Thursday, September 20, 2012

On Fishes that Glow When Sad


Pink flesh sticking to my heart of iron balls
Pink flesh sundown, pink flesh extermination pink flesh abject in the blinking bizarre
Pink flesh of the purge, cold minds choked souls, my friend, my single eternity
As hours leap on seconds, pink flesh leaps on the clock
It’ll all fight for me, and I stay the huge sad slow sticky mass
staring into that convoluted twilight


Snakepuke on the moon
I left my spring behind on the mountains I guess I’m not sure
Snakepuke on the moon
I sing to you
Your teeth are nice and shiny
Give love
Give
Give

From room,
ants gather round dried cum on bedsheet
goblins around my head
sad joker of dreams
masculine motions, tiger-sturdy zones
silent Buddha zones
decadent zones
resurrected shit

from room again,
view fades, blink blank blur blear
splendid legs, splendid ass, moonlit desert,
highway shoulderblades spiral mist
spinal gaze
the house of Atreus

blah.

Spots a little yellow in the red


I feel like a little girl, lost.

….



Nudecat, walk the alleys fight the hours down
Splendid nudecat in perfect guile
As inamorata shines down trashcans
And silver sings in perfect hue
Soft iron wings, launch Icarus
Citrus punch, decay punch
Limelight in the warring furs
Tolerate me, tolerate the dying and the long dead
Nudecat, nudecat, I’ll die one day
Punch the tremors down
In pristine puissance ah
World wraps in soft cocoon
Nudecat works way
through the lightpulp core.


Citylight moving backbound shoving down the ass of doom
Winding empires modern songs oh the champ how he goes look
There’s a temple in my head
It’s very dark and all its priests are dead
Falter by the altar, baby bird
It won’t rain for a thousand years
The big tragedy of the world
The big love of the world
Excreting angel-shit, excreting angel-love
Dig through the cave will must dig deep
Till you’re bored and dead
Citylight marching forth again,
Smokey cockroach-limbs, million oars to draw
Closer to that goddess of appalling rage
Who puts your soul in a cage
Who drags you down to her flesh
Blue boats on frozen lakes
Whatever it takes, fucker,
Whatever hell it takes.

….

Cindy windy tinkling tone
Where be thou
When the wind begone?


Before jumping out of this
Before dangling dick civilia cocophany cockophany
Men usually seek sustenance from women
Don’t know the story
Don’t know the compass sneer
Little registers of purity and urge
Fresh love fresh shit makes the mind happy aglow summerbum winter’s broken lute heart’s broken spine
Barbaric ecstasy comes easy, beer comes cheep or they ideally should
Like Olympian heroes greasing the guts of this brutish thump 
Tales of love sex and rape, tales of hatred and cauliflowers
One picture, big picture, upside down
I get the cogs I get the wheels
I get the postcards with naked flowers and naked women
Moderation by assholes democracy by piranhas Thanatos by the great white swan and the great black knife. lonely cow, big tits. Bad weather, pink umbrella.



One fine morning I walked into limbo
Where I met this boobey bimbo
whom I knew I had to screw
So I did her tight and I did her through

But the nasty wolves that guard that zone
Pounced on me when I was alone
I ran for my life and I ran so fast
that the heart went down and the balls went bust

And now I’m here bloodfuckdamn!
They broke my walls so yours I spam
as I stand on this weary road
reeling under motherload


But I’ll go there again for further fun
This time ‘round with a machine gun.
I’ll be strong and I’ll be tall
I’ll kill them one and I’ll kill them all.

….


I wouldn’t wipe my ass with poetry
And yet everything
just keeps on getting darker
it’s like from inside this dank cave or cathedral or heroon
i hinge my thoughts on your mind’s thighs
the mind’s cold and gray, like all sacred places of religion and death
the heart’s big sad child, suffering from unwanted gigantism
the body’s in decay, wrapped in civilizing marks
sadness never thumps like a torpedo
it rambles down slowly like a cloudy mountain so huge that no one’s ever seen one like that before
it’s sundown in this world of herons and Neptune-kisses
little electric dots ditty the world in plural  haze
roots the sun the moon and miners go down



…  



Once again, back to the tiger
Mind in white glow
Death Mama of richest flesh
Death Mama of silver gleam
Death Mama of honeyed sweat
Death Mama of the real pure
Death Mama with the snake
Hooding up from her navel
Silk body milk-meat through climes of strange paradise
The dark tender succor and a tiny red flint deep down below
which the world of splendid Angels with revolves around
I see them. Tiny rickshaws with wings, balloons of the heart,
Senile trams coughing primal shiver, houses and little monsters
Shops and the honeybees,
Sliding down into the speck
As rain turns dust into mud
Death Mama, with curves of the Universe
Kiss me into that hazy benign forgetting of blood and tissues. 


 
Decay of puppets, as the Jokers say,
is good for the harmony of senses
Counterfeit membranes pill up, covering the deep boom throb
Simplify the terms
Kill the whores
Keep their children
And let the big thing lie
like a whale, trembling raw
on a great white shore.
The idea is always to endure
Else we lose all fun.


Write to me
Send me a picture of love

Remember the drowning tigers
And their shadows finding us
Naked like the flesh
Steel blades sparkling like Gothic foreboding
My castle by the roof
Howls over the ancient sea
Barbeque appositions
Is the minstrel beastly dead?
Did Homer roar in the pines or was it Whitman?
or were both of them inside that ghastly ancience
as masters say?
Pull the car over
see your naked mind brisling in sunshine
to be the bull in massive fury of your dreamy nightmares
and stay within that eternity for never.


Don’t kill the freedom, boys
There’s no poetry without that.
Don’t kill the fun, boys
There’s bloody nothing without that.

….

Lion’s roar the moon’s a whore the world’s a bore I sail ashore
Roses are red the heart is dead tailor-made like I said
Lighting struck the fuzzyduck that quacked you luck from the muck
Pigeons coo, the love is blue, it’s all true and I am through.



Bent, slithering along the cold rough surface
Little glowing tricklettes of shiny arctic red
The rules have changed and there’s none to hate or love
Tacit empires nekton buffs placid shapes
Frozen gods of gold and love
Frozen spirals coiling out
from the vulva of love
Blue wines for Egyptian princesses
The bizarre droning of binary
sits tight on frontal lobe 
like the oldest bird that knows it all, and says nothing,
and stares
pressing the fond cells down in electra storm
storming fortresses of the terribly doomed antique
forests burn in cold sonata
and those icy sheets covering heart and mind
but the soul is older than this.
And pured to that static neutral extreme.   
The soul sings aloud from great white peaks of severe glory


Weep for what is lost and will never be
Weep for the honey and sting, weep for the rundown cars for the faceless bells weep for the gods weep for the coolly dead ponies weep for this blank living and that still dying.
Weep for the mother and her flesh
The Sybil has been banished, the clocks have been busted, Arthur and his knights have been sitting there forever,
Buses run slow in mourning and cats kill themselves over mice
There’s a great blob of sorrow spinning around, spitting sadness all over our faces as we live eat fuck and shit.   Weep for the stoned gods of silence, weep for their silence, weep for this inevitability weep for that thirst, weep for the bridges on fire and for the Sphinx, weep for what was once the spectral wholesome holy in the far shadow of this mind in rot as the great Emperor of madness and laughter fades away weary sun slumps down flowers wilt and birds return to tender doleful nests.    


the conspiracy of these maroon hours
stuff and matter and form dancing with things that shine and things that don’t
lost ones gather in the alley
and march to the hidden valley
to form an army and mangle the balls of time
and when it’s all over
the squirrel lies beastly flattened by the world’s weight with guts and blood splattered in a ferocious silent mass on the smooth avenue of love
Let us ride down it before that happens.
Let us make dark love in the primal backwoods.
Let us rise to brutal bigness.

…   



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