- Fear - We all need to know certain basic facts.
- Ships – All my early childhood memories are yellow. I think there was a yellow light in the room.
- Insomnia – All that breaks. Half-witted immortals winning it all. We clap and enter the same temple of fear, inhuman and defeated.
- Chirp – bombs it all.
- Crash – Project frames of ghosts gliding past bend. Mount moving images on moving city. Walls weep.
- Abandon – Stern fields. I remember. Doors shut fast.
- Hills – Distortion commenced much later.
- Flying – I’ve always had this idea that little velvet ants will drag my corpse somewhere when I die.
- Zombieland – Paint me a picture of love and make it look very calm.
- Brothel – We were sharing an icecream when it started raining.
- Gratitude – Onions, crowshit, hotel-rooms with sad pillows overlooking little mountain stream like 19th century poetry, short walks into the guts of sunset.
- Balloon – Policeman singsong “new love, new love”.
- Slender – Certain enchantments are inevitably unbearable.
- Shapes that walk on water – Kid missing. Had funny face & no friends. Playing flute when last noticed. Flute found near your epitaph.
- Bang and Whimper – The war is over. Please take off your shoes.
- Trams – It’s very dark in here and there’s a carnival going on somewhere far away and here I am waiting for the seraphs of fond heart to live up to these hours.
- Counting – Conditioned choices are mostly worse than chosen conditions. There’s something terribly sad about dead sparrows.
- Frames – What name does the masked pianist go by?
- Ophelia – It’s bound to be cold and sharp. Dreams roam naked streets of naked earth when moon is down.
- Hero – Arrows become snakes. There’s something hard and heavy hovering overhead.
- Golgotha – I see arches. Do you see arches? I see you. Do you see me?
- Contours – He wrote something on the log-book and walked away. There was an explosion downtown.
- Frangipani – Plant me an apple-pie before strange creatures start dancing around stranger fires.
- Pindaric – Sweetheart, have you ever telephoned to condone living? Devil or gods help them. Their heads, afloat.
- Punish – Stations blank out. Fog-bomb-bloom. Guernica! Guernica! Can one be afraid?
- Counter - This is a line. Can you go beyond this line? A following. Kind, soft bed of night. New mind. New light.
- Headmaster - Blogging chillblue. Coolblue in cave of mind. Cave of soul is dark. Deep, sinister, freeze. Shapes frozen while dancing. Hello Miss Dahlia. Music from graves and waves.
- Shame – Death of moments. Parrots fly to strange dark of sky. Corrode. Connect.
- Killer – Fox enters forest. Moonlight freezes to snow of heart. Forms hold all.
- Turpitude – It’s better to love someone than to love something.
- They Who Moved – It stormed from 7 am to 7-25 am. It takes 16 minutes to reach our big hospital from our big brothel. Perpendicular lightning on sea 37 minutes past midnight. No one can ever look good in leather pants.
- Petro-nymph – Go, kill. Resistance through simulation. Faces pour in from door, windows. Streets were busy today. Streets are heavy tonight.
- Masquerade – We are ancient, haunted mansions. We are stories and we are in other stories too. Fumes fill brain. Hinges become dragons and breathe fire against sky of rot and silk.
- Temples – I picked her up. I kissed her. She kissed me too. Exhibit I: Item number 16 on page 72. Like us on Facebook.
- Liturgy – Hyphens cry all night by the river. Orange brothers and pale sisters form ugly army and storm the fortress and burn the citadel. I wake up on strange, new dawn.
- Broken Cars in Sunset – Lover, how many kingdoms do you need to conquer and how many curses do you need to fight? Scarecrows never win. Scarecrows never lose.
- A Miracle – Suddenly, I remembered the code. I opened the box. Scars vanished.
- A Dream of God – I trust sunlight. Ghosts perish in sunlight. Let’s talk about sentiments once I’m done with slaying this demon.
- Room – “o traveler”. Big purple flower. Inhale. Hunters in smooth museums. Cursed stairways often smell of nice things and hence they aren’t cursed at all, but we call them cursed for convenience and hence retards think that they are really cursed and because retards have a tendency to group up, for ideas and tear out and gain in strength and unleash themselves of the soft, warm world and rule over it and one such bunch is doing that now. We are as more cursed with learning than what the acquired idea or concept of curse can ever hold.
- Monomania – Persephone and colloids. I’m still waiting. Flat tires and nasty sweat to nod with morons. Mad nights to dream with gods.
- Pronounce – We need this. Cry, cause, posture. Blue bend. Stick. Sew. Shadow dance. Reach today glass. Earth-city. Almost dead. Symmetry conch conjecture evening. A little silence. A little glimpse of happy stuff. And then they closed it but a bit trickled in so they sent their mammoths and blue buttons and wiped it off. Form, matter and meaning.
- Here – Me wanting this.
- Transport System - Beat. Just that speck. Night of the mother. Lunch killingly. ‘you can’t stay here’. Ten, continue, change. Bends are not related to this.
- Pour: They key lies in smoothness
- Eternal etc.: it’s like staring at elephants in moonlight from watchtowers. Vision. Rare bit of early laughter that still sticks.
- Greatness – The best tricks ever. Tracing the sunshine path with soft morning. The real deal begins now. Fucking through the farthest reaches of love. It’s either a big fat enlightenment or a conviction to follow one set of processes instead of another, with different means and different but similar ends.
- Nice bedtime: Back to basics of boobs and boobs of basics.
- Prisms – Gently phallic. Polar, asleep. Miles and miles of walking through this. Camels walk for water. Hunter walks for thirst.
- Vertical-Horizontal – cows and fields and banana trees in moonlight passing by. Nice silence, nice solitude.
- Mammoth – Child stares across dark winter. River outruns train. One day the sky was red. A bunch of birds, majorly pissed, just flew by.
- Phone rang at 7 – Too many windows. Initiation to other.
- Suckaboobie – Too much shit moving in too many directions through across too many layers at way too much velocity.
- Bukowski – The history of cowardice includes most of us.
- Moksha – wind blows in circles and raves through midnight streets.
- Hollow – dead little child with her dead little lamp steps into cavity. Doors fling open and masked warriors jump out. Mostly, I prefer exit through nouns.
- Midnight-vodka-bells – time for grim asterisks. Wolves come out to paw at the moon.
- Drive-me-down-to-the-guts-of-hell – The love! The love!
- Chickens: Kind, cold hemorrhage. Feel safer.
- And in this way I track the history of being scared.
- Patches: “Watch only where you step.” – Memories of moonlight and snow. Glimpses of how this fairytale ought to turn out in the end.
- That – I’ve never seen anyone playing saxophone in real life. I have heard of a few.
- Bawdy – Did you know that some fishes can actually fly?
- Swan-Lake – Murmur in the cathedral.
- Mirages – Our scriptures are silent. Our systems of learning have lost out. Our frontiers are stunned. Green creatures with blue antennae dance around purple flames of yellow carnivals.
- Once They’re Done With Reaping – This doesn’t imply much except that we are too sad to leave the stage and enter other frames. Moon rises. Sun sets.
- Bloodbath – Mauve cuckoo-love jumps on table. This was two days before she got run over and crows ate bits of her guts. Or maybe nothing like this happened and but we need these to keep ourselves going every now and then.
- Revisited – One stroke and visceral dread steps in. Footsteps footsteps mighty love footsteps in the head above. We need cold blood to hiss and bite to plant poison. We need cocks that grow hard and cunts that get wet to fuck.
- Secure – Wipe blood off forehead.
- Terrible – It eats fingers and throat.
- Slaughtersong – They won’t know. They won’t get the chance.
- Crocodiles – In the likely scenario that you’re a sucker for light and darkness, burn it down; puke it out. Sad things move slow. In this dark room life and death makes mad, real love.
- Classic Dreams – one without buttons, piranhas and mortality. Come undone by the throne of gold. Dead red rats on dead blue alleys.
- Gutenberg – was in no hurry. World comes to end. Spirals and mazes. Specs. Stuff to build other stuff up.
- Static – Lost sailors crowd avenues that lead to other sleeping ports and portals. Pale sisters of pale night hide behind gravestones. Weaving of calm rites of passage. Sad child of deserving drowned the day before.
- Certain flowers that grow on shit – Slim chances, slender shoulderblades of nurses of love. Feed me food of love. Flesh grows on flesh. Universe dies out a bit every now and then.
- Conspiracy, Intrigue and Infections – Tracing the history of emotions – tall statues collapse – crawl before bedtime stories. Movement and vectors bind all that hits.
- Burst – Heroes in heat. Tales of rape and sex. All art is porn.
- Zonked – Moving through channels. Stuff strikes strong outer walls and ricochet. I know. I know.
- Sharing – New exile. Dogged midnoons. Losers lost. Sabotage necessitates patience. Shadows are much stronger but one needs to box with them at times.
- Killer Cat – To hell with grim forebodings. Easy beauty of clouds call for appreciation. Until it all gets fucking boring.
- Tedium – There’s a chameleon in my mind and the other one lurks behind.
- Irony – Moonset troubadours buying horses and riding them to the cliff. All this until free-fall.
- Tigertouch – Autumn holidays wind through windchimes. Long glowing walks along the avenues that are bluntly here. Steam to beat hounds that won’t let me be.
- Meatlove – Hide scars, roll sleeves up, wait for the windmills that charge at us to come closer. Striking fast is all that matters. Winning can wait, losing won’t need to.
- Hold – the essence lies in projected images. Some sunlight or moonlight or starlight trickles down on the forest floor and the world bathes in silent fear of ending. I reached the river, pissed on it and hummed a fond tune of love.
- Picnic-Nosferatu – Come whatever may, bloom.
- Every-mode-pukes-strong-bitter-blows – this never was the idea. YES, YES, MISTER GOAT!
- Story of – Well, I would like to let them see this, and see them and hear from them and feel good about things.
- Taut – Bathos: Instances fly along
- Assholes – And then there’s the bunch that still can’t afford that shit.
- Ashtray – your saddest victim.
- Propaganda – Dolphins.
- Process – the best killer, despite all the resistance.
- Buses and Chromosomes – demons awake. 50 thousand dead kids hanging from roofs of this big, moving aquarium.
- Primitive – wakes up sees empty city burning in soft, sharp silence. burns other fires, red specks shoot up and soon it’s like waking up in the grave, hard clouds and being a grave hard cloud and shooting heavy, brutal judgments and feel like mighty giver of all justice and punisher of all injustice.
- Masks – sharp exits.
- Spice – phantom-shit makes shitting worth the fun.
- Neutral observations – had quit initial pursuit. Had held on to the picture. That helped. Help helped. Help helps.
- 700 Tales involving Gods and Kings – Yet another bright glimpse: Deer staring straight through calm sunshine. Music needs to be like this at times.
- Buttermilk – I don’t remember any of my dreams since when I was 15 years old. Or maybe I have stopped dreaming since then. That doesn’t make much difference. And how does this matter?
- First daylight and other motherly juices – Getting inside its cold, old skin, looking at stuff as they waste and wither down all the way to the outer rims of the real guts of hell. Freeze all frames but keep one narrow tunnel open.
Monday, April 15, 2013
101 things i know about pterodactyls
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment