12
^
^^
^^^
^^^^
hotcakes on the moon.
hot cum oozing from lovers in fields of grass.
hot apple pie.
hair.
squaresville.
absurd emptiness.
fluttering flocks of exquisite rascal radical bassoons honking furiously at no one in particular this fine drizzling evening on easy street soon to be foreclosed and cleared away to make room for high rise parking structures for those inept creatures so inclined chosen at random to win big, baby.
this could be it.
this could be anything real or imagined.
beware.
shit fuck piss.
bizarre jack happening thing stumbling before the fall of civilization as we know it and remember it well for the time being while generations forget the whole damn thing coming and going along through overgrown ruins of its demise laughing all the way with the slaughter of consciousness they leave behind on 10th avenue without quite knowing how come this has become their mission beyond repair of spectacles adorning the adoring faces who have come to life once more to haunt the empty cemeteries looking for trinkets of treasure anyone might have overlooked before them sideways and kept on ticking like spiders on acid dreaming of becoming more than they are willing to ask for from superpowered monsters creeping crawling inside out from now and then we walk by the old abandoned corporate headquarters glowing pink from their judgment of themselves found it lacking the depth of soul to continue on as before in the heyday of their empires gone to waste slither slather muscle aching archenemies locked in cages boastful of their enterprising deeds now mislaid down by the river heaving its guts up in full raging hysterics that is not a pretty sight to be seen by anyone in tender secret hidden gardens abundant with pleasures of pain once you get in you can't get out - huzzah hurrah.
those who remain oblique to certainty yet absorbing truth-like nourishment from bowls of corn flakes to keep them from wildly masturbating their days away with futile efforts forthwith the damnation of their elders rocking the boat gently down the stream toward a better tomorrow of waste not want not thinking in glorification of rainbows never seen before physics has the answer to our dreams spent lazily hollowed against the wall of doubt succumbed forbidden recitals in moonlight now the sun has gone goodbye trembling afraid of future sorrows cascading upon the dirt generous behind our ears we could grow potatoes our mothers would tell us with laughter at our willingness to misbehave when the tough get going of which we will never belong.
he sleeps.
awakening late morning.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
that's the ticket.
continuing not poem for whatever reason cuz he don't need a reason just obsessive compulsion.
sitting at the computer gazing out the window at the wet world outside from last night's rain.
a few cars and trucks are driven by in and out of here.
it's medication time, folks.
take 'em if ya got 'em.
good luck.
spin the wheels one more time.
let fortune have its hand.
pay attention.
nothing is again the same ever.
you don't need a microscope or telescope to perceive that.
the naked eye will suffice well enough to pick up a clue.
clue to what?
a clue to our own madness such that it is thinking topsy turvy around around we go and so on and on.
click start with our minds.
everything with our minds.
minds expanding.
this is of no nevermind to these kids of the future.
hooray for them not plagued with doubts, yes?
comfortably obedient.
driven to excellence.
just like in the dystopian stories he used to read for fun.
here it is.
or not?
or not how it used to be but how it is.
not like being naked in the streets.
we're still working on it, don't worry.
it's a secret.
you're not supposed to know.
it'll be a surprise.
(to be continued...)
^
^^
^^^
^^^^
hotcakes on the moon.
hot cum oozing from lovers in fields of grass.
hot apple pie.
hair.
squaresville.
absurd emptiness.
fluttering flocks of exquisite rascal radical bassoons honking furiously at no one in particular this fine drizzling evening on easy street soon to be foreclosed and cleared away to make room for high rise parking structures for those inept creatures so inclined chosen at random to win big, baby.
this could be it.
this could be anything real or imagined.
beware.
shit fuck piss.
bizarre jack happening thing stumbling before the fall of civilization as we know it and remember it well for the time being while generations forget the whole damn thing coming and going along through overgrown ruins of its demise laughing all the way with the slaughter of consciousness they leave behind on 10th avenue without quite knowing how come this has become their mission beyond repair of spectacles adorning the adoring faces who have come to life once more to haunt the empty cemeteries looking for trinkets of treasure anyone might have overlooked before them sideways and kept on ticking like spiders on acid dreaming of becoming more than they are willing to ask for from superpowered monsters creeping crawling inside out from now and then we walk by the old abandoned corporate headquarters glowing pink from their judgment of themselves found it lacking the depth of soul to continue on as before in the heyday of their empires gone to waste slither slather muscle aching archenemies locked in cages boastful of their enterprising deeds now mislaid down by the river heaving its guts up in full raging hysterics that is not a pretty sight to be seen by anyone in tender secret hidden gardens abundant with pleasures of pain once you get in you can't get out - huzzah hurrah.
those who remain oblique to certainty yet absorbing truth-like nourishment from bowls of corn flakes to keep them from wildly masturbating their days away with futile efforts forthwith the damnation of their elders rocking the boat gently down the stream toward a better tomorrow of waste not want not thinking in glorification of rainbows never seen before physics has the answer to our dreams spent lazily hollowed against the wall of doubt succumbed forbidden recitals in moonlight now the sun has gone goodbye trembling afraid of future sorrows cascading upon the dirt generous behind our ears we could grow potatoes our mothers would tell us with laughter at our willingness to misbehave when the tough get going of which we will never belong.
he sleeps.
awakening late morning.
coffee, toke, cigarette.
that's the ticket.
continuing not poem for whatever reason cuz he don't need a reason just obsessive compulsion.
sitting at the computer gazing out the window at the wet world outside from last night's rain.
a few cars and trucks are driven by in and out of here.
it's medication time, folks.
take 'em if ya got 'em.
good luck.
spin the wheels one more time.
let fortune have its hand.
pay attention.
nothing is again the same ever.
you don't need a microscope or telescope to perceive that.
the naked eye will suffice well enough to pick up a clue.
clue to what?
a clue to our own madness such that it is thinking topsy turvy around around we go and so on and on.
click start with our minds.
everything with our minds.
minds expanding.
this is of no nevermind to these kids of the future.
hooray for them not plagued with doubts, yes?
comfortably obedient.
driven to excellence.
just like in the dystopian stories he used to read for fun.
here it is.
or not?
or not how it used to be but how it is.
not like being naked in the streets.
we're still working on it, don't worry.
it's a secret.
you're not supposed to know.
it'll be a surprise.
(to be continued...)
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