why everyone so violent?
you see violence
want more
I would punch that guy
in his face
if i saw that
he should have more respect
I'll teach him to hold my values
my righteous inclination to violent
reaction of violent action
when worldview is my view
it is worldview forever pure
only violence can inform violence
(central conceit)
(methodological design)
response time is in fists
knives bullets blunt objects
only proof is the short history of man
guilty or innocent
right or wrong
payback
Thursday, September 24, 2015
4 telework haiku
what would a poem
by WB read like?
a Naked Lunch I think.
by WB read like?
a Naked Lunch I think.
a bottle of america
on corner of my desk,
sand settles down
watching my cat sleep
listen to traffic crawl
reading next email
world out my window
further away today,
working from home
Papal Vacation
dressed in white
my naked pink whiteness
typing from home
from my prison across river
listening to kaddish
allen ginsberg voice
strange nudity
accumulation of data files
telework cables
draped over me
nothing
cloak of immortality
cock
sweat
autumn
keys
work mad
god on earth
for a day
for a year
for eternity
my naked pink whiteness
typing from home
from my prison across river
listening to kaddish
allen ginsberg voice
strange nudity
accumulation of data files
telework cables
draped over me
nothing
cloak of immortality
cock
sweat
autumn
keys
work mad
god on earth
for a day
for a year
for eternity
Tuesday, September 22, 2015
why are all my heroes killers?
there's been bleach on my breath for over a week.
Why are all my heroes killers?
why do they shuffle off and muster for the military industrial complex?
where is this taste coming from,
thick white mucous on my gums,
bangs against my chest,
invades my lungs,
why with all this faceless, remorseless death?
why now those black marching boots? I don't get it.
who is poisoning who?
I do live in washington dc. I know.
I listen to the radio taps at night. I sleep with the window open.
the bells and the highway and the graves sneak in.
why can't I know what's going on?
why is money human but human isn't the same?
there's been bleach on my breath in an effort to hide the blood.
Why are all my heroes killers?
why do they shuffle off and muster for the military industrial complex?
where is this taste coming from,
thick white mucous on my gums,
bangs against my chest,
invades my lungs,
why with all this faceless, remorseless death?
why now those black marching boots? I don't get it.
who is poisoning who?
I do live in washington dc. I know.
I listen to the radio taps at night. I sleep with the window open.
the bells and the highway and the graves sneak in.
why can't I know what's going on?
why is money human but human isn't the same?
there's been bleach on my breath in an effort to hide the blood.
Your Phone
standing with your phone to keep you safe
with your phone by the window at night, rest it by your sleeping head,
standing with your phone to fend off the awkwardness of life,
strangers and situations, with your phone on yelp
what's the best mexican place around here, can't anyone digital help?
standing with your phone in silence, swiping
with your blue phone in the blue twilight soothing, how you spell gluten?
standing with your phone feeding on information
with your phone and each hyperlink baby, vine video virtual reality,
life in six second segments to further regiment the day,
standing with your phone, man, snapping photos
of the lost, lonely, haggard, privacy deprived fools around you
with your phone and its hashtags and its thin, cold, warmth,
standing with your phone against the bleak will of life,
with your phone and its sleek body, its perfect self,
standing with your phone as physical communication becomes the past,
with your phone and the data that keeps you tethered to scrolling text
what happens in china, germany, malawi, the united states?
with your phone and its selected streams, creative apps,
standing with your phone against the paradoxical world map
moving on with the current, with your phone setting the trail,
standing with your phone to by another phone and another phone
waiting in line for the next available generation,
standing with your phone as it's boxed and recycled, returned to the cloud,
marking your life in .1 upgrades,
standing with your phone and clicking send in that bill
standing with your phone and standing alone,
with your phone as your eyes, as your brain, as your fingers, as your mouth
as your nose.
with your phone by the window at night, rest it by your sleeping head,
standing with your phone to fend off the awkwardness of life,
strangers and situations, with your phone on yelp
what's the best mexican place around here, can't anyone digital help?
standing with your phone in silence, swiping
with your blue phone in the blue twilight soothing, how you spell gluten?
standing with your phone feeding on information
with your phone and each hyperlink baby, vine video virtual reality,
life in six second segments to further regiment the day,
standing with your phone, man, snapping photos
of the lost, lonely, haggard, privacy deprived fools around you
with your phone and its hashtags and its thin, cold, warmth,
standing with your phone against the bleak will of life,
with your phone and its sleek body, its perfect self,
standing with your phone as physical communication becomes the past,
with your phone and the data that keeps you tethered to scrolling text
what happens in china, germany, malawi, the united states?
with your phone and its selected streams, creative apps,
standing with your phone against the paradoxical world map
moving on with the current, with your phone setting the trail,
standing with your phone to by another phone and another phone
waiting in line for the next available generation,
standing with your phone as it's boxed and recycled, returned to the cloud,
marking your life in .1 upgrades,
standing with your phone and clicking send in that bill
standing with your phone and standing alone,
with your phone as your eyes, as your brain, as your fingers, as your mouth
as your nose.
Saturday, September 19, 2015
Sage
conversation of 8 thousand miles
from down the hall,
jack reads whalen Interglacial on
toilet bowl 40 years ago,
I read on the same stinking toilet bowl of time,
shit toilet bowl of the fractured mind,
saturday morning like saturday morning,
bodies like body,
sag. age;
and it's all a tightening circle,
slowly sinking, flushed down.
from down the hall,
jack reads whalen Interglacial on
toilet bowl 40 years ago,
I read on the same stinking toilet bowl of time,
shit toilet bowl of the fractured mind,
saturday morning like saturday morning,
bodies like body,
sag. age;
and it's all a tightening circle,
slowly sinking, flushed down.
Wednesday, September 16, 2015
Tom Fischer and the I Ching
take his body parts,
times 64,
remove the clogged arteries,
the writers block
in a cycle every 2,000 years,
cleaning schedule
is synced into his
bathroom break time
8x2 is 16x2 is 32
divided by 2 is
16 round trips
in an 8 hour day,
speaking in the
3rd person gets you
nowhere with a girl
and like that
the polestar rotates
in eliptical orbits
of generational
change,
he wonders at times,
reading the solar squares
on the calender sky,
what it's like to
live in the true North,
not very much different
the divinations say--
'look to 6 dashes of
morse code, he has a
penchant to say morris
code, number of days in the
lunar year of 13 months
doesn't impact the
necessity of daylight
savings: the interest
is back up to 384.1%;
sift his thought process
down to the 6th degree,
free dimensional state
where nothing is
vibrationally attentive
to the demands of the state
and clockwork is an
absurdity dream device'
--white bones fall on
hexagonal frames, whte chalk
marks on ancient wood, right
meter of begone time,
rite thought in the wrong
name, understood.
times 64,
remove the clogged arteries,
the writers block
in a cycle every 2,000 years,
cleaning schedule
is synced into his
bathroom break time
8x2 is 16x2 is 32
divided by 2 is
16 round trips
in an 8 hour day,
speaking in the
3rd person gets you
nowhere with a girl
and like that
the polestar rotates
in eliptical orbits
of generational
change,
he wonders at times,
reading the solar squares
on the calender sky,
what it's like to
live in the true North,
not very much different
the divinations say--
'look to 6 dashes of
morse code, he has a
penchant to say morris
code, number of days in the
lunar year of 13 months
doesn't impact the
necessity of daylight
savings: the interest
is back up to 384.1%;
sift his thought process
down to the 6th degree,
free dimensional state
where nothing is
vibrationally attentive
to the demands of the state
and clockwork is an
absurdity dream device'
--white bones fall on
hexagonal frames, whte chalk
marks on ancient wood, right
meter of begone time,
rite thought in the wrong
name, understood.
Tuesday, September 15, 2015
Need help for short panis here!
Erect a star antenna
fit the lens of the reflection
of retribution of the
salvation of the earth
to the membrane filament of
the singing skull
all late century human
history has been building to this
Jupiter is our mirror
is the mechanism of escape
the outer inner-cosmos
of mind reflected in
hyper-space time
holding the key to our
species fate,
prepare the human corpse
for jettison,
man is an artifact
meant for space travel
now is the time of the
coming of the end of the
world is nigh
close your eye to the past
there is nothing left
that is to be done,
only that you relinquish
your hold to the control
belief, only that you
prepare to begin anew.
fit the lens of the reflection
of retribution of the
salvation of the earth
to the membrane filament of
the singing skull
all late century human
history has been building to this
Jupiter is our mirror
is the mechanism of escape
the outer inner-cosmos
of mind reflected in
hyper-space time
holding the key to our
species fate,
prepare the human corpse
for jettison,
man is an artifact
meant for space travel
now is the time of the
coming of the end of the
world is nigh
close your eye to the past
there is nothing left
that is to be done,
only that you relinquish
your hold to the control
belief, only that you
prepare to begin anew.
Thursday, September 10, 2015
Villain
this bus on the corner, rarely, if ever, looks to stop;
you have to wave it down or step forward before it rides past.
she was wearing sunglasses that day,
it was sunny and hot and bright, so
she was wearing them to shield her eyes
from the bright and hot sun.
when the bus with its compressed air braking system
stopped with a puff and huff and gradually lowered itself to the curb,
and the doors opened with a jerk and inward swing,
she balked and gave no intention of walking on.
as this bus, as previously asserted, had a penchant and reputation
among the boarders at this particular corner
not to stop on most occasions, the other potential riders,
who were edging nervously behind the sunglassed girl,
wasted no time for opportunity to board,
moving around her and jumping on, scanning cards
and taking a desired seat.
I was one of those riders, though I determined to stand.
After the bustle, you could hear the driver's audible and
inwardly directed, "sorry about that, ma'am,"
and her equally audible and inwardly directed, "that's okay,"
return, as she stepped on.
you have to wave it down or step forward before it rides past.
she was wearing sunglasses that day,
it was sunny and hot and bright, so
she was wearing them to shield her eyes
from the bright and hot sun.
when the bus with its compressed air braking system
stopped with a puff and huff and gradually lowered itself to the curb,
and the doors opened with a jerk and inward swing,
she balked and gave no intention of walking on.
as this bus, as previously asserted, had a penchant and reputation
among the boarders at this particular corner
not to stop on most occasions, the other potential riders,
who were edging nervously behind the sunglassed girl,
wasted no time for opportunity to board,
moving around her and jumping on, scanning cards
and taking a desired seat.
I was one of those riders, though I determined to stand.
After the bustle, you could hear the driver's audible and
inwardly directed, "sorry about that, ma'am,"
and her equally audible and inwardly directed, "that's okay,"
return, as she stepped on.
Monday, September 7, 2015
Letters read on the john
read your letters on the toilet,
came in the mail sixty years too late,
they were sad and one-sided,
yellowed and dirt-specked,
there were several notes extra
wrapped in stiff rubber bands,
couldn't make out those few handwritten words,
so you'll never get the cash you're owned,
left my own postscript:
rusty paperclips leave marks and
staples will ruin the page;
I couldn't save you from an early grave--
came in the mail sixty years too late,
they were sad and one-sided,
yellowed and dirt-specked,
there were several notes extra
wrapped in stiff rubber bands,
couldn't make out those few handwritten words,
so you'll never get the cash you're owned,
left my own postscript:
rusty paperclips leave marks and
staples will ruin the page;
I couldn't save you from an early grave--
Thursday, August 27, 2015
Robot Mantra
bok-bok-bok-bok
bah-bah-bah-bah-
tek tek tek
[silence]
hissing tube
window sealed
light above
shut off
ack ack ack ack
gak gak gak gak
hrmmmmmmmmm
[silence]
held in place
all connected
muffled senses
stunted thought
bok-bok-bok-bok
bah-bah-bah-bah-
endure for 30
maybe 5 more
stabbed myself
with a pencil
gradeschool
accidentally
still you
see the point
metallic objects
tek tek tek tek
suffer
beige tube
beige socks
how does this
gown fit on
how much time
has passed
think about sensory
deprivation
maybe it's
something like this
bah-bah-bah-bah-
tek tek tek
[silence]
hissing tube
window sealed
light above
shut off
ack ack ack ack
gak gak gak gak
hrmmmmmmmmm
[silence]
held in place
all connected
muffled senses
stunted thought
bok-bok-bok-bok
bah-bah-bah-bah-
endure for 30
maybe 5 more
stabbed myself
with a pencil
gradeschool
accidentally
still you
see the point
metallic objects
tek tek tek tek
suffer
beige tube
beige socks
how does this
gown fit on
how much time
has passed
think about sensory
deprivation
maybe it's
something like this
Monday, August 24, 2015
Old Forgotten Dreams Cut-Up
agent in, rifle out.
about alien elaborate waves,
it's water control. they like us.
reason A: people, hidden...human reach control.
breathing. control. hands alien missing,
some with humans retreat,
sound don't have existence,
in comes demon water people,
we pretending impressionist
pillow appears like rifle
weird masked creatures committed us.
pedal. control on. scene rooms,
creatures eventually human control.
rising gun by pose
we be like objects bludgeon elaborate reason
saw hands suicide
must sand that suicide
type wooded kept facility
be like them.
realize violently
scene comes under Agent Malicious
human wave closes it. Malicious is alien of reality
my costume they control. die.
recedes masks and image.
blinks alien under objects
must have reason effect an alien image.
demon had control.
wrestling to close by understanding existence,
hand against them.
Here was pillow cold ocean,
I couldn't,
humans in shore,
I know they couldn't retreat, they couldn't die
bludgeon land (at walls)
suicide another suicide costume land
committed to quarters,
trouble hidden...
I couldn't see
to die
I knew.
about alien elaborate waves,
it's water control. they like us.
reason A: people, hidden...human reach control.
breathing. control. hands alien missing,
some with humans retreat,
sound don't have existence,
in comes demon water people,
we pretending impressionist
pillow appears like rifle
weird masked creatures committed us.
pedal. control on. scene rooms,
creatures eventually human control.
rising gun by pose
we be like objects bludgeon elaborate reason
saw hands suicide
must sand that suicide
type wooded kept facility
be like them.
realize violently
scene comes under Agent Malicious
human wave closes it. Malicious is alien of reality
my costume they control. die.
recedes masks and image.
blinks alien under objects
must have reason effect an alien image.
demon had control.
wrestling to close by understanding existence,
hand against them.
Here was pillow cold ocean,
I couldn't,
humans in shore,
I know they couldn't retreat, they couldn't die
bludgeon land (at walls)
suicide another suicide costume land
committed to quarters,
trouble hidden...
I couldn't see
to die
I knew.
They've come bearing brains
raised my gun--they would
not move--arch of bullets--
shot over head--blink
bodies of the cephalopod mind--blink--
cruelty--can't shoot--trigger--
wrong feel--ak rattles--
tombstones on childhood--
fields in backyard--laid--
there was memory there--once--
one--they could not move--
momentarily phased out--
phased in solid--motion--
silhouettes--wink--
bullets into heaven--innocent--
wincing aim--buck and
shoulder--stomach eaten--
erect tentacles--scolding
hot--extra eye lids--
carved rocks--names--blast of
heart beat--final shot--
cartridge--blank
not move--arch of bullets--
shot over head--blink
bodies of the cephalopod mind--blink--
cruelty--can't shoot--trigger--
wrong feel--ak rattles--
tombstones on childhood--
fields in backyard--laid--
there was memory there--once--
one--they could not move--
momentarily phased out--
phased in solid--motion--
silhouettes--wink--
bullets into heaven--innocent--
wincing aim--buck and
shoulder--stomach eaten--
erect tentacles--scolding
hot--extra eye lids--
carved rocks--names--blast of
heart beat--final shot--
cartridge--blank
Friday, August 21, 2015
Post-Cut-up Bad Deal II
earth written like blood
empty sockets, you had strawberry last night
on hand
can lined
the milky corner selling
that; I mean
2000 through in sun moon drifting
them toothless toothless meat year
or
when impossible oil toothless by meat
broke yellow heaven
like in earth written brown mushroom gunpowder
non-white grins
the houses clouds I like
dock decade oil was broken toothless over 100 playlists
each street cycled milky
slow
sun egg on teflon canvas buttery
slick dyes
last night on broke yellow machine
a year through the red strawberry street
empty sockets, you had strawberry last night
on hand
can lined
the milky corner selling
that; I mean
2000 through in sun moon drifting
them toothless toothless meat year
or
when impossible oil toothless by meat
broke yellow heaven
like in earth written brown mushroom gunpowder
non-white grins
the houses clouds I like
dock decade oil was broken toothless over 100 playlists
each street cycled milky
slow
sun egg on teflon canvas buttery
slick dyes
last night on broke yellow machine
a year through the red strawberry street
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