Big spender fantasy.
Festive black universe dancing through the screen saver timewarp. With pointed finger and rings to spare we were hood jumping hotheads smiling with shoddy dental work and a penchant for just a tiny taste.
A laugh in the sidewalk sun, shining gold the children are in awe and flashy flash flashbulbs and a flash in the pan.
Flashy fashion and sassy assassins, discotheque backdrops and lit floor tiles… blown away to shining white…
soft white now with light hints of neon pink and purple drowsy and floating over the palms. White suit and pastel collars.
Smooth and dry a smile from the sports car.
It dont ever rain on our freeway
as we pass the crocodile on the side of the road. So calm.
Sway today.
Thats real boredom….
thats a real touch, and thats the butch munch on the trout sniffers of christmas ‘94.
desperation, revelation, masturbation, procreation, sentimental elation.
and persuasion to buy the raging leggings
walk it and talk it, float and gloat
but dont rock the boat…
im sick…
lonesome cow.
Fifties morning, early and cold.
no heater, nothing open now
ricky nelson on the radio
someday something
scary and dark.
someday danger
someday sparks
gone blown away by the rough
and the slickly sick
blip.
homo sapiens say give me a break…. or a steak. honestly fake and easy to make.
The second time for the who knows how many times tries at skimpy lies bundled up and labeled surprise! it cries and to life, jumps,
coming to rise
opens eyes
cries
lies
buys
performs live
expert in jive
high fives and muff dives
barflies and long drives
hopeful bribes to stay alive
the walk along lines
saying
careful, son, cause its
thrive or dive
juggling knives and wives
conniving and writhing
always dying,
stopped trying after too much crying and repeating
rhyming im not buying
mouth drying as the words are slime frying
repeatedly hung for drying outside,
the monsters spying. waiting for you to be minding
minding yer own they take yours and make it their own and moan and bone and
loan and groan of their special seriousness is being shown in the big boy grown,
mind of stone, so you are much safer being alone to get blown and gobble ‘done
to bed thrown without making a sound
a note
or a write, waited all night for the same old thing
scared and
microwave bing!
leading to bring
the song to sing this
evening and night
long into the dark
blathering lark lit by spark
passed out in the park with slacks of shark
blindly trying to hit the mark thinking physical dapper is the answer
knowing the reason for the joy is good old disco dancer
reeling and rocking throughout the glow and sparkle of time
the living sights overflowing the cause for knowing
that stumbles and always goings that comings
are stopped and the influx valves cropped and tied off
dried off and skinned hide off, just to write off
as a blind scoff that they got off
on
the power and yearning to toy
with any old boy or even girl
no qualms about who as long as its you
who stays glued to their poison boobs of nothing chemical breathing truths
drinking shady in the dusty booths that we used to peruse the news
and turned booze into words used to dazzle yous, praise them in pews
make ‘em front page news and designer shoes, still with everything to lose
so poorly choose and fake the blues, brushing off yer dues with ease and expertly learned smooths.
so ill smoke and toke, a goofy dope
smiling joke and an easy poke
forever broke and a matching tote
lifted by the ‘scrot
…um
… i thought i wrote
but basically not even a speck of a note in a world where there is value in the gloat.
so heart smote and hiding out in the moat.
leftover goat for dinner and silent stupid throat
it dont work, its all spooked and skittish leaving trail of junk
lost all my spunk when i had to bunk
with some halfassed “punk”
fucking bunk dick dunk of a cunt
portraits of complex junk, perfectly composed
crafted with care but a flimsy stare you wear, mon frere
seen through
left bare
and convinced they are rare strutting cocky mare
sensual slut with a mouth watering pair
or a silly serious glare from over there
where the gang of thugs stare and fix their totally stellar hair
both for beauty and to share at the cutting edge fair
who cares about the fares of being fair when
i will retire to my lair and have a bubble bath with barry white beaming bassy love light, feeling alright but slight.
for constant fright take flight and i might just bite and walk the narrow days and sell myself for two bit empty praise and no more waves and no more rhyming for funk sake yer as exciting as the man made lake,
get it, maaaaan
fucking fake!
so jokes on me,
like a face hit
with a step on the rake
misplaced in the days gone by covered in brown leaves crunch
and reruns of the brady bunch playing forever
while i contently eat my lunch
made at home early that day
happily carried
pleased all the way
way to go on the sticker from the teacher
yer going to hell, something something something
said the preacher
and i still became the leacher
the lecherous old clump
scouring the dump
for a gold nugget from the days of simple ease
thoughts from bees, and holy trees
sucked dry from human disease
all we want is all we please.
so ending the tantrum in sudden surrender and sleaze
happy to dumbly be,
im a sneeze in the breeze
a single janlge of keys
or a sound of the knees
ending with please
and as miscellaneous as gathering beads
of sweat sometime, somewhere
on the forehead, dropped from the hair
always liquid nowhere
i become the goo intangible
and bounce away in an ancient glare.
gone and back and gone again,
time for tasteless and time for
special shine from the golden gift racks
where theres a plethora of shallow
attacks at yer back and a ruthless kick to the sack
brings me back to the grumbling ghost
stuck in the crack
of good friends ass
fed with bullshit and sass
forced to drink gas and buck to be passed
torn up and harassed
no class, havin a blast
and losing
fast
running past in body cast and lost in the mass
splash crash
and then bash
yer trash with a swift
yer set adrift to lift
the weights of the game
the flame of the lame
burning with the rage of tame
the greedy jones for fame
and the meaning not found
just the incriminating stain
you got thinking you wouldnt be plain
too insane
so i hide in brain, trap already lain to protect the train out of control you seem to be, nothing nothing
something
and a spare
always exploding bright and hungry for love in its gluttonous search for attentions of various universes, never wanting less than the rest, cause you are the best! so fucking sure you made it a nest, to test the stress of yer rest barely at all
cause in sleep you may fall, down to second place, that cannot happen ill be a disgrace to this face and to space which is a race to debase yer so called homies and blowmes when words are words and baloney is throwing
easily caught and easily sent
this is way too much,
im spent
……………………. sign on my forehead says: FOR RENT.
until everything wanes…
mechanical stamina. 86’ed from lists.
Over indulged
over involved
under developed
and stubborn shit pride
wholesome family lies
barf cart and drew on dark eyes
no more supplies and everyone dies
and pried yer thighs in hopes of prize
cock rise and dinky size
crappy cut off in the head slap notion
expected commotion
barely any lotion
left burns on the tip
bare bones and singed hair
spent too much time
that thing called care.
Gentle generation.
they all were soft, i tell ya. They came here to meet and greet and get their name out there, yea, say now theys is tryin aint they. oh but yes they want to succeed and be the best of the best of the best , sir. They can do anything, they are reading rainbows, scribbling the lovelines in the air, and drinking down coffee of super brown smiles, discomfort and chosen words carefully as to not divulge too much about who you may or may not be, and in actuality, really are a scared little child cuddled up in mommy house womb, in safe computer light bashing this and adoring that, and all the while spouting yer opinions and safe phrases titre and sheep stomach vile, the bile of a generation all i swallow in big morning gulps, for vitality. Im an ankle biter in a joggers world, a sullen eel in the fish hatchery of college kids clamoring for justice and juice, organic if you please. My dinners consist of candy bars and cigarettes and if im lucky a handful of dope to push through the sticking rotting flash of zombie youth, spruced up for their dancing night, for their manly fight, for their dainty life. With wife and strife i pick up my knife and fife, and off to war, a new civil war, totally uncivilized…
chagrin, i grin. And the band plays on….. eyes of the world.
thighs of a girl.
my word, all that oil.
all that slick progress and all those necklaces
dangling along, strung along, a waif with no faith, spent all my bread on a dial a date.
you got lucky
i got mucky
and boy thats ducky, we all lived in a yellow belly.
scared kittens with designer mittens, smitten in the snow, written on blow..
no, no, no…. oh there you go.. eat up
drink up…. kool aid for good grades
spades.
aids and raids.
dance along, prancing wrong, pass me that bong,
im trying to tie one on….
been long gone……
Another smooth lose.
Riding majestic white horse banging cowbell and the wheat flies about and my wrists are weak and bones. Chewed away the color and left red. doldrums, tums, and ho hum…. teeth rotting bum, scum, gumshoe. blow up, shrivel inward, give up the gold, catch a cold, and bowl over whores with yer attitude. The long and short of it was a white wall and a wine stain. whine stain on my tongue and pine trees for hairplugs. smile golden greasy, and gum up some speed for yer gonna need it working all those doubles.
Anyone for menace?
Boo, and a hiss, and a tabby catcall. Break a leg with another leg.
hellison shmellison
run run run run run run run run run, urn in hand, filled with coke and skag, making trades, hiding blades, hi top fades, puerto rican maids. Im sweating out my eyes and they are black, black, rings, holes spaced out to the end of the galaxy. I need, i want, here i go down the road, hiding the load, there goes the cops down the block in black crown vic, shriveled prick, banging my head to the sound of my heart. I go for the trunk but theyre watching. I go for the house, locked…
gots to hide, gots to get a fix on, gots to get my head on right….. last night another fight throwing drugs at the door as i laugh wildly moving out with what i needed. Dont look panicked, sure feeling the beads now, fogging up my shades, my mind. soul?
nope. just powers and pills popping in my stash urn, its mu uncle you see officer he needs to be in a safe place, my family is after his ashes so thats why im running. Oh yea im out of shape too thats why my clothes are stuck to me and a shade darker from sweat. just smile, take it in, and then………… GO!
fark me doggie.
Nilsson in the brain and cocaine up the ane.
high high high
low low low
there no time for that now we gots to go… speeding in the blinding snow
out to fargo for a drink
out to old man taffys skating rink
pick up the ice and give it a toss, i rubbed my precum on yer lipgloss.
holy hell there goes the dog, yapping and barking, lost in the fog
he made in the window barking like mad.
a hush from angry stepdad. and silence thereafter in the cozy home
throats stuffed with paper and coated in loam
dusts of all in the scent and the taste
time to waste waste waste
thigh to waist, a tiny taste
between the sheets i took a shit
and rubbed my genitals in it. i asked for a clean
and you gave in, you said you loved to be the one getting it
so i slapped yer cunt like a baby in birth
and let it rip for all its worth.
slurp…
aww shit i came, all over the shag.
like rain on pubes, smells wet and
dang
its all soggy and worn.
after the first time
that shits torn.
Hootshabby.
soft cheese smile melting in tortilla flats.
the many styles of fats to show off and matching shit gloss.
anal floss and mental moths,
goofy goths on the curb
in the burbs lacking substance but anger
and staggering anger bang in the rain
drove me insane and i minced my brain
served it cold with avocado on a roll,
garnish and flourish and wither and fry
pussies and cocks
stitching and dye
no more vision
from my eye
just the blank clear day spreading its wings
blowing the wind across my stretched skin and letting in
the love of kin and the nervous in the bin
and maybe ill gather moss
or maybe ill never defrost
everyones lost
you know where yer going?
blow me yer fake is showing
and dont forget to write
wide awake in the middle of the night
in still fright doing stares by artificial light
there you go again: trite, trite, trite,
am i right? no yer not a sixteen year old in the mid-eighties
yer just a baby.
and im gravy
slathered on yer teething mouth and left out back
dinner with a mouse. prickey mouse
and lousy louse in the house, under the steps
reading proust. who?
snow white and the seven dorks who pork. they gang raped her in the cottage one fine day and with a smile and a song took turns dipping dongs
in her sleepy hollow
where the mushroomhead horseman unsheathed and unleashed a beast
see through satin with perky nipples, milk im lapping
and dapper tapping down the steps
stepping over human wrecks and then all tuxedo and hat
i fell flat into the gutter and muttered
tomorrow, today. choked on a tooth as i gargled a laugh in the fly infested nest
home sweet moan,
brain?
where you goin’?
