?

at times i wonder if i was baptized in urine. born from the wet asshole of demonic conception. and that i will perish and return to the lifestream, to be remembered only in the insectian reflection of broken glass. it mirrors my own dischordant memories in colorless silent film. dissecting. WATCHING. but it does not see.

is the mind its own - or is it plagiarizing the recorded thoughts and microbes that not even are own bodies recognize as foreign or cancerous. they multiply and devour the subconscious until there is nothing left but touch up paint masking the NICKS and SCRAPES - which once stood as the only proof that we were ever alive.

that assholes were ever born.

CUT AND RUN

COME ON HOME. if there is anything left of you to come.

for inside this body is nothing more than mangled entrails, coasting on the inoperative beats of an out of step heart. the brain has become a tapestry of urban warfare, drowning in a fog of choking gunsmoke. KAPOW. the bullets shred the neurons until they no longer trigger - leaving in its wake the remains of clandestine nightmares and crippled souls.

they sit on the corner of hell and indifference begging for loose change. and not one will stop to smell the stink. the smell of victory.

it rots the idealism.

OEDIPUS EX

what light without mysticism. i read the iron sphinx and it answers with a riddle filled with loaded dice. SNAKE EYES. cheat. fraud. leading the anglo-saxons and honky tonk bitches fatuously infactually through the outerstate highway of autobiographical fiction. leading by word. leading by force. gunboat diplomacy. I TOLD YOU WOMAN. DON'T GET FRESH. fresh as maguro. jibun de kitta. uh-huh. whatever you say doc. BANZAI.

i am SICK TO DEATH of maudlin japes and behind the back stabs. even the panglossian paints a bleak picture of what is a parasitic friendship. he paints with tin brush and lead paint and a model who looks too much like a bouquet of flowers. a carnation deflowered. raped in the ass. cunt #2. it produces no bud but it bleeds all the same.

i tire of the blood but more precisely the mechanism that births it. tire of the obsequious, the sycophants and suck-ups that pass sugared anthrax to the ears of bitter minors. so i tell the sphinx to fuck itself, that morning, afternoon, and night are matters left to those who operate on solar power. and then i take my leave - seeing that's all i have.

MACHINE HEAD

it's time. time to tool up. get up. get lifted. get stoopid. get while the gettin's good. get what's got. what's forgotten. got owned. got wet. got wax in those ears. got what's coming to ya.

got what we no longer have. got it in the machine. got it stored. refrigerated. got it for when i need it. it's here. it's there. it's in your head. it's in your heart. TICKING. tocking.

got bad circuits. ones the repairman can't fix. been meanin' to get new parts. to get 'em while they're hot. get 'em before it's over. before time runs out.

got a long line and a short fuse. it reads 10 til. til sunset. til the train comes. got me a ticket.

got it on the cheap.

A CRACK AT ROMANTICISM

oh this is so romantic. that is what you must be thinkin'. oh what a moment. a moment to treasure. to last through all eternity. to be immortalized in the tiny speckles of a child's eyes. or on a website. love on the internet is forever. passed around from pervert 2 pervert. but it is MAKING LOVE not sex. whatever that means. i have never made love. i don't know what the ingredients are. but i assume one is romance. so let us frolic and hold hands and kiss without tongue and do everything that lovebirds do.

because that is what a lady wants. to be swept off her feet by a 7 foot handsome mandigo. did i mention you are something else. something lost. something beautiful. let's watch the ocean. it brings peace. it brings bonfires. it brings sunrises. a new day. the first day. sins absolved. as long as you are here...

you might as well get naked.

DO NOT DISTURB

the worst atrocities are done behind closed doors.

ignorance is blissful rhetoric. stay out/keep out/sock is on the knob. DO NOT DISTURB. for your own good. for the good of mankind.

hush little baby. shut your eyes. SHUT THE FUCK UP. FOR YOUR PROTECTION.

FWEEEET. the dials lock pearls of wisdom in secure vaults for our own safety. in the name of SOLITARY COMPASSION. in the name of god, the name of the dead, lying in ashes of skullduggery and cracked skulls smoking the acrid ganja of gunpowder.

stand down. sacrifice freedoms in the name of freedom.

until you are no one longer free.

A TOAST TO THE ELECTIONEER

here i am.

in all my glorious.

sucking bottlenecks and bottlecapped misery. on the cheap. buy it if you can. only a limited time. $9.99.

fuck if they already started a bottlecap collection. they fucked it good, fucked it hard, fucked it until the cows no longer asked to be milked.

there is no one to succor the sucker who puckers. and the nebbish were too cowardly, too proud to be yellow, too hyped to have the easy life, to see invectives rain upon those who cannot afford umbrellas.

LET IT RAIN BLOOD, the vengeful faggot cries releasing the hate within. LET THE ACID PEEL the dark skin of nigger betrayal. WHY, he screams, betray me for of all things - the white man's god. for you are still slaves without bondage. you are still pawns checking the queen. YOU MOVE WHERE I TELL YOU TO. YOU MOVE WHERE I WHIP YOU TO. legal electioneering.

legally elected hate.

DIE ME A RIVER

DIE ME A RIVER. let it submerge into a lake of fire. let the sun coagulate the ocean until it rains cats and corpses. what's that hitting my face? THAT, my boy, is your dead uncle adam.

Adam was redrum'med by somaliazed bees, fucked by honey shots in the hive of the suburban jungle. SKEET SKEET SKEET. the bees are dripping poisonous semen into his aortic valve without fear, without remorse, without hope for the safety of beekind.

"WHO killed uncle harry?" asks the naive little bee-friendly snot.
"The second and last letters of the alphabet," replies the old man, "it was a crime of passion. a crime of love. and now B is second to no one."

DIE ME A RIVER, sings the sultry whore, naked on the piano. a forgotton tribute to the ghost of uncle adam.

THE WOMAN SEX WARRIOR

here i live and die on the edge of oblivion, amongst townies and cronies and...

nellie.

they say nellie is a no good whore. her lips were made of pinkish sakura for the design of seducing men into her web of cockroaches, their green ectoplasmic slime dripping loose coin and sunken ryo into the shovels of lobotomized cock teasers.

"let me tell you a story franK, and you'll change your mind about nelliE."

my mind is one-tracked. the sins are ancient history. the beast implores that we fuck her sweet twat sideways and every which way if only the sheriff would oblige. the sherriff is a hypocrite that never filled out an application for citizenship.

"she is a follower of the oni - and underneath her exterior is the blue skin of her ancestorS. you best be careful when fraternizing with a demoN. remember the laW of sajakianS. you never know when the wheel will land on bankruptcY."

nellie, nellie
gut your belly
slide a note inside the slit

nellie, nellie
make your fetty
bite the heads off abusive dicks

...the contents of the envelope will give birth to a new oni. the sheriff screams in abject disdain, the pus oozing cantankerous denial from the apex of his cerebral. yet the oni is not the devil.

merely horns fighting the stigma of themselves.

LET THE GODS IMPREGNATE THE BARREN

WHO in their right mind salivates over the drippings of a decorticated fingernail on the hide of a mad cow. let it bleed and waste away like atrophic penises that no longer have use. no longer have FUNCTION.

Let's say you ride shotgun in a fancy well-to-do automocar. VROOM VROOM WHOOOOOOOOOSH!!!! the wind breaks the hair of a blessed virgin in the optimistic retina of a stoned beatnik. spread eagle bitch so that wet cunt will feel the breeze of machine manufactured farts. a reverse queef on a reverse anus in the twisted rape rhythms of godly coitus.

LET THE GODS IMPREGNATE THE BARREN, panicked words swept in the gust. i am the witness as it violates and cleans and powers the city in simultaneous glory. my work is my pleasure. a job well fucked.

DIVINE DEFECATION

SPLATTER. the bones cut the marrow feeding ossified crows.

what crickets will bleed into the night moon. the blood moon. the cheese-aquamarine color for the drapes please.

SPLASH. the drapes wrap around the bones like a well preserved mummy. a bandaged mummy. it is the old school straight jacket. GI JOE MAMA.

and then the twilight hit the fan and the shit shone brightly in heaven. that is skin-deep beauty on a barnyard pig with a fistful of bacon. and what's the deal with the airplanes jerry? why cant they catch the falling shit?

BLADOW!!! we dont even know what causes a shit tornado, let alone a shitstorm. don't come here with your skyance and tetchnology. the night sun and the autumn moon must make summer and winter bleed their spring virgin cunts.

like the very first time in a shitstorm.

COSMIC ART SHIFT

sampling music is a cosmic abnormality. it is like filming a documentary about daniel boone and his electric musket.

murder and torture are for NOT for adults.

dodo fangs sinking into the necks of def leapords.

fuck the fetus king put him in a blizzard where he can repent his devilish sins.

[SCENE: THERE IS A LAME COMEDIAN ON STAGE DOING STAND-UP, SEGWAYING FROM NAMING BABIES...]
"you know the best guy with names? the guy who invented words. i mean he had to name everything that ever existed, never mind some lousy fucking baby. i mean, what do you name this[he points to a chair]. i mean if it were me deciding what to call things, this would be something like "ass feel good thingy." i mean if i was the inventor of words that's what we'd call it. a fold-up ass feel good thingy. but luckily, this guy was a lot smarter than me, or more sober, so he decided to name it after a word that had no affiliation to the object itself. he calls it a chair. now, thanks to him, you can't look at it without popping the word chair in your mind. cavemen didn't think that way. they'd look at it and say "ass feel good thingy." nowhere does the word CHAIR enter the equation. but because he fucked your mind, the inventor of words lives in your head through every thought, every word."

trepidation fuels cowardice GADZOOKS is this artful birthing of vaginal pangs or the madman howling at starry daylight.

Here's Bob with a special report. Thanks Mary. In theaters now is a new documentary about a new art form discovered right here in orangE countY. there is even an essay describing this discovery done in the discovery's stylE.

experimental trepidatioN. there's something scary about going to the unknowN. something excitinG. you are responsible for building somethinG. for defining iT. it is a huge responsibiitY. whether it's music like the beatleS or sports drinks like gatoradE, the quality of what you create will determine its lasting poweR.

"the guy who invented english did a pretty good fucking job, don't you thinK?"

IF WRITING WAS A MORE SUBJECTIVE ART THE FOLLOWING POSTS WOULD BE BRILLIANT

if you are a philistine, you'd believe the title of this post is a criticism of the art world.

if you are from the art world, you would believe that the title speaks to the diversity within art as opposed to the structual limitations of the written word.

if you are a cynical man, you'd think it was a pretentious attempt at being witty.

if you are a layman, you'd think it was a self-deprecating criticism of the writer himself.

and you'd be right.