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Saturday, January 28, 2012

Poptart Likes My Singing

Raspberry jam
is a taste that lives up to
it's color.

Stretching the Windows

Mold is damp and gray
transforming foam to fluffy domes
medical usage goes to waste.
Keep me entertained.
Elephants dance in your pupils.
I am gently laid
as I am put to cardiac arrest 
in your sweet warm embrace.
A melody so trippy,
so completely entranced
take my quarters 
and my dimes.
Eat all my pennies.
I will sweep the floor with you.

Verification

The dribbling hours subsides
as a nauseating grin erodes.
You lurch about the dance floor
touching you index finger to your thumb.
I keep on watching you
self-contained in your internet head
and the lights turn off,
I reach for my coat
and I walk out alone.

Monday, January 16, 2012

New Trend

The new trend is called "The Bend."
What one must do is to bend until
the breaking point.
And once one is broken,
the humiliation sets in.
Society is fun when
entertainment is poison.

Pose for Photos

Avast the great divide is
a shallow mind.
Blonde is just a color,
not an idea.
Ginger is a railroad fire
and brunette is a
consumable mess.
Black hairs do all  the above.
What has beauty school
taught all the Druids?
To laugh appropriately
to crude humor.

After the Hurting Hours

The world messaged me
when I sat on a slab of rock
which was as bitter as sewage
and as foggy as clam.
Thoughts of pearls
enticed me to shy away
from the hip crowd.
My face has been consumed
in red strength
and my arms matched the
longitude of death.

Friday, January 13, 2012

As Do Beds

As do beds, they do go.
They let us sleep in them.
Afternoon is too early for
a slumberland party.
Rescue some old
fashioned automobile
wheels, place them neath
your bed.
As do cars, a bed
shall go too.

Happenstance of All Things that Go "Blast", Try Again for Visual Verification.

The mascara runs down your cheeks,
I have checked many times for leeks.
The leukemia is warm,
as the tumor grows less benign
dancing becomes more thrilling.
Just to get up and to move
is a miracle in the wakening
life of eyelids locked open.
I watch you over and over
again as if the ghost already
left your container,
your nails shall continue to
lengthen even when you're dead.
I try not to go there
but what the Hell
we all have fire
in the tire treads.

Pogroms Grimacing at the Site of Destination Articulation

Well retrieved and soon
to be grieved, we laughed
at the site of the bosom police.
Nothing everlasting, half passed
at last the dough was made for
baking. Partially bald
is the golden root of asparagus,
and to those who do not know
the tone of voice,
do not scare at the subjects
discretion.

Tempo Consecration, Consecutive Subdivision.

Linguistically stricken,
hard tongue hath broken
in two by the raw cutting
of saw, meal, and bone.
In the morrow we shall
choose the propaganda
towards glimmering
sailboats killing the
gramophones.
Last divide of smugglers
chives, unsealing envelopes,
reading the manuscripts
of forlorn glove-like children.

Andrea Mantegna's St. Sebastian

Wednesday, January 11, 2012

Plum like a Lemming

Feather of a drought
if you could only scout
foreshadow the fires
to braise the cows.
Token the allegiance
of a severed government
to call forth the loudest
and idiotic machines of
war to blast apart the
insurmountable strip-tease
bicentennial feces.
Plummeting facts
screw over the fruit bats.
All they want are lemons.
Citric acid is for the best
of both worlds.
Sour are the hearts of
people, sour are the
guts of evil.

Counter Forté

A decrypted source of moss on trees
looking for the objects that shriek
when thunder rustles a lady's bustle.
There is a time in summer when the
heat returns after a rain
and mushrooms swell up amidst the damp
grass. Lolligaging in invisible shadows
throwing stones at strangers toes.
Feed the Turkish gypsies.

The Days

The days,
they are ice.
For they melt
like leaves of
longing.
In my mischief
I swallow
all the pills.
This is for
the days
when they
quietly creep
in like mice.
That is the time
for children to sleep in.
Insignificant finger
points toward
melting ice and snow
lacy needles threw
for me,
I needed these.

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

I Have Been Postcarded

Imagine those insects interrogating parakeets
while we waste away from parachutes
slipping below the average height
our heads still billowing high
in the clouds which represent our pillows.

It Ends Differently This Time

My Weepinbell washed me away
because it's razor leaf was not up to par.
The parsnips were prude
and the grandeur was rude.
Tasteless apricots are not for you.
My seeds for the garden were eaten by a mouse.
A maiden is fair and yet she shouts.
I gloat at the goats that inspire you
to stab my leg with a cute little knife.
Remove the knife,
wrap my beautiful wound with a
glossy red ribbon,
and we talk about ribonucleic acids.

Capital Innuendo

My flavor is that of a beast,
it gallops and it feasts.
Nothing more is a flower,
which follows the dead to the gallows.
The nights in Harlem
dancing out in the street
it makes me sleep, makes me sleep.
Glorious riverbed in Greece,
how thy name howls inside me
repeating, "Greece, Greece, Greece."
I cannot do without the owl from
the forest that I walked in and out
of trees that were only for me!
The trees and the leaves
and yes, they have left me.
I shower in someone else's bathroom,
I growl at another's castle,
The shovel is lifted to my face.
I deem me unfit for a chase.
The longitude of my lollipop
is less then my brain
and that's not saying much.

Crazier than You Know

If you know what is real,
then please proceed to delete
that information. Thus completing
with this transaction/transformation,
you are becoming vulnerable to
the disease of gullibility.
You are now a juvenile...
see yourself standing before
a door that enters to a candy store.
I know what is best for you,
you want to eat all that sugar.
So go ahead and eat it.
Now your IQ has dropped
an incredible amount
because you watch cartoons on
the television all day long.
I want you to go outside and
run around and swing on the swing set.
Run off all that sugar.
I am your mother. I make the mistake
of giving you coffee at eight o'clock in the night.
You are hyper yet again.
Mother takes a gun from her bedside table.
You are jumping on your bed with all your stuffed animals.
Mother walks into your bedroom
points that pistol straight at your head
it shoots and you are dead.
Now how was that journey?
DO feel as though you have accomplished something?
Anything at all?
It's just because I told you so,
that innocence is dead.
Now really go to bed.

Kamikaze Cherry Flu

Reluctancy is my price
of everything that was tripled thrice
I'd much rather a stampede to take
my life away.
In crumbs I circle the illusory fate
of a bombastic sadistic trance
that caught my love at a glance.
If my eyes were ice cream,
would you lick them?
If my hair were pixy stixs,
would you eat them?
If my knees were a Caesar salad,
would you eat that too?
I cannot handle all these "what if"
questions I pose to you in the instance of my brain.
Please just climb inside my brain
and see where I live
because this is all I have to offer
when my legs do not run from disaster.
If then, and only then, a Phoenix will
gladly rise full of grace the lord is with thee,
and never is the sea apart of me.
It was entwined with the curls of You.

Renouncing the Start of Events

Envelope the elopement
due to the sarcastic
copper scarab beetles
wrestling my beat-up
fingers snapping at
the leavers that trust
no feathers of flight.
My fancy shoes
are all but gloom
and I have no ice
to place in glass of
juice. Oh! Can the
day last any longer
then to receive letters
of rejection and haste
till the day of
compensation,
condensation,
incantation,
affiliation.....
Let us not linger
for more than an hour
because the day has a few
more hours for us to play.

Vestigial Endorphins

Monochromatic morning has done
the job of awakening the spiders trapped in dew
jewel-toned cats creep eyelids back
blinking at sun rays past.
Not only do they speak to me,
they speak for us three;
me, you, and the brand new.

Tuesday, January 3, 2012

Skrillex

Sock-eye floozy
of the Bridge Brigade,
take your envelope away from
me.
For I am hypoallergenic
to postage stamps so please
take your envelope away from
me.
Because my hives will gather 
about my knees, kindly
take your envelope away from
me.
Due to the saliva meant to
seal the contents abhor me
take your envelope away from 
me.
Just look at your terrible
hand writing, quickly
take your envelope away from 
me.
The corners are misshapen
and torn, would you please
take your envelope away from
me.
I am about to be filled with tears
I was never able to receive a letter in the mail.
So for the last time
take your envelope away from me! 

"Now This is What I Call Poetry"

If I call you a lemon, would
you date my tailbone? Perhaps the
Easter fish would call you my "son."
Be that as it may, come chill with me
beside the freezer and we
shall take out the frozen steak,
sit on it, and proceed to melt it
with our bottom's heat. Need there
be a God greater than Ours,
we shall disdain thee.