got a little carried away at the No Fun noise fest in NYC, but two people have offered to publish it.
sicknessthe acid heat has come again.
my brain sits at attention,
frozen-eyed in a death grin.
i see a small flying insect in the corner
i chirp and twitch, writhe in impatience, but I know
it will just fly to a different dimension if I jump to bat it down.
the only way I could ever see it
would be squirming with broken legs on the bed before me.
sewer electionthrough the line of light
crowds fuzz with static in my eyes.
up/through/kicked, the sound of nuisance
like um, swallowing a washcloth.
why are we all standing??
fidgety tombstones with aspirations of standing firm -
find your place and be content with it.
i am a sitting place-marker
for the development of a bigger picture.
my noise will build and become unignorable.
LISTEN TO ME,
while i work out what there is to say.
randy yauis it still there?
a yawning beast,
great and common,
terrible and servile,
for the master to muse on.
have you eaten today, beast?
eat and howl
eat and mourn
master fears your jaws, watches your fetid spittle through glass.
one day your eyes will be glass
and you will sit at your master’s side,
a proud reminder of his dominion.
dinosaurs with hornsz“they” are doing all the talking.
she hangs quotes in the air around They,
riding the time wave yeah
while “we” are anything
but speechless.
we have brought ourselves to life,
we talk like tinder around the roasted pig.
we hear our song in the sand that
burns to glass and our bloody feet kick the fire out - almost. -
how will they fill the holes all over this city?
we’ll cry if we want to, and this is our party.
thurston moore + nancy garciaand we are loud
and you don't know
until you care.
burning star coresugar-filled rat, forage blankly in hysterical garbage.
candy bar wrappers, velvet vest crushed in the hands
of someone lost in thought.
rat digs in his stupor;
he is wild in fog.
put on the vest, it draws you, it is what you want.
candy smears you have had enough of -
how it all comes apart in the garbage.
leave it draped on your outsides,
we want to see what you are made of.
velvet crushed in the hands of someone lost in thought;
it was let go of to be yours, so
rest in your new suit.
handicapper hornzforty years future.
the screams of the socially adept echoing in the ears of the backward,
commuters sliding along, dancing distractedly on foot to their outlet station to
plug in for a prescribed segment of Time.
Time still defines existence but it sings more now.
white outoh, more, you want more.
the last one out went unnoticed;
now fiddle banging in your ear,
you have forgotten the way she filled you with her voices.
no one even tries to seduce you.
we all just play for our own patches -
you suck them up as you walk through.
excite and banish.
is the point to fall upon one and choose it forever?
we are too empty for that.
conrad + carbonsegue into dirge
this is what i want to emit
but their boots are too big for me
eskimo kingchoir of angels screams you out to your birth
like it's hallowed.
or just a ceremony.
still you feel warm, on your way to the real thing.
to makin the cut, asking for sugar, having your way.
it must have begun with your way -
there was no other way but forward -
or did the angels eject you as a matter of formality?
nothing matters if you have no say.
baby cobra headszin the larval stage
no conclusions must be drawn.
emotion on ice,
glitch of forethought based on past experience,
organizing into an existence in a slow crescendo and then - what?
the main course.
worry strive and die.
i prefer the victimless preface,
may i stay and say the things in my head and be talked to?
no response required.
cornucopiawatching someone else not breathe inspires you to test that out.
breathe slightly into your heart
no lower
exhale so softly no one sees
how little how little how little how
stunted
one becomes
as an imitation of your view.
your eyes betray you to your
little self death.
emeraldsi am here to be a hole in the chainlink fence.
i am not the target. i am not the partial face beyond it,
the warm gun or the wound.
just one of a thousand openings to aim through.
lee ranaldo and the merry pranksterwhat there is to say ferments under
protective coating, the human ear.
decomposes in hard-ridden neural pathways,
fragments and dissipates in chemical reuptake;
memories manufactured from raw substances.
will you remember how i said it, or will you remember
your chain-reaction response.
what there is to say
is all in your head.
the hatersmachine rev what i thought we are all trying to feel curious lepers in space i am the fantastic on a wood floor my sleeve shows in the light and someone says how monotonous anything but monotonous i just DON'T KNOW WHAT TO FEEL do they mean it this way? what did they want? those lepers in space banging ears with a message we cannot decipher why - who - are the friends masochistic and beveled in campfire smoke - where will the night end where will my thoughts end when will it make sense when will i stop tasting/teasing my fragile angry conscience i surrender surrender surrender and end it is there a barrier i hold it close to absorb and there is the answer. in a barrage of chaos. it is the confusion.
