Sunday, June 05, 2005


(sometimes I like to go crosspost ("xpost") from other boards, blogs, with interesting texts that I think the authors won't mind my using. I hope others may xpost here, from time to time, as well. if possible. i can't formulate exclusion)

warning: not for some readers.

[like a "spoiler alert"]


The below poem I believe was prompted by something I wrote, in part.
It really, really whirls: example of cutting=edge internest poetkitsxch:*

* pomo for, "really good sh_ _"

Registered User
(6/4/05 11:59 pm)
Reply Re: the angel sachiel
rowel of a spur
urged me on, demi goddess
on stakes . a cum shot
covers me plasticine.
precision orgasms and the next
best face. spilt into four limbs
and no mouth, a shaved facade
little girlie and lovin it.

transgeneration motility of endocrine
disruptor male infertility
syndrome> enjoy the cock
now \the ant queen broods.

make love my lesbians, remember
sappho didn't have clone medicine
she had courts
she had to please men.

with their tuff bodies richa y sonja
stand squared off in the ring. boxing
about with testosterone flavored wheaties.
sans gloves. the city fathers are out
raged. there is a madness descending.

men march into the mountains
on a skiff to the swamp. bring your own
bomb to the desert. grenade cocktails at
four. slowly the numbers cease to work.
nothing begins to add up. dildo sales
skyrocket. sperm banks close at three.

the cloning process refines itself.
marykate and ashley begin their own lines.
spicey girls love it. they break an x
over easy, just to have flesh
to fuck. the boyz don juan
on south beach in a minivan
giving facials. i grow in this water.


my first real boyfriend. we were in love
i heard on the web a big asteroid
is gonna hit in about 10 years.
that was three years ago. gotta move
fast. i loved him with the pain.
it was so easy he sucked my ears he stuck it

in me pumped for a while i thought
this is what she left dad for?
ma and her bf
always in the room fucking. i wanted
some. i got it.
we loved.
on the phone
him wackin off repeating it
over and over. it makes me vomit
to hear it today
just do it and leave. i can't stand my body
and the things it wants /
what's love? a penis just cum.

what have we taught? freedom to be a man
powerful, thrusting. what have we lost?
the need for the mold.


anders said...

Compare the blunt polemical unsayable regular feel to the moral sense of HST:

A word to the wise is infuriating.

America... just a nation of two hundred million used car salesmen with all the money we need to buy guns and no qualms about killing anybody else in the world who tries to make us uncomfortable.

Call on God, but row away from the rocks.

Going to trial with a lawyer who considers your whole life-style a Crime in Progress is not a happy prospect.

I hate to advocate drugs, alcohol, violence, or insanity to anyone, but they've always worked for me.

I have a theory that the truth is never told during the nine-to-five hours.

(all by Hunter S. Thompson, r.i.p)

anders said...

p.s. this came in second for the honor and privilege of being Official First Xpost:

Registered User
(6/4/05 9:12 pm)
Reply ..
what's the universe but me and myself
in the mirror sped up to speed of light

we pass myself and i
not recognizing anything but shimmer
hence am the self-same glimmer
growing dim


are some nefarious tobacco-stained fingers on the dimmer switch

doing a boyer to my ingrid
alien to alien

sinister plots and poinsened creme de menthe
on ice
after dinner
oh the chaise
oh shivers
eight daggers in his eyes
3 in the left and 5 in the right
frech dripping it's dain from his lips
his sulky manner
got in himmel

stay charles, please
don't you recognize me, Ilsa?


he bogarts her neck
and casablanca B&W
rickshaw splices with American Pie
and balanity of space travel
tricked out in a good-bye suit
an unknown actor is about to take to travel to new heights
from here to eternity without co-star
deborah Kerr
she's in the

let us travel you and i
leave this wasteland for the thrice-told trashman
let Elliot tidy up this dump
take out all the chipmunks tails
all the raven's baleful
cries of more
forever in a chipped bowl
less of an ask then a taking to task
take us

take us copperfield
on a trip to

me and the mirror
land of nod

no misttaking charles for marlowe's hawk

pound assasination after pound
like blood


a glass of poisend port before the fire
take this part to starboard


some arch

the main problem with finding intelligent life on/outside of our planet is the anthro-centric definition of intelligence - heck we can't even have a decent conversation with our cat

we do have that big radio beam
sending Carl Sagan's grin from here to Burt Lancaster
maybe bouncing off of Deborah Kerr's car


Hi carl

how's the cats in feline sector nebula K-over-Ibble
is it anything like this slug-hubbled cosmos
so near the narcissus it's shamful
lookit them showing off
making the Pythagorian triplets blush
like they was some kind of roses

some what

ah hush yer mouth Seth

in the last event i have a secret Russian idiom for clear-out
10 9 8 etc
and that'll clean the place up faster than an Elliot

but tell me, about Khufu
before we drop the pellet into to the vermouth
is that a square root?
or are you just glad to see me again
peeling grapes for you baby
like i did/was a year ago
like we pass/passed this spot
like a thousand times before
and they're
still not raisns


in the sun

we pass/passed this spot

we passed/pass this spot again
shimmer in the mirro
and the dimmer

like a necklace of archepiligos
a blessed rot of scatter and shot
that we've yet to figure
figure out the ferment enigma
what they claim was solved in India

high school stuff
class of '31


whee whee whee

the universe
the speed

how could you forget/forgot

anders said...

third place

(the names of the players may not get along, but the song remains the same (apologies to Plant and game theorists I knew back at U. Minn.))

Registered User
(6/5/05 12:36 am)
Reply Drenched By Midnight

Drenched By Midnight

I've gone from sparring
to trying to extract sleep.
Soothe her, perhaps.
I've left the semi-precious
in a rock garden,
become confused
upon returning.
Not much to offer
save what I've dropped,
I die.

Would you quench lust with your body
just to be sure it would once again seek you?

I need a quilt, a comforter, candles.

(Stumbles upon the terrain of skin,
scrapes and bruises we nurse together,
wildly scurrying past landmines on the battlefield.
There is moon in your eyes, skeletal fingers, gasping for more time.)

I wish I could twist her around my finger,
watch her shine
then liquify, running effortlessly off
this sing-song verse
as from my desire
countless malformed enunciations
attempt to calm us

in simultaneous tongues
until it becomes easy to say
I'm uneasy with my own
life, the part of it,
that is,
which is an arrow through the heart
of gauzy sleep.


2000 - wow, who was this person?....heh