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Showing posts with label Onanism. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Onanism. Show all posts

Saturday, March 26, 2011

Rat-A-Tat Tah-Tahs [Today's News Poem, March 26, 2011]

Rat-A-Tat Tah-Tahs [Today's News Poem, March 26, 2011]

The sexy empowered with fuck imagination
Powered the office, and powered the celibate marriages.
The daughter of catsuits and hooker boots boxed after college,
Discovered her mother's vagina; her daddy's revolver.
Her Lexus swerves, ricochets off of the panels of cars, off lanes.
And if credit cards bounce, then just launch off a penis
A pogo; then dress in a suit. Go sell houses, insurance;
Your body's a weapon to copy by internet; to copy and
Touch with our eyes. While we handle our organs
You handle a pistol and load it and fire—it's cute so it's safe—
It is pink, therefore gentle. Oh you siren, you call us by testes,
We call back by phone then we enter your lair where you crash us on bullets.
You'll get on a show, you'll be famous and author some books
And appear at the rallies, the NRA rallies, to vanquish the losers of Onan
You fine fucking thing, with your tatas, dentatas,
A rat-a-tat-tah-tah; don't give me sons, give me daughters!

"Meghan Brown, a former Florida pageant queen, shot and killed 42-year-old Albert Franklin Hill during a home invasion March 12 at the 2,732-square-foot house she shares with her fiance in Tierra Verde, Fla."
—Cristina Corbin, FoxNews.com, Published March 22, 2011
http://www.foxnews.com/us/2011/03/22/armed-beauty-queen-fatally-shoots-intruder-florida-home-invasion/



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Sunday, September 26, 2010

In Search of the Cutting Edge [Today's News Poem, September 26, 2010]

In Search of the Cutting Edge [Today's News Poem, September 26, 2010]

I) Gnomanism

Searched for the keyword 'love' on Google.
An error. No love where there's porn,
but there's plenty of pleasure exchanged
with diseases; in order to rescue
those hoping to find something like memory,
inside the flickering cyclops of desktop:
Gnoman of Onan.

II) Between Drops

All of the signs are directing us to it—
whatever it is, it's important: too much so to name
or to grasp. Let me tell you, I lay on a sofa
in the arms of a woman I barely was fond of;
even the boxes of pizza with crumbs for their tears
opened their jaws as the light from Venetian blinds
marched across her ceiling. And later
another had made me her lover and opened seduction
before bidding farewell. Her hair was my eyepatch;
but still I could see how the lines from the light
through the shades were the same as they'd been.
I said I wanted everything. She laughed.

Often, I'd follow commotion and cackle:
mad rabbi who dances between raindrops
of bottles of beer with no beer.
I'd close on the edge of these apexes
where the sputtering lips hissing 'puto'
resembled the first time I kissed while in love.
I crowed at his crowbar,
his knuckles of brass;
and once I had shouted the name
of the woman I loved, like a cornball, when I met her.
And the gangsters were baying
where clowns park their cars,
where billions are served;
and only by the fickleness
of cop cars patrolling,
and only by recklessly
chasing each bottle before it exploded in glass
could I find it—whatever it is. It hasn't a name.

“Eight people were shot — one fatally — and another three stabbed Saturday after a fight broke out at a birthday party, authorities said. ”
– (AP) – 2 hours ago as of 1:39am PST, September 26, 2010
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5gJAgkzBXRi14WBwma8f9HqWSAfcwD9IFE4580

“Consider the cockfighter. Pampered with high-end feed and plenty of room to strut in the sun, these roosters might even get regular massages before the day they are fitted with slashing spurs and thrown into a pit for a barbaric fight to the death. Now consider the chicken on your plate. There's a good chance it never saw the sun or sky but was jammed in some dark coop stinking of ammonia. In the end, it was snatched up, crated, hung upside down and beheaded. Both fates are gruesome. But really, which abused chicken suffered less: the one involved in an illegal activity or the one that was part of a common — albeit increasingly criticized — agricultural practice?”
– Michael Hill, The Associated Press, September 25, 2010 at 7:04 PM
http://seattletimes.nwsource.com/html/books/2012970169_br26animal.html?prmid=head_main

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Saturday, May 08, 2010

But @beautyfullybrwn,U Already Suckin' Jeremy Bentham's Dick [Twitter Found Poem May 8, 2010]

But @beautyfullybrwn,U Already Suckin' Jeremy Bentham's Dick [Twitter Found Poem May 8, 2010]
Tweets+Edits= #twitterfoundpoem

4 fat dudes n a beat up toyota ride by
the Prophet Jeremy Bentham wearing
his WORK uniform.
u an They TALK SHIT.

What u couldn't find a babysitter?
the Prophet Jeremy Bentham is on the case .
your kids in the car sleep wit a 5$ foot long and a box of capri suns
while u TALK SHIT .
About what, Yoko Ono?
About u an yr Value ; democracy?
right … stupid.

#WhyYouAtTheClub with 4 fat dudes
and your kids in the car sleep wit
a 5$ foot long and a box of capri suns?
What on earth makes u think
your happiness is a good thing?
What on earth makes u think
your genes are the best genes?

u needs the Prophet to think for You ?
That was not a good idea.
You lie down with 4 fat dudes
and wake again
with your WORK uniform on.

u invest in shoes b4 u invest in Any ideas.
u think about how u suck a dogs dick
before u think about how the Prophet Jeremy Bentham
is not the best babysitter.

yo momma want him get outta my @mentions
but yo kids want to get outta yo car ?
instead u invest in shoes and suck
4 fat dudes n a beat up toyota.

Value democracy in proportion to popularity.


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