Courtroom Surprise [Today's News Poem, June 18, 2010]

Courtroom Surprise [Today's News Poem, June 18, 2010]

The accused takes the stand and the jury's engrossed
With the evidence offered. I notice the disks
In the dust on the panels of wood as they roast
The defendant. The judge and his gavel are brisk.
Then I notice his beak and the jury is filled
With the tendrils of something too human, that reach
For my warmth and I shout as the ink they have spilled
Wets my waist. They are swimming in ink and each
Of the tentacles grasps at my body and pulls
Me apart in a frenzy—they feast 'til they're full.

“Embattled BP Chief Executive Tony Hayward, who endured a ferocious daylong grilling this week on Capitol Hill, was replaced Friday as the point man for the day-to-day response to the gulf oil disaster, a move that drew praise from BP critics and suggested the company was growing increasingly concerned with damage to its image. ”
– Walter Hamilton and Scott Kraft, Los Angeles Times, June 18, 2010, 4:56pm
http://www.latimes.com/news/nationworld/nation/la-na-oil-spill-20100619,0,1365994.story

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Firing Squad Instruction Manual [Twitter Found Poem, June 18, 2010]

Firing Squad Instruction Manual [Twitter Found Poem, June 18, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Everyone should have some
Purple fur handcuffs.
You never know when you'll have to lock
up a demon possessed cousin.
is there a better way to fight demons?

You say a Lusty injection of white gravy (ugh!)
and hot sauce in The vile Succubus
is a better way to fight demons?
Who Makes hellspawn not WAR?

The firing squad is an Angel possessed robot.
No wonder The demons struggle.
Some find execution by Angel possessed robot
firing squad "cruel & unusual" but I
find a Lusty injection in The vile Succubus
far more ghoulish. Lust cant save you
in the land owned by Satan
and his army of vile Succubus possessed cousins.
A WAR bigger than any war draws closer and closer
and the alphabet of Angels
is a firing squad instruction manual.

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Blond Mermaid Foam [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), June 17, 2010]

Blond Mermaid Foam [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), June 17, 2010]

The beaches are empty and blackened with tar.
A yellowish foam has deposited gifts
The currents rejected: the husk of a star
Is shrouded in plastic. The coast is the rift
Where elements gather. I call for my pet.
It sails up the mouth of the vomiting bay,
Where chemicals spice up the watery jets
Of petrol, of hormones that jump up and spray
My face off the rocks. And the jellyfish swims
To home to my hands where I reach out and sting
It, tearing the gel with my fingers. Its limbs
Are flailing. I savor the taste and I sing
To mermaids to send me their sisters by tide
To flavor the sea, or to serve as my brides.

“The city of San Francisco just tentatively approved a law spotlighting cell phone radiation, so we rounded up 10 phones and Bluetooth headsets that can help distance yourself from emissions. ”
– Sean Ludwig, PC Magazine, 6.17.2010
http://www.pcmag.com/article2/0,2817,2365224,00.asp

“The Turritopsis nutricula is known as the "immortal jellyfish" because even once sexually mature, it can revert back to its polypoid stage, its first life stage. And then rinse and repeat. Again and again. From Mother Nature Network:”
– David Pescovitz, Boing Boing, 11:25 AM Thursday, Jun 17, 2010
http://www.boingboing.net/2010/06/17/-photo-from-peter-sc.html

“The lion's mane and blue jellyfish, which are usually found further north, are thought to have been attracted by plankton blooms.”
– BBC, 15 June 2010 13:52 UK
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/england/cornwall/10319787.stm

“Fill a very large container with salted water. Fold in 12 million tons of nitrogen fertilizer. Add millions of fish, shrimp, clams, gulls, pelicans and other wildlife. Top with 100 million gallons of crude oil. Warm gently, uncovered, for a summer... Or, if you want to be lighthearted about it, you could think of it as a new kind of cooking. Americans, with their unstoppable appetites for cheap oil (the Gulf spill) and cheap food (the fertilizer-polluted Mississippi), are whipping up a big new gumbo in the Gulf. Let's hope it's not a recipe for disaster.”
– Thomas Hager, OregonLive.com, Tuesday, June 15, 2010, 8:00 AM
http://www.oregonlive.com/opinion/index.ssf/2010/06/double_trouble.html

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Viva Level 88 Cabrones [Twitter Found Poem, June 17, 2010]

Viva Level 88 Cabrones [Twitter Found Poem, June 17, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

I LOVE u bitch. IF U WERE MY bitch I WOULD
LOVE U and fuck u ALL DAY ND ALL NIGHT.
don't u secretly want to bite the FUCK outta people
who act like they know everything about Level 88?

Level 88 HAS all the MEXICAN FOOD AND LATIN FOOD!!!!
when WE ARE not GRINDIN LIKE 2 DOGS N HEAT
WE can eat everything on Level 88.

HAHAHAHAHAHAH
WE shut it down!!!!
who cried havoc and let slip the dogs of war?
who let us dogs out ?
WE own Level 88!!!!
I'm a Great Dane--- da shit.
U a Great bitch--- da shit.
WE can eat everything on Level 88
throw it ALL up AND eat everything again...
A DROP IN THE BUCKET COMPARED
2 wht ths trash spill HAS DON 2 DESTROYAMERICA...
Level 88 is viva mexico cabrones.

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Eagle of Victory [Today's News Poem, June 16, 2010]

Eagle of Victory [Today's News Poem, June 16, 2010]

An eagle is circling over parades.
The streamers are flying on gusts through the street.
They're waving at tanks and there's no one's afraid
Of barrels of steel. Who can think of defeat?
Who notes what the eagle observes as she glides
On breezes of tape? Who ignited the blaze?
The distance is burning—it crackles: it's fried.
The weather is shifting. The fallout they praise
Is blowing their way and they'll share what they gave:
A basket of flame for the barrel of tripe
They offered the gods. Is Prometheus brave?
He's screaming. Imagine his pain. And you gripe
About what your avarice brings on a cloud?
Go call for the gods. They are deaf to the proud.

“China wants to sell two nuclear reactors to Pakistan. The Obama administration thinks that’s a bad idea – but how to oppose that plan while dodging charges of hypocrisy, given the administration only last year sealed a US deal to supply India with civilian nuclear equipment? And how to press to halt the intended sale while preserving relations with two crucial partners, China and Pakistan?”
– Howard LaFranchi, The Christian Science Monitor, June 16, 2010
http://www.csmonitor.com/USA/Foreign-Policy/2010/0616/US-objects-to-China-Pakistan-nuclear-deal.-Hypocritical

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Knave of Tarts and His Slave Camp of Art [Twitter Found Poem, June 16, 2010]

Knave of Tarts and His Slave Camp of Art [Twitter Found Poem, June 16, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Revel in your knowledge of the Machine!
(knave knave knave...)
build a Slave Camp for the worthless slave.
(knave of tarts tarts tarts...)
TO build a SOFA WIFI office work space, TV,
coffee, pretzels, tarts tarts tarts...
as You walk this world nothing can stop the knave of tarts!
a Woo hoo hoo hoo...

and i Defaced a Giant Penis
(Russian cock crushed under a Drawbridge...)
for I'm your Queen Of Art.
and that bastard, the Duke of couch
(Duke of couch couch couch...)
has nothing On your Slave Camp Of Art.
(Ahhh!!)
Last night i dipped this trip
(Oh yeah)
into the absurd and confusing realm...
the realm of the SOFA KING!!!
a Woo hoo hoo hoo...


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Loss of Attachment in the Desert [Today's News Poem, June 15, 2010]

Loss of Attachment in the Desert [Today's News Poem, June 15, 2010]

Buddha's face attached to rock:
Etched in cliff in stone display.
Rubbled, quarried, bombed away;
Scattered, used as founding stock.
The sands are shifting: deserts spread,
Recede; and gardens thrive where weeds
Had triumphed over gentle breeds—
Or vanish: golden grain to lead.
Newer gods replace the old.
Champions of faith make war.
Wilderness has always bore
Children made of bone—as cold
As distant heaven—hot as hell.
The prophets die, becoming dust;
The word of God, a cooling gust
That blows the grave where remnants dwell.

“A middle-aged Californian, on a self-proclaimed mission to help American troops, armed himself with a dagger, a pistol, a sword, Christian texts, hashish and night vision goggles and headed to the lawless tribal areas between Afghanistan and Pakistan to hunt down, single-handedly, Osama Bin Laden.”
– Sabrina Tavernise & Salman Masood, The New York Times, June 15, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/16/world/asia/16pstan.html?hp

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Mind and Skin Control [Twitter Found Poem, June 15, 2010]

Mind and Skin Control [Twitter Found Poem, June 15, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Enhance your occult mind control stamina
by boosting your aura with special mind blowing hats.
Mickey Mouse ears means their mind is blown
in terms of the occult mind control.
a foot tall stove pipe hat
and You are Abraham Lincoln.
pompadour wig w sideburns &
You are Kim Jung-il... portly Asian Elvis.

they want to numb their mind.
with special mind blowing occult mind control.
they need to be washed with bleach.
Give them occult mind control...
Salute the Flag mind control...
execute DPRK & scratch off their skin
skin control... so we'll see what the outcome is
with special mind blowing hats.

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Man vs. Food [Guest Twitter Found Poem, June 14, 2010, by Ryan Ridge]

Man vs. Food [Guest Twitter Found Poem, June 14, 2010]
Ryan Ridge
From June 13, 2010
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

My chicken scratch
is like decoding a serial killer's
rambling manifesto.
After they read my Chicken Manifesto
they will violently revolt.
Man vs. Food is simultaneously
inspiring and revolting.
Man vs. Food is my future calling.
I think my future wife
just prank called me.
I think I’m very drunk.
I think I see smoke.
I think food will be the death of me
someday.


Bio: Ryan Ridge writes and teaches in Southern California. Recent work has appeared, or is forthcoming, in Abjective, Corium, DIAGRAM, elimae, Fact-Simile, JMWW, The Los Angeles Review, and elsewhere. He maintains an archive of past work here.


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From Spice to Stone [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), June 14, 2010]

From Spice to Stone [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), June 14, 2010]

The spice is heated first no matter how
It's taken: needles, clean in leather bags;
Or smoke that flees the room and winds through boughs
Of deodar and rides a breeze—and drags
The user near the helicopter blades
That carry ammunition home to bone
And brick. The soldiers—far from home, on raids
To burn the crop—have found a trove in stone:
Beneath the deodars and graves of moss;
Below the gust of chopper blades in flight;
Beside the fields of poppies; where a loss
Can dissipate inside the wind at night:
A mechanism eats the roots in soil,
And poisons what is left, to rake the spoils.

“The United States has discovered nearly $1 trillion in untapped mineral deposits in Afghanistan, far beyond any previously known reserves and enough to fundamentally alter the Afghan economy and perhaps the Afghan war itself, according to senior American government officials.”
– James Risen, June 13, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/14/world/asia/14minerals.html?ref=business

“As such, Klare is not hopeful about Afghanistan’s future, believing it will inevitably come to resemble Nigeria—with a veneer of democracy, constant violence, and most people remaining mired in poverty.”
– Haley Cohen, Vanity Fair, June 14, 2010
http://www.vanityfair.com/online/daily/2010/06/the-resource-curse-why-lithium-may-spell-misery-for-afghanistan.html

“Mr Galbraith, who was removed from his job after being outspoken over last year’s disputed Afghan presidential election, on Tuesday hinted that Mr Karzai was not only corrupt, but also a drug addict. “Some of the palace insiders say [Karzai] has a certain fondness for some of Afghanistan’s most profitable exports,” Mr Galbraith told MSNBC.”
– Edward Luce and Daniel Dombey, The Financial Times, April 7 2010 00:21 GMT
http://www.ft.com/cms/s/0/eb5a9ed6-41d1-11df-865a-00144feabdc0.html

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Today's News Poem & Guest Twitter Found Poem Coming Up, But First...

If you're a regular reader, you know I'm always looking for ways to promote Toylit & am constantly shifting my tactics. For now, I think Stumbleupon is the most effective means of promotion. So if you appreciate all the hard work I put in to Toylit, then please help spread the word. I hate to nag, but Stumbleupon is the most effective means of promotion for Toylit so far. If you don't have an account and you want to help Toylit, set one up and promote as many Toylit URLs as possible. The more I get self-perpetuating promotion, the more I can focus on writing & editing, instead of promoting pre-existing writing.

So Stumbleupon for now is my favorite applause. Checking out my sponsors is my second favorite form, but I appreciate any and all promotions you do for Toylit.

That's all. Enjoy Today's News Poem & Guest Twitter Found Poem.

PS: Here's a how-to guide for promoting Toylit on Stumbleupon:

1)www.stumbleupon.com
2)Make a new account.
3)Open a second browser window.
4)Go to http://toylit.blogspot.com
5)Click the stumbleupon badge on the right side of the page.
6)If someone else already promoted the page first, there will be a green button. When you click it, it will go black.
7)If someone else did not promote the page, you will be sent to a submission page. Put 'poetry' in the tags section, click 'safe for work' and if you want to put a blurb in underneath, go for it. Something catchy for the casual browser.
8)I keep a promotions file to save having to retype things. I use alt-tab to bounce between applications and I can usually get 20 promotions done in 3-5 minutes. If I have to copy & paste a blurb for stumbleupon, that makes it more like 7-10 minutes.

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Origami Theremin vs Lady Luck's Maker [Twitter Found Poem, June 14, 2010]

Origami Theremin vs Lady Luck's Maker [Twitter Found Poem, June 14, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Lady Luck commands my eviction.
I expect Mt. Scott to erupt pretty soon.
I expect earthquakes, a blizzard, ice, tornado, hail and flooding.
I expect ENERGY !!!!!!!!!!!!

it was just the power. i was shaking.
nobody else joined my theremin quest!
Even though the theremin alarm Siren
Kills Over 9000 and looks cool.

There's no time to waste!
Point to the left and ride that wave
of ENERGY!!!!!!!!!!!!
to meet my maker...
I fold my eviction notice into an origami
theremin alarm Siren...
and yes, my shit started blinking...
and yes earthquakes, a blizzard, ice,
tornado, hail and flooding... ENERGY
powers my origami theremin alarm Siren...

my quest: going to meet Lady Lucks maker
going to Point my origami theremin alarm Siren
at Lady Lucks maker...
going to Point to the left and ride that wave!!!!!!!!!!!!

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The Third Nature [Today's News Poem, June 13, 2010]

The Third Nature [Today's News Poem, June 13, 2010]

They're stuck in this canyon of timber. They're waiting,
Like me, for the bus and they're dazzled by flickers
Of gasses so noble they brighten the evening
With gold—like the color of beer from a bottle.
The shards of a day that was lost fill the gutter.
The vapors ascend and combine with the moisture
Of fog on the hill and a figure approaches.
His balance maintained by the sidewalk, his breathing
Is fortified wine and his ear has a diamond
As small as the lamp at the edge of my vision.
He asks me for money. I hold up my transfer
To silence his plea—but he mumbles and rambles:
“Yeah crack's what I hoped for. You saw that. And still you
Are listening. Something tonight on the corner
Has changed me. I saw her—this tranny. She looked like
That Lucy... umm... Liu. And I know what we think and
We do makes the diff'rence in life and it's nothing
To look, but to touch her I'd earn it all back. I'm
A playa' who stepped off the game and I needed
To tell you I'm stuck and I'm hooked on the city.
And never before would I think I would ever
Confess to a man, or a stranger I want her.
I do. It's just... damn... when a man is more woman
Than woman I'll drink to her beautiful nature.”
And later I read of the snakes in the desert;
The hollow ones burst and from steel to the river;
Their contents have mingled with water. Pollution's
Ephemeral: mixed with the salt, in a body
Of desert. The earth isn't poisoned, it slumbers
Inanimate. Life too, is gone in an instant.

“A pipeline carrying mid-grade crude oil to Chevron Corp's 45,000 barrel per day (bpd) Salt Lake City refinery was shut on Saturday after leaking oil into a creek that feeds Utah's Great Salt Lake, said a fire department spokesman on Sunday.”
– Erwin Seba, Reuters, Sun Jun 13, 2010 5:29pm EDT
http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE65C2VL20100613?type=domesticNews

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Acid Burn the Lord British Chemistry Professor [Twitter Found Poem, June 13, 2010]

Acid Burn the Lord British Chemistry Professor [Twitter Found Poem, June 13, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Beginning to believe that science
is a made up conspiracy of snakeoil salesmen.
I'm depressed, that's why I eat a lot
and watch World Cup football on the computer.

im happy to know that
Only after disaster can we be resurrected.
Only after we turndown great scientific opportunity
can we nod off to sleep happy knowing
we fight for it,I mean the big lie of course.

Yes I'm a bit sad about that!
but we have satellite internet, it should work forever.
we Acid Burn Lord British Chemistry Professor
live on the telly and watch an amazing
execution app on the computer...
we are free to...

FUCK FUCK FUCK!! It still won't work!
Why can't I get World Cup football
live on the telly? Why can't I
WORK AGAIN FROM 5 TO 10PM?
what happened to my job?
If each one of US donated just a few thousand dollars
would we get WORK back?
World Cup satellite internet football back?
un-Acid Burn Lord British Chemistry Professor?
go to sleep happy knowing we watched an amazing match
on the telly and not have to cook anyone lunch?
do we have enough $ to fix this mess?

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Anesthesia For Dreams [Today's News Poem, June 12, 2010]

Anesthesia For Dreams [Today's News Poem, June 12, 2010]

My youth was a dream and the world was too fleeting—
Too soft. I was numb as my puberty vanished
To studies and wages. I wasted that moment
I waited—like Prufrock—too long in deciding.
It passed and a fungus has spread past my ankles.
My pulverized teeth from the decades of gnashing
Are cracked and the doctors are puzzled; the experts
Confused by this rotting. They cover my surface
With topical ointments. I'm waxen. My body
Is brittle. The organs are failing, no matter
The claims of the voices from boxes. I notice
The quadrangles speak and allay all my terrors.
I wake at that moment with caps on incisors.
And somehow the surface of things has a logic
I missed all these years. Now I'm numbing the limits
Of what I expected and leave it to masters
Of detail to map out my personal progress;
To drain from my pelt all those troublesome innards
And lead me away from this squandered potential.

“One was a spoiled child so prone to fits of rage — fights, screamed insults, threats — that his parents began taking him to psychiatrists at age 6 and medicating him in a vain struggle to control his moods... The other was arrested three times in less than four months for petty crimes, and seemed like an aimless youth — until he developed a passion for a strict version of Islam that shocked and alienated his Dominican family.”
– Kareem Fahim, Richard Pérez-Peña and Karen Zraick, The New York Times, June 11, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/12/nyregion/12suspects.html?hp

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One Hour STD [Twitter Found Poem, June 12, 2010]

One Hour STD [Twitter Found Poem, June 12, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

i think if the world was left in the hands of some of u
it would be a giant weed smoking std stricken orgy.
So Hooray for the sun! One more hour to Nova! Woohoo!
One hour std! Enhance your Nova sun enjoyment
by cracking open your tv and castrating yourself with a
Tiny Dark Skinned Ladyboy!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

open your Artificial Vagina Bible...
Dramatically Enhance Sexual Experience Through
castrating yourself and getting Sarah Palin breast implants!
CUT that tiny penis off
love that Tiny Dark Skinned Ladyboy!

did Tiny Dark Skinned Ladyboy get u
More Infected Than Thought?
did u get More HIV Infected head/butt shots
from Tiny Dark Skinned Ladyboy usage
Than u Thought?
No worries.
Listen to the low atonal droning
of the giant sun!
One more second to Nova! Woohoo!

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God of Mouth and Anus [Today's News Poem, June 11, 2010]

God of Mouth and Anus [Today's News Poem, June 11, 2010]

My god of the mouth, you are guided by hunger.
Your diaper's tremendous, your drool is a river.
My goddess of zero, my ponzi of plenty,
My appetites grow, but I'm famished—I swear it.
I plumbed my own depths and I've emptied my innards—
I've filled up my diaper, and yet there is nothing
To slake what ignited a feast for the ages.
Unchanged, though I filled up the toilet of plenty,
I've crust in my pinches of flesh—yet I'm weeping.
I'm soaking in filth, from my feast and my outlet.
What passes inside me's inert and uncaring,
The answers it shares are as empty as movements
Of gas—and as fleeting—oh god of the anus!

“Sales at U.S. retailers unexpectedly dropped in May for the first time in eight months, indicating the rebound in consumer spending is cooling as Americans boost savings.”
– Bloomberg Businessweek, June 11, 2010, 4:41 PM EDT
http://www.businessweek.com/news/2010-06-11/u-s-economy-retail-sales-unexpectedly-fell-in-may-update1-.html

“And then, one Saturday afternoon last November, his sister burst into his apartment in Chongjin with shocking news: the North Korean government had decided to drastically devalue the nation’s currency. The family’s life savings, about $1,560, had been reduced to about $30... lamenting years of useless sacrifice. Vegetables for his parents, his wife’s asthma medicine, the navy track suit his 15-year-old daughter craved — all were forsworn on the theory that, even in North Korea, the future was worth saving for. “Ai!” he exclaimed, cursing between sobs. “How we worked to save that money! Thinking about it makes me go crazy.””
– Sharon LaFraniere, The New York Times, June 9, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/10/world/asia/10koreans.html?scp=3&sq=north+korea&st=nyt

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World Cup Philosopher Hooligans [Twitter Found Poem, June 11, 2010]

World Cup Philosopher Hooligans [Twitter Found Poem, June 11, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

you can't pass judgment on me My child.
you don't enjoy a good competition.
you haven't even walked up to Heaven's Gate.
You dislike cult mentality?
a cult is a group that is really,really dedicated to a person.
World Cup is not a cult.

Apparantly We are in the middle of hell.
hell people are degenerate workers.
work work jerks.
World Cup philosophers are degenerate drunks,
but hell people don't even drink coffee.

you avoid sports not only because
you Fear a good competition,
you Fear The Reaper even though
you have TRAPPED us with you
in the middle of hell.

You dislike cult mentality?
you are the cult OF BOREDOM!
you are the cult OF work work jerks
who Fear The Reaper
and have TRAPPED
philosopher Hooligans.
and you says
"don't pass judgment on it?"
if it wasnt for The World Cup
religion and the police system,
philosopher Hooligans
woulda murdered you people by now.

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Liquid Equilibrium [Today's News Poem, June 10, 2010]

Liquid Equilibrium [Today's News Poem, June 10, 2010]

By handful, the ocean will drown you. Your vessel
Will croak for its life as its fibers are battered
By nothing but water. The palm of Poseidon
Will plunge you and nothing will save you from gulping
The salt... from a beard of the seaweed that grapples
The tide. And this war that you waged with the fathoms
Is lost. So let go of the totems of travel:
Your goddess of luck is a carving of ceder,
Your phone is the messenger calling your finish.
The water that fills you with storm in your cells
Will hide you in corals, in sand—under shells.

“A 16-year-old Southern California girl attempting a solo sail around the world was feared in trouble Thursday in the frigid, heaving southern Indian Ocean after her emergency beacons began signaling and communication was lost. Abby soon ran into equipment problems and had to stop for repairs. She gave up the goal of setting the record in April, but continued on. On May 15, Australian 16-year-old Jessica Watson claimed the record after completing a 23,000-mile circumnavigation in 210 days.”
– John Antczak, The Associated Press, 56 Minutes ago, as of 2:51pm PST, June 10, 2010
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5iNcCJg-kSyZBjLhEB3fRtcYzaQOgD9G8L0P00

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An Unfulfilled Vacation [Twitter Found Poem, June 10, 2010]

An Unfulfilled Vacation [Twitter Found Poem, June 10, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

An unfulfilled vocation drains
the color from a live corpse.
I found out you were a two faced bitch:
u started stealing my phrases n sayin they were urs.
I realized you didn't know or had interest in getting to know
my rap. u just wanna become one of these rap bitches.

B*tch Fix Real Recognize real...
you wanna move in to the Dalek projects?
why??
you wanna know Dalek culture??
you wanna DIE IN AN OIL-SPILL RELATED FIRE??
u can't handle the Dalek projects...
u can't even handle writing your own phrases.
I come from the real Dalek projects.
u have An unfulfilled vacation.
I had to Earn my phrases...
my vocation drains the color from my live corpse.
I had to live with the Dalek.
if u vacation with the Dalek
u will find a real two faced bitch.
try to be a friend with the Dalek.
What You Earn Is What You Get:
EXTERMINATE EXTERMINATE EXTERMINATE!!!

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The Sweepstakes of Hunger [Today's News Poem, June 9, 2010]

The Sweepstakes of Hunger [Today's News Poem, June 9, 2010]

The vermin that crawled from the mouth of the chairman:
The flies with the faces of humans—yes, insects
That fell to the pages of canon in shape of
A blueprint—a ledger of life! And he holds it
And reads the report to assembled committee:
“My father has many fine thrones in his kingdom,
Enough for a kingdom of kings—but our servants
Will serve in the next life as surely as present.”
The spiders on parchment are eaten. The offspring
Are hatched in an instant and leave through the nostrils
As flies made of promise, that leave from the palace
In briefcases, squirming in spreadsheets and margins.
And fluttering free from their cases, they frenzy
And chew through the kittens in boxes of cardboard—
And shit out a replica kitten in pieces.
But mostly they feed on the crust and the sunlight—
These monads of promise, these tools of interment—
Replacing the nothing of spirit with credit
And asset: a swap that we made for a ticket
Of lice in this sweepstakes of ravenous hunger.

“Mr. Bernanke’s comments, at a hearing of the House Budget Committee, reiterated his view that the economic recovery would most likely be slow and painful for many Americans. The Fed projects gross domestic product, the broadest measure of economic activity, to rise about 3.5 percent this year — a pace barely above that needed to keep pace with the growth in the labor force.”
– Sewell Chan, The New York Times, June 9, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/10/business/economy/10fed.html?hpw

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DEAD Aquaman & the Oil Spill Kids [Twitter Found Poem, June 9, 2010]

DEAD Aquaman & the Oil Spill Kids [Twitter Found Poem, June 9, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

it's my Favorite show:
THE BP Oil Spill Kills Aquaman
OMG I cracked up when it shows
Aquaman moving to protect the kids from the Oil.
And OMG THE Aquaman kids Appearing
In TV Commercials And Magazine Ads?
OMG I cracked up.

SO HERE'S THE PLAN:
I Could Become Rich Appearing
In TV Commercials And Magazine Ads.
jump into the Oil for 3 months...
buy Google ads...
buy TV Commercials And Magazine Ads
SO I Could Become Rich Appearing
on my Favorite show:
DEAD Aquaman & the oil spill kids,
starring me as DEAD Aquaman.

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Conduit for the Void [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), June 8, 2010]

Conduit for the Void [Today's News Poem (Sonnet), June 8, 2010]

My legs were useless, so I added wheels.
My lungs were weak, a siren takes their place.
I see potential everywhere. I heal
The wounds of possibility with grace:
Aborting what will only suffer woe...
Improving incompleteness... making wholes
From parts and parts from wholes... and what I grow
From nothing makes me godlike—what's a soul
But air? What frames the null with sound and lights?
The disco blue and red of cops that scream
Along with megaphones—a bus ignites
Its engine, silver jets above me gleam...
Yes, everything's connected through the void
With shrieks: the sound we've always best enjoyed.

“Mr. Campbell continues to struggle with the effects of the deluge of data. Even after he unplugs, he craves the stimulation he gets from his electronic gadgets. He forgets things like dinner plans, and he has trouble focusing on his family.”
– Matt Richtel, The New York Times, June 8, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/07/technology/07brain.html?ref=technology

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2responsblydevlop [Twitter Found Poem, June 8, 2010]

2responsblydevlop [Twitter Found Poem, June 8, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

u standing in da urinal next to me as i piss oil?
Wit your shea butter?
there is a 2 urinal buffer zone!
The bathroom, is a closed, finite system.
If you pollute or destroy the toilets,
we are the ones who pay.

i DON'T trust u

If freedom doesn't come with spyware,
and comes with inferior user promises then
EMERGENCY DEACTIVATE
your freedom.

the smell...the stench...It's SO nasty...
quick!! OPEN the Windows!!
closed systems can't coexist with
OPEN systems. I smell the smell
of oil piss. My smell is SO Ohmygoodness,
But you smell SO nasty.

MISSION DIAGNOSTIC:
i piss oil, But you can piss off.
you piss me off. you pollute The bathroom
Wit your shea butter. your duty is 2responsbly
devlop The bathroom resorces4humankind!!

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A Casein Palace, From the Milk of the Dead [Today's News Poem, June 7, 2010]

A Casein Palace, From the Milk of the Dead [Today's News Poem, June 7, 2010]

At home with the clatter of keyboards, in bunkers
Of pavement, they're bathed in the light of their solace.
Electrical windows, each framed with the fossils
From earlier eras, are flashing their insights.
A monitor-whisperer coaxes the image
From boxes that warehouse the secrets that aircraft:
Have captured from deserts—the graveyard of titans...
Have offered from turrets—the nails for a casket.
Alive with the milk of the dead, with a palace
Of casein, they press on their keypads: a séance
They practice with ritual uniforms, speaking
To spirits of gas, of the solids—of liquid.

“The Marines say the analysts, who are mostly in their early to mid-20s, paved the way for them to roll into Marja in southern Afghanistan earlier this year with minimal casualties. And as the analysts quickly pass on the latest data from drones and other spy planes, they are creating the fluid connections needed to hunt small groups of fighters and other fleeting targets, military officials say.”
– Christopher Drew, The New York Times, June 7, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/08/technology/08homefront.html?hp

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Trapped in Fail Hell [Twitter Found Poem, June 7, 2010]

Trapped in Fail Hell [Twitter Found Poem, June 7, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

don't believe your tv ...they lie..
"The earliest known depiction of Homemade Teeth
was in a Futuristic Floating City in an Ecotopia at Sea.
they had Nine-tenths of the people that there ever were."

Homemade Teeth would bite The earliest known Viagra.
The first time they masturbated, they were on a bed
& they were shooting it point blank in the face
of This old dog bitch.

now I'm Trapped under The tv.
trapped under there for six years. six years. Ohh.
Watchin Religious Ephemera …
(your government) Watchin advertisements for Viagra …
for a Futuristic Floating City in an Ecotopia at Sea.
Watchin This old dog bitch Taking her old
sweet time fucking My Giant Eyeball.
& My Giant Eyeball … it's still The first time
I masturbated My Giant Eyeball to the tv.
I made a game out of shooting The tv point blank in the face.

it's better to lie to yourself on a bed Trapped in fail hell
Watchin Religious Ephemera fucking your Giant Eyeball.

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Prisons of Diamond [Today's News Poem, June 6, 2010]

Prisons of Diamond [Today's News Poem, June 6, 2010]

They've crowned you with gemstones that shine in the sunlight.
The panels are sparkling and cover the deserts.
A circuit connects all the disparate pieces.
Beneath your exterior, cables and plumbing
Have drawn you away from your calling as mother.
Your thoughts look like clouds that were launched from a furnace.
Your skin: does it crawl from the movement of servos?

And under the moon and the blades of the chopper
Who squirms on your surface? Who rides in the bushes
A horse made of gristle? Who launches the rocket
That scorches the poppies? Who feeds the survivors?
The surface is buried. Who's digging a passage
Through prisons of diamond, to farm on the rubble—
Unless that's your secret—we're already smothered.

“Mr. Matiullah is one of several semiofficial warlords who have emerged across Afghanistan in recent months, as American and NATO officers try to bolster — and sometimes even supplant — ineffective regular Afghan forces in their battle against the Taliban insurgency.”
– Dexter Filkins, The New York Times, June 5, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/06/world/asia/06warlords.html?hpw

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They Promise This is THE Year [Twitter Found Poem, June 6, 2010]

They Promise This is THE Year [Twitter Found Poem, June 6, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

I want to take a walk, but If there's
no where nice to walk near my house,
I will have to drive some place just to walk.

I drive.

a commercial on the radio about a funeral home.
Every year, they promise, is THE year.
I am not worried about scary life.
I am sure this situation wouldn't be hard to recreate.
At some point WE all have to be
cut into tiny pieces.

2 songs and a commercial on the radio
about A TORNADO.
"I'm coming for you"
I think it says.

Scary today dreams about being cut into tiny pieces.
At some point I don't have a clue.
I just want to take a walk
so I drive.

IF THERE's A TORNADO im definitely
gonna drive some place just to drive some place.
TORNADO!! Argh!
commercial on the radio.
the funeral home!! Argh!
they promise this is THE year.
OMG SOMEONE HELP!
why is No one listening to ME?!!!

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Game of Deflection [Today's News Poem, June 5, 2010]

Game of Deflection [Today's News Poem, June 5, 2010]

He's searching for something to watch on the channels.
An image of alternate self is displaying—
It's out there—if only he finds the right station.
His mirror in bathroom is smeared, the reflection
Is tarnished with toothpaste and spittle. The windows
Are worse than the monitor: both serve as portals
Of entry for forces with semblances bearing
The will of another. He looks for a program
On mountains and caves—where our ancestors huddle
Together. The flames from their pit are projecting
A sign on the wall and they call it a human.
The rain is the echo they name after heartbeats.
The breeze and its howling, they name for their voices.
The elements smother the heat of combustion—
The end of the game for their endless deflection.

“Bravo isn’t simply guessing that the more exposed and personal aspects of Ms. Frankel’s life will appeal to its audience. The network, which finds and tests stars in much the same way that consumer products companies develop and market shampoos and mascaras, has done its homework. And it is confident that this is exactly what viewers want out of a show starring Ms. Frankel, one of its “Bravolebrities.” Viewers’ opinions, carefully observed and culled on the Web and pinpointed through more traditional market research, tend to dictate which Bravo stars graduate from ensemble reality shows to their own programs. The thinking is that they’ve already been vetted by the Bravo audience and the research team, and that they’ve already built brand awareness — so Bravo is, in marketing terms, just extending its product line. ”
– Stephanie Clifford, The New York Times, June 4, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/06/06/business/06bravo.html?hpw

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Drive Through Bible-Machines [Twitter Found Poem, June 5, 2010]

Drive Through Bible-Machines [Twitter Found Poem, June 5, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Working on My new novel:
"It ain't those parts of the Bible that I can't understand
it's the parts that I do understand."
Big list of readers!

My readers are amazing morons
im fucking proud of them..
Some of my most cherished friends
are the punching bag.
When I was young, I hit the punching bag.
I was a Bible beater
Now that I'm old I think about
Tzolkin Cycle Hyper-Days by Sandman Creations.

Hahaha!! I am Sandman Creations.
My new novel thinks about
Tzolkin Cycle Hyper-Days and
those parts of the Bible that I can't understand.

Some of my most cherished friends
hate. that's when I know I am doing gr8!
Now that they are old, they are My new
Bible punching bag!!
Now that they are old, they Have
to Have drive-through Bible machines
to Have a drive-through punching bag
of their own.

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