Archive for February, 2010


February 23, 2010

when I was a tree I used to pull up my roots and take a walk down to the corner store.  I ate chips and salsa and danced the night away to the moody blues.  When I was a tree there were more people like me who I could really relate to.  I used to throw parties and sew quilts.  When I was a tree we broke our shot glasses in the fire place and didn’t worry about the rent check.  But I was never  a tree.


bacon pornography

February 21, 2010

its too many those people lifting lazy ice cream sandwiches to the sky like all those other lame lambs thinking success is the achievement of perfection.

its not a squirel

February 21, 2010

it’s often said that we are men who break into a thousand ends.  Quivering shivering sputtering drivelling.  Living lofty lies laughing lewdly as we die!  Cast a thousand stones throughout the great ship shifts and lifts about a rift.  A place of bacon people fakin’ any semblence of love awakened.  In other words, hold my hand.  In other words, fly me to the sun.

I ching hoopla festival party

February 13, 2010

the sex as usual was exquisitely cut out into carbon copies of spiral helix neutron dna strands which hope for you to party into the future where the wild things are.  Instead you follow a deep feeling in heart mind that stipulates that some spelling mistakes will be forgiven, but forget that, remember this: remember this: remember this: this: this: is: a kind world with a sharp knife preparing you lovingly for the marriage which will generally be a trip down memory lane even to your dying breath (which will be ecstatic).  So take a load off and join the humans.

barking dogs

February 13, 2010

An amber glass fills the vodka empty while steps take babies to adulthood and worries about: Mortgages, soup, car tires, diapers, etc….  it is too very, this kicks a leg. Personally is fascinating.  Compounded by the fact that the author doesn’t know how to spell big words.  Compacted by the fact that we live in a giant garborator and have to watch out for the blades lest they chop us into a tasty salad.

artless tactful

February 12, 2010

She is so beautiful like the whore of babylon who carries the olympic torth and transcends the urge to piss on everything that she creates (quite literally).  Seagulls and flying ocean creatures eating torte and considering this and that in a vain attempt to sound clever (like a poem).  Make me one with everything or at least one with bacon, cheese, pickles, and mustard (those people eat a lot of burgers. Can’t be good for their health).  Hyper sexualized male nurses gather and give you a withering look that suggests things could go smoothly from this juncture (although clouds swell and thunder crashes I will be strong or possibly just go back to bed).

boneless turkey

February 12, 2010

servile pod packed mushroom eating man on a stick I love you.  Its not enough though that the hairs stand on end and forget the meaning of silence.  We are fogged and fooled by some unintelligible voices that echo into chaotic rackteting like a ball bouncing against walls and back to check if you have time to eat some lobster tail tempura and have a bath, but whatever, as if I thought of that.  Higher up on the balcony in the basement that hides itself on the main floor of the attic I acquired something sorrowful and full of meaning that I had previously remembered to quickly jot down on a piece of plastic as it flew by into the unknowing realms of gold and magenta eyeliner that vomit frequently on our sacred cows.  Seriously, fuck them, they don’t deserve you and if they don’t accept your life you can let them carry on in ecstacy as is generally the way with human pimples of knowledge and curatorial skill.