Martin Leonard Freebase

1.2

2012-02-28T05:53:00.001-08:00

1.2

we wrapped her in cellophane and sold her as a piece of meat a utopian influence reading karl marx and polishing the bullets a revolution of the working class to deconstruct the machine and then we discover that we have a profound love for the machine putting it back together replacing the chains on our hands praying for the singularity gas chamber-paris dada-the first heavenly adventure with the queen and a stacked deck of cards her panties around her ankles exposing us to her mesmerizing capabilities

by the force of words 1.1

2012-02-17T12:41:00.001-08:00

1.1

It was over by 1922 the standards were thrown out the windows along with the leaping men leaping frogs and leaping dogs everyone jumped up at once and time was reset to your clocks we included you in our public gatherings-groups of surrealism and pop art punk rock the purpose was to ridicule your need to follow the rules, your need suck on society’s cock we represented the opposite: a phenomenon bursting forth; a work of destruction and we begat a monster and a savior a moral and economic crisis lay waste everything to the path everything has become the victim of sacrilege as if it really does exist-nothing exists; we are nothing; you are nothing-nothing rules you say there are absolute truths but that is just bullshit, you live to spread your fucking bullshit petting the cat with the big teeth, hugo ball “karawane” (nonsensical words), samy rosenstock, the gas heart handkerchief of clouds, razor blade jackals, dancing penguins the approximate man-humanist and serving as a spell, a brief moment in time as the world spins and you consume more bullshit to pacify your feeble brain; entertain, dance you bears, dance as we play the music when the music stops we will kill you just like before it doesn’t matter nothing matters not even your cell phone bill and the balance on your credit cards

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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

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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

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2012-02-09T06:17:00.001-08:00

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

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2012-02-08T05:44:00.001-08:00

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 rose 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 Rose 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 rose 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 rose 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 rose 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

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convention she looks perplexed Trumper thinks rose has the power to heal the power to heal a decadent nation Trumper sits at rose’s feet and watches her every facial expression as she teaches him the so many things she knows Trumper sings for rose 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 Rose Trumper says Rose 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 Rose is divine inspiration Swampy pete suggests that Rose raises her head wherever religion declines Rose 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 Rose’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 Rose 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 rose nasty jack tells cipher that he pop bottle allen and billy the junky all own rose cipher asks how much it would cost for him to have sex with rose 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 rose 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 naïve 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 rose 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 rose her vagina was waterproof they had

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2012-02-08T05:42:00.001-08:00

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 Rose 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 Rose 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 rose 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 rose 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 Rose he starts to sing her a love song from the old days before we had robots Rose is unfamiliar with the social

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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 rose as she pulls the weeds out of her flowers david does not have the equipment to deal with the obvious he asks rose if she remembers how much she loved the ocean rose 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 rose’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

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2012-02-07T05:47:00.001-08:00

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 rose puts her load of clothes into the machine three little kids are playing on the dirty floor with an empty detergent box rose 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 rose 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 rose 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 rose 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 rose 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 rose 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 rose 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 rose pulled her apart he spit a little bit on her as he pulled her body up onto his cock rose gasped and moved with it soon she was kicking and screaming in spasms with slow pleasure along with the other charismatic intellectuals rose had a

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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 Rose 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 rose 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 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

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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 its 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

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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 30^th 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 Rose 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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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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

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

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

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

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

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

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