Flowers and Fisticuffs

And tigers leap on moon

On whatever’s left, a nation,

a cognition,

Cocaine-kid, whores devoid of cordiality,

Mozart devoid of enchantment moving down a little gray tune

down the ninth lane of forever, skies have spilled over

all that’s unimbibable and beat. The clock shall get us all

Miles away, burning badlands grin at

What we have made of ourselves.

....

I hear my lady friends talking to their lady friends

on men they scalped

and left out cold because they needed them like they need

their mothers. The whole concept is sickening. And then

i hear from my male friends fiddling with drugs and the

notion of suicide because my lady friends or their friends

have scalped them and left them out cold because

they needed them like they needed their mothers.

I’ve been through this whole deal and it does feel

like shit. Apparently, needing your women like you need

your mom is a bad thing. And most of these women

end up with rich round men who need them like they needed

their toys and not like they needed their moms.

....

There are so many stupid people in the world

that i never feel bad when i’m lonely.

And what’s worse, these are cowards who

shall never have the guts to go all the way

for what they want; they choose to moan

and wail and cry and believe in the magic cure instead

 I’d rather be alone and drink alone

That way i can laugh with the gods and the furniture,

set nights on fire and walk through it

and drink wars and

famines down and make life and death

tremble at me without having to give a shit.

...

There are times when it seems like all

the damnation of the world has been heaped on you

even stars start resembling starfishes

and everything that moves look like terrible monsters

sticking their heads up from the cesspool of nightmares

stuck in doom, bells of doom tolling

one big madhouse that the world is

going to the nasty dogs. It’s easy for

the believers of God who writes all

prescriptions for the soul in stone

and for the worshippers of placid sanity to find a way out.

And then there are the ones who finds

salvation in flesh. It’s not that tough for them either.

That leaves us with you and me

And now that we’ve established our cluelessness

Let’s just drink to our doom and stop looking for clues

or for light. They’ll come if they are to.

Well, at least the world’s not running out of booze.   

...

There’s something sinister following me

There’s something fucked-up hollowing me out

It’s written in the doors in the roofs and floors

It’s tattooed on the tits of thick meaty whores

But whenever i try to read it goes poof!

My life’s going to the dogs and the dogs say woof!

There’s nothing i can do but resign to fate

So I eat drink sleep and masturbate.

.....

The unlearning of the soul

Senses and cognition winding up and coiling back

Like a foul slippery mass gripped by rave

Strange shapes and dimensions beyond

What you’ve been taught to identify

It’s a happy world

Rain on arid lands after a thousand years of thirst

Hills and valleys crawling out of the brain

Storms howl through decimated cities

Your defeat belongs to all now

You are godless in heat now

And nothing matters

Lost sailors make compass out of rainbow of dreams

Clowns scare little girls to oblivion

Reptiles shake off slumber

New bride engulfed in smoke

Bridges shooting off guts of another demon

Another verse of dreams

Heroes sweating behind venetian blinds

This world has been shattered by earthquakes and madness

This world is sinking in pits of reckless pink ennui.

Pack up, fast

It’s time to run beyond this

And into the heart of Empires of gold

It’ll be a long smooth drive through moonlight.

...

Watermelon of lawless life big round and red

Outside, there’s pure madness

Days and nights on fire

People busy fighting and dying

People busy knifing and gunning and flowers busy

blooming against the sun. In hills and forests

men women and kids spread out, settle

conquer, build, fuck, kill, and do loads of shit

to stick around between borning and dying.

Watermelon of life, i press its tender flesh

with my tongue and teeth and i squeeze and suck

the juice into my system to derive nourishment

i spit the seeds out.

...

This horror-show of commercial compunctions

That show us the dreams and not nightmares

This great veneration of sugary lies and betrayal

That makes toothless tigers and paper-dragons out of us

Is good because without it being here

I won’t have much to fight against.

Bullshit,

Do you think i’m enjoying this having-to-fight?

I’d rather do nothing and drink and fuck

With my cock inside the juiciest of all pussies

Or else with a cockroach fluttering inside my mouth.

...

Sad heart like sad cherry ripped in cruel cold

Sad like dead elephants on red mountains

The unbearable pain of profanity dripping from

Snot-rugs and red puke in bathroom beating dawn

Rain beating windshields howling one true world

That rings in Utopia and Dystopia of deadland dead mayhem

Our movements recall earnest thoughts

and

Our wants recall earliest needs the contact with

The self, the repairing of television, noses

Broken by angry fists angry gods lashing out

At the protagonist of this play as i

Count stars and try to remember their names

All education and therapy and zen and yoga

And selling of lingerie and polka-dot romance

By moonlight sunlight candlelight all light dims

As singsong policemen beat tired madmen

off the sidewalks this stupidity of people

breeding more stupid people and not

thinking of volcanoes, solitude, Rembrandt

is getting to the depth of perception and

eating it out like slow maggots in terrific action

like happenings in theatres of the absurd

where no one has any clue and all nods

and claps. All art is horseshit. I’d rather fuck and booze and dope.

    

...

Only the burning and the truly burnt

Keeps silent about the great sadness of the world

While the others speak of it.

because they’re living through what the others

can only imagine.

....

This profound profanity of the masses

Feeble in love and bitter in hatred

Can destroy all and create none except more chaos

And inane devastation.

And the intellect is even weaker

The only solution it can draw is

through absolute obliteration. It’s a game

of stupid chances being played over and over again

And no one seems to be getting bored of it.

...

Pugmarks of affliction for women

Draws me closer

To flesh

Teethmarks on their shoulderblades

Push me

Towards death

I wouldn’t have been bothered by mortality

had there not been other men alive

and biting.

...

A storyboard for the rose:

Blooms

Booms

Busts

And lives another life

As a cannonball

Wrapped in dragonskin

Waiting to get even

with the sun.

...

A storyboard for the puppets:

Puppet-horse jumps

Puppet clown dies

Puppet-house on fire

Puppet-master charred

Puppets free

Puppets frozen.

....

A storyboard for subtle movements:

Tenderly, breeze rolls through

Dust flies

Fingers clear dust from window panes

And then the rain.

...