Behold! http://www.thenervousbreakdown.com/kwessington/2010/08/my-ecstasy-news-poem-april-21-2010/
TNB has lots of other nice stuff to read. Check them out now, because I still have yet to compose today's poems--AND CombatWords is on tonight. Still trying to decide where I'm hosting it tonight. In fact, if you have suggestions, please post them here on this thread.
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Friday, August 06, 2010
News Poem Infiltrates Legitimate Literary Circles!
Labels:
August 6 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington,
My Ecstasy,
The Nervous Breakdown,
thenervousbreakdown,
TNB,
www.thenervousbreakdown.com
Thursday, August 05, 2010
The Riddle of Hunger [Today's News Poem, August 5, 2010]
The Riddle of Hunger [Today's News Poem, August 5, 2010]
For L.S.
You landed on tarmac to follow the traces
Migration has stacked into boxes; abandoned
To history. Peering from awnings, near clotheslines
It watches you leave your hotel in the morning
To feed your devotion to gods of the pantry.
The concierge calls them a pest—he's requesting
You stop and consider the hunger of people
Who work here and live off the scraps that you're feeding
To cats. And the teevee is showing a Honda
For sale. And the Arabic letters are sprinting
To something—a price-tag of gibberish maybe—
To perfume and monitors; travel and trinkets.
The Pyramids stay in the desert while locals
Observe as you fill up the bellies of ferals.
And litter is everywhere. Riding the breezes
Are blizzards of plastic that cover the concrete—
So much like that pavement of home in the city
With gold in its gates and its offices roiling
With myths of creation of wealth—with the zeroes
Ascending to noumenal planes of existence.
And batting the numbers is Bast on her cushion
Of clouds, she rejects what they send her. She curses
Them slowly: their larders will empty, the vermin
Will triumph—and only for you will she spare what
Remains of a people who serviced her felines
In sands of antiquity; people who added
Their head to the predator, hoping to answer
The riddle of ages with stone in a valley.
“The ban is "a big deal" because the former Soviet Union has emerged as a major exporter on the world market, said Jerry Gidel, analyst at North America Risk Management Services, a brokerage in Chicago. Russia was the major supplier to Egypt, the world's largest importer, in the crop year that ended in May.”
– Tom Polan, The Wall Street Journal, AUGUST 5, 2010, 2:16 P.M. ET
http://online.wsj.com/article/BT-CO-20100805-717766.html
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For L.S.
You landed on tarmac to follow the traces
Migration has stacked into boxes; abandoned
To history. Peering from awnings, near clotheslines
It watches you leave your hotel in the morning
To feed your devotion to gods of the pantry.
The concierge calls them a pest—he's requesting
You stop and consider the hunger of people
Who work here and live off the scraps that you're feeding
To cats. And the teevee is showing a Honda
For sale. And the Arabic letters are sprinting
To something—a price-tag of gibberish maybe—
To perfume and monitors; travel and trinkets.
The Pyramids stay in the desert while locals
Observe as you fill up the bellies of ferals.
And litter is everywhere. Riding the breezes
Are blizzards of plastic that cover the concrete—
So much like that pavement of home in the city
With gold in its gates and its offices roiling
With myths of creation of wealth—with the zeroes
Ascending to noumenal planes of existence.
And batting the numbers is Bast on her cushion
Of clouds, she rejects what they send her. She curses
Them slowly: their larders will empty, the vermin
Will triumph—and only for you will she spare what
Remains of a people who serviced her felines
In sands of antiquity; people who added
Their head to the predator, hoping to answer
The riddle of ages with stone in a valley.
“The ban is "a big deal" because the former Soviet Union has emerged as a major exporter on the world market, said Jerry Gidel, analyst at North America Risk Management Services, a brokerage in Chicago. Russia was the major supplier to Egypt, the world's largest importer, in the crop year that ended in May.”
– Tom Polan, The Wall Street Journal, AUGUST 5, 2010, 2:16 P.M. ET
http://online.wsj.com/article/BT-CO-20100805-717766.html
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Labels:
anti-news,
August 5 2010,
Egypt,
Egyptian Gods,
hunger,
Khakjaan Wessington,
Sphinx
Beautiful Swirl [#twitterfoundpoem, August 5, 2010]
Beautiful Swirl [#twitterfoundpoem, August 5, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
an ant just bit my neck. vampiric or something?
I don't know. I do know I smells like antssss.
Ant in my tea mug made me spill tea on my ant-infested laptop.
Woot!!! antssss bleed from my nose.
sneezed out a lung and antssss crawled
all over it!!! they call me their Avatar
bcuz they controls my mind lol.
i see antssss drip from my ears
to the table. I feel so happy
and they are so cute. The horrors of the home
magnified over a million times,
form a pattern of blood, lung,
and antssss on my table.
everything is a beautiful swirl.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
an ant just bit my neck. vampiric or something?
I don't know. I do know I smells like antssss.
Ant in my tea mug made me spill tea on my ant-infested laptop.
Woot!!! antssss bleed from my nose.
sneezed out a lung and antssss crawled
all over it!!! they call me their Avatar
bcuz they controls my mind lol.
i see antssss drip from my ears
to the table. I feel so happy
and they are so cute. The horrors of the home
magnified over a million times,
form a pattern of blood, lung,
and antssss on my table.
everything is a beautiful swirl.
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Labels:
#twitterfoundpoem,
ants,
August 5 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington
Wednesday, August 04, 2010
The Origin of Homophobia [Today's News Poem, August 4, 2010]
The Origin of Homophobia [Today's News Poem, August 4, 2010]
Praise the mirror! Laud the sky!
Swear an oath to bigger gods.
Don your underwear, apply
Antiperspirant and nod
Heads at proper folks who smell
Holier than thou—the scent
Godliness commands one dwell
Thoughtfully upon. Torment
Stinks of bloody shit on dicks.
Acts that mock straight intercourse
Make the godly people sick.
Faggots foul and fuck the source
Excrement originates,
While the flock of God is clean—
Fornicating just to mate:
Shitting forth new baby beans.
“A federal judge in San Francisco struck down California’s voter-approved ban on same-sex marriage on Wednesday, handing a temporary victory to gay rights advocates in a legal battle that seems all but certain to be settled by the Supreme Court.”
– Jesse McKinley and John Schwartz, The New York Times, August 4, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/05/us/05prop.html
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Praise the mirror! Laud the sky!
Swear an oath to bigger gods.
Don your underwear, apply
Antiperspirant and nod
Heads at proper folks who smell
Holier than thou—the scent
Godliness commands one dwell
Thoughtfully upon. Torment
Stinks of bloody shit on dicks.
Acts that mock straight intercourse
Make the godly people sick.
Faggots foul and fuck the source
Excrement originates,
While the flock of God is clean—
Fornicating just to mate:
Shitting forth new baby beans.
“A federal judge in San Francisco struck down California’s voter-approved ban on same-sex marriage on Wednesday, handing a temporary victory to gay rights advocates in a legal battle that seems all but certain to be settled by the Supreme Court.”
– Jesse McKinley and John Schwartz, The New York Times, August 4, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/05/us/05prop.html
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Labels:
anti-news,
August 4 2010,
coprophobia,
Homophobia,
Khakjaan Wessington
The Smell of Love Will Pass [#twitterfoundpoem, August 4, 2010]
The Smell of Love Will Pass [#twitterfoundpoem, August 4, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
I was attacked by a hot Asian.
she passed gas, so i had to learn to defend myself
from love in the air with my gas mask!
I Went out today and God
held me below the magnifying glass.
a priest once told me a few
God defense lessons in phys ed in grade 9.
The priest said I needed to apologize to all
the hot Asian figures I've EVER wanted.
I've learned quite a lot. I've learned to
hold my breath. I now cant smell love in the air
and my gas mask hasnt been repaired in years.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
I was attacked by a hot Asian.
she passed gas, so i had to learn to defend myself
from love in the air with my gas mask!
I Went out today and God
held me below the magnifying glass.
a priest once told me a few
God defense lessons in phys ed in grade 9.
The priest said I needed to apologize to all
the hot Asian figures I've EVER wanted.
I've learned quite a lot. I've learned to
hold my breath. I now cant smell love in the air
and my gas mask hasnt been repaired in years.
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Tuesday, August 03, 2010
Disposable Notions [Today's News Poem, August 3, 2010]
Disposable Notions [Today's News Poem, August 3, 2010]
Angels dance upon a page,
But never has a human sage
Tamed a flea, nor holy ghost
To dance on pins; despite their boasts.
Better then to needle kids
To dream what grown-ups self-forbid:
Crushing hopes to lubricate
The gears of wealth, with blood from hate.
Someday soon they'll put away
Their Bibles—skin and hair all grey—
Drinking lemonade alone,
Without a thing they need atone.
Smoothing out the Sunday news,
They'll blankly stare, before they snooze.
Waking up at dark, their deck
A pedestal. They'll crane their neck,
Watching stars adrift at night,
And think of all the foolish sights
Never seen, for fear to stray
Beyond the bounds of proper play.
Once they saw the sky as youths
As blank, distracting them from truth;
Now they see it stays the same
And serves as cause, not source of blame.
“On Tuesday morning, Omar Thornton, a driver for Hartford Distributors, went on a shooting rampage during a morning shift change, and then killed himself, police say... Joanne Hannah, a former neighbor of Thornton whose daughter had dated him, also told the Courant that Thornton, who is black, had complained about racial harassment at work and that his superiors had refused to address his complaint.”
– Amanda Paulson, Christian Science Monitor, August 3, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/2010/0803/Report-alleged-Hartford-Distributors-shooter-claimed-racial-harassment
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Angels dance upon a page,
But never has a human sage
Tamed a flea, nor holy ghost
To dance on pins; despite their boasts.
Better then to needle kids
To dream what grown-ups self-forbid:
Crushing hopes to lubricate
The gears of wealth, with blood from hate.
Someday soon they'll put away
Their Bibles—skin and hair all grey—
Drinking lemonade alone,
Without a thing they need atone.
Smoothing out the Sunday news,
They'll blankly stare, before they snooze.
Waking up at dark, their deck
A pedestal. They'll crane their neck,
Watching stars adrift at night,
And think of all the foolish sights
Never seen, for fear to stray
Beyond the bounds of proper play.
Once they saw the sky as youths
As blank, distracting them from truth;
Now they see it stays the same
And serves as cause, not source of blame.
“On Tuesday morning, Omar Thornton, a driver for Hartford Distributors, went on a shooting rampage during a morning shift change, and then killed himself, police say... Joanne Hannah, a former neighbor of Thornton whose daughter had dated him, also told the Courant that Thornton, who is black, had complained about racial harassment at work and that his superiors had refused to address his complaint.”
– Amanda Paulson, Christian Science Monitor, August 3, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/2010/0803/Report-alleged-Hartford-Distributors-shooter-claimed-racial-harassment
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My Little Gangster [#twitterfoundpoem, August 3, 2010]
My Little Gangster [#twitterfoundpoem, August 3, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
I'm too ghetto to function.
I love collecting shiny teeth
and I'm in my own gangster movie.
I criticize people all the time,
but I don't take any criticism towards me.
You speeding up when you see me
put my blinker on to get over?
we gonna play gangster movie.
Plans for tomorrow have been changed drastically
because of lack of funds?
I'm gonna get fancy and gun it.
do you really want to see a world of color?
I will help you to see Stars.
see? I'm Shooting you with Stars.
the tool is a gun, and my job is playing a
gangster in a movie and the movie is
about my little pony and MURDER.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
I'm too ghetto to function.
I love collecting shiny teeth
and I'm in my own gangster movie.
I criticize people all the time,
but I don't take any criticism towards me.
You speeding up when you see me
put my blinker on to get over?
we gonna play gangster movie.
Plans for tomorrow have been changed drastically
because of lack of funds?
I'm gonna get fancy and gun it.
do you really want to see a world of color?
I will help you to see Stars.
see? I'm Shooting you with Stars.
the tool is a gun, and my job is playing a
gangster in a movie and the movie is
about my little pony and MURDER.
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Monday, August 02, 2010
Party Eviction [Today's News Poem, August 2, 2010]
Party Eviction [Today's News Poem, August 2, 2010]
The feast rejects the festive play
And starts to take the food away.
The cinders whimper—burning out.
The diners finish off the stout,
And dance amidst the cups and plates.
And now they drink the wine to sate
That thirst for water, sun and dirt.
The drunkest ones proceed to squirt
A purple blast on chins and chests;
And even tongues! And once they've blessed
Themselves, they sleep on tablecloths
And soak themselves in chicken broth.
The chairs are pawned to pay the tab,
The snoring guests asleep on slabs
Are robbed. The host is shutting down
The hall for good and leaving town
To party with another scene,
With folks who thank the host—and clean!
“The annual Gulf of Mexico "dead zone" – a low-oxygen region of seawater that appears each spring and summer and either snuffs marine life or sends it fleeing – is one of the largest on record this year. ”
– Pete Spotts, Christian Science Monitor, August 2, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/Environment/2010/0802/Massive-dead-zone-in-the-Gulf-but-not-because-of-the-oil-spill
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The feast rejects the festive play
And starts to take the food away.
The cinders whimper—burning out.
The diners finish off the stout,
And dance amidst the cups and plates.
And now they drink the wine to sate
That thirst for water, sun and dirt.
The drunkest ones proceed to squirt
A purple blast on chins and chests;
And even tongues! And once they've blessed
Themselves, they sleep on tablecloths
And soak themselves in chicken broth.
The chairs are pawned to pay the tab,
The snoring guests asleep on slabs
Are robbed. The host is shutting down
The hall for good and leaving town
To party with another scene,
With folks who thank the host—and clean!
“The annual Gulf of Mexico "dead zone" – a low-oxygen region of seawater that appears each spring and summer and either snuffs marine life or sends it fleeing – is one of the largest on record this year. ”
– Pete Spotts, Christian Science Monitor, August 2, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/Environment/2010/0802/Massive-dead-zone-in-the-Gulf-but-not-because-of-the-oil-spill
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Labels:
anti-news,
August 2 2010,
dead zone,
Khakjaan Wessington
Stop the Grand Wizard Apostate of Star Trek Wars! [#twitterfoundpoem, August 2, 2010]
Stop the Grand Wizard Apostate of Star Trek Wars! [#twitterfoundpoem, August 2, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Star Trek Wars apostate Convention:
Where Southern Fried Worship meets
Yankee Doodle ex-fanboy Fury.
some snarky apostate mage
and his followers in white hoods
START the festivities.
Southern-Fried, Yankee-Doodle, ex-fanboy
mage starts casting a spell of activate lighter!
JESUS! he burns a picture of @levarburton,
@_TheFakeMcCoy, @illogical_Spock, George Lucas,
and the Captain! someone stop them!
JUST because Star Trek Wars stopped
loving you, or never loved you
doesn't mean you stop loving them.
burn me instead! If you burn me
I will rEturn more powerful than anything
you can Imagine: honorary Star Wars officer
on the crew of the Enterprise! !
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Star Trek Wars apostate Convention:
Where Southern Fried Worship meets
Yankee Doodle ex-fanboy Fury.
some snarky apostate mage
and his followers in white hoods
START the festivities.
Southern-Fried, Yankee-Doodle, ex-fanboy
mage starts casting a spell of activate lighter!
JESUS! he burns a picture of @levarburton,
@_TheFakeMcCoy, @illogical_Spock, George Lucas,
and the Captain! someone stop them!
JUST because Star Trek Wars stopped
loving you, or never loved you
doesn't mean you stop loving them.
burn me instead! If you burn me
I will rEturn more powerful than anything
you can Imagine: honorary Star Wars officer
on the crew of the Enterprise! !
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Sunday, August 01, 2010
Voynich Blueprint [Today's News Poem, August 1, 2010]
Voynich Blueprint [Today's News Poem, August 1, 2010]
The acolytes surround the screen,
Their quills and paper grasped in hands.
I switch the slide from blank to scene.
An architect had drawn a land
Of buildings, known to us as scrap.
The people seemed to be carefree.
The benches, free, on streets to nap
When one got tired; and even trees
That bore no fruit had lined the street
Of pavement—liquid turned to stone.
And all to frame their greatest feat:
A tower home, a lofty throne.
No artist now could match the skill
Of one who drafted masterworks
We studied—moving once, now still.
And only through the lonely quirks
Of genius can we even keep
The slides from losing magic light.
And knowledge disappears to creep
With parents, leaving us with fright.
“The nation’s ability to identify the source of a nuclear weapon used in a terrorist attack is fragile and eroding, according to a report released Thursday by the National Research Council... In addition, the panel cited a lack of skilled personnel, the use of outdated instruments and the existence of old facilities in need of upgrading. For general support, the forensics work depends on the nation’s program for maintaining its nuclear arsenal, the report noted, adding, however, that its “funds are declining.””
– William J. Broad, The New York Times, July 29, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/30/us/30nuke.html?src=me
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The acolytes surround the screen,
Their quills and paper grasped in hands.
I switch the slide from blank to scene.
An architect had drawn a land
Of buildings, known to us as scrap.
The people seemed to be carefree.
The benches, free, on streets to nap
When one got tired; and even trees
That bore no fruit had lined the street
Of pavement—liquid turned to stone.
And all to frame their greatest feat:
A tower home, a lofty throne.
No artist now could match the skill
Of one who drafted masterworks
We studied—moving once, now still.
And only through the lonely quirks
Of genius can we even keep
The slides from losing magic light.
And knowledge disappears to creep
With parents, leaving us with fright.
“The nation’s ability to identify the source of a nuclear weapon used in a terrorist attack is fragile and eroding, according to a report released Thursday by the National Research Council... In addition, the panel cited a lack of skilled personnel, the use of outdated instruments and the existence of old facilities in need of upgrading. For general support, the forensics work depends on the nation’s program for maintaining its nuclear arsenal, the report noted, adding, however, that its “funds are declining.””
– William J. Broad, The New York Times, July 29, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/30/us/30nuke.html?src=me
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Curse You Doctor Faustus! [#twitterfoundpoem, August 1, 2010]
Curse You Doctor Faustus! [#twitterfoundpoem, August 1, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
My bro kut his leg on the side of my face.
My face is burnin a bit... Used
thousands of gallons of Mustard Gas
to shave my head. My friend, Doctor Faustus
said to use arsenic shaving cream so people
would think I have cancer and they'd be "more nice"
to me... But I didn't have any.
I shaved my head and I spilled
hair and head skin on the side of my face.
now the side of my face is some
glass liKE substance.
My bro and I, we shook hands
an kept it movin on to the next one!
and now I have cancer for really, really, really real.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
My bro kut his leg on the side of my face.
My face is burnin a bit... Used
thousands of gallons of Mustard Gas
to shave my head. My friend, Doctor Faustus
said to use arsenic shaving cream so people
would think I have cancer and they'd be "more nice"
to me... But I didn't have any.
I shaved my head and I spilled
hair and head skin on the side of my face.
now the side of my face is some
glass liKE substance.
My bro and I, we shook hands
an kept it movin on to the next one!
and now I have cancer for really, really, really real.
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Labels:
#twitterfoundpoem,
Arsenic Shaving Cream,
August 1 2010,
Doctor Faustus,
Khakjaan Wessington
Saturday, July 31, 2010
Mad Aftermath [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), July 31, 2010]
Mad Aftermath [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), July 31, 2010]
The wheel revolves despite the burning wreck
And Max collects the dripping fuel in cans
To drive another mile—his aimless trek
To live beyond the span of better plans.
The television called for civil calm
Before the power died away for good.
The first to die had sang the loudest psalms,
Forgetting what the rest had understood.
The predators have picked away the brave;
Selecting cowards—such as I—to strive
To seek my family; to find and save
And never yield so long as I'm alive—
Or see them murdered; hear their final groans,
Then search for nothing, driving roads alone.
“Whatever it was that shook a 260,000-ton Japanese supertanker as it sailed through calm waters between Oman and Iran just after midnight Wednesday, it was not a freak wave... Several theories are doing the rounds: The 333-meter-long ship collided with a submarine or a degraded sea mine left over from the Iran-Iraq war; there was an internal explosion; or, most unsettling of all, it was the target of an attack by pirates or terrorists in a strategically vital stretch of water in a sensitive region.”
– Justin McCurry, Christian Science Monitor, July 30, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Asia-Pacific/2010/0730/Top-three-theories-on-what-damaged-Japanese-oil-tanker-near-Iran
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The wheel revolves despite the burning wreck
And Max collects the dripping fuel in cans
To drive another mile—his aimless trek
To live beyond the span of better plans.
The television called for civil calm
Before the power died away for good.
The first to die had sang the loudest psalms,
Forgetting what the rest had understood.
The predators have picked away the brave;
Selecting cowards—such as I—to strive
To seek my family; to find and save
And never yield so long as I'm alive—
Or see them murdered; hear their final groans,
Then search for nothing, driving roads alone.
“Whatever it was that shook a 260,000-ton Japanese supertanker as it sailed through calm waters between Oman and Iran just after midnight Wednesday, it was not a freak wave... Several theories are doing the rounds: The 333-meter-long ship collided with a submarine or a degraded sea mine left over from the Iran-Iraq war; there was an internal explosion; or, most unsettling of all, it was the target of an attack by pirates or terrorists in a strategically vital stretch of water in a sensitive region.”
– Justin McCurry, Christian Science Monitor, July 30, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/World/Asia-Pacific/2010/0730/Top-three-theories-on-what-damaged-Japanese-oil-tanker-near-Iran
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Labels:
anti-news,
July 31 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington,
Mad Max,
Tennyson
True Authenticity [#twitterfoundpoem, July 31, 2010]
True Authenticity [#twitterfoundpoem, July 31, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
it does not move in
it does not move out.
ur life hmmmmm... appears to be
an authentic replica.
ur Blood plasma is deadly-looking.
and ur life hmmmmm... STANDS STILL!
Let's Drain ur life hmmmmm...
Let's Still u in this hospital bed.
Let's Needle galore holes on ur body
Let's sample test, just Wait for DrWorm.
everything in Nature is an authentic replica
imitating everything. everything is accomplished
Imitating Nature and workaholic DrWorm has found purpose
for useless u! she's Weaponized ur Blood plasma!
ur a replica modeled after medieval instruments of death.
u do not move, yet have accomplished more by doing
Nothing. ur a true, authentic replica of life hmmmmm...
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
it does not move in
it does not move out.
ur life hmmmmm... appears to be
an authentic replica.
ur Blood plasma is deadly-looking.
and ur life hmmmmm... STANDS STILL!
Let's Drain ur life hmmmmm...
Let's Still u in this hospital bed.
Let's Needle galore holes on ur body
Let's sample test, just Wait for DrWorm.
everything in Nature is an authentic replica
imitating everything. everything is accomplished
Imitating Nature and workaholic DrWorm has found purpose
for useless u! she's Weaponized ur Blood plasma!
ur a replica modeled after medieval instruments of death.
u do not move, yet have accomplished more by doing
Nothing. ur a true, authentic replica of life hmmmmm...
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Friday, July 30, 2010
Two Bonus Poems Await you at CombatWords for July 30, 2010
RToady has entered the arena. The battle is heating up now...
http://trickwithaknife.com/?p=868
It's night across America. You need some Soft Lights and Sweet Music. Seriously.
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http://trickwithaknife.com/?p=868
It's night across America. You need some Soft Lights and Sweet Music. Seriously.
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Tweaker Defeats a Dragon [Today's News Poem, July 30, 2010]
Tweaker Defeats a Dragon [Today's News Poem, July 30, 2010]
Tamper the serpent and tickle its furnace.
Knock on its ribs and the artery plumbing.
Scavenge this host and make haste with a sternness
Matching your stealth. Your amphetamine, numbing
Fear of this master of chimneys: with concrete
Wing that extends in the dawn as a presence
Smothering light as it's born, with a dark heat—
Sparing some sparks with a darker pretense;
Drawing the others inside with a breath—
Spewing out arson and smoke in its death.
“An industrial building with a tampered gas line exploded Friday, killing a man who was hurled into the street and another who was electrocuted by a downed power line, officials said.”
– THOMAS WATKINS (AP) – 1 hour ago as of July 30, 2010; 1:47pm PST
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5ior-4qP5K9cdeUXFQEWmpFTFtvKwD9H9ID500
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Tamper the serpent and tickle its furnace.
Knock on its ribs and the artery plumbing.
Scavenge this host and make haste with a sternness
Matching your stealth. Your amphetamine, numbing
Fear of this master of chimneys: with concrete
Wing that extends in the dawn as a presence
Smothering light as it's born, with a dark heat—
Sparing some sparks with a darker pretense;
Drawing the others inside with a breath—
Spewing out arson and smoke in its death.
“An industrial building with a tampered gas line exploded Friday, killing a man who was hurled into the street and another who was electrocuted by a downed power line, officials said.”
– THOMAS WATKINS (AP) – 1 hour ago as of July 30, 2010; 1:47pm PST
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5ior-4qP5K9cdeUXFQEWmpFTFtvKwD9H9ID500
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CombatWords Starts Right Now
Go there after reading Today's News Poem (up in a moment)
http://trickwithaknife.com/?p=868
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http://trickwithaknife.com/?p=868
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Yo Birth Certificate, Muthafukka [#twitterfoundpoem, July 30, 2010]
Yo Birth Certificate, Muthafukka [#twitterfoundpoem, July 30, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
you either is or isn't serious.
you tryna be serious and people think you playin,
because you really isn't serious.
you think your church denomination
combines technology and theology?
more like Egyptology and Zoology.
Calm your a** down and shut the f**k up!
Do you have to be wack?
people think they know something
and they dont know what they be talkin about.
don't know when the conversation's over?
Go somewhere! Small talk has BEEN over!
Go blame Obama 4 the Oil Spill.
Go kill over turf you claim while
you live with your mama!
your mama so cocky she is more like
your father! that is, she has a penis
where her pee should be.
That's right, your mama is Ann Coulter
and so is your father!
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
you either is or isn't serious.
you tryna be serious and people think you playin,
because you really isn't serious.
you think your church denomination
combines technology and theology?
more like Egyptology and Zoology.
Calm your a** down and shut the f**k up!
Do you have to be wack?
people think they know something
and they dont know what they be talkin about.
don't know when the conversation's over?
Go somewhere! Small talk has BEEN over!
Go blame Obama 4 the Oil Spill.
Go kill over turf you claim while
you live with your mama!
your mama so cocky she is more like
your father! that is, she has a penis
where her pee should be.
That's right, your mama is Ann Coulter
and so is your father!
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Thursday, July 29, 2010
Waiting for the God of Process [Today's News Poem, July 29, 2010]
Waiting for the God of Process [Today's News Poem, July 29, 2010]
Braise me with forms. Try me by file.
Sear me with stamps. Debit me out.
Humble yourself; God's at the desk.
Suits will not save sinners from flame.
Notice the man taken away,
Cuffed like a beast off to the blade?
Crimes will be punished.
Crimes will determine
Who are the clean,
Who are the vermin.
I welcome the master
With terror; contrition;
Accepting disaster:
My servile condition.
“The new law technically went into effect at 12:01 a.m. Thursday, but major provisions of it, including one giving police officers a larger role in enforcing immigration violations, were suspended on Wednesday by the court order.”
– Randal C. Archibold, The New York Times, July 29, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/30/us/30arizona.html?ref=us
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Braise me with forms. Try me by file.
Sear me with stamps. Debit me out.
Humble yourself; God's at the desk.
Suits will not save sinners from flame.
Notice the man taken away,
Cuffed like a beast off to the blade?
Crimes will be punished.
Crimes will determine
Who are the clean,
Who are the vermin.
I welcome the master
With terror; contrition;
Accepting disaster:
My servile condition.
“The new law technically went into effect at 12:01 a.m. Thursday, but major provisions of it, including one giving police officers a larger role in enforcing immigration violations, were suspended on Wednesday by the court order.”
– Randal C. Archibold, The New York Times, July 29, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/30/us/30arizona.html?ref=us
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Labels:
anti-news,
July 29 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington,
Process
Show Up N Pay Up [#twitterfoundpoem, July 29, 2010]
Show Up N Pay Up [#twitterfoundpoem, July 29, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
they still gettin you man?
they may be motherfuckers but they are stronger
than God. you better pay your tickets.
they might be Nazi pigs, but you better
get humble fast & pay your Parking tickets.
first they shoot you with tickets.
then they are willing to gun show you down.
show up n pay up; Or ELSE they Will Fuck u up.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
they still gettin you man?
they may be motherfuckers but they are stronger
than God. you better pay your tickets.
they might be Nazi pigs, but you better
get humble fast & pay your Parking tickets.
first they shoot you with tickets.
then they are willing to gun show you down.
show up n pay up; Or ELSE they Will Fuck u up.
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Labels:
#twitterfoundpoem,
July 29 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington,
Tickets
Wednesday, July 28, 2010
Abominable Mystic [Today's News Poem, July 28, 2010]
Abominable Mystic [Today's News Poem, July 28, 2010]
Aquarium mystic; a trifle of suckers.
And eyes like a monster—just look at the fucker:
A throwback to slime with its brute premonitions,
Resembling something like pre-Fall cognition.
It's worthy of worship—as if I were praying
To nightmares no trite glossolaliac saying
Could capture; no light in the tunnel of dying,
No god can be equal to octopus scrying.
A seizure of rapture, a moment of fainting;
I wake to the feeling of tentacle tainting.
It covers my nose and my lips as a suture
I gaze in its eyes and it tells me my future.
“He claims that the octopus is a symbol of decadence and decay among "his enemies"... the Iranian president accused the octopus of spreading "western propaganda and superstition." ”
– The Telegraph, 1:30PM BST 27 Jul 2010
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/germany/7912418/Mahmoud-Ahmadinejad-attacks-Octopus-Paul.html
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Aquarium mystic; a trifle of suckers.
And eyes like a monster—just look at the fucker:
A throwback to slime with its brute premonitions,
Resembling something like pre-Fall cognition.
It's worthy of worship—as if I were praying
To nightmares no trite glossolaliac saying
Could capture; no light in the tunnel of dying,
No god can be equal to octopus scrying.
A seizure of rapture, a moment of fainting;
I wake to the feeling of tentacle tainting.
It covers my nose and my lips as a suture
I gaze in its eyes and it tells me my future.
“He claims that the octopus is a symbol of decadence and decay among "his enemies"... the Iranian president accused the octopus of spreading "western propaganda and superstition." ”
– The Telegraph, 1:30PM BST 27 Jul 2010
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/germany/7912418/Mahmoud-Ahmadinejad-attacks-Octopus-Paul.html
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Labels:
anti-news,
cthulu,
July 28 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington
Spell of 'Locate Sweet Dream' [#twitterfoundpoem, July 28, 2010]
Spell of 'Locate Sweet Dream' [#twitterfoundpoem, July 28, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
give me strength though it SLAYS me.
give me the final level.
RIP to those slain, terrorized and tyrannized.
RIP to those defamed by their own pompous grandeur.
I demand delusion and a sweet dream
though it SLAYS me. It seems easier to reach the final level
than Plea Location location location and be
slain anyhow!
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
give me strength though it SLAYS me.
give me the final level.
RIP to those slain, terrorized and tyrannized.
RIP to those defamed by their own pompous grandeur.
I demand delusion and a sweet dream
though it SLAYS me. It seems easier to reach the final level
than Plea Location location location and be
slain anyhow!
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Tuesday, July 27, 2010
Recovering Predator Sympathy [Today's News Poem, July 27, 2010]
Recovering Predator Sympathy [Today's News Poem, July 27, 2010]
Even if somehow I managed to peel
Fat from my body and loosened my tongue
(Better for you—if not perfect appeal),
Managed to follow you—college at Reed—
Leaving all else for a chance at your love...
Let's say I won it and after degrees,
Married that June with a Chuppah above.
Innocence saved with you—both of us kids;
Older, not jaded, not blundering fools
Seeking the bitterness; searching to taste
Passion as first we had felt at our school—
Losing that self to the madness of self.
And I was in a bubble.
And I did not notice what was beyond
the world of my making.
And even our fantasies disappoint us.
And when life finally reaps our innocence by motorcycle
and our brother nearly dies
and our niece dies,
you tell me they were not mine to lose
and that we were never truly together
and that you cannot live with the potential for loss
and that we will never have children at all
and that I must learn to love predators again
and that I must teach you with alienation
and that I must leave you.
“A man newly arrived at San Quentin State Prison after being convicted of murder and drunken driving in the death of a 9-year-old Novato girl was fatally stabbed by another inmate, authorities said today... The suspect is Frank Anthony Souza, 31, a convicted murderer from San Jose... Souza was convicted in Santa Clara County Superior Court of first-degree murder for fatally strangling and beating John Carl Riggins, 59, who was homeless, in an alley near Lincoln Avenue in San Jose in August 2007. The two men had gotten into a confrontation after Souza stole Riggins' mountain bike, authorities said.”
– Henry K. Lee, The San Francisco Chronicle, July 27, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/07/27/BALU1EKHEA.DTL&tsp=1
http://www.moremarin.com/buzzhome/2009/10/motorcycle-crash-victim-speaks-out.html
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Even if somehow I managed to peel
Fat from my body and loosened my tongue
(Better for you—if not perfect appeal),
Managed to follow you—college at Reed—
Leaving all else for a chance at your love...
Let's say I won it and after degrees,
Married that June with a Chuppah above.
Innocence saved with you—both of us kids;
Older, not jaded, not blundering fools
Seeking the bitterness; searching to taste
Passion as first we had felt at our school—
Losing that self to the madness of self.
And I was in a bubble.
And I did not notice what was beyond
the world of my making.
And even our fantasies disappoint us.
And when life finally reaps our innocence by motorcycle
and our brother nearly dies
and our niece dies,
you tell me they were not mine to lose
and that we were never truly together
and that you cannot live with the potential for loss
and that we will never have children at all
and that I must learn to love predators again
and that I must teach you with alienation
and that I must leave you.
“A man newly arrived at San Quentin State Prison after being convicted of murder and drunken driving in the death of a 9-year-old Novato girl was fatally stabbed by another inmate, authorities said today... The suspect is Frank Anthony Souza, 31, a convicted murderer from San Jose... Souza was convicted in Santa Clara County Superior Court of first-degree murder for fatally strangling and beating John Carl Riggins, 59, who was homeless, in an alley near Lincoln Avenue in San Jose in August 2007. The two men had gotten into a confrontation after Souza stole Riggins' mountain bike, authorities said.”
– Henry K. Lee, The San Francisco Chronicle, July 27, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/07/27/BALU1EKHEA.DTL&tsp=1
http://www.moremarin.com/buzzhome/2009/10/motorcycle-crash-victim-speaks-out.html
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Blessed Shall be the Fruit of Thy Resume [#twitterfoundpoem, July 27, 2010]
Blessed Shall be the Fruit of Thy Resume [#twitterfoundpoem, July 27, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Your 14 page resume stateth thou Didst instigate
ANOTHER OIL SPILL? yea, verily.
And thy fortune shall be exalted
For thou art the glory of OIL SPILL profits.
And the Oiled up WILDLIFE?
Fie!
receivest thou the endangered baby sea turtles
that thou might thrice Fie them
upon thy Oiled up beach?
that we might collectively die
of OIL SPILL? the endangered baby sea turtles
killed; our fortune, exalted.
And thy beach Chalet upon the Gulf:
Overseer of their death
And our OIL.
yup the world is gnna end
but you're hired!
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Your 14 page resume stateth thou Didst instigate
ANOTHER OIL SPILL? yea, verily.
And thy fortune shall be exalted
For thou art the glory of OIL SPILL profits.
And the Oiled up WILDLIFE?
Fie!
receivest thou the endangered baby sea turtles
that thou might thrice Fie them
upon thy Oiled up beach?
that we might collectively die
of OIL SPILL? the endangered baby sea turtles
killed; our fortune, exalted.
And thy beach Chalet upon the Gulf:
Overseer of their death
And our OIL.
yup the world is gnna end
but you're hired!
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Monday, July 26, 2010
As They Go Obsolete [Today's News Poem, July 26, 2010]
As They Go Obsolete [Today's News Poem, July 26, 2010]
Life is for the healthy,
So farewell my follicle!
Live by straws and emptied
Cans. Your catheter, your toys,
Mock both young and elder.
For all babies are droplets;
Flowing down to oceans
Of the seniors—and stones
Like you fall where birthed and
Then you stay. Your ancestors
Weep or else they're watching
As the river swells with youth,
While the sea is draining—
And you just refuse. You sit,
Watching water pass you.
“Some findings of a report about Ohio's probation system released Monday by the Council of State Governments Justice Center: — Seven of ten surveyed judges said they don't receive information on what happens to people they sentence to probation. ”
– The Associated Press, The Mercury News, 07/26/2010 07:26:49 AM PDT
http://www.mercurynews.com/news/ci_15604545
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Life is for the healthy,
So farewell my follicle!
Live by straws and emptied
Cans. Your catheter, your toys,
Mock both young and elder.
For all babies are droplets;
Flowing down to oceans
Of the seniors—and stones
Like you fall where birthed and
Then you stay. Your ancestors
Weep or else they're watching
As the river swells with youth,
While the sea is draining—
And you just refuse. You sit,
Watching water pass you.
“Some findings of a report about Ohio's probation system released Monday by the Council of State Governments Justice Center: — Seven of ten surveyed judges said they don't receive information on what happens to people they sentence to probation. ”
– The Associated Press, The Mercury News, 07/26/2010 07:26:49 AM PDT
http://www.mercurynews.com/news/ci_15604545
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Labels:
anti-news,
July 26 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington,
obsolete
You Can Depend On Me For Anything For You [#twitterfoundpoem, July 26, 2010]
You Can Depend On Me For Anything For You [#twitterfoundpoem, July 26, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
under a full moon, a display of unmatched
beauty, and I am under your rapture.
under a full moon, I Make the most.
I catch those sweet surprises
and I catch my life, If only for a moment.
your soft skin must never Touch rough life.
and I will carry you in my Crude and otherwise
listless hands. the same hands that otherwise
would not Have worked this hard. and I will be
a funny memory for you as you drink orange juice
with your new husband...
and I will dream under the wide and starry sky,
of my life: Moments under a full moon,
with joy and you... Moments of life between the keys of my keyboard.
and I will wait for you, But you Mustn't come.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
under a full moon, a display of unmatched
beauty, and I am under your rapture.
under a full moon, I Make the most.
I catch those sweet surprises
and I catch my life, If only for a moment.
your soft skin must never Touch rough life.
and I will carry you in my Crude and otherwise
listless hands. the same hands that otherwise
would not Have worked this hard. and I will be
a funny memory for you as you drink orange juice
with your new husband...
and I will dream under the wide and starry sky,
of my life: Moments under a full moon,
with joy and you... Moments of life between the keys of my keyboard.
and I will wait for you, But you Mustn't come.
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Sunday, July 25, 2010
Memorandum of Understanding for an Ecosystem of Explosives [Today's News Poem, July 25, 2010]
Memorandum of Understanding for an Ecosystem of Explosives [Today's News Poem, July 25, 2010]
Memorandum of Understanding
Re: Ecosystem of explosives
We will knit the string and you will tug it;
and the large idols shall smash the smaller ones.
We will use your eyes to watch us rupture the moon...
and it will be your dismay...
and the sky will be a yellow-white scramble at dusk.
House of Bombs: good night dust.
Nail-File Bowie Knife: always be prepared.
Office of Bullets: six grams of lead at 80 WPM.
Who shall type and who shall delete?
Who shall sleep in yolk; and who in crumbs, on keys?
Who shall take wing below the runny egg sky,
And who shall fall in canisters, to detonate on ground?
“The documents — some 92,000 reports spanning parts of two administrations from January 2004 through December 2009 — illustrate in mosaic detail why, after the United States has spent almost $300 billion on the war in Afghanistan, the Taliban are stronger than at any time since 2001... Over all, the documents do not contradict official accounts of the war. But in some cases the documents show that the American military made misleading public statements — attributing the downing of a helicopter to conventional weapons instead of heat-seeking missiles or giving Afghans credit for missions carried out by Special Operations commandos. ”
– C. J. Chivers, Carlotta Gall, Andrew W. Lehren, Mark Mazzetti, Jane Perlez, and Eric Schmitt, with contributions from Jacob Harris and Alan McLean; The New York Times, July 25, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/26/world/asia/26warlogs.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all
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Memorandum of Understanding
Re: Ecosystem of explosives
We will knit the string and you will tug it;
and the large idols shall smash the smaller ones.
We will use your eyes to watch us rupture the moon...
and it will be your dismay...
and the sky will be a yellow-white scramble at dusk.
House of Bombs: good night dust.
Nail-File Bowie Knife: always be prepared.
Office of Bullets: six grams of lead at 80 WPM.
Who shall type and who shall delete?
Who shall sleep in yolk; and who in crumbs, on keys?
Who shall take wing below the runny egg sky,
And who shall fall in canisters, to detonate on ground?
“The documents — some 92,000 reports spanning parts of two administrations from January 2004 through December 2009 — illustrate in mosaic detail why, after the United States has spent almost $300 billion on the war in Afghanistan, the Taliban are stronger than at any time since 2001... Over all, the documents do not contradict official accounts of the war. But in some cases the documents show that the American military made misleading public statements — attributing the downing of a helicopter to conventional weapons instead of heat-seeking missiles or giving Afghans credit for missions carried out by Special Operations commandos. ”
– C. J. Chivers, Carlotta Gall, Andrew W. Lehren, Mark Mazzetti, Jane Perlez, and Eric Schmitt, with contributions from Jacob Harris and Alan McLean; The New York Times, July 25, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/26/world/asia/26warlogs.html?_r=1&pagewanted=all
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Sappho Sings at the Michael Jackson Memorial [#twitterfoundpoem, July 25, 2010]
Sappho Sings at the Michael Jackson Memorial [#twitterfoundpoem, July 25, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
The Monarch Reports Record Financial Profitability
and Strong Asset Growth. Why the fuck aren't I?!?
The Monarch is a paedophile:
any Royal with that level of connection
with children should be castrated
or sleep like Michael Jackson.
It doesn't stop there.
The Monarch assembles all subjects
in an arena with wild animals.
Beria, Michael Jackson, Roman Polanski and Muhammad
wave to the sold out crowd.
The 25 lesbo fans are booing!
Sappho climbs the mountains of 70,000 corpses.
she screams "lying, lying, lying.
mountains of Strong Asset Reports!!
I wanna FOLLOW interesting peeps!!
I wanna have summer Forever.
and you Sickest Kids wave to the sold out crowd
in an arena with wild animals and you Sickest Kids
want us to be happy for you?
you should be branded and welded together
and buried under a sea of corpses.
and the beautiful children will Play music
Forever in love summer."
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
The Monarch Reports Record Financial Profitability
and Strong Asset Growth. Why the fuck aren't I?!?
The Monarch is a paedophile:
any Royal with that level of connection
with children should be castrated
or sleep like Michael Jackson.
It doesn't stop there.
The Monarch assembles all subjects
in an arena with wild animals.
Beria, Michael Jackson, Roman Polanski and Muhammad
wave to the sold out crowd.
The 25 lesbo fans are booing!
Sappho climbs the mountains of 70,000 corpses.
she screams "lying, lying, lying.
mountains of Strong Asset Reports!!
I wanna FOLLOW interesting peeps!!
I wanna have summer Forever.
and you Sickest Kids wave to the sold out crowd
in an arena with wild animals and you Sickest Kids
want us to be happy for you?
you should be branded and welded together
and buried under a sea of corpses.
and the beautiful children will Play music
Forever in love summer."
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Labels:
#twitterfoundpoem,
July 25 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington,
Sappho
Saturday, July 24, 2010
Mass Sacrifice for Temple Rites [Today's News Poem, July 24, 2010]
Mass Sacrifice for Temple Rites [Today's News Poem, July 24, 2010]
Temple rites:
kiss of life. Burrows of flesh
enfolding.
Fists of chests
grip and pound. Echoes of shrieks
in tunnels.
See those limbs?
Heads at sea founder and sink
from shoulder—
kneeward; down
where the tide's legs and all boots:
and sirens
open up,
catching songs, dirges—the wails
and swallow.
“Officials and eyewitnesses spoke of a mass stampede in which people were trampled under foot. At least 40 others were injured, some seriously, and many police and ambulance personnel were seen giving the kiss of life to victims.”
– The Telegraph, 6:03PM BST 24 Jul 2010
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/germany/7908522/18-dead-in-Love-Parade-stampede.html
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Temple rites:
kiss of life. Burrows of flesh
enfolding.
Fists of chests
grip and pound. Echoes of shrieks
in tunnels.
See those limbs?
Heads at sea founder and sink
from shoulder—
kneeward; down
where the tide's legs and all boots:
and sirens
open up,
catching songs, dirges—the wails
and swallow.
“Officials and eyewitnesses spoke of a mass stampede in which people were trampled under foot. At least 40 others were injured, some seriously, and many police and ambulance personnel were seen giving the kiss of life to victims.”
– The Telegraph, 6:03PM BST 24 Jul 2010
http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/worldnews/europe/germany/7908522/18-dead-in-Love-Parade-stampede.html
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Labels:
anti-news,
July 24 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington,
Love Parade,
Temple Rites
Trampled by We [#twitterfoundpoem July 24, 2010]
Trampled by We [#twitterfoundpoem July 24, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
dont be friendly with 'm 'm mass panic.
in india the hindus trample themselve,
in 'm mecca the muslims
and now in germany, those that listen to cheap 'm 'm 'm 'm music.
be friendly with enemies.
Okay, maybe not kittens for enemies,
But goose stepping cheap music mass panic
could definitely trample a bed of pretty kittens right now, though.
Okay, maybe the RIOT grilled kittens taste good
to The mob! maybe cheap 'm 'm music 'm 'm mass panic
and religious frenzies make good enemies.
be friendly with enemies because enemies are stupid we
Anyway, cattle prod to the testicles ends
all good Riots. and like all good
religions of Fear, trampling a bed of pretty flowers
ends all good people.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
dont be friendly with 'm 'm mass panic.
in india the hindus trample themselve,
in 'm mecca the muslims
and now in germany, those that listen to cheap 'm 'm 'm 'm music.
be friendly with enemies.
Okay, maybe not kittens for enemies,
But goose stepping cheap music mass panic
could definitely trample a bed of pretty kittens right now, though.
Okay, maybe the RIOT grilled kittens taste good
to The mob! maybe cheap 'm 'm music 'm 'm mass panic
and religious frenzies make good enemies.
be friendly with enemies because enemies are stupid we
Anyway, cattle prod to the testicles ends
all good Riots. and like all good
religions of Fear, trampling a bed of pretty flowers
ends all good people.
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Friday, July 23, 2010
Hemoglobin Quake [Today's News Poem, July 23, 2010]
Hemoglobin Quake [Today's News Poem, July 23, 2010]
I could drive to the center of earthquake: grind sand dollars and accident the waves. Don a scuba tank and flop in the foam. Ride on the surf of the beach and the undertow pulling me down to the fish and the vents full of heat. The bubbles may wobble and yet I can feel that urge to present what I have to that gurgle of Gods. An ancient one clutching a crucifix. A ship, haunted by seaweed. A blizzard of trash in currents is looming. An ice age of plastic; a half life of polystyrene. Becoming a sand dab, I burrow. Becoming a drill bit, I gnaw deeper. In repose, my hemoglobin starves, shakes, then stills.
“Earthquake Details:
Magnitude 3.5
Distances: 5 km (3 miles) NNW (331°) from Pacifica, CA
5 km (3 miles) WSW (237°) from Daly City, CA
5 km (3 miles) WSW (254°) from Colma, CA
15 km (9 miles) SW (215°) from San Francisco City Hall, CA”
– USGS; Friday, July 23, 2010 at 21:29:10 UTC, Friday, July 23, 2010 at 02:29:10 PM at epicenter
http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/recenteqsus/Quakes/nc71436076.html
http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/dyfi/events/nc/71436076/us/index.html
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I could drive to the center of earthquake: grind sand dollars and accident the waves. Don a scuba tank and flop in the foam. Ride on the surf of the beach and the undertow pulling me down to the fish and the vents full of heat. The bubbles may wobble and yet I can feel that urge to present what I have to that gurgle of Gods. An ancient one clutching a crucifix. A ship, haunted by seaweed. A blizzard of trash in currents is looming. An ice age of plastic; a half life of polystyrene. Becoming a sand dab, I burrow. Becoming a drill bit, I gnaw deeper. In repose, my hemoglobin starves, shakes, then stills.
“Earthquake Details:
Magnitude 3.5
Distances: 5 km (3 miles) NNW (331°) from Pacifica, CA
5 km (3 miles) WSW (237°) from Daly City, CA
5 km (3 miles) WSW (254°) from Colma, CA
15 km (9 miles) SW (215°) from San Francisco City Hall, CA”
– USGS; Friday, July 23, 2010 at 21:29:10 UTC, Friday, July 23, 2010 at 02:29:10 PM at epicenter
http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/recenteqsus/Quakes/nc71436076.html
http://earthquake.usgs.gov/earthquakes/dyfi/events/nc/71436076/us/index.html
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Labels:
anti-news,
Hemoglobin,
July 23 2010,
Khakjaan Wessington
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