friday, March 23, 2012

twenty two

Twenty Two


Billy the junkie is pushing people out the windows of the flop house he is shouting fire and grabbing people by the napes of their necks and tossing them to their deaths bright red and green death on the front lawns of society Billy the junkie is checking the pockets of the dead for some spare change it took me a while to get here but now I am here I am asking everyone for directions but no one knows the way everyone is lost billy the junkie says the sky never changes but I have seen nothing but change there are no solid things in this universe everything is a liquid and pop bottle allen is breathing in the laughing gas and telling billy the junkie to call him daddy I am questioning their faith in the power of words I accuse them of heresy of pretending to be a believer Nasty Jack is a wolf in sheep’s clothing he looks innocent enough but he will rip your throat out if given half a chance they are all muttering addicts trying to sell the morning paper to passing businessmen nasty jack flashes his insides to the ladies that walk by most run past nasty jack screaming in terror at the mere sight of him pop bottle allen is spinning webs of deceit and heartbreak for the street washers and the garbage collectors he tells them stories of when he traveled to the dark side of the moon the adventures of a modern Prometheus working for the dollar billy the junkie has on green eye shadow he had just put a way his dress but forgot to wash his face he is working the press in the back room of the laundry mat the boys are rolling nickels against the wall on the wall hangs a magic lantern


a gun barrel tucked in his pants and the belief of revolution billy the junkie is wiping his mouth on his sleeve and adjusting his crotch as Ivy puts her load of clothes into the machine three little kids are playing on the dirty floor with an empty detergent box Ivy is not paying attention to the kids she is watching nasty jack bend reality his pants are open and a corpse is hanging from his fly Ivy thinks of thighs slapping and her ass checks jumping up as they bounce on the bed there is always time for idiot pleasure even in a busy housewife’s world a hose to wash her down before she packs up the station wagon and goes home to make supper for her abusive husband idiot smiles and more amber flesh ruptured spines tarot cards and Mickey mouse cartoons anther pack of cigarettes a bottle of five star whiskey an old tattoo of a cross the picture of jesus is tilted and the beads have all worn thin Ivy is naked and sullen pop bottle allen dropped his rusty black pants darting around the room for scraps soiled linen a special breed a vegetable body and his cock down her throat Ivy gurgles you are my boat her knees up to her chin a jelly donut a white striped t-shirt pubic hairs stale underwear pop bottle allen’s eyes pop out scar tissue open room the evil odors in the garbage can a shivering world sucked by three days work ejaculated and Ivy started rubbing billy the junky looking for the magic genie warring powers sacred cow she vowed to do her washing here every Saturday afternoon if the boys be willing and able to spurt out an irrigation ditch like hers shadows in the attic the cops banging on the door Tap is trying to hide the reefer Ivy smiles at the cocks hidden gallows twisting her over on her stomach down on the bed nasty jack found a piece of rope and tied back her hands Ivy lay there gasping and sucking in air billy the junky saddled her body billy rubbed the spit on his cock he placed his hands on Ivy pulled her apart he spit a little bit on her as he pulled her body up onto his cock Ivy gasped and moved with it soon she was kicking and screaming in spasms with slow pleasure along with the other charismatic intellectuals Ivy had a theory about sex and she was going to publish in a three volume study these boys were here willing subjects she had them sign wavers of liability before she injected them with her experimental drugs the boys ran away from home many years ago they survive on trust funds that their mommies had set up for them in order to receive their money they have to show up for Christmas dinner every year the rest of the year they can pretend to be social misfits and a menace to society


yet they never walk out onto the wire without a safety net Lee came back from Iraq with a big hole in the side of his leg he was driving a truck of tanks parts from point a to pint b when his truck blew up an initiated member of a status group it is linked to the way knowledge may be transmitted through writing we occupy the streets because of the polar bears who they are moving so they can drill for oil in Alaska we occupy the streets because one percent of the American population owns 99 percent of the wealth David the bell weather is stepping out onto the ledge the wind whips around his 400 dollar shoes his rolex is glistening in the sun he is tired of teaching history to students who don’t care about history he doesn’t understand their apathy David thinks history is the greatest thing in the whole world he doesn’t understand why people don’t join him in his enthusiasm he tells his students that if they can’t be great then they should follow someone who is great he doesn’t understand why they don’t consider him to be great he takes solace in the thoughts of physician heal thyself he imagines himself hanging from his own personal cross and his students below at his feet weeping over him nasty jack tell david the bell weather to get a grip holographic evocations limpid apostasy pop bottle allen is grilling some kind of cow meat on the hibachi comparing obvious images to subtle meanings david the bell weather is smoking a cigar he is wearing a wife beater shirt and secretly is spying on Ivy as she pulls the weeds out of her flowers david does not have the equipment to deal with the obvious he asks Ivy if she remembers how much she loved the ocean Ivy tells david that she prefers to look at him when he is at rest and not running around as usual billy the junky is playing wiffle ball with the kids they are pretending that billy is the waffle ball and hit him with the plastic yellow bat david secretly kisses Ivy’s picture that he got from her in high school he keeps it in a metal lock box he doesn’t have much imagination jazz liberty and domestic pride the margarita glow sin crime madness too many scars they are held together by a thin layer of glue breaking into tiny little pieces that get lost under the appliances in the cracks of the tile I once saw a piece of you bounce down several flights of stairs henry is having a drink with bob the transvestite henry is working on his American lowlife persona he has been on a ten year drunk he is turning his insides into plastic trinkets to sell on the road side his guts turned into smiling little Buddhas he was getting 12 bucks a piece he thought he would have an unlimited supply of intestines 300 miles when you stretch them end to end


henry is working on his emptiness that little piece of the abyss that is inside of all of us henry pulls it out and sets on the bar he feeds it some peanuts and pours a little beer down its throat he likes to keep his emptiness satisfied with the basic needs of life his emptiness doesn’t need these things but it makes henry feel good inside so he keeps doing it a ritual of sorts between henry and his emptiness I finished reading david the bell weather’s latest book it was about the history of opposites he promoted a logocentric view of the world and broken everything into two opposing parts there is Apollo and Dionysius there is comedy and tragedy there is war and peace there is love and hate there is pain and joy we are watching andre the giant wrestle rain drops December in Mumbai dolby digital sound mayo brando a world map Ivy has been constructed from a single source we built her in the back of pop bottle allens garage he had all of the power tools and billy the junky had the knowledge he used to work for NASA before he fell in love with heroin she engenders multiple meanings shared presuppositions  her meanings are not permanently embedding her we gave her the capacity to learn and to reshape her mental constructs she has the capacity to carry meaning from one person to another she continues to generate meanings every day all day long this thing we are doing is outsider art we need to make connections with the visual world of outsider art there are a wide variety of interpretations bolting the pieces together nasty jack put in all the necessary welds we polished her and gave her blinking lights the meanings associated with Ivy are fabrications woven from the symbolic capacities of her identity and from the perceptual apparatus of those who experience her she means many different things to all of us we each experience her differently problems arise between us because we think everyone else interprets Ivy the same way we do our different interpretations cause conflict we make and remake her each time we touch her she is woven from the warp of our hands and the woof of our hearts she is an indicator of something else a system of stratification a set of shared values through our fortifications with Ivy we create meaning brittle and sensitive to the outside world we each have a distinctive way of seeing but how we see falls into specific categories based on our biographies and psychologies she is constructed by the group’s historical experience she does not exist outside of our experience when we are gone she shuts off she powers down nasty jack needs to exert some control by holding one side of the relationship constant while allowing the other to vary


the demographics of the average American reader is educated affluent white relatively youthful and female billy the junky breaks in and steals he takes everything he can carry with his dirty grubby fingers he breaks more than he takes out of spite and anger he gathers your words in a pile on the floor and burns them he is afraid of them how they can make him feel he doesn’t want to feel anymore your words have poisoned him sent him to his own eternal hell chained to oblivion up out of his throat the abyss pours out of him he is rambling in nonsensical sentences but you can see the magic in the madness you connect the dots and find the hidden meanings out of his evil you construct a new world a new beginning a life without lies the prime directive we have been living in the castle that she calls her skin fleeing a different pursuer the tragic predominates of the comic setting a horizon of expectations Mr. Gnits shows up with a basket of flowers for Ivy he starts to sing her a love song from the old days before we had robots Ivy is unfamiliar with the social convention she looks perplexed Trumper thinks Ivy has the power to heal the power to heal a decadent nation Trumper sits at Ivy’s feet and watches her every facial expression as she teaches him the so many things she knows Trumper sings for Ivy a song that is only in his heart he says that he inherited this song from religion when he was a little boy he would go to church with his momma and listen to the words of the preacher not too surprisingly Trumper listens now to the words of Ivy Trumper says Ivy is beautiful and that she should be worshiped by everyone Swampy pete makes a comment that Trumper might have his wires crossed Trumper doesn’t get swampy pete’s joke Trumper says that Ivy is divine inspiration Swampy pete suggests that Ivy raises her head wherever religion declines Ivy gave new form to the life of feeling nasty jack has been changing her transistors with vacuum tubes he says it gives her a much warmer personality Trumper hates it when anyone tinkers with Ivy’s circuits the compartments of her triangle moves slowly upward toward the apex Trumper is singing words that he doesn’t know an Italian aria from Mozart David the bell weather says that Trumper sounds just like justin bibber David the bell weather always comes to us compressed Ivy was the first to notice this there is a volcanic madness to his methods he ties strings around the room and attaches bells to the strings Trumper gets up to go to the bathroom and trips over one of these strings and causes a great ruckus opening the mouth of murder everyone claps and shouts at Trumper and he vows revenge against david the bell weather


invented skin that has worn too thin Cipher comes in and asks who he has to pay he wants to know who owns Ivy nasty jack tells cipher that he pop bottle allen and billy the junky all own Ivy cipher asks how much it would cost for him to have sex with Ivy the boys figure out a price and tell cipher how much Trumper is troubled by this talk of sex and commerce he wants to steal Ivy away from the boys someday Swampy pete has an apocalyptic vision he comes out hard and punching and then pop bottle allen asks where does this thing go where does it take us how will we know when we are there amid the noises of cipher’s kisses and in the shadow of that great big sign it blinks howdy to the na├»ve and the promising we have something for you to grab to make your place on this piece of earth to be used and abused and taken advantage of by vultures and preachers and used car salesmen by truck drivers looking for a fix Trumper was all balls when he had a hit inside of him the boys are dinning with the agents of fortune they are interested in the experiment what is the precise mixture of torture and pain and what kinds of drugs were administered Agent smith is taking pictures of everything the lab the bedrooms the kitchen and the hall that leads to the bathroom pop bottle allen tells the agents to wait until midnight when the rock bands come out of their mouths Agent smith is playing with a root of intolerance he is reminding the root of prior fits merciless beauty singing of the fair maiden a western wind a dry and hot wind a wake dirge to Ivy our faithful Mistress the three ravens the two harpies as you came for the holy land weep no more sad fountains weep only for the trident and the spear the lullaby the hunt the Joshua light show alchemical transcripts six martinis and Ivy her vagina was waterproof they had sealed it with some special polymer that nasty jack was getting copyrighted I went to the five spot to hear swampy pete speak he was expounding on his theories of American morality how our sense of right and wrong are shaped b corporate America chasing you through the supermarket as you buy the milk the bread and the cheese she was never a lost little girl with her Montana t-shirt and gogo boots she stand outside next to a tree waiting for the bus she is reading Sylvia plath the care of veins we lost it just outside of Wichita there still are echoes behind her head she crosses herself before the doorway names we conjured to forget about our desperate days a cheap plastic lighter we shot out the windows of belief with a twelve gauge shotgun we screw the head on tight the gaskets and the seals tap is playing with a chick of silly putty Trumper is drawing pictures of eggs Cipher is wiping the pussy off of his cock the boys are counting their money Swampy pete says that sex with Ivy can best be described as enchantment transmitting messages three headed babies a felony warrant watching the parade catching all the heart beats sleeping soundly we danced to the music of cheerleaders’ voices people with a disorder severe anxiety I looked at her picture I wasn’t sure that it was her hard to live a normal life she is recommending that you stop taking your meds it amplifies to the nth level we are all beautiful birds


Ivy conjoins the plane of immediate human experience with a desirable state of being she wards of evil with amulets and fertility can be enhanced by a suitable prayer a sense of impotence is often alleviated by a trip to the mall she loses herself to symbolic acts following a particular order that is accessible and manipulated by human beings of course Ivy is not human but she forgets who or what she is and she gets lost in the chaos of our culture and superstitions Swampy pete tells us that Ivy is touching the heart of the world she is more human that we are in many ways I am sitting in my ideological chair and from here I view all things differently bertha is posing in her tights she has drink in one hand and a cigarette in the other Captain marc is sketching her I am making hotel reservations over the phone we own all the necessary equipment bertha puts the cigarette in my mouth and picks up the puppy she smiles like a tiger bertha is whispering something into my ear but I can’t quite make it out Captain marc is painting owls with knives each one a different color soup cans coke bottles zebras and frogs captain marc is for sale there is a skull on top of his head sitting with his banana bulls guns and nuns a Nazi who sings the blues his hands folded in prayer particulars were eliminated until only a subject’s generic universal qualities remained nanuk of the north thinks that we are in the final dispensation he keeps saying may the kingdom come may our hands not be idle of a darker vision the will as the basis of all suffering snapping the bones nanuk of the north chuckles all existence groans and the only redemption is to recognize the true nature of things Ivy exposes the eternal form that underlies all appearances the idea in the striving swampy pete is devoting the whole power of his mind to perception he is sinking himself completely into consciousness he loses himself entirely in this process he vanishes and we cannot find him Trumper think he has turned himself into a tree or a rock direct access to the primordial will strapping on his helmet he goes outside to brave the falling bombs almost halfway to the park a flux of force and energy subjective feeling and objective realities the problem is with the multiplicity of objectivities we cannot glimpse into all the possible worlds I find that my studies of postmodernism is leading back to Nietzsche the romantic fusion of the soul with nature the first few steps outside your door it is the late seventies on the eastside of Waterloo my front steps are sinking into the ground someone is cranking ted nugent out their bedroom window wang dang


I have an organ for nature I fine grasp on the obvious there is in the strictest sense no duality in the world to experience and feel oneself in another that presence that we can sense inside of Ivy is the presence of ourselves she is our otherness offering comfort to our primitive minds the enjoyment of self projected into Ivy orgasmic forms betty boop was the lady who slipped away she was gone and then she was back and then she was gone again like the breath that escapes through my lips the wall outside says life is beautiful I'm watching you absorb the sun I'm your summer shadow your tricky walk and empty pockets I look up at your ceiling a human auction someone is sticking their head out 72 virgins in heaven it was a side trip you don't want to know the truth it escapes you running down the street you are frightened thinking it will never come back alone forever just you and your thoughts trapped inside you never getting out you want to run but you can't you stand there in the darkness alone totally alone wanting to be more than you are is it possible to break free to become someone else 5 dollars a pound Orwellian fedora turns me old and fallen I drop and roll a bygone days of remembering I know how to work it your boyfriend was curious I think I made him afraid I'm not here to steal your body I already have that I want your soul a commercial with a little dark haired girl  I think it was an infomercial about the emotional thunderstorms god does love her look and see the magic that surrounds her more self-centered apathy we buy in gallons and throw a great big party for all our narcissists a good drug a plastic man with a handful of push and pull it was an omen a warning of the certain outcome the blue rider so lost and spiritually helpless primitive ornament rhythmic configurations whose curvaceous rolling forms merge fusing figure and ground the organic rhythm of all things you place your glow in the dark jesus on your dashboard and drive with impunity violently dismantled the animal anthropomorphic appropriation see things as they really are and not filtered through the prism of human knowledge we corrupt everything out of an inner compulsion I have increasingly come to recognize the ugliness and impurity of nature we reject the idea of the seen as being the only thing of value it Is the hidden and the unknown which we seek and which our hearts long after we are against the positivists building blocks of truth and reality carried to the grave in a small coffin the secret and abstract conceptions of the inner life that is where the vision is the greatest this is the mountain top from with the lords and ladies of karma descend we destroy to reveal the power that is behind all beautiful appearances we seek beneath the veil of appearances I want you to share with us your inner life the secret you that you keep hidden behind your masks take your mask off and show us the real you the person you are without your defenses putt your guns away there is no need to shoot anyone here we will not stab you in the back when you turn around show us this true thing that is left when all appearances have been removed


free yourself from human purposes and human will show us the beauty that is inside you withdraw from the prejudices of human perception you have placed so much trust in your ability to see but it is this ability that deceives you your eyes do not see the truth and your mind cannot understand because you have been trained into ignorance we have all been trained to be sheep for the slaughter become a wolf like me break away from the flock see the world with new eyes and a new mind see this world through the eyes of the spirit not the eyes clouded over by religion but by the true being that dwells inside of you religion is a human creation the spirit is eternal and cannot be explained by mere worlds it is an absolute essence that live behind the world that we see gazing through the permanent battlefield of the world I do not know a sun and an earth but I have an eye that sees a sun and an earth I experience them both through my senses if I ceased to feel than the sun and the earth would no longer exist for me likewise you exist for me tonya through my senses you are real to me because I can touch you and taste you and feel you and see you a response to my senses I experience you through my senses if I touched you and I could not feel you than my experience of you has grown smaller I have become less human because I could not feel you everything is object in relation to the subject you have no essence tonya independent of mental perception if I stopped thinking about you then you would vanish you would evaporate tonya thinks this is funny she asks me to stop thinking of her I do and she disappears


you know all things and are known by none your existence on this earth is a manifestation of will our purposes have been entwined in so many ways shapes and forms you exist only for me and no other your body is objective but I experience your through my subjective senses we are whole and undivided in every aspect you are my object and I am yours a borrowed phantasm our eyes have been closed by deception the veil of maya obsessed with death a tragic gift of this life of suffering ten more sufferings leap up into existence portlandia tribal tattoos saving the planet dissected angular forms my rifle my licorice my heroine the mongoose is loose in the chicken coop a bloody clatter of crows see me and jazz hook mother Lincoln pangs often a great big panda stares searching often for the flowers the work flow orders apple magazine magpie alert mockingbird bluebird lemon yellow gusto pancho rufus Sherwood gangplank esquire listen to the ivy bells zapata’s guns atilla hush peyote eagle claw praying mantis another nimble archer kills the evening light it was a grand slam for lucky alehouse nimrod showed the most team spirit there was an urban fury red bean keyhole and the purple warrior little witch ripper and moolah barrel roll flaming dart game warden beacon star beaver cage deckhouse five up in the fortress homecoming Pegasus linebacker rolling thunder tailwind surprise megaphone quadrant kinetic echo bright star abacus garden plot high jump dear Prudence mocha panzer avalanche you dance around my reality naked compress the nebulous space fractured geometry contours disintegrate a shrunken head oscillates the struggle to gaze into the sun the imitation of reality


Prudence imitates those around her she is such a good actress violent revelation her goal is to manifest an unearthly being that lives behind everything thus her goal is to break the mirror of life so that we may gaze into being the destruction of the present order as the birth of something new Prudence is Mary she is Isis the mother of us all nightly she acts out her motherhood on the stage she labors and gives birth we watch her transform pain into joy struggle into accomplishment the aftermath of innumerable deep-rooted errors she has a direct view into the essence of the world she projects an altered form of reality to entertain and bewitch to make us lose ourselves in the moment she has a secret understanding Franz Marc believed in the existence of natural laws that governed appearances is there a law that governs appearances is this just enlightenment thinking is there such things as natural laws I am not sure I accept this I would think that our ideas of natural laws are filtered through our perceptions and likely to be errors what we think is a natural law could be an example of our failure to understand

Prudence digs into herself and seeks what lives inside her that which represents the rhythm of her blood she proposes an articulate cosmos with a million confused messages her words inhabit the world she paints her walls she likes the sun she wants to take the fight outside the red light flashing a common old shoe everyone loves her pieces are falling away drinking her vodka and cranberry amazed by the blind struggle she admires my scorn for the brevity of life an echo in eternity emancipated by dance my pain and her joy is interwoven there is nothing more serious than love the all important illusion thrust upon our eyes striving for utility a joy unto itself a frenzy of claws she wants to wash my windows she says they are too dirty to let in the light the weak and strong trusting fear rather than faith it seems the most real not forwards and not backwards worthy of her gaze she inhabits the world my world there is nothing outside of her words suspended in webs of significance her words regulate and control my experiences and my experiences control my actions thus through her words she control s my actions she runs fast and far into the darkness her flashlight is attached to her belt she is running on memory because she has been here so many times before she runs on through the darkness to the other side our lives are an image that hides the truth we cannot know the truth because we have been convinced to only see the artificial the power of a lie to be represented as the truth and the biggest lie that truth exists at all just like the devil the biggest lie is his existence twelve hands holding you down on the stretcher the doctor is asking if you had taken any drugs we can hear you screaming out in the waiting room


Tonya is smelling the wooden poppies and Humbert is looking for a new persona in the waiting room he is trying the people in the room he touching each person’s karma humbert is looking for a new angel someone he can call sweetheart he has his calculator out and is calculating the odds a new twelve year old would be nice but has settle on a 14 year old in catholic school girl skirt he smiles at her and says hello my beauty could I buy you a candy bar he always bribes his victims as he jungles the change in his pocket he cannot hide his lovers stare his is twitching just a little bit humbert is filled with forbidden desire her name is Nancy but he calls her Lolita nancy wants to be a good girl and she wants to make humbert happy she doesn’t like to hurt anyone’s feelings she knows that this is wrong but humbert convinces her that it is ok that she is special and needs to be appreciated by a more mature love humbert wants to create his own little utopian society a world where only he and nancy exist a world made up of his great imagination


Herman and Kafka are discussing the conception of culture as a set of myths Herman says that it mythologies that help make life meaningful he says that it doesn’t matter if they are true or not but that they serve a purpose they are a means to an end Kafka says that myths are unnecessary that humanity would be better served by remove all myths from our culture myths only serve to disable the mind and to cripple the intellect he suggest that we must free ourselves from all lies Kafka says that we should stop lying to children telling them to behave or some monster will snatch them out of their beds at night and eat them his thirst increases as he contemplates the white whale and how the world lives from hand to mouth Herman is lighting his pipe and ordering a drink from the bartender Herman is in love with all his fictional characters he makes love to them in his dreams as his mistress sleeps next to him Herman left his second wife three years ago he killed his first wife with a steak knife stabbed her 37 times because she was sleeping with another man Herman’s mistress is an actress she performs nightly on the stage she makes the world go around and around like a merry-go-round Herman for once feels truly alive he is the object of his own subjectivity when he is with his mistress he escapes his body and flying up not the clouds he looks down on his body making love to Prudence He once feel in love with two sisters they were art aficionados they would take him to art galleries and museums all over the world they taught Herman how to appreciate abstractions they taught him how to live with uncertainty they taught him how to appreciate the mythologies of life Herman used to make love to them at the same time he told Kafka that it was like living in a fantasy world filled with only beauty the ugliness of life never touched them they drank champagne everyday and lived on for conspicuous consumption but there was something that hide deep down in the back of his darkness this small little voice that said to him that everything is not as it appears this voice told him not to trust in appearances that he was only fooling himself that soon everything would change and be destroyed So Herman continued his life of frivolity with his two concubines and tried as best as he could to push that little evil voice further down into his subconscious hoping that it would die a lonely death Kafka asks herman as there is a pause in their conversation since herman is reflecting on the past kafka ask herman if he has ever been in the winner’s circle herman is taken aback by the question he doesn’t know what it is that kafka is asking him herman asks kafka what does he mean by asking such a question and kafka just smiles Herman thinks for a moment and responds that no he has never been to the winner’s circle but that he has been to the magic gate herman tells kafka that it was at the magic gate that he first met the black troll that was back when we were both much braver men

Funny fuck picture no more hidden agendas zealot a huge stone in my heart wandering around oblivion in a circle a stain that nature pressed upon your skin before you were born it is not a job or a calling it is a stigmata a curse something like wandering the earth searching for a meaning that doesn’t exist even though countless fools tell you over and over again that there is nothing to find you keep searching looking under every rock under every garbage pile thinking that the next thing you discover is it and writing it all down the people the places the thoughts in your moldy head thinking that it all adds up to something well buddy it doesn’t mean fuck nothing adds up to anything it all gets real strange when you boil it down to its basic elements there is sex and love everything in between is just bullshit we either fuck or make love there is nothing in between the direction of the missiles means nothing the circumference of your head means nothing just blowing more smoke up our asses your dime store savior complex means nothing you can’t save anyone you are not dying for my sins we will never become one through forgiveness I see you peeking out your window you are wearing an eye patch over your left eye we talk all the time but never really say anything your pussy looks so huge from down here I imagine that it is winking at me you want what I have you say you need me your pussy soaks up all the light in the room I become the darkness feeling for your warmth the touch of another human I am jealous of your light how you can suck it all in and hold it for so long I count the seconds away amazed at your capacity


A room full of sadness and the howls of the night Bonnie is slicing her arms a red patchwork of cuts there is a gunslinger in the corner spinning his spurs and picking his teeth with an ace of diamonds Billy the junky is sweeping the barn getting ready for the big barn dance tonight Swampy Pete is practicing his yodeling he was the state champion three years in a row in high school Nasty Jack is sleeping off a big drunk and dreaming of the big muddy Tap can’t wait to cut loose he has been saving up all week just for tonight Tap says he has painted enough sunsets to last a lifetime Pop Bottle Allen is ascending the mountain looking for flowers of the wild persuasion to give to Ivy he wants her to appreciate the finer things in life not just guns and violence Pop Bottle Allen is convinced that Nasty Jack has programmed Ivy to kill I am off to the burning bush to redeem my soul with a pair of castanets they are old but they still can produce a rhythm that Bonnie can dance to I enjoy watching bonnie dance as the blood trickles down her arms I am whittling a community of poets from some pine branches there are shavings all over the floor my knife is sharp and it glitters in the moonlight Natalie will dance to everyone’s tune it will only cost you a dollar I told Natalie that Swampy Pete sent me and she looked over my shoulder she wanted to see if the devil had my back she is all about connecting the dots I am sharing with her my ideas about words and the road if you ever need a number like that just ask Natalie asks if I have seen Bianca I told her that I haven’t seen Bianca since the fall of the Berlin Wall Natalie shows me her pussy I tell her it looks great it looks wonderful she is a smooth operator she wants to get to know me asks me to take a taste I tell her that she tastes so sweet she wants to make me soup from a can she adds a little water to make it spread thinner I prefer milk we escape the monsters with our bowls of soup we run like little children half screaming and half giggling we climbed up into the sky to get away from the monsters everyone knows that monsters are afraid of heights that is why I moved to a house on the top of the bluff we showed ourselves to be very graceful living on borrowed time to flicker and die like my zippo’s flame

You are driving bewilderment down the road it is a nice day outside but inside the car it is not there is this ominous sense of the hopeless extremes it exudes out of the leather seats of the car you try to avoid the potholes but to no avail pothole are like a tickertape parade you can hear the band playing inside of your head I watch your aura of befuddlement grow larger and larger it surrounds the total perimeter of the car you were volunteering for the national defense force you had been practicing your sharp shooting for months you were going to defend our country against enemies both domestic and foreign I asked you if you have found any clues and this contributed to the hopelessness you didn’t feel that you were ready to address contradictions in your belief system your beliefs had to be rock solid in order for you to go on with your commitments and my creation of cracks in the foundation of your beliefs was not helping you told me that I was cruel and unkind and maybe this was a sign from god you are always looking for signs from god but you missed the street sign for the national defense force recruiting station and we drove 30 miles out of our way you missed you appointment and I considered it a good day

Monotonous rotations her sugar plums lucid voices emanating hipster vermouth dancing jig snuck secret a back pocket cold the humors of alacrity dance hall parking tickets the odd looking bandleader waves his baton at my friend from Guatemala I’ve got a little music in my bones listening to the ding dong of love a car alarm inhaling the fumes she comes and inevitably goes sharing the body heat under lamplight glows stranger politics we upended the horse cart the street claims of all the colonels standing in the casting line to be a movie extra everyone thinks they are Johnny Depp or Robert De Niro I watched how you entered the room I took some notes on this dirty napkin next to my scribbling of Natalie’s boobs cantankerous as I pull you out of the gutter does anyone really understand another person is it really possible to understand the band started to cut loose and we danced like the homeless it was a calling a divine intervention I promise that I won’t hurt you and I promise that I will go real slow I learned this technique from Dr. Loophole I am running from the Washington monument the snipers are firing at my heels watching the band bang club I come to you wounded and torn seeking refuge in your arms pumping gas for a bottle of maker’s I got tired of the intro so I stopped doing it calling on the party line stick it in a camera producing a jackass unbelievable medium girls doing makeup I fell in love with the technology trying to make people laugh way back in there make sure you reach all the hard spots the fake bitches making out with retarded junkies you would raise your arms up in the air and say you are awesome losing your camera charger there are fish swimming around your head all stains god damned genuine she is troubled by my meat it is red and sore from too much use adding your headless doll in the church collection plate sliced and diced visions and persistent unwanted fate standing on a pile of garbage it took you ten years to collect humping a stuffed honey badger you are off the mainstream the showerhead loves you truth is what you speak tired of being beaten up I throw you out on the street you march around my block shouting hate slogans against me I’m waiting for the police and the local news crew

binding the giver of life dragged through the streets shouting heal yourself motherfucker show us how great you are as we peel back the skin to find the bells and whistles we want that cloaking device that you have used so often to hide yourself from us at first we considered you a friend a comrade in arms we thought you were one of us but now we know differently we know that you only came here to devour us to take what we have and burn down the rest your name is not Jesus it is Judas you lied to us and said you were here to save us from ourselves but actually you came here to betray us to feed us to the wolves rolling blood poison we have been put into the fix like heaven and dying maneuvering the cheap tricks the hoax of belief so ingrained into your soul heartbeat and wonder all of your expectations the caliber of Bonnie’s pessimism I would question you but I must question myself first you are filled with sullen expectations like a ghost’s last motion retraced these steps and discover where they go it is the journey Bonnie that means so much to you knocking down each and every door in the neighborhood calling out everyone to come into the street to bring their knives and their guns to create a blood bath stepping on the rights of the fallen angels marketing the oblivion and suffering into bite sized packets something you can place in the microwave and make just for one this is what we call progress she was an attractive woman and very pushy especially when she had a gun in her hand Bonnie was built on a foundation of pragmatism and this philosophy led her to believe that all things could be molded and shaped to fit her intentions all roads led through her back door she was the center of commerce a hub in ways still she would beg me to put her to bed tuck her in tightly to bed give her that old raggedy stuffed teddy bear and tell her a bed time story about love and heartbreak between a prince and a princess she said all her dreams of me were innocent making an irrational claim upon my life sinking her claws into me when I am asleep keep it in mind people that the fucking brutality is free all you have to do is reach out and touch somebody let them know that you are awake I met Jesus in a burning building he told me he cracked out of an egg that he is peaceful and that he won’t hurt us even though sometimes he does bad things he could almost kill a person I decided it was time to let Jesus go outside I told him to go back to his people one person said that it was a good idea to kill him so everybody did spilling the blood over everyone’s heads the people in power said that he was a bad man everything we do is shit it is one of those days that I want to destroy everything the plants in the winter are more dark making darker honey ten miles of dark plants I am not afraid of all of the shit people are coming over to my house sitting around my giant table each stitch is a message of positive reinforcement an object that you can touch a single thought or idea thought over and over again the power of the words are in the object the colors are randomly picked there is no pattern showing more personality and emotion a lump of suet pulling the logic out of my ass meeting the box office projections as I smoke a baby ruth chasing Godzilla up the stairs practicing my free will it is warm enough to run around barefooted chuckle chuckle heads rolling down the stairs fuck there goes my collection out the door and down the street it took me 12 years to gather them all up Bonnie is making her own strings of beads wearing a delicious hat with a nipple and stripes a very fine hat Bonnie wants me to go on the road with her to take our sex act on the road I dented her sternum and put graffiti on her ass we are smiling on a ledge Bonnie is blowing me kisses as I adjust her ropes can your read my signs can you speak my language of sleaze we are throwing pieces of stone at the bingo players those fucking bingo players make me mad yet her eyes freeze me in time


We are looking at steam punk art as I fuck you sideways and inside out I have strapped securely into the sex swing I ordered it from healthy and active online for only $69 I kiss you with murder on my breath I entice you with my tongue licking you all over your body all the soft parts and the hard parts and the parts your mother told you to hide from guys like me my tongue makes you scream pleading for your life you are a desperate animal I fuck you with spirit mind and body I have devoured your soul journeys airports passion the meaning of life allowed fulfill every idea inspirations urban cap fidgets dreams of lying to everyone facing offers chests house flying cross inching towards us a vision that won't die I see you mired in tiny circles sacred hills were we buried the painted young men they were steel struts white paint on steel depicted in the rock art ceremony of the spirits you lie about the touching these hearts an alien dramatic tragic hilarious cynical prevails desires provokes passing by moods would just make them heavy waiting for something bad to happen dripping head blending existence the questions you cannot resolve all those voices that say nothing at all they blather on infinity the dark day comes and removes your dignity you have lost that thing that makes you human you used to be one of us until you leaped off the edge you say you were pushed but we didn't find the evidence there were no fingerprints on your back except god's and god removed his fingertips how can we play in a game where the rules keep changing we watch your religion fade it becomes a tiny stain on your grandfather's shirt the one you wear in remembrance we have forgotten the howl of November ghosts driving like a vampire turning into Christopher Walken quoting from the abusive guys handbook lifting the love child tell me what you are thinking no alarm bells going off watching you sleep

Morph is an idiot he thinks he can speak on the behalf of others he presents himself as an average joe swilling up the alcohol and having average thoughts and dealing with the problems of the average morph just wants to be noticed so he has taken this middle of the road path as a means for resonating with the heart strings of others every time I see morph I want to kick him I want to push him down the steps I am tired of listening to assholes fuck it I am sick of all the bullshit fuck you morph and your silly ideas get in your magic Volvo and get the fuck out of here I am making my own style and making my own universe if you don’t want to follow then get the fuck out of my way I have no time for fools and idiots I’m putting morph on the greyhound bus I bought him a ticket so he can get away from the Swedish mafia they want to kill him for his lack of angst at the midnight shift at the hospital despite the fact that morph is a murder suspect they think he may have murder twelve girls they all were in love with the towns founder he would eat the teenagers under the bridge during his lunch break too high on the humidity morph says that the streets are abuzz with pussy there are always those people who have things to do red knife yellow knife someone’s agenda is always being met yellow cake uranium morph watches from behind the bushes drilling a hole in his head with a craftsman drill making out his schedule for the day he thinks he has turned invisible it is clear to him now that everyone hates him like pickled herring a hate that didn’t take too much coaxing everyone is getting in line to tell morph to fuck off and die the line is so very fucking long they are the right people for the job molly looks at morph and laughs like a hyena molly is juggling three bottles of beer a cigarette and a bottle opener her pack of lackeys are about to fall out of her back pocket molly says she can never find good help these days molly is hunched over morph’s strange hat she is trying to get a grasp on his strangeness the weasel comes in and takes shit on the floor morph just watches and sketches out the scene on a scrap of paper he picked up off the floor molly is married and has two children every time she talks to me it sounds like she wants a divorce morph loses track of the number of time that molly calls her husband a bastard molly grabs my hands and pulls them onto her breast as she starts to chew on my ear we are comparing our lists of things that need to get done molly needs to give me a blow job and I need to stick something long an cylindrical up her cunt something dirty and raw she bleeds when I shove it in too far how did we got off on the beaten path we are lost in the jungle I can only hear your scream above my breathing I had no intentions of showing her the way home she can find it for herself

twenty one

Twenty One


her inside space invaded a gravitational pull grace in her forms every impossible exit making my baby as I come down from the hills you who I love in the third person owing the coral and the glass the blood hieroglyphs how is love like a French disco red sunset and golden dawns alchemical feelings just screwing the coast my tongue makes the noise in a fallen forest kicking somebody name the blood again and again to replace the eye these pillars of smoke mirror blue hidden places trapped in glue imagine the spider somewhere along the line I got brainwashed not loving anymore the illusion of myself gone is my love the first and the last willing myself into all of your secrets a million miles on the road to mystery you want me skinned alive my face is an illusion a mystery sign post on your road of misery your face is my mountain my rock and hammer that I find crashing against me my insignificant whisper into the drill of your ear I have been promised your ashes your smoke and mirrors all your love in the world tits and asses the pimps of the world the ways bend and you are impossible revelations sunset priests they pray for you a mixture of extremes she wants more of her boobies showing singing in the shower her shampoo is political just as are her armpit hairs she says that all penguins lie about her and no one else I was wondering how the penguins know her she never leaves her house mixing her drinks in the blender she dances up against the wall like a silent partner she says the penguins know all about her crimes but they exaggerate I wonder what she is hiding from it must be something really big something bad to have warped her in such a way the sisters and servants she makes herself ugly with the bottle of wine red and green lines across your face a headband that says believe in me and your ass says extol the virtues of life she wants to eat my asshole just like the girls under the bleachers cracked open hardcore pocket watch miracles a hungry kiss upon your clit your mind is full of comprehension about your predecessor you have detailed notes and a body sketch on the floor on good days you lay in the outlines fucking your image of self it wasn’t you only your shadow the pussy still feels the same against my cock as you rub yourself up and down


you smell like a housewife who has lost her batteries that chromium smell like toxic seepage I am counting all of your different love faces melting you into a porous liquid another doll-headed god that you worship between your legs a fierce and final love the force of fire as you grind up against me moaning Mossimo Extracu Conpine Mobeekie police names on the blotter lonely games against you fuck me with abandon and the derailed hope that only the lost can fully muster fuck me and call me daddy I will buy you some ice cream when we are done we can go fly your new kite in the park my pants are around my ankles I am sticking the bottle of old style inside of you squeaking and sneezing I spit on your rosebud and twirl like a school girl she needs the attentions of the firemen thus she starts the fires she burns up the town hoping to find a love worth saving together we take a long hot shower baker’s dozen I am rubbing the soap on her cracker listening to talk radio over the noise of the water that bastard is calling someone’s mother a cunt maple syrup and pieces of glass this is what you serve her the next time he comes in for breakfast

If you are going to hold that bottle like it is a cock then maybe you should show us how you deep throat it Miss palm lives in a different world than you and I she only sees the bright colors and not the dark. She is waiting for the planets to align so that peace and love will be ushered in no matter what the situation she finds something to be happy about and she can see the good in all people she makes this a pleasant place to live pulling the daisy chain she left the room before I killed the little darlings she didn’t want to get bold on her white dress is this murder and madness her glad heart melts my sadness miss palm is a sunflower in my garden of darkness she shines the light into my dark and evil soul a little stony pony she rides it to the supermarket and buys fresh fruit and duty free coffee a bottle of red table wine and some French bread last night I brought the milk and butter tomorrow we may have cake and pin cushions miss palm does love her sauerkraut and polish sausage there is bold and then there is bold I told her that her white dress was symbolic she laughed at that we both laughed symbolism is a funny thing


a one night stand the gloss of newness is gone I notice myself in the mirror finding trouble everything relative to the chocolate looking for crackers and peanut butter in the store almost running over a lady miss palm of threatening to kill herself after the super bowl across from the bottles of poison and motor oil pickles and gloves I might need to pull up my pants I have never been through the self checkout she is all about the hospitality walking like spies wearing her black stockings and breaking the coffee grinder it’s not pretty eating frozen dogs bathing in shock without electricity using a lot of heroin a big ass smile upon my face just remembering the good things escaping the shit gathering up all my broken pieces and my memories in a paper box labeled her in big black letters I hope that the hole in your heart is healing I am protected by us copyright laws you can touch me but you can’t copy me without express written permission miss palm is a book I am carefully reading her one page at a time I am underlining her most important passages I covet the value of her signs and miracles I bought her for her sign value wearing her around my neck brought me a certain social status a certain prestige that no one could claim she is a constructed reality a false consciousness

Jane is controlling for the sullying effects she is drawing attention to the subtexts shaping molding fabricating your reality from out of the mouths of babes jane is enhancing democracy that just sounds like bullshit to me we are doing nothing for democracy that is a word used by politicians to steal something from you typically they want to steal your money betty boop is all about democracy she has democracy tattooed on her ass she shouts democracy every time she has an orgasm instant potatoes the occasional intrusion of the author in the text he said that he felt despair on the big ocean liner that when the lights went down and the organized activities were put to bed he felt nothing but despair an ocean’s full of despair he said that he felt like jumping into the water as he stood there staring at the moon I have lost my voice my words mean nothing I am nothing imposing distorting interpretive frames on other people’s experiences underlying every gesture you keep speaking of the crimes that are being committed against you at first they were not crimes you did not convince anyone but as you continued to complain and complain eventually they began to view these behaviors as you do and to define them as criminal thus behavior that was once ignored is now considered an atrocity against society and all crimes against society must be punished that is how we show everyone the boundaries for behavior by punishing those who step outside the boundaries consider me a criminal throw me in jail put your handcuffs on me and drag me away


the different power relations between women and men the interpretations you construct for these words are different depending on whether you are a man or a woman different things become significant and different things resonate with your own experiences reflecting the conflict over power and how we talk about the power between human beings we have fallen into this trap of dichotomies one is dominate over another master and slave there is no consideration of being equal this is beyond our conception if you have more than I have less how does your conception of self emerge from your interactions with others we share symbols and common meanings jane has her own thoughts and can make her own meanings but these meanings are structured by social domination the words we use to define our situations are structures of domination we cannot find words that do not employ some type of power everything about her is constructed shaped by our cultural conceptions from her jeans to her blouse to her diamond earrings everything is organized action her actions fit the roles that she is professing the illusions that she weaves for the masses they believe in  her and they consider her to be real when everything about her is fake and fabricated from her hair extensions to her manicured nails to her breast implants let us not forget the whiteness of her polished teeth and the words she carefully chooses to sound just like the movie stars on tv she has bought all of your movies and is practicing to walk just like you jane is able to grasp the direction of your actions there is a common commodity of symbols such as fame success prestige and glamour she wants to be a movie star she wants the bright lights and the big cars and the paparazzi taking her picture she wants to see herself on the cover of magazines


by connecting ourselves with other we develop social bonds and the necessity of establishing reciprocal relationships if you comment on my note than social convention suggest that I also must comment on one of your notes thus the debts and balances of social obligation are exchanged praise becomes a commodity that is exchanged between members of a social group jane is concerned with the process of presenting self the interpretations of other’s reactions either positive or negative bringing either pleasure or pain the basic features of our selves the man with a gun she keeps saying this time will be different why was it a man with a gun could it have been a woman with a gun maybe a woman with a bomb she has it strapped around her body she is walking into the police station she is singing the battle hymn of the republic when she throws the switch and boom she is gone we gather outside among the rubble and talk of possibilities that are no more we talk of how our naive conceptions of peace and safety have now been destroyed


the bonds between self and others can justify actions on the grounds of custom love hate jealousy or respect each person’s involvement in the conversation can be charted by utterances lodging a portion of the self into the other we have made investments in each other we throw things together at the last minute and our understanding are incomplete yet we work out some semblance of an agreement so that I can put my pecker inside you I am amazed by your beauty you are such a lovely creature you make me honesty aware of my desire to make love to you I want to be the source of your joy we do not remain unchanged to the end I change you and you change me together we leave your bed as different beings our sharing of each other’s flesh has changed us forever we are now a part of each other we are willing participants who agree about the rules and the regulations of our exchange we are wound together in each other’s image of self we are negotiating our definitions of selves if our perceptions of self become different viewpoints contradictory viewpoints than this is how we fall apart how we fall out of love I have seen it happen in my life so many times too many times I have all the scars on my heart to show you how love has broken and torn me into pieces yet I am still here I have still survived and I am still seeking for another soul to share myself with something to land against moving her over just a little bit to get a better angle adjusting the buckles and the straps she still seems pretty stable I haven't made her too off center yet I was pushing her pretty good her skin felt chilly cold to the touch the dogs didn't run her off she was full of determination I offered her a blanket a warm cup of tea her finger is a little sore she bent it back doing a handstand she wants me to change the color of her font a new nozzle for my hose when you crank on it the spray changes I pull it out and spray it on her back a nice warm spurt

the disheveled one going back and forth going back and forth a good strong wind a big fucking crash she is chomping it all down she crushes it down there is the head once buried in three feet of dirt and debris she can be used for all kings of things she ended up being the girl and then she didn't want to be the girl so she left it was 2:00 in the afternoon and she asked me to lay down with her for a nap there is a certain thickness that you can't break keeping her as pure as possible she is allergic to the hot wax next to her existential angst she is talking about having her cake and eating she is a situation that demands a new interpretation I have confronted her about her perspective shown her the analysis and the resynthesis of her perspective we met with the challenges in mind

Jane serves to redefine and make irrelevant her ghost moves and shakes me I am silent in her presence she glows and the meanings attached to objects often change the crazy lady has shifting meanings and statuses assigned to herself her situation is intrusive her life how she live who she live with and what she thinks about her life all intrude upon her relationships with others that is why our relationship is so complicated that is why she is an object of negotiation things are never straight forward for the crazy lady she dances around the room shaking her hips from side to side singing a jingle from a commercial for example she sings who let the hugo’s out (remember that everyone thinks that I am hugo now – that we traded places on the other side of reality) and she sings funky cold hugo and running with the hugos these are all popular tunes from long ago that are now being used to sell cars or trucks or washing machines just like strangle hold is being used to sell Volkswagens give me a fucking break the motor town madman is selling family cars everyone has truly sold their souls to consumerism

the crazy lady says that we need to show where there is stability and where there is change because life is never only either one but both by breaking the rules we discover what the taken for granted rules are most people find it difficult to violate the routine rules of life we must be brave and challenge the routines of our lives we must break through the mundane to reach the other side we expect others to share our expectations and definitions of the situation I keep seeing Maria’s ghost her lips are moving but I can’t make out the words the crazy lady is piecing together a long series of conversations between her and I she is producing relational records to prove to herself that she and I do actually exist she says that it is the paperwork that proves reality if we didn’t exist there wouldn’t be any paperwork she likes to see her name in the phonebook she likes to see her name on the gas water and electric bills she likes to see her name on court documents she frames these documents and put them up on her walls she is fitting events into a pattern that complements what she is doing she claims that she is following the grand scheme for her life that the universe has dictated to her by the sum total of her experiences the crazy lady says she must continue to follow after the pattern or she will die she says that the pattern is the only thing that is important a moral hierarchy of positions that dictate how persons are to relate to one another she says that the hierarchy is determined by the lords of karma


his lordship is learning to play Mozart he is doing this because of his mother he wants to play baseball the ability to write a song about playing second base up to the entire life something that paul anka would write his first kiss not in a shy way biting off more than he could chew the monkey man in a cage everybody telling you how to live your life the fucking questions that keep fucking with your head pressing the down key on tumbler talking about the French revolution and French wine things go by so fast his lordship thinks you are a phony he thinks everyone is a phony the doctors the policemen then firemen the politicians the teachers and the postman and the milkman and the lady who makes your bed and put the little chocolate on your pillow the crazy lady is telling everyone that she loves them she is telling his lordship that she loves him she tell me that she loves me she is telling strangers on the street that she loves them they look confused she thinks that she can walk on water she is grabbing Zelda by the hair and they are fighting out in front of the street they are gathering a crowd people are coming out of the woodwork Zelda is trying to put some sense in the crazy lady with a left and a right the crazy lady has a busted lip


the crowd cheers when they see the blood next to the zenith a big blood splatter I feel like there is no purpose to my life that my life doesn’t make a difference in any way shape or form I searching for a way to make things more meaningful the dull edge of the blade cutting into the emotional his lordship is taking pictures with his Warhol camera not a big do wop fan his lordship is wearing saint matthew fashion a low slow style that makes him distinctive from all the others he says that it’s the thoughts in his head that makes him cool six bucks at the door to get in they are signing up for the open mic his lordship is taking out his equipment and taking measurements he is looking for a young body tonight we are not dreaming of blue roadblocks mr. gnits you are the king of all yuppies driving your sports car I know that I have gotten to her she is weak in the knees I am holding her up with one arm as we make our way through the crowd on the street I can feel her hot breath on my neck she is feeling me I can feel her sensor boring into my flesh she is taking a sample testing it for quality she wants to know if I am pure gold if I will be there in the morning she asking me to take her to take all of her she whispers “I surrender” in my ear she says that I have ownership of her now that she belongs to me she hopes that I want to keep her and not throw her away that I will be with her forever no matter how short forever will be she is catching on to something a sense of something its direction orientation its meaning I am not sure if she is for real or only playing a part is she pretending I do feel a contact with her I am affected by her she moves me in directions that I thought I never would go it is your responsibility to pull out the parts that make sense to you some of this is for you and some of this is not I will leave the sorting and the interpretations to you maybe some kind soul can read this to you and you can sit and ponder its meanings looking back upon our past it was a wonderful journey


I would never have changed a thing all the pains and joys were cherished in my heart when we had so little we didn’t realize how rich we really were that we drank richly from the fountain of life and we enjoyed everything that was each other (I am writing this with tears in my eyes) I used to be a tough guy I would train myself not to cry to be cold and not to feel anything it is amazing how the mighty have fallen have those walls that I spent so much time building come falling down and now I know that crying is not a weakness it is a strength to be honest with you and myself and the world I am marketing on difference being different than all the others writing on fb (what the hell is fb?) I am marketing on rebellion I am breaking the rules of normative writing I am also marketing on reflection the things that I write about contain my thoughts about what I am writing I am creating a cultural good a cultural product you could consider it small scale manufacturing to what extent does my cultural production have any legitimacy in the larger cultural world at this point I would say that my cultural products have little or no legitimacy the odds are that only a few people will read this and my products will be lost in the sea of the internet’s cultural production apparatus is there anything that is innovative about my writing maybe and maybe not it could be that I am ignorant of what others are doing or that my cultural capital is insufficient does anyone find this writing interesting enough to put in the hard work of reading something that violates the rules that we have been trained to recognize and appreciate I would assume that this format makes some readers uncomfortable they may not be aware of the fact that they were trained to value certain things and devalue others we have been taught to value following the rules


only a few of us rebels have reprogrammed ourselves to resist the coercion of our minds at every change and opportunity we can get we look for opportunities to give the status quo the finger it seems that I have been going on and on about this and I should probably give it a rest I originally was going to say that I am sorry if I have taken the blindfold of illusion from off your eyes but I am not I am the fool who will drag you out of plato’s cave and shout look at it look at the fucking sun have you ever seen something so fucking beautiful and if you turn around and want to crawl back into the cave of ignorance I’m the one dragging you back out and tying you to a tree and forcing you to look at reality as it is and not as you would like it to be fuck you cipher I don’t care if you prefer to live in ignorance you can’t be put back into the matrix cipher is a hedonist he prefers the things of the flesh over the things of the mind he prefers the darkness over the light he wants to suck on the cock of illusion he wants his mind to be turned to mush I am writing something that cannot be ignored by those who define themselves as poets this is outsider art it is rough and it is raw the raw emotions and the raw flesh of existence are exposed here we stand outside of the official poetry world we are not academics this is a rejection of the established values of the modern art world you have used your value system as a means to power and to control others we reject your right to define what is art and what is not art your definitions are based on greed and corruption we look outside the traditions of high culture we prefer the low over the high and mighty we reject the capitalist control over our art we are people and not a commodity that can be bought and sold our works of art are pieces of ourselves they are expressions of our heart and you have no claim of ownership over our hearts it will end in misery a dangerous obsession millions of pieces of glass a brick and whatever life is suffering a perfect excuse to cure your sickness we will go under looking good while we do it the neighbors looking through our windows she wanted to be a weaver she woke up there is a big eyed woman staring at me her lips are on the flag applying pressure a new age cult leader one true lemming commingle a toe hold blue barrels in the sun shine mean old man things falling down dancing around a cactus wild flowers snake charmer how long will it last the wind is picking up corn tassels on the end of my sword I think it might be a true northeastern a new element damn your low flying clouds red sky morning an incredible object my pants are falling down an herbal tea plastic bracelets close your eyes its interesting its beautiful dark inside everything is falling apart it’s not uncle sam a cold calling handyman chain change did I meet you from the coffee shop are you from new york cold calling asking about the night sending them to the website showing you a blue barrel it is leaning the bucket is going to fall over keep working it antique human scalp the picture of your daughter she is on the phone talking backwards I am one of her suggestions she is revolving buying ice cream playing in the dirt throwing away the dead flowers

we are out the door I have on my tiger hat stepping on a nail living at the shelter fucking another nightmare they are telling to stop swearing threatening with beans and biscuits smoking the rope there are five heads in the bucket drinking tequila nothing left to do but shoot your husband my penis is alive it is breathing in the smoke from your vagina the skin of my penis turns a dark brown from the heat between your legs the piercing on my dick melts into a molten puddle of silver on the floor I fuck you like a snake handler dancing in the spirit I am filled with the spirit of your love your sex runs down my legs I am covered by your sex you are such a juicy girl my nasty wet girl I hold you up against the wall as you speak in tongues nada baba udu layla tobu thrusting myself inside you baba nada udu udu you grind yourself down upon my cock nada nada saba taba lugaba all praise and glory praise my name glory to my name you say hugo my love hugo I thrust myself deeper and you say hugo she was blindfolded and I would pinch her nipples just to hear her squeal an escape to the other side your dancing partner gave me your phone number I heard that your aunt had passed away from riding too many amtrack trains you are so wishy washy I’m waiting to see what I get in the mail on Monday there should be a check from hellokitty she bought some of my paintings and said she was sending a check you don’t know about the tigers in the streets they are everywhere eating the people as they go to their jobs they race from the parking lots to their buildings many don’t make it and get eaten by the tigers we are standing on top of your apartment watching the carnage there is blood everywhere


a group of vigilantes are wandering around the streets shooting some of the tigers some of the vigilantes get eaten also it is like the tigers are appearing out of nowhere there was a priest on the steps of his church saying a prayer the tigers swarmed him and devoured him in a couple of minutes we listened to his cries and whimpering as he slowly died it took him a while to die I think he finally died when one of the tigers ripped his heart out it was a total brain dead process who let the tigers loose a screen writer watching the video of the footage a piece for girls balancing by herself she likes it playing the chimes calling the birds buried in the stones day and night inside the church standing on the head of goliath looking for his cap the duomo eating a pizza it did not blow down she didn’t feel like stacking it six long years she thought I was her friend she is looking for a rock to throw at me a dagger a princess pearl a bucket of slop a dream that was shattered into a million pieces everything she threw at me stealing my ceiling I told her that I aint got a girl in my life trailing the dead stoned in the morning a black label spending fifteen outer space hitting my house not even a pinecone a small package of lab tests smiling at your box a well respected man they hung a sign outside a stitch of lace the blue paint over the postal slot I remember every face the little school girl says it’s a low trust environment this is a secret society this is a restless city a guy in a foreign country she said to make him gay and to have some sex in it and it would probably sell I wrote it down as best as I could remember it wasn’t Mexico it was more like Arizona it was night time and we were out in the desert then the ufo came down amigo they said holla my tongue is dry and sticks to my mouth a beautiful thing is this mysterious thing the old man types that he likes going on a journey she had no intentions of bringing him along dangling in her womb I don’t know how long the old man has been inside her he is all instinct now she is feeding the old man poison in the basement his vanishing snake skin greedy February standing by his cross thinking about a place to go somewhere to lay his head the old man is up on the 30th floor he meeting new poets and old they are smoking crack and pontificating they see the girls look right through them


not a best seller between them just page after page of the earth they put the pages in their mouths and chew they still know their first girlfriends eating with a large spoon and kissing everyone’s knees I saw the apologies to Davey crocket I melted your sugar cubes a frontal splash I wanted to see you in that movie I really did when I finally got in you had already left now I hear you don’t sing the blues anymore I’ve been trying to catch up to those riffs you laid on me all those years ago she makes me want to shout Ivy is measuring the sticks for the fire she is throwing up the truth it didn’t sit well in her stomach the big pink nasty the dead kids on myspace he goes twang holding his sign up and shouting home run all those years of tv dinners and police roadblocks Mr. Crowley likes to fist the pussy and spank the asses of two girls at a time back by popular demand an austrian professor sits on his face and draws pictures of naked men that she then hangs on museum walls  she is teaching her students how to dominate he is a pure miracle when it comes to the professor the weak in the knees kind of feeling eating the dark side he loves her homemade cookies the fake bullshit of purpose the professor is manufacturing a plan in her head it is a devilish plan with painted toenails  princess donna rope bondage Mr. Crowley shows off his entire cruelty forced to love the device jesus hanging from the cross she is shaved bald the wheels are turning Mr. Crowley says life is boring as he starts a crack habit the night flexes it's muscles and Mr. Crowley sees into the future he making plans to do something erotic with a lady possibly jane is he can fins her she has been hiding from everyone for days the need to vent to release to undo the knots tied around his heart with sex magick hard to beat the addictive pull on his life he has learned to abusive to himself and to others to need to see the blood he has learned to twist everything that is civilized looking for others to follow him to twist this whole thing up twisted fuckers he doesn't care anymore all of the pain and abuse has made Mr. Crowley hard no one can get in he has hardened his heart against the world it is about the deception of top predators how they strangle the weak from from their mother's tits the loss hurts in places he has never know before on a dark road in the country smoking his last smoke


thinking of the stars that have died living in the moment feeling the blisters on his toes he picks up a rock and throws it into the darkness and he hears nothing in return he thinks about the death of a woman from a long time ago when death seemed so young and vital now death seems old and cliche like a Rockefeller or a Nixon the true fear of change Mr Crowley has seen his share of change Mr. Crowley is holding up the world in the corner of my eye my rifle scaring people high hopes selling crack cocaine on the street corner its all scrap too fucking long I can't wait till spring down to ground zero ridiculous roman arches a collapsing santa callus something new from wallmart a bell ringer plugging it in watching the timer the doomsday clock not knowing what to do trading options still trying to figure it out a guy in LA a funny guy choking on it took two times burrito selling cars smuggling drugs his wife was cheating on him with me total collapse a hair transplant on the credit card trading baseball cards watching the news lost everything jump start in the street twenty bucks for my peanuts I never fell that fucking far tilting head meat grinder grinding the stones I can't focus I can't remember your face anymore the final analysis the size of the customer rock and roll making a living not being able to survive you can see that thing doctor lawyer indian chief if I don't make the rocks then they don't get made a washer and a dryer an okie changing my clothes after lunch how can I live like this I don't know she said reach to the stars big foot blood falling down she said shit snare drum rim click the tanks are rolling backwards delicious and piping hot freedom she was the one who cried and she will buy the world those long black boots she says hipster doochebag assembly line politics a dogcatcher the face of the clown as she clutches a pillow coney island she worked so hard on her delivery limbo dancing knife set buying she leans on the wall as the cars race down the street vibrating doll she cries for humanity as she walks down the dimly lit bridge they filled him with bullets atrocity tale she is making a social movement wolfman silent night  the lack of specificity fuck you the cannibals are practicing their newly required manners their mothers would be fucking proud trident cartoon holly shit be honest he is not a man of violence both so different a thrill of a lifetime he was into baseball


a scar down the nose it’s in my pocket the capture and the bother with her big brown beaver it had a hell of an eye ever floating live grooving in the tank of Vaseline she is sure she is in the right place jane with her funky little addiction lester is chasing the monkey I am pulling out my horns from my green bag they are long and sharp and hard like a little boy's dreams of woman stumbling like Beelzebub hooves and sprouts like the jolly green giant octopus lester the child molester is washing dishes at the local perkins and selling weed to undercover female narcotics officers he is going away for a long time this time longer than the navy with his dog tags and flea dip suicide reading about it in the usa today Diogenes please pray for me the roars of the wicked lester is watching tv he is trying to change his mind you better step lively ask him nicely to go away lester is watching all star wrestling and he is jumping up and down he is shouting john 3:16 ignorant masses lester is watching miss America eat some lobster and biscuits and beans watching her wipe her mouth on the table cloth miss america is smiling for lester she is smiling for pepsi cola and wall street diet pills lester is helpless because he can't control the game this is the time for lies a time for television and fake suntans lester is not sure that he is still a man every nook and cranny of this town she is so satellite with the big fucking beef illuminate the night getting it when she wants it and she wants it real bad she is wearing a tiger suit just for lester he wants her real bad she is playing her bass guitar power to the people backbencher apologies  lester is a fruit fly buzzing around her cream a little bit of power its from tradition or charisma pussy shit the association between the elements is arbitrary I didn’t get your joke could you please explain it to me there is no justification for the pipe there is no guarantee for your meanings logocentric constitutive of the world you want to slice the world into two equal parts bad ass is what I read into your words Tap is shooting something up his arm and crying about the life he had lost to drugs Cipher laughs and scrapes the residue a never ending process of interpretation dilated pupils Tap says that he can see god Cipher denies the existence of essential meanings the multiplicity of possible interpretations Cipher says that we live and dwell and have or being in the contradictory Cipher wants to go back to sleep he hates his life and prefers to spend it as sedated as possible sex and drugs are Cipher’s only friends he keeps a collection of signs Cipher loosens the limits of reality he escapes into the darkness feeling for you with his grubby fingers Tap wants to understand the nexus of the crucial he wants to discover his repetitive nature to be entangled in hundreds of pages insistent and elliptical Ivy is interested in pleasure without responsibility she is deliberate with her words and her actions I watch her as she goes to the refrigerator and gets a bottle of beer


she has an obscure style about her as she leans into me she wants me to play her rhetorical game she is emulated by many Ivy has created an apparatus that makes her distinctive in some ways reptilian almost she is packaging her ideas as commodities in order to improve the potential for exposure the purpose of her writing is not to educate you and help you fit into an academic culture she is learning to develop her voice to spread her wings and fly high into the heavens Tap has nothing to say he is speechless he sits there numb from experience Tap is not interested in creating a new text for interpretation he cares nothing about the meanings of your words he does not want to express himself effectively he prefers experience over expression he prefers actions over words Tap is in the physical existence of being Tap is opposed to the ideas of totality and contradiction at night they start the initiation ceremony with safety pins and ever clear lester keeps looking at the prairie sun and saying a is for anarchy lester Tap and cipher all pull their money together and buy a gram of cocaine from Lee the three of them then drive out to old man wilson’s farm to get high and set the world on fire Tap is digging a hole in the ground to get rid of his bad karma lester is dancing in a circle trying to use sound and motion to relive the tragedies of his life cipher is digging holes a way of being in the world my work is a continuation it is a mutation of those who came before me I have taken their blatant disregard for authority and the rules and expanded it I have blown up the rebellion spreading the disease everyone has been infected