Wednesday, March 14, 2012

chapter three - postmodernist apostate

I became as stout as Cortez as I carved you a piece of apple pie I will keep all my secrets behind the magic curtains of wizardry up to a cheerful 200 feeling so restless and so alien checking the spark plug gap I have become that appetizing thing I felt no regret and no bitterness as she stood there with her feet of confrontation a Marxist if I ever saw one thinking of me as a bee to be overcome sounding out her words so carefully as the shadows snuck up behind her and said something for purely private reasons when she told me who  her advisor was it all became as clear as pea green spittle from  that possessed little girl I never did get to read the book when my mother took it away from me after watching the movie but she did let me read the godfather and Dracula it was a summer a melodious chuckle with the girls of the town she could work a little harder at getting my attention asking me if I want a date I have to check and see if I have cash do you take American express a flash of great talent found on bluff and third where the sisters used to congregate to perform their magic with corn cobs and corny oils handsome beggars and romantic ruins I don’t give a damn for the group the community the masses there is only one reader that I give a damn about I have sensed certain hints that I was not going to be a starter thus I changed to a new team so that I could be put in the batting order thus a sacrifice for my October friends now that we are securely set in November with the Indians and puritans fighting over the pumpkin and asking who will be in the parade the nuisance of parallel thoughts I didn’t consider a problem I always clung to the diversity my political creed as changed like the little green creature selling you insurance and making me hunger for frog legs I do have an ear for music and can carry a bucket of water to the house fire Joe Buck is washing dishes and giving always a twenty dollar bill to every religious fanatic it is George and Lenny all over again the dream is just within their grasp as the rat dies in the seat beside you next time be more careful who you sit down next to on the bus

presented with the dearth of vagueness it is your vulgarity that we will remember how you wrapped the pedophile so lovingly in the Christmas wrapping as we waited to drag your present out into to the street and beat him like a piƱata I am still waiting for the candy to fall out but it never does I heard her say I know seven times the song of Norway to leave you standing for a long time as the devil schemes to make you a deal the general idea of exile culture now it is all about the confessional and transgressive fiction the transvestites attempts to escape bland consumer culture as she he makes a sculptural representation of her his god cursing his neighbors trying to escape the emotional limitations Bob has a penis but wishes it was a vagina why is god so cruel to the little ones filled with pitfalls it was the rareness of the capture plunging into the sympathetic abyss the pets of the common room commonplace torrents and old lady is coughing her lungs out she probably has some diabolical disease the secretaries speculate on the method of her contraction I had to keep getting up to look at the map we could hardly see the ball anymore it was icy as hell and I damn near fell on my ass life is a game it is up to you to decide whether you play by the rules of course if you do then you are only being a sucker a fool a moron a dope the rules are rigged to favor those who have history of winning I would suggest that you break the rules knowing the secret ingredients for wrapping up dead people thinking about central park where they bury all the dead people the dead people you don’t see the secret dead that they don’t want you to know about they are buried there in central park great big hills of them I wish someone would dig them all up and make people to ask who they were how did they live did they live like you and I I think those questions are important and need to be answered the dead would like to see them answered even though the politicians wouldn’t like it they would have to stand up for their crimes just like everyone else we are all criminals only some of us get to serve time for our crimes the really big crooks get away with it we make the biggest crooks president I bet you would like to be president you look like you have real potential you look like you could be a swell guy someday a real big shot how you got to where you are now is a long story it has lots of twists and turns I bet if we peeked inside your closet we would find lots of skeletons in there you probably had to kill a lot of people to get where you are now most people wouldn’t understand all this stuff it’s not up their alley so to speak but you understand don’t you everything is real clear to you I bet you can be as charming as hell you probably shake everybody’s hands and laugh at all of their stupid jokes it takes things a while to hit you don’t they that’s ok a lot of real famous people were slow to catch on but I bet you will do alright for yourself you look like you will have a very bright future I’m sure I will read all about it in the papers they will probably write a book about you shit I can say that I once knew you before you became a big shot it makes you sound dead or something it can be very depressing you and I too much the opposites you see I don’t give a god damn what happens it’s of no use there is no lasting value to anything it will all go up in smoke you and I and the whole world with us the most terrific liar in the whole world going to the opera you are always going somewhere to see something or see someone shoving them in a sack and dumping them in the river standing outside the hotel smoking a cigar waiting for the bus to take you to the casino the whores are all wearing tall boots and jackets with fur on the collar they want you to buy them champagne the best whores always drink champagne it makes them all bubbly

we are staking up bricks to build a monument it is a monument to apathy and inertia the ring leader with the killer girls a traffic cop who falls in love is that too impossible can a traffic cop fall in love maybe out of love but surely not in love who falls in love a lot of war books and mysteries taking the book of human bondage off the shelf picking up all the personal stuff my hat for shooting deer laughing in this very high falsetto voice always in a big hurry I breathed in through the gills the paradox I was my own worst enemy there was no sense in struggling I was never a victim independent in a false way bringing me out of the womb everything for tomorrow still groaning with the world’s people always on the verge of making a discovery of finding my way through the mess of humanity inhabiting them out of vengeance the atonement for crimes the products of evil on the track of a specter suffering the worst agonies like an open sewer died of a broken heart a few weeks later I had to elbow my way up the stairs beating sense into the poor idiots the poor bugger was in a trance changing into a uniform in the back room an ivy league fruit holds the door by his first name a real asshole a narcotics dick my fingers touching the shark’s throat give me the hit and I will wear the cowboy boots a sincere little boy look a string of bullheads waiting to be cleaned

my tongue starts to slip as my pot smoking days crawl up to her slit she is a gray ash that I can’t brush off my shirt sleeve her bloodless hands caress my balls philosophy is like a broken neck we creep down the stairs and set the place on fire nothing but bugs burning in the night we are surrounded by magic and taboos spectral and anonymous she sucks for love and money air hammers and steam shovels I’m talking her to mexico city for a vacation she is getting hot and I can hear her in the darkness whimpering when I move in for the bust she is out of control she eats a hole through the wall making her great escape I forced her to commit all kinds of horrible sex acts she could kiss the street goodbye and smile like the Madonna I am standing outside myself watching her suck me bone dry pink convolutions of gristle and bone she works me into a furry a frenzy my larval organs are stirring something is rising up inside of me taking possession of her vagina I am possessing her on the top of the table she begs for mercy from some salt and pepper shakers we are filming her broken lusts she is a nut house cunt she is dripping on the carpet her sex organs sprout everywhere a vagina munching on a cheeseburger she asks me for more pickles she prefers the dill kind cooling the rumble the five sick cellmates that are praying for forgiveness a few drops fall into my lap her juices sizzle like ravaged thighs hideous steel need I climb up on top of her world planting my flag into her mountain top she belongs to my nation I am taking her to the jungle habits of her conditions she don’t change and I’m an untouchable vileness explosions of matter under s steady rain of sky standing in the corner weeping leaving her body behind earthbound gangsters the boy is singing on vinyl venal veneration toxicity phlegm reactions they are about the semblance of normalcy oh sweet deviance take these sins away and bring a sunshine that cannot be bartered for

sweep the streets and pick up the elephant dung make the way for the king of light make his path free of flies and pestilence summarizing the effects which can be difficult dogma and stupidity are everywhere the sheep want to follow so they bleat and bellow for the wolf to come and take them away they want to be exploited taken advantage of they want to throw their freedoms in the fire they insult those who worked and struggled to create those freedoms fools all are fools who long to be lied to and assured that everything will be ok turn the television on it will be ok  drink another drink it will be ok snort some cocaine it will be ok play your video game it will be ok build your empire it will be ok I have exceeded my limits of polite speech I am a rouge and an outcast I refuse to eat the bullshit that is being fed to the world terrorizes terror fear apprehension surrender your rights give the big corporations the right to organize and catalog you like cattle  you are surplus labor you are meat someday the rich will be eating the poor manufacturing humans for the slaughter programming their minds to believe that their fate is inevitable this system of inequality is ordained by god your reward will be in the stomach of the rich fuck that stop being blind dumb animals wake up and ask questions will you offer your neck to the wolf forever is there a spine that holds you up on your feet or on your knees it is better to die trying will you die for us will die for the word for poetry

working the dawn with a waitress from the greasy spoon her hair changed colors in different sunlight another cup of coffee counting the veins she has more than I do I am jealous a jealous lover between the sheets of passion there are no dictators a dead whisper in my ear her hot breath and then she was chewing on my earlobe crowing at the morning sun she was flapping her wings and dancing around the apartment she said it was the chicken dance in the gray strata of flesh we find peculiar things they seem to belong in a junk folder suck the sky suck the alarm clock suck the phone from my fingers sucking on my eyeball making me a dragon an emperor she gives me a good high I am soft and then I am hard it is like mother nature I made everything sharp and clear reading a paper with my face my fingers are bleeding they have been worn raw by the jackhammer the noise in the streets calls out to me begging me for a dime or a nickel we are shooting our way to freedom it is our personal value that we hold and cherish freedom to be morons and fools hovering over the streets with jackets shirts and ties

which one will win the race who will get the cookie dipping it in their milk these cookies are not for you kid they have a bitter taste and sting when you first swallow but the aftereffects are wonderful these cookies will help you see god she sits on a golden throne with all twelve of her titties hanging out she gives milk for the whole creation it cooks up brown and clear the sick man flutes Lee pulls out a quarter pound bag of black beauties and we chop some of them up on the mirror snorting lines of speed in between bong hits of some Mexican green it was cheap and got you high as a kite I am sitting on the couch watching the tv with the sound off carlos Santana is playing on the stereo big fucking speakers blaring out his melodic guitar lines and the rhythmic love of the percussion I am sitting there trying to find myself sitting down on zero living under the weight under the sun lifting us beyond ourselves beyond the limits of reason modified by the witch she works at the burger joint giving it away she doesn’t work for fungi she is bronze and reads the racing tip sheets to the blind they tell her which dog to bet on

war is an expression of human desire writing for you like a major bizarre device neo baroque post human post modern alien autopsy dream sweet child coming up with the brain child we must someone who is worthy a blow hole sycophant we will call him david the bell weather the bell fits nicely around his neck he is a disguise so that we can sneak up on the sheep david rides a harley and manages a bar he gives us free drinks while we discuss the virtues of a college education virtue is a weapon of subjugation we are smoking his righteous indignation he believes that a diploma is more than something to smoke I examine the human flesh under his fingernails sorting out the names he couldn’t keep them straight who was who and when was when it was a mixed up mess inside his head I had collected enough evidence to put him away for good

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