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Friday, September 03, 2010
Thursday, September 02, 2010
Petrol, Napalm, and Lutfisk [Today's News Poem, September 2, 2010]
Petrol, Napalm, and Lutfisk [Today's News Poem, September 2, 2010]
Rancid deposits of tissue that jellied
Much like our napalm and lip balm;
Or soap that one rubs on the palms...
Or the shampoo in hair—they're the same
In a way; for everything services
Vanity, stomach or murkier motives.
Issues of edicts and bulls from the Pope
Of fragrance and flagrant voracity
Lit with the fuse of velocity;
Sparking the engine—the tumbler's combustion—
And fleeing the voids with our fleeting avoids
As we rocket away with a dizzy rotation of axles.
We're pumping our pistons
And jumping from prison to pyre
As we jelly the substances fueling the fire.
“An oil platform exploded and caught fire in the Gulf of Mexico on Thursday morning, touching off flurries of conflicting reports about sightings of oil slicks in the water and whether any workers had been injured in the blast. ”
– CAMPBELL ROBERTSON and JACK HEALY, The New York Times, September 2, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/03/us/03rig.html
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Rancid deposits of tissue that jellied
Much like our napalm and lip balm;
Or soap that one rubs on the palms...
Or the shampoo in hair—they're the same
In a way; for everything services
Vanity, stomach or murkier motives.
Issues of edicts and bulls from the Pope
Of fragrance and flagrant voracity
Lit with the fuse of velocity;
Sparking the engine—the tumbler's combustion—
And fleeing the voids with our fleeting avoids
As we rocket away with a dizzy rotation of axles.
We're pumping our pistons
And jumping from prison to pyre
As we jelly the substances fueling the fire.
“An oil platform exploded and caught fire in the Gulf of Mexico on Thursday morning, touching off flurries of conflicting reports about sightings of oil slicks in the water and whether any workers had been injured in the blast. ”
– CAMPBELL ROBERTSON and JACK HEALY, The New York Times, September 2, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/09/03/us/03rig.html
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Exploding Super Body Builder [#twitterfoundpoem, September 2, 2010]
Exploding Super Body Builder [#twitterfoundpoem, September 2, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
#fatal error 000FF4432:3333:
working out, his arm exploded.
Not a Handy Man, Not Friends
with a 6'5 275LB pound DJ...
Not a super bodybuilder hahaha.
Damn, I never saw a Body Builder explode before!!
a bad ass accident!!
before i explode, I would like to sing
the praises of that most perfect explosion:
not of weird crap & guilty pleasure,
but of super bodybuilder hahaha.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
#fatal error 000FF4432:3333:
working out, his arm exploded.
Not a Handy Man, Not Friends
with a 6'5 275LB pound DJ...
Not a super bodybuilder hahaha.
Damn, I never saw a Body Builder explode before!!
a bad ass accident!!
before i explode, I would like to sing
the praises of that most perfect explosion:
not of weird crap & guilty pleasure,
but of super bodybuilder hahaha.
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Wednesday, September 01, 2010
Questions Aren't Answered [Today's News Poem, September 1, 2010]
Questions Aren't Answered [Today's News Poem, September 1, 2010]
Richard McBeef is a combo of Hamlet
And accident fantasies; paranoid
Shadows of motives that lurk where the insight
Is weakest.
Each time one smiles insincerely, a fragment
Of self's ever thwarted. Anxiety
Masters the blindness of love with the cruelty
Of knowledge.
Misunderstanding is normative—never
Aberrant. A desert was made and they
Called it a peace—but no life can survive with-
Out water.
Stalking the internet, calling one's handle
A question mark, seeking a meaningful
Amity; hunting for solace with anger
And madness;
Photos of robots that hide in the bodies
Of jocular pranksters in classrooms to
Study for clues in their sneers and expressions:
Disgusted.
Silence is best for this world filled with chatter—
And questions aren't answered; anxiety's
Punished and smiling is futile. True solace
Is fiction.
“Berkeley police shot and killed a mountain lion early Tuesday as it roamed a neighborhood around the city's famous Gourmet Ghetto for at least an hour, leaping over fences from one backyard to another.
Three officers shot and killed the 100-pound adult female with rifles and a shotgun shortly before 3:30 a.m. outside a home on the 1600 block of Walnut Street, just blocks from Chez Panisse restaurant, the flagship Peet's Coffee store, the Cheese Board Collective and other businesses along busy Shattuck Avenue in North Berkeley.”
– Henry K. Lee, San Francisco Chronicle, Wednesday, September 1, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/09/01/MNV41F6FIP.DTL
“A man with an explosive device entered the Discovery Communications building in downtown Silver Spring on Wednesday afternoon and has taken a security guard hostage, Montgomery County Police said... Some employees were evacuated. Others told to go to the highest floor in the building. An e-mail to Discovery employees had the subject line: "URGENT: Employees at One Discovery Place Proceed to a Locked Office IMMEDIATELY."”
– Dan Morse and Christian Davenport, Washington Post, Wednesday, September 1, 2010; 2:59 PM
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/09/01/AR2010090103911.html?hpid=topnews
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Richard McBeef is a combo of Hamlet
And accident fantasies; paranoid
Shadows of motives that lurk where the insight
Is weakest.
Each time one smiles insincerely, a fragment
Of self's ever thwarted. Anxiety
Masters the blindness of love with the cruelty
Of knowledge.
Misunderstanding is normative—never
Aberrant. A desert was made and they
Called it a peace—but no life can survive with-
Out water.
Stalking the internet, calling one's handle
A question mark, seeking a meaningful
Amity; hunting for solace with anger
And madness;
Photos of robots that hide in the bodies
Of jocular pranksters in classrooms to
Study for clues in their sneers and expressions:
Disgusted.
Silence is best for this world filled with chatter—
And questions aren't answered; anxiety's
Punished and smiling is futile. True solace
Is fiction.
“Berkeley police shot and killed a mountain lion early Tuesday as it roamed a neighborhood around the city's famous Gourmet Ghetto for at least an hour, leaping over fences from one backyard to another.
Three officers shot and killed the 100-pound adult female with rifles and a shotgun shortly before 3:30 a.m. outside a home on the 1600 block of Walnut Street, just blocks from Chez Panisse restaurant, the flagship Peet's Coffee store, the Cheese Board Collective and other businesses along busy Shattuck Avenue in North Berkeley.”
– Henry K. Lee, San Francisco Chronicle, Wednesday, September 1, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/09/01/MNV41F6FIP.DTL
“A man with an explosive device entered the Discovery Communications building in downtown Silver Spring on Wednesday afternoon and has taken a security guard hostage, Montgomery County Police said... Some employees were evacuated. Others told to go to the highest floor in the building. An e-mail to Discovery employees had the subject line: "URGENT: Employees at One Discovery Place Proceed to a Locked Office IMMEDIATELY."”
– Dan Morse and Christian Davenport, Washington Post, Wednesday, September 1, 2010; 2:59 PM
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/09/01/AR2010090103911.html?hpid=topnews
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Inflatable Human Skin Catsuit!!!! [#twitterfoundpoem, September 1, 2010]
Inflatable Human Skin Catsuit!!!! [#twitterfoundpoem, September 1, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
What say you guys to a special edition brew?
a magical elixer to celebrate some seduction
that carries us through? We will float
in an ocean of lotion in prison
in the basket or We will get the hose again...
a special edition brew sounds pretty sweet
compared to Tomorrow, on standby.
a recursive version of us,
just in case We get out of prison...
a special edition magic potion
just in case our only recompense, after all of that
is lotion in the basket,
a hose again...
drinking my piss from a pail,
and becoming the most beautiful things in life
like felt made from my heart ...
You can repair stabs with stitches
and before you know it becomes a healed skin
Lust Object: a $1,000 Inflatable, Human skin Catsuit!!!!
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
What say you guys to a special edition brew?
a magical elixer to celebrate some seduction
that carries us through? We will float
in an ocean of lotion in prison
in the basket or We will get the hose again...
a special edition brew sounds pretty sweet
compared to Tomorrow, on standby.
a recursive version of us,
just in case We get out of prison...
a special edition magic potion
just in case our only recompense, after all of that
is lotion in the basket,
a hose again...
drinking my piss from a pail,
and becoming the most beautiful things in life
like felt made from my heart ...
You can repair stabs with stitches
and before you know it becomes a healed skin
Lust Object: a $1,000 Inflatable, Human skin Catsuit!!!!
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Tuesday, August 31, 2010
Dinosaur Tresses [Today's News Poem, August 31, 2010]
Dinosaur Tresses [Today's News Poem, August 31, 2010]
… they clamor, then hammer the barrier that the carriers warily bury in skerries of traffic. The trick to the graph's wit: miles of wires in the isle of tires, waking the juice through the snakes that connect to vectors gone loosened. The lucid translucence of fog in this groggy slog through the evening that sings with the tone of the dead and the clotting of carbon. The bones of eternity founded the city of nebulous tethering; credulous nethering; fortress of sand with electrical tresses and strands that are lovely as youth and as brief.
“The Obama administration is considering a range of new measures to boost economic growth, including tax cuts and a new nationwide infrastructure program, according to people familiar with the discussions. ”
– DEBORAH SOLOMON and JONATHAN WEISMAN, The Wall Street Journal, August 31, 2010
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704421104575464012356644550.html?mod=googlenews_wsj
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… they clamor, then hammer the barrier that the carriers warily bury in skerries of traffic. The trick to the graph's wit: miles of wires in the isle of tires, waking the juice through the snakes that connect to vectors gone loosened. The lucid translucence of fog in this groggy slog through the evening that sings with the tone of the dead and the clotting of carbon. The bones of eternity founded the city of nebulous tethering; credulous nethering; fortress of sand with electrical tresses and strands that are lovely as youth and as brief.
“The Obama administration is considering a range of new measures to boost economic growth, including tax cuts and a new nationwide infrastructure program, according to people familiar with the discussions. ”
– DEBORAH SOLOMON and JONATHAN WEISMAN, The Wall Street Journal, August 31, 2010
http://online.wsj.com/article/SB10001424052748704421104575464012356644550.html?mod=googlenews_wsj
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Wok Your Dog [#twitterfoundpoem, August 31, 2010]
Wok Your Dog [#twitterfoundpoem, August 31, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
I hear what I like to like to hear-AMEN!
I cant go to sleep and my kitchen is messy
and I hear what I like to like to hear-AMEN!
I Wok MY DOG IZZY THEN I DO MY FAMILY
[BESIDES MY MOM LOL],
THEN clean up MY mess!
I LOVE Making a new fall leather jacket
with MY DOG IZZY and MOM and FAMILY!!!!
it's A Hot Wok but somebody has got to do it.
I HATE being Alone but I LOVE leather!
The feel, the smell.... I'm addicted to DOGMOMFAMILY leather!
Hate shopping? somebody has got to do it--
feel that DOGMOMFAMILY leather!
in Lieu of FAMILY and DOG
I Wok your Cats for free
Does this sound bad?
I Wok your Cats for free or
THEN I DO your FAMILY!!!! -AMEN!
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
I hear what I like to like to hear-AMEN!
I cant go to sleep and my kitchen is messy
and I hear what I like to like to hear-AMEN!
I Wok MY DOG IZZY THEN I DO MY FAMILY
[BESIDES MY MOM LOL],
THEN clean up MY mess!
I LOVE Making a new fall leather jacket
with MY DOG IZZY and MOM and FAMILY!!!!
it's A Hot Wok but somebody has got to do it.
I HATE being Alone but I LOVE leather!
The feel, the smell.... I'm addicted to DOGMOMFAMILY leather!
Hate shopping? somebody has got to do it--
feel that DOGMOMFAMILY leather!
in Lieu of FAMILY and DOG
I Wok your Cats for free
Does this sound bad?
I Wok your Cats for free or
THEN I DO your FAMILY!!!! -AMEN!
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Monday, August 30, 2010
Modern Conveniences [Today's News Poem, August 30, 2010]
Modern Conveniences [Today's News Poem, August 30, 2010]
Modern convenience means dialing a phone for a team of policemen who carry my exit. They're cleansing the peasants, removing the vermin, decreasing the surplus, ignoring miasmas that rise from the bottles of pills and the hormones we eat at each meal... And the cleaning solutions that climb in our cells for a joyride—to copy their asses forever inside the great Xerox within... I'm leaking. My beaker is broken, my boundaries tested by molecule chisels that nibble my innards and dazzle my channels of sodium; diverting those flashes of insight that clamor in synapses, to something more placid.
Extremities dangle away from the center of mass. It's the symbol of targets wherever the warriors juggle by caliber. Soon we'll excise all extreme personalities; culling the herd with our leaden weed-whackers, to leave just a head and a package of guts. And squirming as worms in our offices, burning our stomachs on carpet, tripping on staples and paperclips; wearing pink and blue discuses, that holes punched through paper produced—they will stick to our skin like a smallpox. They'll bake us with halogens, beaming a silvery path; while the monitors watch us through cameras that watch as we witness the world turn to foam.
“A San Jose man who had tried to kill himself with a nail gun was shot and killed by police... Police tried to contact the man from outside the home. But when he did not respond to repeated requests, officers broke in and found the man with self-inflicted wounds, Lopez said. He was also holding a 10-inch knife, and when he confronted the officers, they shot him, Lopez said.”
– Benny Evangelista, San Francisco Chronicle, August 30, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/08/30/BASE1F5ITI.DTL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHKCq_IMXdw
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Modern convenience means dialing a phone for a team of policemen who carry my exit. They're cleansing the peasants, removing the vermin, decreasing the surplus, ignoring miasmas that rise from the bottles of pills and the hormones we eat at each meal... And the cleaning solutions that climb in our cells for a joyride—to copy their asses forever inside the great Xerox within... I'm leaking. My beaker is broken, my boundaries tested by molecule chisels that nibble my innards and dazzle my channels of sodium; diverting those flashes of insight that clamor in synapses, to something more placid.
Extremities dangle away from the center of mass. It's the symbol of targets wherever the warriors juggle by caliber. Soon we'll excise all extreme personalities; culling the herd with our leaden weed-whackers, to leave just a head and a package of guts. And squirming as worms in our offices, burning our stomachs on carpet, tripping on staples and paperclips; wearing pink and blue discuses, that holes punched through paper produced—they will stick to our skin like a smallpox. They'll bake us with halogens, beaming a silvery path; while the monitors watch us through cameras that watch as we witness the world turn to foam.
“A San Jose man who had tried to kill himself with a nail gun was shot and killed by police... Police tried to contact the man from outside the home. But when he did not respond to repeated requests, officers broke in and found the man with self-inflicted wounds, Lopez said. He was also holding a 10-inch knife, and when he confronted the officers, they shot him, Lopez said.”
– Benny Evangelista, San Francisco Chronicle, August 30, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/08/30/BASE1F5ITI.DTL
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=OHKCq_IMXdw
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Fast Wendy: Over One Billion Dads Served [#twitterfoundpoem, August 30, 2010]
Fast Wendy: Over One Billion Dads Served [#twitterfoundpoem, August 30, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
#somewhereintheworld there is a lazy dad
havin sex in wendys. is a dead beat dad tryin to actively
be more of a dead beat bad? or is a girl havin sex with her dude
bad, because he bought her a snickers bar and some red koolaid?
maybe both are bad because #somewhereintheworld someone is hungry
and wants her dad? whatever! may everything stay
exactly how it is right now. I'm next in line.
RT: she just took my order. <- Mine too! Lol.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
#somewhereintheworld there is a lazy dad
havin sex in wendys. is a dead beat dad tryin to actively
be more of a dead beat bad? or is a girl havin sex with her dude
bad, because he bought her a snickers bar and some red koolaid?
maybe both are bad because #somewhereintheworld someone is hungry
and wants her dad? whatever! may everything stay
exactly how it is right now. I'm next in line.
RT: she just took my order. <- Mine too! Lol.
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Sunday, August 29, 2010
Toxic Shock [Today's News Poem, August 29, 2010]
Toxic Shock [Today's News Poem, August 29, 2010]
If you were my brother and fell off a fence
To land on the blade of the sign of the times
The stadium opens and shuts, would you wrap
Your hand with your shirt and then drive by yourself
To Kaiser, not calling me—weaving your car
While sloshing the blood 'round the floormat and drunk
On loss, and then wait in a line 'till they stitch
Your hand? Would you lie to them, saying I'm near
And circling blocks for a space, so they'd leave
You pallid, anemic and shambling down
Past levels that slant in the parking garage?
If later, you asked me to help you with chores
And told me you cut yourself walking the track,
I'd think to that time that I shouted you out
Of coma. Your pancreas rotted; you'd nap
While driving through Oakland and wake to my hand
On wheel as I'd veer us away from the road.
I'm sure at that moment you'd wake up in shock,
Then sleep once again in your guilt while I'd walk
To purchase a candy at stores where the red
On packages looks like the red of your car—
The color that links us through loneliness shared.
“At the height of this summer's heat wave, some doctors warned that a few hours of inhaling the thick, acrid smog that blanketed Moscow was like smoking a pack of cigarettes.
One scientist declared that cases of suicide, diabetes and alcoholism would soar once winter set in because of the aftereffects of the toxic smoke.”
– Alexandra Odynova, The Moscow Times, August 29, 2010
http://www.themoscowtimes.com/news/article/worries-over-smogs-effects-decline/413880.html
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If you were my brother and fell off a fence
To land on the blade of the sign of the times
The stadium opens and shuts, would you wrap
Your hand with your shirt and then drive by yourself
To Kaiser, not calling me—weaving your car
While sloshing the blood 'round the floormat and drunk
On loss, and then wait in a line 'till they stitch
Your hand? Would you lie to them, saying I'm near
And circling blocks for a space, so they'd leave
You pallid, anemic and shambling down
Past levels that slant in the parking garage?
If later, you asked me to help you with chores
And told me you cut yourself walking the track,
I'd think to that time that I shouted you out
Of coma. Your pancreas rotted; you'd nap
While driving through Oakland and wake to my hand
On wheel as I'd veer us away from the road.
I'm sure at that moment you'd wake up in shock,
Then sleep once again in your guilt while I'd walk
To purchase a candy at stores where the red
On packages looks like the red of your car—
The color that links us through loneliness shared.
“At the height of this summer's heat wave, some doctors warned that a few hours of inhaling the thick, acrid smog that blanketed Moscow was like smoking a pack of cigarettes.
One scientist declared that cases of suicide, diabetes and alcoholism would soar once winter set in because of the aftereffects of the toxic smoke.”
– Alexandra Odynova, The Moscow Times, August 29, 2010
http://www.themoscowtimes.com/news/article/worries-over-smogs-effects-decline/413880.html
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Following Polaris on I-5 [Bonus Poem, Longshot Submission--REJECTED, August 28, 2010]
Following Polaris on I-5 [Bonus Poem, Longshot Submission--REJECTED, August 28, 2010]
Polaris is waiting. She watches the freeway.
And likewise my bride is asleep in our lucky
Oasis, her palm on my thigh as we're speeding
To home. In the back seat our baby is singing
To cattle and purrs at the orchards; delighted
By travel. The chance for a blowout's unlikely.
I've come to believe that my fortunate season
Won't end 'till my purpose is finished; that random
Occurrence is flooding in villages: distant,
Inhuman; a bride to the bullet's intrusion—
And never the northernmost star-beams of glamor
That draw all the drivers together. My baby,
I shout, do you see all the meteors streaking?
I startle my wife from her napping—she lurches
My elbow. The vehicle teeters and threatens
To tumble—I pray in that instant to nothing.
Polaris is sliding through darkness—she's wearing
A tunic of white and she slips through the window
And settles beside her next husband, who's sleeping
By starlight, in car seat; his father correcting
Their path through the valley; in search of true north.
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Polaris is waiting. She watches the freeway.
And likewise my bride is asleep in our lucky
Oasis, her palm on my thigh as we're speeding
To home. In the back seat our baby is singing
To cattle and purrs at the orchards; delighted
By travel. The chance for a blowout's unlikely.
I've come to believe that my fortunate season
Won't end 'till my purpose is finished; that random
Occurrence is flooding in villages: distant,
Inhuman; a bride to the bullet's intrusion—
And never the northernmost star-beams of glamor
That draw all the drivers together. My baby,
I shout, do you see all the meteors streaking?
I startle my wife from her napping—she lurches
My elbow. The vehicle teeters and threatens
To tumble—I pray in that instant to nothing.
Polaris is sliding through darkness—she's wearing
A tunic of white and she slips through the window
And settles beside her next husband, who's sleeping
By starlight, in car seat; his father correcting
Their path through the valley; in search of true north.
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Bonus Poem: August 29, 2010
But first, I'd really like for you to promote Toylit on Stumbleupon: http://www.stumbleupon.com/su/2wzy07/toylit.blogspot.com/. Not just the main page, but also the posts you enjoy. Review the site too; that would be nice.
Longshotmag rejected this poem, so I'm giving it to you guys as a freebie. I think they made a mistake, but then again, I didn't see what they actually published. I wrote it in an hour. If you like it, give up some applause & check out the sponsors. I'm also working on a news poem, so you'll have more stuff to read pretty soon.
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Longshotmag rejected this poem, so I'm giving it to you guys as a freebie. I think they made a mistake, but then again, I didn't see what they actually published. I wrote it in an hour. If you like it, give up some applause & check out the sponsors. I'm also working on a news poem, so you'll have more stuff to read pretty soon.
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Subscribe in a reader
Zyklon B Kills Siafu Dead [#twitterfoundpoem, August 29, 2010]
Zyklon B Kills Siafu Dead [#twitterfoundpoem, August 29, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
The world's best riders and motorcycles take to the track.
Some dude's vanity plate says ZYKLON B.
another contestant IS DRIVING a ufo
like a maniac!
The Indianapolis Motor Speedway:
mud, blood & barbed wire-fun.
The opening!!!! LEMMINGS take the lead.
Go LEMMINGS!!!!
they trip and fall on barbed wire.
lmfao. this is where it gets serious.
a Motorist drives past and sprays ZYKLON B
behind him. fucking brutal!
The LEMMINGS Asphyxiate.
they're out of the race!!!!
The Marine's ZYKLON B car rounds
the FIRST lap and he's ambushed by Siafu.
I love this race. they RIP THE FLESH FROM off his BONES!!!!
The Marine's ZYKLON B sprays and they all asphyxiate.
The Marine Screams "curse you! I asphyxiate youuu!"
The ufo contestant pepper-sprays protesters,
AND counter-protesters near Marine's funeral
As she rounds the finish line
she pepper-sprays AND ZYKLON B-sprays
the audience... that's me!!!! audience ppl said
it was life changing and eye opening to get sprayed
by soo many diff gasses AND to see these
siafu ants attack EVERYTHING.
... that's me!!!!
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
The world's best riders and motorcycles take to the track.
Some dude's vanity plate says ZYKLON B.
another contestant IS DRIVING a ufo
like a maniac!
The Indianapolis Motor Speedway:
mud, blood & barbed wire-fun.
The opening!!!! LEMMINGS take the lead.
Go LEMMINGS!!!!
they trip and fall on barbed wire.
lmfao. this is where it gets serious.
a Motorist drives past and sprays ZYKLON B
behind him. fucking brutal!
The LEMMINGS Asphyxiate.
they're out of the race!!!!
The Marine's ZYKLON B car rounds
the FIRST lap and he's ambushed by Siafu.
I love this race. they RIP THE FLESH FROM off his BONES!!!!
The Marine's ZYKLON B sprays and they all asphyxiate.
The Marine Screams "curse you! I asphyxiate youuu!"
The ufo contestant pepper-sprays protesters,
AND counter-protesters near Marine's funeral
As she rounds the finish line
she pepper-sprays AND ZYKLON B-sprays
the audience... that's me!!!! audience ppl said
it was life changing and eye opening to get sprayed
by soo many diff gasses AND to see these
siafu ants attack EVERYTHING.
... that's me!!!!
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Saturday, August 28, 2010
Grandmaster Prisoner [Today's News Poem, August 28, 2010]
Grandmaster Prisoner [Today's News Poem, August 28, 2010]
Coffee yourself to a stupor and battle parolees,
Schizos and fools like yourself on the chessboard.
Floyd sees impatience; the way that you pressure his pieces.
Victory's vague and you seek out those masters of planning.
Winning against them's annoying and each of of them offers
Models of playing with people. You pity them. Purchase
Drinks for them; watching them stroll on Valencia—laughing!
How is it possible losers absorb what satori
Drunkards and grumbling hipsters exude in the yellow?
Each of their footsteps is bland and you follow the feathers,
Garbage, the sores on a prostitute. One of the players
Says that you're sick and you carry your prison in public.
Prison is mental he said and I wondered how freedom
Feels to the man with a baby he visits but rarely,
Preaching the gospel to likeminded hypocrites, chasing
Orgasm, freedom from conscience and losing in cycles;
Losing the queen to an oversight, losing their temper
Knocking the board off the table and threatening, 'never
Play here again,' for they fear when a winner engages
Past-times for slackers who never achieve their potential.
“Staff at California's Folsom State Prison worked Saturday to determine the cause of a "major riot" in the prison yard a day earlier that involved 200 inmates, officials there said.”
– CNN Wire Staff, CNN, August 28, 2010
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Coffee yourself to a stupor and battle parolees,
Schizos and fools like yourself on the chessboard.
Floyd sees impatience; the way that you pressure his pieces.
Victory's vague and you seek out those masters of planning.
Winning against them's annoying and each of of them offers
Models of playing with people. You pity them. Purchase
Drinks for them; watching them stroll on Valencia—laughing!
How is it possible losers absorb what satori
Drunkards and grumbling hipsters exude in the yellow?
Each of their footsteps is bland and you follow the feathers,
Garbage, the sores on a prostitute. One of the players
Says that you're sick and you carry your prison in public.
Prison is mental he said and I wondered how freedom
Feels to the man with a baby he visits but rarely,
Preaching the gospel to likeminded hypocrites, chasing
Orgasm, freedom from conscience and losing in cycles;
Losing the queen to an oversight, losing their temper
Knocking the board off the table and threatening, 'never
Play here again,' for they fear when a winner engages
Past-times for slackers who never achieve their potential.
“Staff at California's Folsom State Prison worked Saturday to determine the cause of a "major riot" in the prison yard a day earlier that involved 200 inmates, officials there said.”
– CNN Wire Staff, CNN, August 28, 2010
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The Spirit of the Living Bullet [#twitterfoundpoem, August 28, 2010]
The Spirit of the Living Bullet [#twitterfoundpoem, August 28, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Definitely wearing my Might-have-to-run-and-dodge
-a bullet-nike-dunks today, JUST IN CASE a letter,
written not with pen and ink but with bullet
correction fluid aims at me. Hey, my iPhone
shatters when I shoot it with my gun, why shouldn't I?
if all our aims are written not with pen and ink
but with the Spirit of the living bullet
Then Man, Fuck, I gotta Go to a fuckin shooting range
and Correct my aim!
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Definitely wearing my Might-have-to-run-and-dodge
-a bullet-nike-dunks today, JUST IN CASE a letter,
written not with pen and ink but with bullet
correction fluid aims at me. Hey, my iPhone
shatters when I shoot it with my gun, why shouldn't I?
if all our aims are written not with pen and ink
but with the Spirit of the living bullet
Then Man, Fuck, I gotta Go to a fuckin shooting range
and Correct my aim!
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Friday, August 27, 2010
Rosemary And Phineas [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), August 27, 2010]
Rosemary And Phineas [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), August 27, 2010]
An iron rod was used to tamp the cap,
That ovary. They jabbed until it burst,
Exploding prematurely. Birthing slaps
Had ruptured eye and bits of skull at first,
And later, born to wealth, to die again
At twenty three. To calm the swings in mood
An icepick scraped the screams to flatline zen.
To know the gaze of walls; to lose the rood
Salvation rests upon, for carriage rides
Through mountain passes—losing prayers to Lord,
Before incontinence ensures the bride
Of scalpel picks shall sleep in Lethe's reward—
A farther art than heaven. Hollowed names
Undone by accident, by doctor maims.
“Relatives of 33 miners trapped in a collapsed mine shaft far below in Chile’s Atacama Desert have been shown new video of the men in which they send greetings to the surface, show the space they are confined in and sing the Chilean national anthem. ”
– ALEXEI BARRIONUEVO AND ROBERT MACKEY, The New York Times, August 27, 2010, 7:58 am
http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/27/video-messages-from-trapped-chilean-miners/?hp
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An iron rod was used to tamp the cap,
That ovary. They jabbed until it burst,
Exploding prematurely. Birthing slaps
Had ruptured eye and bits of skull at first,
And later, born to wealth, to die again
At twenty three. To calm the swings in mood
An icepick scraped the screams to flatline zen.
To know the gaze of walls; to lose the rood
Salvation rests upon, for carriage rides
Through mountain passes—losing prayers to Lord,
Before incontinence ensures the bride
Of scalpel picks shall sleep in Lethe's reward—
A farther art than heaven. Hollowed names
Undone by accident, by doctor maims.
“Relatives of 33 miners trapped in a collapsed mine shaft far below in Chile’s Atacama Desert have been shown new video of the men in which they send greetings to the surface, show the space they are confined in and sing the Chilean national anthem. ”
– ALEXEI BARRIONUEVO AND ROBERT MACKEY, The New York Times, August 27, 2010, 7:58 am
http://thelede.blogs.nytimes.com/2010/08/27/video-messages-from-trapped-chilean-miners/?hp
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CombatWords! Back Where It Belongs
The bad news is that CombatWords has moved. The good news is that it's back home at http://combatwords.blogspot.com. I revived the game to try & bring some traffic over to TWAK, but they didn't do their part. They liked the traffic, but didn't promote the game. Screw that. Just goes to show that you should never lead a pack of whiners by example. They'll still whine.
I cleaned up the site a bit & am adding links to the participants where possible. You'll get your news poem soon--why don't you check out our sponsors or promote the page while you're waiting? I'm so stretched, that's the only way you'll get a bonus poem out of me at this point.
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I cleaned up the site a bit & am adding links to the participants where possible. You'll get your news poem soon--why don't you check out our sponsors or promote the page while you're waiting? I'm so stretched, that's the only way you'll get a bonus poem out of me at this point.
Return to Toylit
Subscribe in a reader
Whom the Gods Would Destroy, They First Make Artistic [#twitterfoundpoem, August 27, 2010]
Whom the Gods Would Destroy, They First Make Artistic [#twitterfoundpoem, August 27, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Lastnight was the best night.
The clown car w/ 16 Clowns and ballerinas crashed.
glass broke and fresh squeezed blood
painted on them so they appear to be happy or sad.
Clowns and ballerinas wear a face that's intentionally silent.
they drove. no more Wal-Mart,
they went to Coney Island and to the circus on the boardwalk!
Some bastard surely performed voodoo magic:
the audience booed and jeered.
it was a Dance/COMEDY performance!!!
the audience was warped: they were actually pretty good.
the audience attacked them with empty
wine, tequila, cognac and Cointreau bottles.
Who comes up wit dis shit??
then The Gods smote them wit bees.
Fuckk. LMFAO!!!! that was totally unnecessary.
they drove away screaming "Fuckk. LMFAO!!!!"
Whom the gods will destroy they first make
edgy, risky, stylish, & artistic.
the bees were totally unnecessary.
aaand anyhow they drove, they crashed,
they squeezed fresh blood & i can't stop them.
they are 2 edgy, risky, stylish, & artistic 2 stop
and their Lastnight Dance/COMEDY performance
was the best one ever!!!!
Very edgy, risky, stylish, & artistic
but it's done NOW. yay. the end.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Lastnight was the best night.
The clown car w/ 16 Clowns and ballerinas crashed.
glass broke and fresh squeezed blood
painted on them so they appear to be happy or sad.
Clowns and ballerinas wear a face that's intentionally silent.
they drove. no more Wal-Mart,
they went to Coney Island and to the circus on the boardwalk!
Some bastard surely performed voodoo magic:
the audience booed and jeered.
it was a Dance/COMEDY performance!!!
the audience was warped: they were actually pretty good.
the audience attacked them with empty
wine, tequila, cognac and Cointreau bottles.
Who comes up wit dis shit??
then The Gods smote them wit bees.
Fuckk. LMFAO!!!! that was totally unnecessary.
they drove away screaming "Fuckk. LMFAO!!!!"
Whom the gods will destroy they first make
edgy, risky, stylish, & artistic.
the bees were totally unnecessary.
aaand anyhow they drove, they crashed,
they squeezed fresh blood & i can't stop them.
they are 2 edgy, risky, stylish, & artistic 2 stop
and their Lastnight Dance/COMEDY performance
was the best one ever!!!!
Very edgy, risky, stylish, & artistic
but it's done NOW. yay. the end.
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Thursday, August 26, 2010
Usurp Boredom! [Today's News Poem, August 26, 2010]
Usurp Boredom! [Today's News Poem, August 26, 2010]
Bored, I sharpen swords and knives admiring how
Simple objects keep their value. Basic laws
Stay the same throughout the ages. Boredom plows
Fields of corn; a blaze would cleanse its golden flaws
Yielding forth the face of God: a burning bush,
Floods that carry arks to start what's bound to fail
Once again. They're boring—more, they need a push.
Pigs admire their shit; preserved until the sale—
Digging 'til the holy airgun blows the pork
Out their skulls to bags of chicken feed. I'm bored.
Life's predictable on farms and lacks the torque
Arson keeps. I'm bored. So start again with sword.
“The Pakistani Taliban called the presence of foreign relief workers in this flood-ravaged country “unacceptable” on Thursday and suggested that militants could attack members of aid groups. ”
– Salman Masood, The New York Times, August 26, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/27/world/asia/27pstan.html?hpw
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Bored, I sharpen swords and knives admiring how
Simple objects keep their value. Basic laws
Stay the same throughout the ages. Boredom plows
Fields of corn; a blaze would cleanse its golden flaws
Yielding forth the face of God: a burning bush,
Floods that carry arks to start what's bound to fail
Once again. They're boring—more, they need a push.
Pigs admire their shit; preserved until the sale—
Digging 'til the holy airgun blows the pork
Out their skulls to bags of chicken feed. I'm bored.
Life's predictable on farms and lacks the torque
Arson keeps. I'm bored. So start again with sword.
“The Pakistani Taliban called the presence of foreign relief workers in this flood-ravaged country “unacceptable” on Thursday and suggested that militants could attack members of aid groups. ”
– Salman Masood, The New York Times, August 26, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/27/world/asia/27pstan.html?hpw
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Smashed by the Same Girl!!!!!! [#twitterfoundpoem, August 26, 2010]
Smashed by the Same Girl!!!!!! [#twitterfoundpoem, August 26, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
This morning my car window was smashed
with a note on it. Death threats man.
i was like WTF. later This man from Jerry Springer
went down My chimney to be the Grinch
who Stole my Christmas dream.
For all I know, a Tiger could be
in my car while I'm chilling in my room building a Tiger Tank.
I'm like WTF and I Check my car
just in case the Jerry Springer guy should come by.
WTF?! there goes my car!!!!!!
OMG a GOGO DANCER is driving my car!!!!!!
OMG I think she looks like Elin Nordegren
and i turned around... and
there's a Tiger in my Tank!!!!!! no !!!!!!
and i turned around... and
there's Elin Nordegren in my car.
No !!!!!! I'm like WTF... me and Tiger
were fucked around and smashed by the same girl!!!!!!
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
This morning my car window was smashed
with a note on it. Death threats man.
i was like WTF. later This man from Jerry Springer
went down My chimney to be the Grinch
who Stole my Christmas dream.
For all I know, a Tiger could be
in my car while I'm chilling in my room building a Tiger Tank.
I'm like WTF and I Check my car
just in case the Jerry Springer guy should come by.
WTF?! there goes my car!!!!!!
OMG a GOGO DANCER is driving my car!!!!!!
OMG I think she looks like Elin Nordegren
and i turned around... and
there's a Tiger in my Tank!!!!!! no !!!!!!
and i turned around... and
there's Elin Nordegren in my car.
No !!!!!! I'm like WTF... me and Tiger
were fucked around and smashed by the same girl!!!!!!
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Wednesday, August 25, 2010
One Final Blessing From Zeus [Today's News Poem, August 25, 2010]
One Final Blessing From Zeus [Today's News Poem, August 25, 2010]
Your jaws gape.
We will shut them.
You speak of love? We
act by gravity.
You question quills
the eldest
of worships
cast to open
mouths? Who pummeled you,
until you propped skins
on wood to block
our whimsy?
Your children
drowned. You fell to
mud but looked above
hoping we would claim
what seemed to sink
below ground.
You think time
is off? That flux
conforms to pacing?
Measurement of change
with memory
is folly.
You must chase
us and bottle
the water of clouds
for the plumbing
your new veins
will require.
You must drink your
ancient enemy;
become us. Only
then will we call
you master.
“More rain threatened Pakistan on Wednesday as aid workers pleaded for more help and additional helicopters to reach hundreds of thousands of people isolated by record floods.
The Pakistan Meteorological Department forecast thundershowers and occasional heavy rain into Friday in Punjab Province, Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa Province and Kashmir.
On Tuesday, the United Nations said 800,000 people could be reached only by air, and it called for 40 more helicopters from the international community to help take aid to people isolated by the flooding. ”
– Salman Masood, The New York Times, August 25, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/26/world/asia/26pstan.html?_r=1&hp
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Your jaws gape.
We will shut them.
You speak of love? We
act by gravity.
You question quills
the eldest
of worships
cast to open
mouths? Who pummeled you,
until you propped skins
on wood to block
our whimsy?
Your children
drowned. You fell to
mud but looked above
hoping we would claim
what seemed to sink
below ground.
You think time
is off? That flux
conforms to pacing?
Measurement of change
with memory
is folly.
You must chase
us and bottle
the water of clouds
for the plumbing
your new veins
will require.
You must drink your
ancient enemy;
become us. Only
then will we call
you master.
“More rain threatened Pakistan on Wednesday as aid workers pleaded for more help and additional helicopters to reach hundreds of thousands of people isolated by record floods.
The Pakistan Meteorological Department forecast thundershowers and occasional heavy rain into Friday in Punjab Province, Khyber-Pakhtunkhwa Province and Kashmir.
On Tuesday, the United Nations said 800,000 people could be reached only by air, and it called for 40 more helicopters from the international community to help take aid to people isolated by the flooding. ”
– Salman Masood, The New York Times, August 25, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/26/world/asia/26pstan.html?_r=1&hp
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This is the new format: if you dislike it, let me know. Also:
1) Let me know if this version is buggy. People were complaining that the old format was messing w/ their computers.
2) Turns out Toylit's been around since 2000. So sez Alexa. Now I don't even need to dig up an old copy of Toylit to scan & prove it.
3) If you're a fan of Toylit, remember to promote/support it. Takes a few clicks & lets me know you appreciate it.
4) News poem in a few hours.
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2) Turns out Toylit's been around since 2000. So sez Alexa. Now I don't even need to dig up an old copy of Toylit to scan & prove it.
3) If you're a fan of Toylit, remember to promote/support it. Takes a few clicks & lets me know you appreciate it.
4) News poem in a few hours.
Return to Toylit
Subscribe in a reader
Party at Wedding/Funeral [#twitterfoundpoem, August 25, 2010]
Party at Wedding/Funeral [#twitterfoundpoem, August 25, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
So how goes the plans for shooting your sisters wedding?
God will take care of them...
What does one wear to such an occasion?
A Turban? A bunnet?! Or perhaps a top-hat made of licorice?
What can you say when a love affair is over
after an honor killing? That's what got me a bit fed up.
What are you to say?
"Kudos to pseudos. God will always MAKE YOU HAAAPPPYYY!"
Or perhaps after the family honor is restored
you throw a party: lol omg a Wedding, And Funeral
comming thru --beep,beeep,beeeeep--(; HA !
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
So how goes the plans for shooting your sisters wedding?
God will take care of them...
What does one wear to such an occasion?
A Turban? A bunnet?! Or perhaps a top-hat made of licorice?
What can you say when a love affair is over
after an honor killing? That's what got me a bit fed up.
What are you to say?
"Kudos to pseudos. God will always MAKE YOU HAAAPPPYYY!"
Or perhaps after the family honor is restored
you throw a party: lol omg a Wedding, And Funeral
comming thru --beep,beeep,beeeeep--(; HA !
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Tuesday, August 24, 2010
Return of the Sacrificial King [Today's News Poem, August 24, 2010]
Return of the Sacrificial King [Today's News Poem, August 24, 2010]
For C.B.
A prophet had visions—I read it in story.
The crust was inverted; its guts rose to surface.
A mask of its final repose was the glory
Of termites; siafu: the mandible creatures.
He lived in a room in a flat that was tilted.
And witnessed the omens that nature transmitted:
The rotting of cars and the gardens that wilted.
The rust of the canisters mixed with their contents
To sprout—between junk heaps—a blackberry angle.
It bundled the weeds and the splinters, transmuting
Exposure to toxins, that spilled on the tangles,
To venom by berry—for givers of poison.
He listened to cooing one evening; a growling,
A gnawing—it sounded like mating or murder.
He opened his door and he followed the howling
From kitchen to staircase. A junkie was laughing.
“They're licking my foot in a gesture of friendship,”
Raccoons were both ripping his toes from their knuckles.
The moon served as witness: the essence was worship
That fell through the cracks to the vines down below them.
While starlight possessed him, he called to the cosmos:
“Where will we live when the world is a graveyard?
And where will be bury our dead when the magma
Surfaces, coating the planet with buildings?”
“A new study finds oil spilled into the Gulf of Mexico from a ruptured BP well degraded at a rate that was "much faster than anticipated" thanks to the interaction of microbes with the oil particles. ”
– Vivian Kuo, CNN,August 24, 2010 5:51 p.m. EDT
http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/08/24/gulf.oil.study/
“For more than nine days, for more than 60 miles, thousands of Beijing-bound vehicles have come to a virtual standstill on a stretch of highway called the 110 (honest!) that runs from Inner Mongolia southeast to the nation's capital.”
– Barbara Demick, Los Angeles Times, August 25, 2010 Edition
http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-fg-china-traffic-20100825,0,3689656.story
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For C.B.
A prophet had visions—I read it in story.
The crust was inverted; its guts rose to surface.
A mask of its final repose was the glory
Of termites; siafu: the mandible creatures.
He lived in a room in a flat that was tilted.
And witnessed the omens that nature transmitted:
The rotting of cars and the gardens that wilted.
The rust of the canisters mixed with their contents
To sprout—between junk heaps—a blackberry angle.
It bundled the weeds and the splinters, transmuting
Exposure to toxins, that spilled on the tangles,
To venom by berry—for givers of poison.
He listened to cooing one evening; a growling,
A gnawing—it sounded like mating or murder.
He opened his door and he followed the howling
From kitchen to staircase. A junkie was laughing.
“They're licking my foot in a gesture of friendship,”
Raccoons were both ripping his toes from their knuckles.
The moon served as witness: the essence was worship
That fell through the cracks to the vines down below them.
While starlight possessed him, he called to the cosmos:
“Where will we live when the world is a graveyard?
And where will be bury our dead when the magma
Surfaces, coating the planet with buildings?”
“A new study finds oil spilled into the Gulf of Mexico from a ruptured BP well degraded at a rate that was "much faster than anticipated" thanks to the interaction of microbes with the oil particles. ”
– Vivian Kuo, CNN,August 24, 2010 5:51 p.m. EDT
http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/08/24/gulf.oil.study/
“For more than nine days, for more than 60 miles, thousands of Beijing-bound vehicles have come to a virtual standstill on a stretch of highway called the 110 (honest!) that runs from Inner Mongolia southeast to the nation's capital.”
– Barbara Demick, Los Angeles Times, August 25, 2010 Edition
http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/world/la-fg-china-traffic-20100825,0,3689656.story
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Don't Mind the Mess [#twitterfoundpoem, August 24, 2010]
Don't Mind the Mess [#twitterfoundpoem, August 24, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
what do you just instantly dislike?
foam, body, color, aroma, taste...
Ahhh! I dislike all of them!
yea, but now ice-hockey injuries,
a drink of tha best liquid silver
(I drink them babies like a milkshake),
a gun, and a Powerwash? I don't mind them babies.
I distend my belly, smile and
drink tha sun... Ahhh! my old ice-hockey injuries!
I distend my belly, nd get gas instead of throw up!
I Rupture grossness and A forensic scientist
says "We look at foam, body, color, aroma, taste.
onces the rock is chipped its chipped u cant get it bak."
I don't mind.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
what do you just instantly dislike?
foam, body, color, aroma, taste...
Ahhh! I dislike all of them!
yea, but now ice-hockey injuries,
a drink of tha best liquid silver
(I drink them babies like a milkshake),
a gun, and a Powerwash? I don't mind them babies.
I distend my belly, smile and
drink tha sun... Ahhh! my old ice-hockey injuries!
I distend my belly, nd get gas instead of throw up!
I Rupture grossness and A forensic scientist
says "We look at foam, body, color, aroma, taste.
onces the rock is chipped its chipped u cant get it bak."
I don't mind.
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Monday, August 23, 2010
Entropy's Letters [Today's News Poem, August 23, 2010]
Entropy's Letters [Today's News Poem, August 23, 2010]
'Click' and she echo-locates as the twilight
Leaps through the sky to horizon in minutes.
Jerking with birds of the evening, they're snapping
Bugs in the orange, blue, purple—to whiteness
(Orbiting body indifferent to murder).
Insects are messengers—calorie letters
Sent from the bang to the night. All mosquitoes,
Flies and the fog of the gnats shall deliver
Harmony: buzzing the music of monads;
Everywhere life ever sprouted; a ripple,
Wave or a particle bouncing back homeward.
“...the UN's Food and Agriculture Organization is working on a policy to promote insects as food worldwide.”
– Jennifer S. Holland, Health, National Geographic, September, 2010
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'Click' and she echo-locates as the twilight
Leaps through the sky to horizon in minutes.
Jerking with birds of the evening, they're snapping
Bugs in the orange, blue, purple—to whiteness
(Orbiting body indifferent to murder).
Insects are messengers—calorie letters
Sent from the bang to the night. All mosquitoes,
Flies and the fog of the gnats shall deliver
Harmony: buzzing the music of monads;
Everywhere life ever sprouted; a ripple,
Wave or a particle bouncing back homeward.
“...the UN's Food and Agriculture Organization is working on a policy to promote insects as food worldwide.”
– Jennifer S. Holland, Health, National Geographic, September, 2010
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Stripping While Burning [#twitterfoundpoem, August 23, 2010]
Stripping While Burning [#twitterfoundpoem, August 23, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
After hours of fiddling
Y SHOULD I GIVE UH FUCK?
i am fiddling!
fiddling in the strip club!
fiddling in my room!
fiddling in Greece...
I seem to have survived tonights fiddling
with only minor damage.
So it's more of a minor annoyance than an emergency
that has nothing to do with my major:
Fiddling While the US Economy Burns.
Not done yet, but the rest is minor tinkering.
waiting on someone to open
your heart again?
you can squirt your breast milk at folks in the strip club!
I'm fiddling While
it Burns and we burn it down
and you're dancing!
I gotchaa one day wen we burn it down...
Y SHOULD I GIVE UH FUCK?
Working on it now!
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
After hours of fiddling
Y SHOULD I GIVE UH FUCK?
i am fiddling!
fiddling in the strip club!
fiddling in my room!
fiddling in Greece...
I seem to have survived tonights fiddling
with only minor damage.
So it's more of a minor annoyance than an emergency
that has nothing to do with my major:
Fiddling While the US Economy Burns.
Not done yet, but the rest is minor tinkering.
waiting on someone to open
your heart again?
you can squirt your breast milk at folks in the strip club!
I'm fiddling While
it Burns and we burn it down
and you're dancing!
I gotchaa one day wen we burn it down...
Y SHOULD I GIVE UH FUCK?
Working on it now!
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Sunday, August 22, 2010
Silent Eon [Today's News Poem, August 22, 2010]
Silent Eon [Today's News Poem, August 22, 2010]
There is death by every element.
Pesticides by bomber gas the swarms:
Doomed as wheat to die as energy.
Engines vomit forth dioxin clouds.
Fuel transmutes to emulate the rain.
Falcons coast on thermal breeze to sway,
Crash and crumble, much as nested eggs.
Summer's nearly ended. Springtime still
Echoes: silent, past the solstice point,
Through the fecund summer—nearly done—
Into autumn; through the wintertime
Lasting longer than a contrail's line.
“New research confirms the existence of a huge plume of dispersed oil deep in the Gulf of Mexico and suggests that it has not broken down rapidly, raising the possibility that it might pose a threat to wildlife for months or even years. ”
– JUSTIN GILLIS and JOHN COLLINS RUDOLF, The New York Times, August 19, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/20/science/earth/20plume.html?ref=science
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There is death by every element.
Pesticides by bomber gas the swarms:
Doomed as wheat to die as energy.
Engines vomit forth dioxin clouds.
Fuel transmutes to emulate the rain.
Falcons coast on thermal breeze to sway,
Crash and crumble, much as nested eggs.
Summer's nearly ended. Springtime still
Echoes: silent, past the solstice point,
Through the fecund summer—nearly done—
Into autumn; through the wintertime
Lasting longer than a contrail's line.
“New research confirms the existence of a huge plume of dispersed oil deep in the Gulf of Mexico and suggests that it has not broken down rapidly, raising the possibility that it might pose a threat to wildlife for months or even years. ”
– JUSTIN GILLIS and JOHN COLLINS RUDOLF, The New York Times, August 19, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/08/20/science/earth/20plume.html?ref=science
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The Rapture of Buffalo Wild Wings [#twitterfoundpoem, August 22, 2010]
The Rapture of Buffalo Wild Wings [#twitterfoundpoem, August 22, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Ain't no
lackluster themes
to capture that
Rapture...
that SERIELKILLING RAPIST
Feeling... that Rapture
to capture that
'drop out of uni' Child
Feeling.
Feeling Rapture
inspired? the
SERIELKILLING RAPIST
thinks so.
so
BEFORE U
HIRE that
SERIELKILLING RAPIST
HIRE that
'drop out of uni' Child...
drop that 'drop out of uni' Child
in the toilet.
if that SERIELKILLING RAPIST
thinks a dead fly
can Sprout
Buffalo Wild Wings
in the Rapture
then
there's no such thing as
suicide.
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Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem
Ain't no
lackluster themes
to capture that
Rapture...
that SERIELKILLING RAPIST
Feeling... that Rapture
to capture that
'drop out of uni' Child
Feeling.
Feeling Rapture
inspired? the
SERIELKILLING RAPIST
thinks so.
so
BEFORE U
HIRE that
SERIELKILLING RAPIST
HIRE that
'drop out of uni' Child...
drop that 'drop out of uni' Child
in the toilet.
if that SERIELKILLING RAPIST
thinks a dead fly
can Sprout
Buffalo Wild Wings
in the Rapture
then
there's no such thing as
suicide.
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Saturday, August 21, 2010
Ark of Wood [Today's News Poem, August 21, 2010]
Ark of Wood [Today's News Poem, August 21, 2010]
In 'Mongol Hunts,' men
on horses circled around a zone and beat
the bushes; driving every
critter to the center. These sorts
of things never end
well for the beasts. Yoking
brush takes fire and steel;
slashing and burning the growth
until it cowers under farmland,
until it is used up and flies
beyond the reach of tool or plan.
The flora reach to grasp
the sun: hold it, hitch
a ride and flee. The animals
will run upon a bridge
of bark—and ride the ark of wood.
Barring that, the plants
will lock their branches,
lacing-up the sky and embrace
the garden of surface,
that prison for masters,
a circus for fauna;
mechanical big-top
grocer; with euthanasia.
“A bear that mauled to death a caretaker was euthanized Saturday at the request of the family of the victim, whose father said he had told his son to leave the job. The bear attacked Brent Kandra, 24, when he opened its cage Thursday for a routine feeding at the home of a man who kept a menagerie of wolves, tigers and bears on the property southwest of Cleveland.”
– JEANNIE NUSS, Associated Press, August 21, 2010
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jcScCFNF4KJBJPVIwjJCy2vW9IZQD9HO5U780
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Subscribe in a reader
In 'Mongol Hunts,' men
on horses circled around a zone and beat
the bushes; driving every
critter to the center. These sorts
of things never end
well for the beasts. Yoking
brush takes fire and steel;
slashing and burning the growth
until it cowers under farmland,
until it is used up and flies
beyond the reach of tool or plan.
The flora reach to grasp
the sun: hold it, hitch
a ride and flee. The animals
will run upon a bridge
of bark—and ride the ark of wood.
Barring that, the plants
will lock their branches,
lacing-up the sky and embrace
the garden of surface,
that prison for masters,
a circus for fauna;
mechanical big-top
grocer; with euthanasia.
“A bear that mauled to death a caretaker was euthanized Saturday at the request of the family of the victim, whose father said he had told his son to leave the job. The bear attacked Brent Kandra, 24, when he opened its cage Thursday for a routine feeding at the home of a man who kept a menagerie of wolves, tigers and bears on the property southwest of Cleveland.”
– JEANNIE NUSS, Associated Press, August 21, 2010
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5jcScCFNF4KJBJPVIwjJCy2vW9IZQD9HO5U780
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