Archive for December, 2009

push me

December 24, 2009

Push me to the ground and I will fall, but then I will bounce back like a rubber ball.   Break my neck and I might die, and from my body my soul will fly.   Shoot me with a gun and I will surely break, but later you will see me eating cake.


December 12, 2009

I laughed myself into existence.

allen key

December 11, 2009

I gots’to find me the right size to unlock the cupboard, the nut on my geetar, your heart.  I gots to get me some new shiny shoes and a pocket watch so that I can count every moment.

I looks for some britches that I can wear with ma ‘lectric C’ord belt and a new pair O dice to throw with the boys in the alley.

Got to eat me some sausages and sweet potatos.  Gotta get me some new strings for my harp.

Cuz baby, baby, I done found the allen key to your heart.

some songs by bobbi sox and Paul Almond

December 10, 2009

Here are a couple songs by me and my friend Paul.  hope you like em!

Bobbi sox: secks me up

Paul Almond w/Bobbi sox on backup vocals: snow men unite

putrid eyelash.

December 7, 2009

you sleep as they beat the meat.  You dream about shouting Aztec’s driving sport utility vehicles and smashing each other with marmolite baseball bats.  Next you jerk into awakeness and look down 1000 feet to see that you are drifting lightly above the earth.  This is outstanding because they burried you thirty five years ago, when you had not yet been born.   You eat the stupid bananas and go off into a dream of consumerism in the Danish countryside.  The fault is entirely mine, I took you upon myself like a bat rolling in guano and human excrement.  It is entirely unpredictable what just happened.  Get on your clothes and get out.  Come back tonight.  There can’t be another one this good.

ducks in the kitchen

December 7, 2009

you are laden with chipotle tabasco and seven leather geese.  If I wake you now I feel you will never come and I will spend the rest of my life together.  In the lightness I don’t see anything but the reflection of a shadow on the ceiling.   I wrap you in gauze and undo the buttons on my pants.  Whats inside is a festering ice cream cone and several ducks in the kitchen.   If you don’t look deeply into your own banality, you will always see what you do as correct and upstanding.  You are carrying a stop watch and a starter pistol.  You will exhume deaf adders that multiply on log tables.  There is absolutely no wine to be had, we must cover our tracks dearly with the bodies of beetles and ants.   That is not to say that we will not enjoy yourself.

seven seals

December 6, 2009

New age: new age, who came up with that idea?  Walk through the higher realms lie, you still feel weak and disenfranchised.  Society doesn’t respect you, you are a dreamer living in a fantasy world.  Light work: another name for cheapening the beautiful meditation tradition of a world you have separated yourself from through belief in mystical bullshit that some fraudster uses to make money for laying his hands on you and selling books about pretend realms that have no intrinsic value besides being a beautiful idea.  It is a lie, you believe that something magical will happen and we will all fly to heaven?  Why can’t you see that only you can provide peace to yourself.  There is no santa claus, the higher beings are not coming to protect you.  Better take the pillow out from under your head.  The real thing is out there for those who look sincerely.  I hope you find it.  The seven seals say arr arr arr!

a girl

December 6, 2009

light fragments into a million mandalas of utter uselessness and nonsense.  It reflects back on itself in a dissapearing pool of colour and imagery.  The tree of life is quiet, forget the Romans, forget yourself.  Alusions to abstract imagery of words and dogma as it arises through the lense of logos and miasma.  A sordid mess really.  A fractal on the run from an infinity which broke off from the present moment to take a piss off an overpass and laugh at all the trains of thought that get splashed with a whiter shade of pale.  Helixes in the distance chime out like bells in your mind and turn in spirals constantly staying in the middle.  the zhongding of the universe is perfect harmony and alignment, but you can’t seem to get past duality and so you don’t see it, until briefly, gently, a soft song plays with no crescendo until the moment that you have always existed in.  Unending begins in a sphere of sounds that are clearly visible out the window of your godless baby carriage.  The ancient child that is contained within knows nothing of your struggle and sorrow, you know nothing of its pain.  Together you are two ignorant fools trying to make their peace in a frozen eternity..

December 6, 2009

Shirking your duty as usual you find yourself in the lobby of the church basement.  The marrionettes dance idly in the wind while you look for a clear way to understand something you read once in a paper that was discontinued the moment after you got it after such a long time.  standing in a que waiting to become a frantic lover of the lost art of cosmetic dissipation.  The withered arm of justice holding you on a pedistal of lies fraught with ugly half truths and fragrant mysticism based roughly on tennison farting noisily in a busy downtown strip club.   Dyslexic Christmas elves utopian vision of hell is an ominous mouse that fragments its spirit into a welding helmet baked with prawns and dipped in its own juices until perfection.  there is absolutely everything to be gained by sitting tight, being quiet, and listening.  You can make a living on shelling fish and skating with a relaxed outlook on the pond of malcontent.  There is money to be made. But more importantly there is money to be sought.  Less important than that is life itself.  Life is the conduit of money, money is the essence of modernity.  Modernity is a staple of history ultimately extracting itself from the reality of the current situation which is decidedly grim.  Grimness is simply a metaphor for a meteor shower of titanic proportions which leaves your head dizzy and a tip for the waitress since she brought you those drinks and you just can’t get served without her.  She is an angel on high, possibly on meth.  She is a sultry slut who will take you for a ride, but to where?  To her house?  To her parent’s abode?  Will you meet her sister?  She is the good one.  But she doesn’t care about you at all.  She doesn’t care about anything.  She cares mostly about the situation in Peru where angry villagers have kidnapped a police chief and are holding him hostage.  But she doesn’t even really care that much about that.  She is truly splendid

more random nonsense

December 5, 2009

wither, break, speak quietly the children are… the children are our future. our future. me and you. no. you and me. together. us. at the beach.  the fragrant smell of… car tires. diapers. laughing. silly you. laughing is not a smell. its not? No. can I have your word?  No, I never give my word.  can I have your hand? Why would you want my hand?  Because I think we should be married.  I don’t. I do.  Too bad.  But I love you.  I do not love anything.  You love shirly temples.  Yes. well then.  Quite.