Crocodile Tears of Lust [Twitter Found Poem, June 28, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
you think you know LOVE?
you think LOVE is a ticket
you redeem while watchin "I Love Lucy!"?
you think Smurf Sex honeymoon fucking
until you're blue in the face is LOVE?
Redeem yourSELF from that shower of shit;
from that shower of crocodile tears of lust.
you think LOVE is a magical
friend anyone can ever ask for?
false.
you must first redeem yourSELF.
you think LOVE is a ticket
that takes you to a happy place?
FUCK yourSELF until death do you part.
if you want lust you need Only
bust a nut,
but if you want LOVE
you must first bust ur head.
you can't take it
so you can redeem your ticket
for food, and reserved seating to
FUCK yourSELF to death
while watchin "I Love Lucy!"
while Dreaming of fucking.
The Mad Beloved [Today's News Poem, June 27, 2010]
They offer the car to their god in the hope
It's pleasing—that smoke from the plastic cupholders
Can summon a miracle down from the clouds.
The officers gather with shields and their clubs.
The leaders of nations are clad in deception.
And desperate mobs with their bottles of fire
Perform for the screen: my own prayer in a plume
Of gasoline clouds—the black in the grayness
Of towers and stormclouds; of sidewalks and age.
We're jaded and fearful of breadlines and bombs;
The black and white footage of skeletons starving
To death—all the mustaches screaming in mics,
Before all the millions in streets at salute.
This movie is real and we're stars—at least extras.
A pixel of billions, I'm nothing but days
In dreams of routine. Yet I've loved to the end
Of love; to that child of that love—each progression
Expanding my empathy; waking from scenes
Of victory, failure, routine, and ennui
To love without question; beyond the expected,
To limits I thought were denied to the bitter.
There's nothing discrete in this world of connection,
And nothing to fear from beloveds in madness.
“More than 500 people had been arrested by Sunday morning in connection with various protests, as well as some vandalism, related to the Group of 20 leaders summit here... Without offering specific information, Mr. Blair said that the violence was an attempt to draw police away from the protective ring around the summit site so that other protesters could move in and attack it.”
– Ian Austen, The New York Times, June 27, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/28/world/americas/28security.html?src=mv
“The latest government estimate is $897 million for three days of summitry. That comes to about $12 million per hour, or a total near what the government spends per year in the war in Afghanistan.”
– Ian Austen, The New York Times, June 27, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/27/business/global/27security.html
NOBODY Escapes Unhurt [Twitter Found Poem, June 27, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Remember that ordinary citizens
can be used as weapons.
Of greater interest: the Police declared martial law.
a "peaceful" sit down could get nasty fast
and police equipped with the most advanced weapons,
may have to use nuclear force on ordinary citizens.
Learning how to build peace and oneness with
abysmal failure.
burning endangered sea turtles?
the only sound basis for peace.
Police Drive-by shoot the zoo in a super-high-speed racing car
equipped with the most advanced weapons?
the only sound basis for peace.
ordinary citizens can be used as secret weapons.
they can build a bridge to the Moon...
build a nuclear submarine with the most advanced
nuclear weapons, burning endangered mother earth.
the only sound basis for peace?
NOBODY escapes unhurt.
Partial Glimpse of the Partial Eclipse [Today's News Poem, June 26, 2010]
Atoms are ordered by lines on a table—
Protons at center, electrons on fringes;
Orbiting, trading their energy levels—
Straightening spheres into graphs; into boxes.
Even the sun is as small as an eyeball.
Space too, is curved and the light does not travel
Straight on a path, though we measure it thusly.
Shadows are proof; the eclipse is the moment
Measured—a line through the circles aligning.
Drawing a ray through the needles and branches
Bigger than houses, yet smaller than glasses
Watching the sliver of shadow on Luna
Glide to the dark, unobservable sphere;
Casting its nothing on nothing again.
“A partial lunar eclipse which was unusually magnified to viewers in North America has now ended. ”
– BBC, Saturday, 26 June 2010 15:36 UK
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/science_and_environment/10414201.stm
Sit-N-Spin On Oily Ashes [Twitter Found Poem, June 26, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
experts say the oil leak in the gulf
the ashes of your deceased mother,
A BP gas card,
A used rabbit,
are in the genes.
experts say Y'all NOT havin kids!! Lol.
suffer the consequences of your actions...
wasn't destroying a place the experts have
come to call paradise a good reason Why
Y'all NOT havin kids?
sit-n-spin on the ashes of your deceased mother,
A used rabbit,
and OILY anjing laut,singa laut,walrus,dugong,manatee,sapi laut,gajah laut
.....astaga...HAHAHAHAHAHAAHAHA!
OILY AND HUNGRY NOW. CANNOT breathe! CANNOT EAT!
sit-n-spin on the ashes of your deceased you!!!
RIP! Lol
Intersubjective Symbiosis [Today's News Poem, June 25, 2010]
Who measured my soul? It is air, I am certain.
And dying this once, will the life everlasting
They promise, deliver contentment with scalpels?
The liver: an eater of toxins. Diseases
Take refuge in lungs; with their essences weighing
The same as my own—that is, nothing but error
That copies itself through the ages, and hitches
A ride on my final exhale: I am praying.
“...scientists have successfully implanted lab-made lung tissue into living rats. The fully functional tissue can exchange oxygen and carbon dioxide, the key role of the lungs. The scientists--led by a team at Yale University--used a chemical treatment to remove all existing cells from adult rat lungs, keeping the structure of the airways and vascular system intact to later serve as a sort of "scaffold" for the growth of new lung cells. ”
– Leslie Katz, Cnet, June 24, 2010
http://news.cnet.com/8301-17938_105-20008766-1.html
MOUNTAINS of SHIT In Millions of Crocks [Twitter Found Poem, June 25, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
There is no Constitutional authority. There is no law.
This meltdown was sponsored by Financial regulation FLAW.
what Are We? turkey pastrami on squaw?
r u tellin me ur gonna bite US with yo new dentures? neuter and spay
drunk ass prey
like US? MANNNNNNNNNN what a concept: seduce n fillet
THE WORKING CLASS with @SarahPalinUSA.
It takes 250,000 bullets to bite one enemy in Iraq
but It takes Financial regulation meltdown to lock
military personnel In #Dishonorable contracts to Stalk stalk stalk
and bug spray the enemy in Afghanistan & Iraq
and bite the enemy WHILE THE RADIOS talk talk talk
MOUNTAINS of SHIT In millions of crocks crocks crocks.
The New Hydrologic Cycle [Today's News Poem, June 24, 2010]
The shells of the animals covered with scabs;
We baited them, hoisted from muck—from the depths
Of brine—from the bay; and we threw all those crabs
In emptied out buckets of litter for cats.
And yet I can't help but consider the drugs
My system absorbed: all that coke in the air,
The smoke from those pipes. Am I high as this bug
That lived in a bay of prescriptions we flushed
Down toilets with feces? Our message from land:
Become us. Our claret converges and soon
Digestion, excretion will crawl in the sand
Of bays, as our organs, our bones—and our teeth.
From water, to oceans of urine and blood
As cannibals fishing our young from the mud.
“Fearing that the oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico will deal a severe blow to the bluefin tuna, an environmental group is demanding that the government declare the fish an endangered species, setting off extensive new protections under federal law. ”
– Andrew W. Lehren and Justin Gillis, The New York Times, June 23, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/24/us/24fish.html?hpw
“The BP oil spill in the Gulf of Mexico, one of only two known Atlantic bluefin spawning grounds, has only intensified the crisis. By some estimates, there may be only 9,000 of the most ecologically vital megabreeders left in the fish’s North American stock, enough for the entire population of New York to have a final bite (or two) of high-grade otoro sushi.”
– Paul Greenberg, The New York Times, June 21, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/27/magazine/27Tuna-t.html
“The Superior Council of Scientific Investigations found the air in those cities to be laced with at least five drugs: amphetamines, opiates, cannabinoids, lysergic acid and most prominently cocaine. Researchers found cocaine in concentrations between 29 and 850 picogram per cubic meter of air.”
– samzenpus, Slashdot, May 14, 2009
http://science.slashdot.org/article.pl?sid=09/05/14/1556244
Toasting the Instigator [Twitter Found Poem, June 24, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
REMEMBER THAT NIGHT YOU ATE shit
And drank a bottle of blood?
REMEMBER YOU tied a damsel to some train tracks?
you were wasted.
YOU WOULD deviously twirl your handlebar mustache.
And YOU fouled the Pizza AND treats
And gave Severe Asthma Attacks
And Asthma to children?
just because YOU wanted to shit.
just because YOU were wasted?
foul!! foul!!
YOU wasted a damsel And children
just because YOU were wasted?
YOU Avoid the cops
because YOU left me at the scene of the crime.
REMEMBER??
And now jailed, I drink MY own blood.
they let me name
the drink The Instigator!
Transubstantiation of Nihilism [Today's News Poem, June 23, 2010]
It's happening just as I saw it in visions:
A prophet inferno that rose from the ocean;
That spread with the current; that seeded the rainclouds
With shrapnel, as sparks of our wisdom exploded
And burned up like meteors scarring the nighttime.
I'm blinded. The streaks in the darkness were omens.
The flames from the oil are refining our spirits,
And casting themselves in the wind, like a pollen.
The light from the heat from our passions—our hungers—
Will unify emptiness, flesh and our notions.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=un8co1d4zb4
“But chances are the video (above) of an oil/Corexit mixture showing up 45 miles off the Gulf of Mexico is fake. That's not to say that BP should continue using Corexit--the dispersant is carcinogenic--but for now, at least, it seems unlikely that Corexit will rain down on our heads.”
– Ariel Schwartz, Fast Company, June 23, 2010 http://www.fastcompany.com/1663187/is-it-raining-oil-in-louisiana
“According to a 2003 study titled "Oil in the Sea III: Inputs, Fates, and Effects" put out by Ocean Studies Board, Marine Board, and Transportation Research Board, oil behaves very differently when on the open water. The study states: 'Within a few days following a spill, light crude oils can lose up to 75 percent of their initial volume and medium crudes up to 40 percent. In contrast, heavy or residual oils will lose no more than 10 percent of their volume in the first few days following a spill. Most oil spill behavior models include evaporation as a process and as a factor in the output of the model.' The oil included in the Deepwater Horizon disaster is most certainly crude, and was at one point a heavy crude, which reduces the overall loss to evaporation, however it's been mixed up by the effects of the ocean and become an emulsification, which according to the study, enhances the likelihood of evaporation... We have yet to find any science on the subject of the evaporation rates of these compounds or their likelihood to come back down as contaminated rain.”
– Jalopnik, June 23, 2010 http://jalopnik.com/5570961/its-raining-oil-in-louisiana
Scythian Lamb Ponders Whether the Universe is a Tautology [Today's News Poem, June 22, 2010]
My rhizome inverted, they plucked me and milled me;
Then ginned by a cyclops—then fed me with lotus:
A lamb of the vegetable, grown for the whimsy
Desire has commanded. They cultivate mouths for
The sake of a mouth that makes meaning with hunger.
Their purpose on purpose. And voids have the vision
To stare at the cave from which no man may journey;
And nothing is blinding—and pleasure's distracting:
We're born in a cave and we die in the garbage.
“A federal judge struck down the Obama administration's six-month ban on deepwater oil drilling in the Gulf of Mexico as rash and heavy-handed Tuesday, saying the government simply assumed that because one rig exploded, the others pose an imminent danger, too. U.S. District Judge Martin Feldman, who was appointed by President Ronald Reagan and has owned stock in a number of petroleum-related companies, sided with the plaintiffs.
"If some drilling equipment parts are flawed, is it rational to say all are?" he asked. "Are all airplanes a danger because one was? All oil tankers like Exxon Valdez? All trains? All mines? That sort of thinking seems heavy-handed, and rather overbearing."”
– MICHAEL KUNZELMAN (AP) –46 minutes ago, as of June 22, 2010 6:19pm PST http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5gIXWYBTpLtSayJtg41LKXpxSxVPAD9GGLCS01
The Epistemology of Hate [Twitter Found Poem, June 22, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
My glass stays full; whenever it's half empty
stand the f*ck BACK!
I'm Drunk from the epistemology of hate.
I'm rude as fuck and on a personal campaign
to raise hell So i just tell em what they wanna hear lol.
I would disrespect a dying person by making her feel warm inside.
the WHOLE purpose of defeating God is this shit:
to smoke weed all day everyday...
to blame anything on the alcohol of rage...
to purposely disrespect a dying person
just to see if i could get her to admit
GAAAAAAAWD IS A LIAR!!!!
whenever I'm empty of God I
Thrust My ROD in Thy Brother [THE DEVIL]
and purposely tell em I'm making em
feel warm inside. as I empty God from My dick
in to Thy Brother
i just tell em "EY HA BA BA SHO TA HIYA !!! GAAAAAAAWD.
there is no God.
there is no God.
there is no God."
Just Follow Bliss [Today's News Poem, June 21, 2010]
The forests of charcoal, the meat from the bushes
On sale in the market: a mote on the surface.
Another distraction. A sorrow I'm passing
En route to my bliss. And I'm over the legends
Of sorrow—I'm flying my way to a tropic
Of pleasure—away from my mansion of plastic.
I'm seeding the clouds with exhaust as I journey
And savor escape—a respite from my anguish
That hides in routine, in the margins of ledgers
I keep for my score. I can measure my triumphs,
Ignoring the losses I cannot consider:
Unless it is burning; unless there is screaming,
I name them as fiction, a story to please me.
“Until recently, biologists believed that manatees rarely ventured west of peninsular Florida, where, so far, no oil has appeared. But in 2007, Ruth Carmichael, who leads the Dauphin Island team, began documenting a relatively large summer migration of manatees to Mobile Bay, Ala. — leading them directly into and through the path of the oil from the Deepwater Horizon leak. From a couple of dozen to as many as 100 come to Mobile Bay for the summer, out of a total North American population of 5,000, she said.”
– John Leland, The New York Times, June 20, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/21/us/21manatee.html?hpw
“And yet there was something in Rumsfeld’s unknown unknowns that had captured Dunning’s imagination. I wanted to know more, and so I e-mailed him: why are you so obsessed with Rumsfeld’s “unknown unknowns?” Here is his answer: If I were given carte blanche to write about any topic I could, it would be about how much our ignorance, in general, shapes our lives in ways we do not know about. Put simply, people tend to do what they know and fail to do that which they have no conception of. In that way, ignorance profoundly channels the course we take in life. And unknown unknowns constitute a grand swath of everybody’s field of ignorance.”
– Errol Morris, The New York Times, June 20, 2010
http://opinionator.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/06/20/the-anosognosics-dilemma-1
Eyes for Ra [Twitter Found Poem, June 21, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
In honor and to appease the sun god Ra
I offer MY EYES.
I plan to stare at the sun.
that planet Earth turns... sloooooowlyy...
the most annoying planet.
I went to a planet that had people!!!
Why's it always painful people?
Why can't I BURN MY EYES In Peace?
Why are all these ugly pagans
trying to honor and appease the sun god Ra?
I don't like to SEE #Wiccan VAGINA PLZZZ.
I'm a fan of pagans who burn their own Stonehenge
to the ground after winning a summer solstice.
Put your chunky #Pagan penis away.
the sun god Ra doesn't want to SEE it.
the sun god Ra wants you to stare at the sun.
ha ha! Feel the burn!
burn the city to the ground
that planet Earth turns... sloooooowlyy...
there is no stronger god than Ra
and blindness is his prophet.
The Germans [Guest Twitter Found Poem, June 20, 2010 by Ryan Ridge]
By Ryan Ridge Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Oh, and Germans.
Don't forget the Germans.
What's with the Germans?
What happened to the Germans?
What will these Germans think of next?
Are we still better than the Germans?
Are we trying to avoid the Germans?
Are we Germans in disguise?
I’m laughing at the Germans.
Hard luck for the Germans.
Upset for the Germans.
The Germans still lost!
Bury the Germans!
I feel a little silly after mocking the Germans.
I changed my mind,
I’m going out with the Germans.
Bio: Ryan Ridge writes and teaches in Southern California. Recent work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Abjective, Corium, DIAGRAM, elimae, Fact-Simile, JMWW, The Los Angeles Review, and elsewhere. He maintains an archive of past work here. http://pastwork-ridge.blogspot.com/ Return to Toylit Subscribe in a reader
not enough to deal with
the poverty
the ungodly ennui
the loss of bone marrow deep love on aisle three
oil! toxic! all over the fucking ocean!
the one near my mama's house!
Lindsay Lohan's diseased cunt is worth more
than my spirit, the one I weep daily
from my pretty bluebonnet eyes
and the miraculous births
of retarded Siamese twins
like the sea levels
are on the fucking rise
no, not enough shit on paper plate
so Campbell Soup Company comes in
like Doo Doo Dragon of the Apocalypse
to sing song this terrible news
from dipshit rah rah mega phone:
15 MILLION POUNDS of SpaghettiOs
recalled due to malfunctioning meatball cooker
in Paris, Texas
the alphabet SpaghettiOs are the only education
some toddlers receive
not counting "Dinosaur Train" and "Dora The Explorer"
because suburban soccer mommies
are busy getting mani pedis
and sucking plumber cock
while entry level call center peon daddies
field phone calls from customers pissy about
astronomical cell phone bills
and Lady GaGa ring tones
last night I dreamed I was swimming
in Sinhalese SpaghettiOs with Richard Dreyfuss
he didn't judge me for the raw chunks of meat
so show offy orange in my salty strands of hair
he fucked me multisyllabic
as America burned to a crisp in a microwave
like a 99 cent Totino's pizza...
Pronounced Model Land [Guest News Poem Reprint from May 11, 2010, by Misti Rainwater-Lites] Misti Rainwater-Lites
Tyra Banks, fairy godpimp
to many a wannabe Gisele Bunchen,
is a literary genius, poised to take
the world by storm with Modelland.
In Modelland the boys and girls
shit strawberry fat free ice cream
and there is no unrequited love
or mediocre hair days. Everyone
is, like, totally hot and all the skyscrapers
are mirrored and the cotton candy clouds
only rain confetti and lingerie.
Choo choo. All aboard for Modelland.
Make me a believer, make this size fourteen
Texas baby mama believe
that such a place exists
and there is room at the inn for me.
Man vs. Food [Guest Twitter Found Poem Reprint, June 14, 2010 by Ryan Ridge]
By Ryan Ridge Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
My chicken scratch
is like decoding a serial killer's
rambling manifesto.
After they read my Chicken Manifesto
they will violently revolt.
Man vs. Food is simultaneously
inspiring and revolting.
Man vs. Food is my future calling.
I think my future wife
just prank called me.
I think I’m very drunk.
I think I see smoke.
I think food will be the death of me
someday.
Bio: Ryan Ridge writes and teaches in Southern California. Recent work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Abjective, Corium, DIAGRAM, elimae, Fact-Simile, JMWW, The Los Angeles Review, and elsewhere. He maintains an archive of past work here. http://pastwork-ridge.blogspot.com/
Swaddle the Parents [Today's News Poem, June 20, 2010]
You swaddled me once and you held me by starlight.
We traveled the wilderness, searching for spirits
To guide us away from anxiety's prison.
The animals: hungrier, bigger, or sharper;
Had chased us through vines through the tendrils of bushes.
By plague and mosquito they pecked at your bodies,
And drained you of life on savannah, my mothers!
My fathers each died in succession from causes
That vary from age, to starvation and murder.
The custody battles have strengthened my flaring
From sparks in a pocket, to clouds in the distance—
Majority proven in mushroom infernos.
My parents, you're weary. Your struggles are finished.
I've made you a bed and you're covered with blankets.
The teevee is playing, the morphine is dripping.
You'll sleep in my arms and you never shall perish.
“In what can be termed as the nation’s fastest growing drug problem, a new report from the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration (SAMHSA) and the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention (CDC) reveals a rapid spurt in fatalities resulting from the abuse of prescription pain drugs.”
– Neka Sehgal, The Money Times, June 20, 2010
http://www.themoneytimes.com/featured/20100620/cdc-statistics-reveal-misuse-prescription-pain-drugs-111-4-years-id-10118140.html
Punch Da Shyt Outta Fruity Logic [Twitter Found Poem, June 20, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
At some point in your life
you either have the thing you want
or the reasons why you are
too legit to quit.
I used to be legit
but now I'm not legit.
so you need a motivational tool??
Imma punch da shyt outta you.
AHHHH WHY DO U CHOOSE TO USE
FRUITY LOGIC?? There is no short cut to achievement.
Life requires thorough failure.
punch da shyt outta Life.
Life requires thorough preparation??
bullshit!!!!!!!!
thorough preparation is for short asz babies.
Life requires thorough malice, deceit, hypocrisy, envy, and slander .
Life requires U punch da shyt outta Life.
celebrate it
or quit it.
We worship the sun and the water as sources
Of life—and they're true to their purpose: refreshing
The lungs that have carried an ozone from office
To races, where fiberglass timbers are chipping
The teeth of the current. The ritual sailors,
Those actor-explorers are winding the island,
Enacting the glories of promising eras
That vanished—depleted with passage. They're chasing
Horizons in search of a past that is littered
With folly. While under the surface, the present
Is leaking and follows the vessel; which dashes
On moats made of petrol, from castles of ashes.
“BP officials on Saturday scrambled yet again to respond to another public relations challenge when their embattled chief executive, Tony Hayward, spent the day off the coast of England watching his yacht compete in one of the world’s largest races.”
– Liz Robbins, The New York Times, June 19, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/20/us/20spill.html?hp
Vacation For Dad [Twitter Found Poem, June 19, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
#DearDad thank you for being the father that
your millions of other kids never had.
I'm gonna become wealthy enough so u
can stay at home, chillax & take a permanent vacation.
so U can walk to the fridge to get
some yummy wine.
OOPs, my bad.
how can I forget??
I can not become wealthy.
did U forget U forget my child support!!??
did U forget U STOLE my college money??
thanks for showing me how a man should treat a woman.
I see it everyday with how u treat mommy...
with how u treat your love for alcohol and rot...
I love u Most when I treat u
to a ten commandment
i just might break
and U still get to take a permanent vacation.
Courtroom Surprise [Today's News Poem, June 18, 2010]
The accused takes the stand and the jury's engrossed
With the evidence offered. I notice the disks
In the dust on the panels of wood as they roast
The defendant. The judge and his gavel are brisk.
Then I notice his beak and the jury is filled
With the tendrils of something too human, that reach
For my warmth and I shout as the ink they have spilled
Wets my waist. They are swimming in ink and each
Of the tentacles grasps at my body and pulls
Me apart in a frenzy—they feast 'til they're full.
“Embattled BP Chief Executive Tony Hayward, who endured a ferocious daylong grilling this week on Capitol Hill, was replaced Friday as the point man for the day-to-day response to the gulf oil disaster, a move that drew praise from BP critics and suggested the company was growing increasingly concerned with damage to its image. ”
– Walter Hamilton and Scott Kraft, Los Angeles Times, June 18, 2010, 4:56pm http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-oil-spill-20100619,0,1365994.story
Firing Squad Instruction Manual [Twitter Found Poem, June 18, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Everyone should have some
Purple fur handcuffs.
You never know when you'll have to lock
up a demon possessed cousin.
is there a better way to fight demons?
You say a Lusty injection of white gravy (ugh!)
and hot sauce in The vile Succubus
is a better way to fight demons?
Who Makes hellspawn not WAR?
The firing squad is an Angel possessed robot.
No wonder The demons struggle.
Some find execution by Angel possessed robot
firing squad "cruel & unusual" but I
find a Lusty injection in The vile Succubus
far more ghoulish. Lust cant save you
in the land owned by Satan
and his army of vile Succubus possessed cousins.
A WAR bigger than any war draws closer and closer
and the alphabet of Angels
is a firing squad instruction manual.
Blond Mermaid Foam [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), June 17, 2010]
The beaches are empty and blackened with tar.
A yellowish foam has deposited gifts
The currents rejected: the husk of a star
Is shrouded in plastic. The coast is the rift
Where elements gather. I call for my pet.
It sails up the mouth of the vomiting bay,
Where chemicals spice up the watery jets
Of petrol, of hormones that jump up and spray
My face off the rocks. And the jellyfish swims
To home to my hands where I reach out and sting
It, tearing the gel with my fingers. Its limbs
Are flailing. I savor the taste and I sing
To mermaids to send me their sisters by tide
To flavor the sea, or to serve as my brides.
“The city of San Francisco just tentatively approved a law spotlighting cell phone radiation, so we rounded up 10 phones and Bluetooth headsets that can help distance yourself from emissions. ”
– Sean Ludwig, PC Magazine, 6.17.2010 http://www.pcmag.com/article2/0,2817,2365224,00.asp
“The Turritopsis nutricula is known as the "immortal jellyfish" because even once sexually mature, it can revert back to its polypoid stage, its first life stage. And then rinse and repeat. Again and again. From Mother Nature Network:”
– David Pescovitz, Boing Boing, 11:25 AM Thursday, Jun 17, 2010 http://www.boingboing.net/2010/06/17/-photo-from-peter-sc.html
“Fill a very large container with salted water. Fold in 12 million tons of nitrogen fertilizer. Add millions of fish, shrimp, clams, gulls, pelicans and other wildlife. Top with 100 million gallons of crude oil. Warm gently, uncovered, for a summer... Or, if you want to be lighthearted about it, you could think of it as a new kind of cooking. Americans, with their unstoppable appetites for cheap oil (the Gulf spill) and cheap food (the fertilizer-polluted Mississippi), are whipping up a big new gumbo in the Gulf. Let's hope it's not a recipe for disaster.”
– Thomas Hager, OregonLive.com, Tuesday, June 15, 2010, 8:00 AM http://www.oregonlive.com/opinion/index.ssf/2010/06/double_trouble.html
Viva Level 88 Cabrones [Twitter Found Poem, June 17, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
I LOVE u bitch. IF U WERE MY bitch I WOULD
LOVE U and fuck u ALL DAY ND ALL NIGHT.
don't u secretly want to bite the FUCK outta people
who act like they know everything about Level 88?
Level 88 HAS all the MEXICAN FOOD AND LATIN FOOD!!!!
when WE ARE not GRINDIN LIKE 2 DOGS N HEAT
WE can eat everything on Level 88.
HAHAHAHAHAHAH
WE shut it down!!!!
who cried havoc and let slip the dogs of war?
who let us dogs out ?
WE own Level 88!!!!
I'm a Great Dane--- da shit.
U a Great bitch--- da shit.
WE can eat everything on Level 88
throw it ALL up AND eat everything again...
A DROP IN THE BUCKET COMPARED
2 wht ths trash spill HAS DON 2 DESTROYAMERICA...
Level 88 is viva mexico cabrones.
Eagle of Victory [Today's News Poem, June 16, 2010]
An eagle is circling over parades.
The streamers are flying on gusts through the street.
They're waving at tanks and there's no one's afraid
Of barrels of steel. Who can think of defeat?
Who notes what the eagle observes as she glides
On breezes of tape? Who ignited the blaze?
The distance is burning—it crackles: it's fried.
The weather is shifting. The fallout they praise
Is blowing their way and they'll share what they gave:
A basket of flame for the barrel of tripe
They offered the gods. Is Prometheus brave?
He's screaming. Imagine his pain. And you gripe
About what your avarice brings on a cloud?
Go call for the gods. They are deaf to the proud.
“China wants to sell two nuclear reactors to Pakistan. The Obama administration thinks that’s a bad idea – but how to oppose that plan while dodging charges of hypocrisy, given the administration only last year sealed a US deal to supply India with civilian nuclear equipment? And how to press to halt the intended sale while preserving relations with two crucial partners, China and Pakistan?”
– Howard LaFranchi, The Christian Science Monitor, June 16, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Foreign-Policy/2010/0616/US-objects-to-China-Pakistan-nuclear-deal.-Hypocritical
Knave of Tarts and His Slave Camp of Art [Twitter Found Poem, June 16, 2010] Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Revel in your knowledge of the Machine!
(knave knave knave...)
build a Slave Camp for the worthless slave.
(knave of tarts tarts tarts...)
TO build a SOFA WIFI office work space, TV,
coffee, pretzels, tarts tarts tarts...
as You walk this world nothing can stop the knave of tarts!
a Woo hoo hoo hoo...
and i Defaced a Giant Penis
(Russian cock crushed under a Drawbridge...)
for I'm your Queen Of Art.
and that bastard, the Duke of couch
(Duke of couch couch couch...)
has nothing On your Slave Camp Of Art.
(Ahhh!!)
Last night i dipped this trip
(Oh yeah)
into the absurd and confusing realm...
the realm of the SOFA KING!!!
a Woo hoo hoo hoo...
Loss of Attachment in the Desert [Today's News Poem, June 15, 2010]
Buddha's face attached to rock:
Etched in cliff in stone display.
Rubbled, quarried, bombed away;
Scattered, used as founding stock.
The sands are shifting: deserts spread,
Recede; and gardens thrive where weeds
Had triumphed over gentle breeds—
Or vanish: golden grain to lead.
Newer gods replace the old.
Champions of faith make war.
Wilderness has always bore
Children made of bone—as cold
As distant heaven—hot as hell.
The prophets die, becoming dust;
The word of God, a cooling gust
That blows the grave where remnants dwell.
“A middle-aged Californian, on a self-proclaimed mission to help American troops, armed himself with a dagger, a pistol, a sword, Christian texts, hashish and night vision goggles and headed to the lawless tribal areas between Afghanistan and Pakistan to hunt down, single-handedly, Osama Bin Laden.”
– Sabrina Tavernise & Salman Masood, The New York Times, June 15, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/16/world/asia/16pstan.html?hp
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