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Friday, April 27, 2012

Pentapolis [Today's News Poem by Khakjaan Wessington, April 27, 2012]

Pentapolis [Today's News Poem by Khakjaan Wessington, April 27, 2012]
American exhausts the sky;
Exsanguinates the bed, rock, earth;
It collars the exposure, brains
Resistance; and of course the five
Metropolises fencing heart-
land, garrison Midwest, Mideast
Preparing for a holy war—
The Pentagon subsumes the star
Of Satan—at the UN five
Secure all of the other states;
The Pentatuch, the lore of law.

“If not for an odd confluence of events that included a car accident, a small-town festival, a GPS unit that could not spot street closures, and a wrong-way drive down a one-way street, the Norwegian man and his mother would have had an uneventful drive from Los Angeles to Chicago.
Instead, John Kristoffer Larsgard, 33, faces 7 1/2 years in an Arizona prison, largely as a result of some erratic driving that frightened and angered people at the Winslow street festival. Prosecutors said Larsgard turned his car into a weapon, hitting one woman, causing minor injuries and narrowly missing many others.”
Scott Craven - Apr. 26, 2012 11:33 PM, The Republic |

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Friday, April 20, 2012

If You Listen To Prozac... [Today's News Poem by Khakjaan Wessington, April 20, 2012]

If You Listen To Prozac... [Today's News Poem by Khakjaan Wessington, April 20, 2012]

A tinnitus of memories, terrors, desires gone poisonous—
It's the ear; and the song is as pleasant as fixed smiles, brokenness.

Listen to it: the goddammit sound that your chicken-heart makes yet!
Orgasms were the start. You degenerate, age then you die. Rot.

You must fuck and you must fear and you can't die for you're just chemicals
And life's nothing. You aren't living and fear's fake. You are bridge, process, tears.

“In 1988, a year after the Food and Drug Administration approved Prozac, 2,469,000 prescriptions for it were dispensed in America. By 2002, that number had risen to 33,320,000. By 2008, antidepressants were the third-most-common prescription drug taken in America.”
—SIDDHARTHA MUKHERJEE, The New York Times, Published: April 19, 2012

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Combatwords, April 20, 2012: Today's News Poem, Due 6pm PST

Okay you stooges, generate Today's News Poem.

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Friday, April 13, 2012

skittles [Today's News Poem by @HikiMadwoman /Preservative Woman, April 13, 2012]

skittles [Today's News Poem by @HikiMadwoman /Preservative Woman, April 13, 2012]
HikiMadwoman/Preservative Woman

barefoot florida
when i was five hot sand
mixed with tar black dirt

lacquered stickers waited
just under the surface
to slip dark spines deep
into my pink soles

my mammaw on that side believed
in fake lashes and make-up mastic
and a rainbow jesus
sealed in yellowed plastic

i played sky and scratched vinyl
on brown shag carpet
our shades pulled down
to keep the kneegrass out

mammaw had stories about kneegrass
with figured armor and wings wide
their eyes rolling
with heavy lips slavering and obscene

the kneegrass were bold
came close to the back door
hiding in sharp sun
their weapons flashing signals

between detergent commercials
whiter than white
she told me of their buffalo-haired hides
and muscled thighs

how they would steal cars
and drive
rubber pulling up tar and crushed coral
under paved florida skies

she talked of killing
them and all they had wrought
she even had a chrome gun
a boyfriend had bought

one concrete morning
whitewashed bright
i pressed against the
screen door sulfur smell

at ten o'clock am
sunlight was already acid
mammaw at the sink
told me to look

"see them kneegrass
walking weeds with trash
my how they must smell
gotta be someone i can tell"

i looked for shoulder'd wings beating
armor and buffalo hide
black skin and rolling eyes
a beast of great size

but she pointed at two girls
my age
holding a pink doll by the legs
one blue eye flapping open

they were slow as gray sand
thin bodies out of sweat
i wanted to give them water
to bring them into shade

but i could only stare
at mammaw
red hands and polyester dress
eating the window glass

and thanks to you i know
how to make monsters
we have only to refuse
to see them as they are

from on the other side
of our flyspeckled past

Barely Edited HikiMadwoman Bio As Per Twitter: Reclusive Madwoman. Careful. She bites.

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Why So Auspicious? [Today's News Poem by Khakjaan Wessington, April 13, 2012]

Why So Auspicious? [Today's News Poem by Khakjaan Wessington, April 13, 2012]

I was going to title
this poem, “The Weather and Other
Trite Shit,”
before I remembered that nobody
cares about poetry, poets and poet-talk. Poets should
die and you know it, I know it—they do.

Death is a story. Death
is some bones. Death
is a motion. Emotion
is puppetry, falsehood in motion without death
for the anchor, death
for the framing, death
for the credit to zero out debits
of happiness, breathing—whatever.

A friend said he met Robert Haas
on a campus, whilst noting the weather aloud
to another. Who is this Haas guy
and who is my friend and where is this campus
and when did it happen
and what is the point
when no one's unlucky
and no one's berserk
and nobody ducks under desk in the classroom;
while death's not the rumor on campus,
not subject nor object?
Why the weather?

“The thunderstorm that blew through the Bay Area Thursday night was one for the books - it shattered rainfall records in four cities and produced more lightning strikes than any storm in years.”
—Will Kane, San Francisco Chronicle, Friday, April 13, 2012

“A tornado outbreak is likely across the central and southern plains from late Saturday afternoon through the evening and overnight, according to the National Weather Service.”
CNN Wire Staff, April 14, 2012 -- Updated 0044 GMT (0844 HKT)

“Shortly after police arrived at the scene of Trayvon Martin's death at a gated community in the central Florida town of Sanford, officers seized the alleged murder weapon, a 9mm handgun.”
—David Adams and Kevin Gray, MIAMI | Fri Apr 13, 2012 7:18pm EDT

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Friday, April 06, 2012

Spotlight>> [Today's News Poem by @weatherlover420 /Jeff K, April 6, 2012]

Spotlight>> [Today's News Poem by @weatherlover420 /Jeff K, April 6, 2012]

"siberian plane in crash not de-iced" is the spotlighted article
the newspaper is australian
"do the australians know more about siberia than me?"
"russian plane crash kills 31" from the times
"that's too bad and stuff, but whatever, no need to spend feelings about it. it has a wikipedia article."
"utair flight-120"
there are pictures and videos of frozen airplane wings sticking up at 45 degrees. "australians were hearing about this exactly 2 hours ago. what was i doing 2 hours ago?" the pictures are mostly light blue and white
there are 875 other sources. there is a man with ice in his mustache and on his hat. There are russian letters. "siberia still has thatch-roof villages and people like 'serfs.'"
"raw video: 5 shot at calif. religious school" the associated press
"[asian name]'s victory leads to rethink about sanctions" the wall street journal
"kfc's game of big chicken" businessweek
"are all all kfc reps intensely charismatic and 'in your face' businessmen? are they required to put off an aura of powerful decision-making and manhood?"
google search kafka machine wiki, leave the spotlight

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Surfeit of Haecceity [Today's News Poem by Khakjaan Wessington, April 6, 2012]

Surfeit of Haecceity [Today's News Poem by Khakjaan Wessington, April 6, 2012]
“Somebody’s got to live this life,”
-A billionaire

These gods.
The ghost of oil.
The god of speed.
The devil of boredom.
The curse of responsibility.
The heaven of consumption.
The thrill of electronic letters.
A story of technical glasses: lighting the prophet.
Siren: the scripture when spoken.
Apes in the city: clowns in the funhouse.

What is the surface of hell?
What of this surfeit of hell?
And when will we surface from hell?

I was swimming in the murk of my own ignorance.
I was swimming in the filth of my desires.
I was following my erection.
It hardened like concrete;
Melted like chocolate, then it hardened like a building of stone—
Melted like a mountain in the rain,
Rose again like Jesus—Lord of termites (he is risen from the mound)—
And sky its lover drowned the erection filled with insects.

I am a broken wheel,
The escaping neon gas,
The kilobits per second.
I am the devil of the details,
God—the surface—
And I am a wheel;
A story of light

“If you think it's impossible for one person to change the world, we have two words for you: Peter Douglas. Faced with what seemed like an inexorable tide of development, oil drilling and privatization, Douglas set out in the 1970s to protect California's coastline. Without his passion, leadership and political skill, we would not have the largely pristine, breathtakingly beautiful, publicly accessible coast that millions from around the world travel to see and that Californians treasure. He stood up to powerful landowners, from the Hearst Corp. to the Pebble Beach Co., and to pro-drilling presidents, from Ronald Reagan to George W. Bush. He was vilified by would-be developers -- then again, you can't change the world and still have everybody love you. Douglas believed the vast majority of Californians support coastal preservation. We think so, too. As he pointed out in August at his last commission meeting, "The coast is never saved. It's always being saved."”
—Mercury News Editorial, 04/05/2012 03:36:34 PM PDT

““Somebody’s got to live this life,” he says, gesturing to the pristine view from his penthouse villa. “God decided it should be me.” ”
—Kevin Roose, The New York Times, April 4, 2012, 4:18 pm Investment Banking | Special Section Spring 2012

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