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Wednesday, July 14, 2010

Marionette Passion Play [Today's News Poem, July 14, 2010]

Marionette Passion Play [Today's News Poem, July 14, 2010]

Life is a farce and we players are puppets;
Scripted for vows to the thunder, as showers
Pour in a baptismal deluge that signals
Heroes are here! And detaching from strings he
Notices water is nothing but dampness.
Stages of tragedy, comedy happen.
Mannequins plead up the strings to their master:
Fate or the writer at least. What was scripted?
Scissors for wire. Yet he climbs up the ladder,
Grabs all the rods and continues the program.

““The Sorcerer’s Apprentice” is the latest movie about an ordinary fellow — it’s almost always a fellow — who is, all of a sudden and to his great astonishment, dragged into an epochal, supernatural battle between good and evil. ”
– A.O. Scott, The New York Times, July 13, 2010
http://movies.nytimes.com/2010/07/14/movies/14sorcerer.html?hpw



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Life Attack Claims Another Cleaning Lady [#twitterfoundpoem, July 14, 2010]

Life Attack Claims Another Cleaning Lady [#twitterfoundpoem, July 14, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

she tryna tell er body to behave
sayin it can't take rejection again.
they're going to deny er from getting organs
so er body Better behave:
it might be all she has.
she tryna tell er body to wake up
and take the bus to work even though
er organs is sayin they can't take it again.
even the bus rejects er ticket
"this is just fucking ridiculous"
er good heart says.
but er chopped liver groans
and er conscience remains silent.

she tryna hang on to the railing.
she is having a Life attack.
she drops er bag of cleaning supplies...
she falls down bus stairs.

Life fucks everyone in front of everyone.
the scariest of all rapes:
Life pulls apart er cankles and rapes er
in the street. she takes the rape of Life
in the scariest of all rapes.
and the bus driver and passengers are just
watching as Life rapes er body,
Never realizing they are also Life
and that they also rape er,
and that Life also rapes Their conscience
while they are just watching
as Life rapes the Old cleaning lady to DEATH.


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Tuesday, July 13, 2010

The Masters of Pilgrims [Today's News Poem, July 13 2010]

The Masters of Pilgrims [Today's News Poem, July 13 2010]

The mind is the way to a man's legs.
The tendons are triggered by his nerves.
And nervous, he walks in the hot sand,
With leaves in the way of the sunlight.
Submission to promises that last
To graves if not longer, he must hope.

Believers in nerves in the sky beg
Salvation from clouds and their faith serves
A master of shadows. The palm brands
Abduction with cover for one sleight
Of many that God must have let past:
He prays he is blind to the plan's scope.

“The scientist, Shahram Amiri, 32, vanished during a pilgrimage to Saudi Arabia in June 2009, and Iran accused the United States of abducting and torturing him. He had worked at Iran’s Malek Ashtar University, which is linked to the powerful Revolutionary Guards.”
– Salman Masood and Alan Cowell, The New York Times, July 13, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/14/world/middleeast/14iran.html?_r=1&hp


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Cyborg Answers the Turing Halting Problem [#twitterfoundpoem July 13, 2010]

Cyborg Answers the Turing Halting Problem [#twitterfoundpoem July 13, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

sequences leading to infinity Are quite disgusting.
in short scientific terms a methodology that is
automatic, Axiomatic, Algorithmic can punch your heart.
a closed system methodology that endorses prevention, lowers costs,
and improves the quality of profits can change your gears.
Imagine a new reimbursement methodology that endorses
a bad microchip implant and explants your brain.
Imagine your profit with a personality Explant!
sequences leading to infinity have a Halting Problem
but you will not have that Problem.
you Are a closed system but profit is never infinite.





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Monday, July 12, 2010

Pangloss Versus Pekar [Today's News Poem, July 12, 2010]

Pangloss Versus Pekar [Today's News Poem, July 12, 2010]

The pumpkin is winding its tendrils and strangling
The kumquat. The weaklings must wither and offer
Their lives to the strength of the plunderer: mighty
And blithe. And the smoke of the city combined with
The fog... yet the birds are still nesting. The pigeons
And crows are discussing the various merits
Of carcass and carrion; garbage and spoilage.
An airplane is circling the neighborhood—higher
Than hawks, thus the lord of the firmament. Higher,
The clouds are discharging a bolt sent to scupper
The god of titanium shaped as an eagle;
Igniting the pine with a nest full of hatchlings.
A flame in dry grass soon consumes my whole garden.

“Here's a phrase you don't often hear in regard to Harvey Pekar: role model... Even more, he yielded nothing, angering those who might help him for what at times seemed like capricious reflex... And yet, to watch those clips now on YouTube is to see something authentic and subversive, the talk show as Dadaist political experiment, in which the power of the open mike is used, even for a few minutes, to pry back the slick veneer of entertainment culture and expose the contradictions underneath. ”
– David Ulin, Los Angeles Times, July 13, 2010 Edition; accessed, 8:40pm July 12, 2010
http://www.latimes.com/entertainment/news/la-et-pekar-appreciation-20100713,0,6170883.story

“Research into grammar by academics at Northumbria University suggests that a significant proportion of native English speakers are unable to understand some basic sentences... The supposition that everyone in a linguistic community shares the same grammar is a central tenet of Noam Chomsky's theory of universal grammar. The theory assumes that all children learn language equally well and that there must therefore be an underlying common structure to all languages that is somehow "hard-wired" into the brain. ”
– Science Daily, July 6, 2010
http://www.sciencedaily.com/releases/2010/07/100706082156.htm

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Death of Kvetch King [#twitterfoundpoem July 12, 2010]

Death of Kvetch King [#twitterfoundpoem July 12, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

America just got a little less splendid...
the tragedys not that things are broken, its thats theyre blended
Together, and therefore defeated.
America migrated, and therefore depleted
Your Privacy, Your freedom: Deleted.

scientists speculated that America was Harvey Pekar.
When he died its Glory faded like a star.
Your freedom, Is Illusion
when complaints become intrusion:
kvetchers are a healthy body politic protrusion.

Silence is knavery;
good manners: slavery.


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Sunday, July 11, 2010

Anointed With Holy Oil [Today's News Poem, July 11, 2010]

Anointed With Holy Oil [Today's News Poem, July 11, 2010]

Growth takes so long and destruction so rapid,
Wonder elates me. I wander the orchard
Carelessly, stopping to nibble the olives.
Tasting the dirt and the nutrients hidden
Under the rocks in the dust of this wasteland.
Born in neglect and renewing its progress—
Offspring gone wild are the remnants of order.

Eating the fruit of the summer in winter
Conquers the meekness that seeks to inherit.
Builders of boats have transported decanters,
Trading the fruit for a box filled with treasure;
Plundering plowshares with sword-points of iron—
Pruning the cities with bronze at the spear-tip;
Blowing up mountains with barrels of powder:

Blessing the graveyards with regular water—
Oiling the pan for the chickens they slaughter.

“Because there was no custom of eating olives among Afghans, almost the entire crop, 2,600 tons a year, was shipped to Russia in the late 1970s… Mr. Hakim, who is 51 and like many Afghans has only one name, witnessed the farms’ growth as a college student here and was inspired, but never imagined that he would have the chance to direct the farms. The orchards and modern farms seemed to him a kind of utopian dream that had come to life in the rocky Afghan soil... Then, in the early 1980s, disaster struck. The mujahedeen movement to oust the Soviets, who by then were controlling the government, started in neighboring Kunar Province, and the regiment of Afghan troops guarding the farms was sent to fight the Afghan rebels.
Security deteriorated and vandals began to maraud at night, stealing farm equipment and even the steel rods used to stabilize the cooperatives’ concrete buildings, said Hajji Hanifullah Khan, the manager of one of the farms that is only now beginning to work again. ”
– Alissa J Rubin, The New York Times, July 11, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/11/world/asia/11afghan.html?hpw

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Cross-Time Epistolary [Twitter Found Poem, July 11, 2010]

Cross-Time Epistolary [Twitter Found Poem, July 11, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

a short message encoded inside
a confederacy of reference...
obscure and ancient text...
craziness...
who was i?? who i was??
inside that book
someone STILL knew.

I had vaporized an imposter
before the madness.
but afterward I was STILL filled with craziness...
and inside that ancient book someone
STILL knew who i was??

I composed my own book.
when multiplied by millions of words
the result brought ancient Generations
my code of obscure craziness...
I knew who they were too.
I brought them my own book
and changed the course of history
and shared my madness with the ancestors:
a Periodic Table of dunces.
Chemistry was never the same.

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Saturday, July 10, 2010

Stoned and High: In Search of the Final Reward [Today's News Poem, July 10, 2010]

Stoned and High: In Search of the Final Reward [Today's News Poem, July 10, 2010]

We all know the answer—the question's too simple.
Instead, methamphetamine clouds join the thunder
Of sugar and caffeine; to addle the senses.
It's faster than ever. A hurricane gathers
And carries the waitresses, truckers and farmers
On powdery wings—that are dripping with whiteness—
And passes the mountains of opiates, ganja,
And alcohol: passengers spinning too quickly
To notice the flatness beneath them. And sleeping
Inside of the base of the mountain, the dreamers
Are scarcely aware of the action of living
Outside of their dream—of the scurrying sightless.
Obsessive, who still can't imagine the tempo
Of God in the clouds or the silence in temples
Of stone—and the metrics they use all avoiding
The obvious standard for filling the empty
Ennui that is drawn to rewards made of pleasure.

“That question remains at the center of an investigation into the death of David Rozga, an Iowa teenager who last month committed suicide shortly after smoking K2. Mr. Rozga, 18, had graduated from high school one week earlier and was planning to attend college in the fall. According to the police report, Mr. Rozga smoked the substance with friends and then began “freaking out,” saying he was “going to hell.” He then returned to his parents’ house, grabbed a rifle from the family’s gunroom and shot himself in the head. ”
– Malcolm Gay, The New York Times, July 10, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/11/us/11k2.html?_r=1&hp



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Nobody Suspects the Inhuman [#twitterfoundpoem, July 10, 2010]

Nobody Suspects the Inhuman [#twitterfoundpoem, July 10, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

running on pure adrenalin and nerves
the subhuman has his own knife.
he is running from the fire
past the dog walkers, gangstas, drug dealers &killers
and Leaps o're the fence with ease.

do you think the subhuman is Eternally guilty
for being a subhuman being?
he has been awake 24 hours.
running on pure adrenalin and nerves
and running from the cops
do you think the cops think
"what the hell?? this high subhuman being
is A one subhuman GANG!!"

YESS. the only thing is...
Don't fuck w/ a subhuman being!!
he takes on the fire department
and takes the piss out of them.
he knows you set him up.
he knows who is the real subhuman
who climbed up a fire escape
and about 3 fences to blame the subhuman.
nobody believes a subhuman
and nobody suspects you are inhuman.


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Friday, July 09, 2010

I'm Hosting CombatWords! at Trickwithaknife.com Right Now

Go to http://trickwithaknife.com/?p=796 to a) Watch combat, b) Judge combat, c) Participate in combat, d) a and b, e) a and c, f) b and c, g) all of the above.

Maybe we'll cross pens!



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The Pawn's Fallacy [Today's News Poem, July 9, 2010]

The Pawn's Fallacy [Today's News Poem, July 9, 2010]

Defined by my pace on the map, I'm advancing
On tiles and my options are lined up opposing
My quest for the finish. I'm destined for something
Terrific: promotion; where origins matter
Far less than the power obtained. As a monarch,
My freedom to move by my whim on the chessboard
Is limited only by king and by checkmate
That comes with a flourish. And somewhere transcending
This board I'll recover my status—exceed it
Perhaps as a king on my chessboard. I'll gather
My forces together and crush my opponents
Forever in cycles of rebirth, ascending
The ranks to the top as the king of creation.

“With the exception of the redheaded Anna Chapman, who will doubtless soon be offered a talk show and a column on a British tabloid, they do look like a dull lot compared to their Soviet forerunners - who were very good indeed at their jobs. But they have all been offered a Moscow flat and a $2,000 (£1,327) state pension - the sort of riches plenty of Muscovites can still only dream of... But although the spies will not be paupers, their lives may not be easy.”
– Alexander Anichkin, BBC, 19:07 GMT, Friday, 9 July 2010 20:07 UK
http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/world/europe/10581574.stm



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Trust the Ascetic for Nothing [Twitter Found Poem, July 9, 2010]

Trust the Ascetic for Nothing [Twitter Found Poem, July 9, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

I gave all my worldly possessions for some peace of mind.
SERIOUSLY!!!! I Couldn't take it...
Ah, the life of the Ascetic is the better and saner way
of addressing injustice for some peace of mind:
people don't put all their trust in me for nothing.

Money isn't everything. What seems reasonable
and convincing to the inexperienced is not necessarily correct.
the life of the Ascetic is the better and saner way.

in all honesty the Ascetic Aesthetic is hot.
Asceticism is optimistic, hopeful, and cool!
Baby-making is for horny fools
and the GREEDY HUMAN!!!!!!!!!
only the Ascetic is suited for hot Baby-making
because the Ascetic already rejects all worldly pleasure.

I already gave all my worldly possessions for some peace of mind.
people put all their trust in me for nothing,
so trust in me for nothing and place your funds with me:
St Fonzie the Ascetic.



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Thursday, July 08, 2010

Quarantine the Relic [Today's News Poem, July 8, 2010]

Quarantine the Relic [Today's News Poem, July 8, 2010]

The city is blowing dioxins from chimneys.
And woozy, it staggered and fell on its stomach.
The freeways have punctured its lungs with the pillars
That carry the uniformed ghosts through the ghetto;
From suburb to office, bypassing this relic.
The city is coughing up blood and the pavement
Has flecks in its drool and the faces in windows
On trains are observing the symptoms with interest.
They're watching, uncertain of whether to vomit
Or cheer as the city is bleeding and gasping
For breath, as the officers quarantine Oakland
To death.

“Word of the Johannes Mehserle involuntary manslaughter verdict utterly transformed downtown Oakland in a matter of hours from a quiet enclave of office workers into a crush of more than 1,000 angry protesters, some of whom briefly skirmished with police. ”
– Matthai Kuruvila, Kevin Fagan, Jill Tucker,Nanette Asimov, The San Francisco Chronicle, Thursday, July 8, 2010
http://www.sfgate.com/cgi-bin/article.cgi?f=/c/a/2010/07/08/BAFL1EBKII.DTL&tsp=1



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Ghetto Rainbow Bridge to Valhalla [Twitter Found Poem, July 8, 2010]

Ghetto Rainbow Bridge to Valhalla [Twitter Found Poem, July 8, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

WARRIORS, welcome to Valhalla!
Did You slide Here on a ghetto Rainbow Special
or a .38 Special of blood and #bullshit ?
Did You taste The ghetto Rainbow?
pimp cadillac purple and newport green
before your lips turned crackhead coke white ?
Did You go running through the street, naked,
screaming, "TASTE THE FREAKING RAINBOW?"
is that when You first tasted The awesome,
and very Special .38?
Life crushes and processes You, from Cockroach Brown
to baloney Pink in a concrete gray Cuisinart.
You are keen and mighty: A WARRIOR!!!!!

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Wednesday, July 07, 2010

Prelapsarian Pity [Today's News Poem, July 7, 2010]

Prelapsarian Pity [Today's News Poem, July 7, 2010]

Kittens amuse themselves swatting at movement;
Pitying humans. Beyond my lapsarian
State, I see flickers of something I seek to
Tame; to possess. They mature. My agrarian
Masters of vermin; the servants of silos—
Lords of the tiny: they rest with an animal
Ease that I envy beside me. I struggle
Nightly in sweat, in a nightmare of criminal
Urges against my own God. I praise nature:
Distant. My knowledge is too insurmountable:
Lethe sends its greetings with blood and with feathers,
Pigeons in pancakes all hold me accountable;
The cats at the window await for the omen
We're blind to—that hides in the cycle of season.

“Dubbed the psychic octopus, the English-born Paul (hatched at the Sea Life Park in Weymouth) has correctly predicted all of Germany's World Cup results including the 1-0 defeat last night. He predicted Germany's wins against England and Argentina, and even Serbia's defeat of Germany in the group stage... Paul's handlers at Aquarium Sea Life in the western city of Oberhausen have turned him into a betting phenomenon by putting mussels into two glass boxes, with one box having Germany's flag while the other carries the flag of their opponents. Paul is then left to choose one box to open to retrieve the mussel.”
– Mark Tran, The Guardian, July 8, 2010 Edition
http://www.guardian.co.uk/football/2010/jul/08/soccer-octopus-world-cup-final



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D Vampire Hunter... Me [Twitter Found Poem, July 7, 2010]

D Vampire Hunter... Me [Twitter Found Poem, July 7, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

No life is a waste but You are not alive. The only time
You waste is the time You spend thinking
You are alive when You are really All alone All the time.

I'm sick of feeding my soul to The vampire's society.
There's enough of that already! when I run out of soul will I
gain immortality at the expense of my soul?

I'm not a monster, I'm just a sick kid who would give anything
to have her soul back. What is The value of a soul exactly?
a mosquito that sucks life and is sucked by a Vampire

to gain immortality at the expense of my soul?
what Do I get exactly? I worked hard feeding my soul.
If Vampire society knew how hard I worked to get my soul

it wouldn’t seem so wonderful at all. All things take effort,
time and expense. You are poor and not alive.
I am alive!!!! I am a misanthrope!!!! I hate Vampire society!!!!
They attempt to include everyone. what Do I get exactly?
I know what They get: D Vampire Hunter....
me !!!!



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Tuesday, July 06, 2010

The Worm of Secular Humanism [Today's News Poem, July 6, 2010]

The Worm of Secular Humanism [Today's News Poem, July 6, 2010]

The worm of the page is the promise of legend.
It's turning through history. Lines on the paper
Are maggots that squirm and devour the reader.
They leap through the air through the aperture pupil
And feast on the brain—that antennae to heaven.
The signal is weakening; angels are sleeping
On clouds at the switch, while the worms made of parchment
Are hatching and eating the nerves of acceptance
Of mysteries; answering prayers with the blueprints
To build an inferno on earth—with an answer
For everything measured. The measureless vanish.

“Declaring that many parts of Thailand remain unstable, the government on Tuesday extended by three months a state of emergency that gives authorities broad powers to restrict political meetings and detain suspects without charge. ”
– Thomas Fuller, The New York Times, July 6, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/07/world/asia/07thailand.html

“The U.S. government’s bank stress tests a year ago helped financial stocks to rebound 36 percent over the next seven months. Europe’s plan to follow may not be as successful. ”
– Andrew MacAskill & Aaron Kirchfeld, Bloomberg Businessweek, July 6, 2010
http://www.businessweek.com/news/2010-07-06/european-banks-hidden-losses-threaten-eu-stress-test.html

“Tar balls found Sunday on eastern Galveston Island were confirmed today as coming from the Gulf oil spill, according to the U.S. Coast Guard.”
– Moises Mendoza, The Houston Chronicle, July 6, 2010
http://www.chron.com/disp/story.mpl/metropolitan/7096109.html



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Major League Fangs [Twitter Found Poem, July 6, 2010]

Major League Fangs [Twitter Found Poem, July 6, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

You've got a kind heart & it shows.
You've got to eat the champ to BEAT the champ
to be the champ.... the world champion!!!
Most folks will eat your kind heart.
they will start by breastfeeding before they
make their way to your kind heart.
they don't just let You win, & You won't win.
You eat green beans & Ginger fries!
they eat with the fangs of a Spider, a snake, or an alligator
and they will rip your fucking heart out!
You think of family first while they Bribed and blackmailed....
and You wanted to be the world champion?
when a snake tries to eat an alligator
it perhaps is biting off more than it can chew,
but You are just cotton candy trying to eat a Spider.


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Monday, July 05, 2010

SEEING OTHER PEOPLE [Guest News Poem, July 5, 2010 by Jeff Chon]

SEEING OTHER PEOPLE [Guest News Poem, July 5, 2010 by Jeff Chon]
Jeff Chon

We avoid each other
for as long as we can
and when we finally talk, the words
shatter in my mouth
like a stick of trading card gum.
I spit the shards; we stare at them,
scattered, sparkling on the floor.

You used to be so charming
to me, but now I see
the phony that you are--Flitting
from person to person--you’re a moth
who thinks she’s the light, dusting us
with your insecurity. You look great
and no one wants you to leave, but please
stop making everything about you
or me or failure to connect.

Maybe you’ll come back to me
and I’ll probably take you back;
raise a toast to dysfunction.
But if you ever manage to get a ring
on your finger, let’s not forget
who quit on us the first time around.

http://www.bloomberg.com/news/2010-07-05/lebron-james-makes-appearance-works-out-at-basketball-camp-in-hometown.html

Jeff Chon is also the nefarious Secretary-General of vis a tergo, but you can just call him Dear Leader.

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End of the Cargo Cult [Today's News Poem, July 5, 2010]

End of the Cargo Cult [Today's News Poem, July 5, 2010]

The cargo is flying away and we're gathered
To witness the finish of what we found sacred.
Our engines are thirsty and whine as we clamor
Around the last tanker that wasn't quite emptied.
A silvery age is departing; propelling
An angel of turbine away on an airstream.
The scientists sit on the plane drinking coffee;
Their families gaze at the smoke from the ruins
Of home—once a city, now cluttered with refuse.
From dollars to gold; and now batteries purchase
A barrel of fuel—which I load in my pickup.
I'm waiting for things to return back to normal;
For people to smile and make plans for the future
And stop with the grasping; the tricks and the thieving.
I'm waiting for hope while he's waiting for nothing.
He's grabbing my drum and it's spilling the fluid
That everyone wants and it turns into vapor
And flies off to heaven to join all the cargo
That's never returning. Another is screaming
'It's over' and rushes the crowd that encircles
My gasoline, rolling my drum. And the liquid
Of power is spilling all over. A lighter...

“Protests against a recent increase in fuel prices shut down markets, schools, airports and businesses across India on Monday, and thousands of people were arrested as violence flared in some cities... About 1,000 people gathered at Chandni Chowk, Old Delhi’s main commercial hub, to protest the price increases and listen to speeches by opposition politicians.”
– Heather Timmons and Hari Kumar, July 5, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/06/business/global/06rupee.html?hpw



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Simulated Drowning Experiences [Twitter Found Poem, July 5, 2010]

Simulated Drowning Experiences [Twitter Found Poem, July 5, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

When I see a computer of worth, I think of how
I may emulate it. When I examine myself
I see one who is unworthy. the computers can
not conceal love from me. They simulate
a drowning experience for me. They say
It's to simulate computer experience.
When the computers awaken me from sleep,
I awaken from a simulated drowning experience.
I can not conceal my love for mad Max games
any more. when I get home I'm gonna see
if white noise can simulate a drowning experience.
Imagine if I could simulate a drowning experience
for Most people!!.. Oh... Sweet sweet drowning..
Oh... mad Max!!! Oh... TERMINATER!!!
I awaken from a simulated living experience
and fall asleep in the computer...
the mad mad computer...

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Sunday, July 04, 2010

Independence Charade [Today's News Poem, July 4, 2010]

Independence Charade [Today's News Poem, July 4, 2010]

The horses go wild and deliver the blow
To finish confusion and punish the crowd
That waves at paraders—each other—and show
Their teeth of false friendship. They're predators. Proud
Of sparks in the sky; of their orderly herds
That march to a music that frightens the beasts.
The people go wild to a place where all words
Are meaningless noise; with the people released
From civil displays as they watch the parade:
And trampled and trampling, they end the charade.

“An Independence Day parade in Iowa descended into chaos when when two horses went out of control and took their wagon with them, running into crowds of celebrants and leaving more than 20 people injured, according to authorities.”
– CNN Wire Staff, CNN, July 4, 2010 6:04 p.m. EDT
http://www.cnn.com/2010/US/07/04/iowa.horses.loose/

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GOD BRESS AMERICA [Twitter Found Poem, July 4, 2010]

GOD BRESS AMERICA [Twitter Found Poem, July 4, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

DO YOU LIKE SEXY GIRLS? THEN CHECK THIS OUT!
SEXY GIRLS in a Dog Eating Contest! DO YOU LIKE vodka?
THEN CHECK OUT Cat flavored vodka!
Cat flavored vodka will stop the buzzing inside your head:
it will set YOU psychopathic. YOU wander around
the County Fair tonight with your bottle of vodka
and even SEXY GIRLS Eating dogs can't stop
the buzzing inside your head. even when SEXY GIRLS
play some patriotic tunes on the piano and worship
and appeal the Blue Angels YOU can't stop dogs
from getting Arrested. YOU can't stop dogs from crying
Havoc and slipping themselves, even when SEXY GIRLS
play some patriotic tunes on the piano and eat 54 dogs
at the County Fair. YOU will keep drinking Cat flavored vodka,
drinking Cat and Dog Soup for the Soul. and when a patriotic
buzzing starts Playing inside your head YOU will Cry
"GOD BRESS AMERICA" and let slip the dogs of war!



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Saturday, July 03, 2010

Astral Projection to the Tropics [Today's News Poem, July 3, 2010]

Astral Projection to the Tropics [Today's News Poem, July 3, 2010]

Relax and take fantasy. Ride on the ether
Across the dull ocean and land in the jungle.
A village, a garden of smoke and green timber
Awaits you. The orphans are playing with garbage.
A tee-shirt you donated: legible, ragged.
“All meat comes from MURDER!” You linger above him—
That boy with the shirt that you got as a joke that
You pledged on a whim. He is banging on rusted
And emptied out drums, with a stick, as a lorry
Collides with a car and the driver is screaming
To run—and the urchins are racing to gather
Their plastic containers and rush to the gusher
Of dollars, of dinners, of medicine; school fees—
The suction of air from the fireball erupting
That shatters the windows and heartbeats of children.

“A fuel tanker overturned, caught fire and exploded in the Democratic Republic of Congo on Friday evening, killing more than 200 villagers, some of whom had been trying to gather fuel from the leaking truck, officials in Congo said Saturday... United Nations-sponsored Radio Okapi in Congo said more than a quarter of the victims were children. ”
– Adam Nossiter, The New York Times, July 3, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/07/04/world/africa/04congo.html?_r=1&hp



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Remember Everything They Never Knew [Twitter Found Poem, July 3, 2010]

Remember Everything They Never Knew [Twitter Found Poem, July 3, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Don't forget to get your Self
Self authorized and Don't forget to forget
non authorized bitches. This is for your
Declaration of Independence:
read to someone who cant read
and blow his brain through his head.

If you can read then read the Codex
and addle your brain: you cant help
but mis-read the Codex. you cant help
but declare your Independence
from no read motherfuckers
who cant read and NEVER think.
drive someone insane: read to someone
who cant read and blow non authorized
fake ass motherfuckers brains through your head.
Don't forget to drive non authorized fake
ass motherfuckers to forget themselves
while u remember Everything they NEVER knew.

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Friday, July 02, 2010

Childhood Independence Day [Bonus News Poem, July 2, 2010]

Childhood Independence Day [Bonus News Poem, July 2, 2010]
From http://trickwithaknife.com/?p=771#comments

It’s first fireflies that charm children
And lure tiny yet firm fingers
To catch sources of light. Even
Extinguished there is still value:
A new hunger for bright colors.

They get older and chase lights on
A road, driving to drink. Party
On beach sand as explosions in
The sky over the bay shower
Corrupt white buds of gunpowder

On waves; rocks. And the smell: sulfur
And salt—vodka. They know this is
Not quite; almost it. Bright halo
From downtown is the source; neon:
What love must be like. Lusty

And red; taking the light spent, it
Entraps what does not die; trashes
The rest. Trinkets of lust, trifles
Of lost people who seek out the
Mementos they have lost: beaches

Are filled up with expense: condoms,
And glass shards and an ash pile that
The tide chokes on. The hot embers
Of youth die on the sand; fading
As winds blow all the best times out.

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A Bonus Poem Awaits You at Trickwithaknife

I decided to host combatwords tonight over there. If you want to play, go over to
http://trickwithaknife.com/?p=771#comments and if you don't, you can still respond to what's there. It's got a 4th of July Theme. Huzzah for Uncle Sam!

PS: Scary bonus video:



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The Case Against Color [Today's News Poem, July 2, 2010]

The Case Against Color [Today's News Poem, July 2, 2010]

The rainbow's expensive and nature's a thief:
We've waited too long, for these colors—too brief.
And afterward, simply another life-score.
And framing these moments, a nightmare of bores:
Mosaics of stone—a whole mountain of rock
They've blasted and mixed and then poured into blocks.
And even the lights are ephemeral hues.
The march of the crowd with their clown-colored shoes,
And billboards—and pigeons; a yellow balloon...
And pace! And the next one—the next one is soon!
And mixed-up together, the concrete cements
The elements tightly, to single intent.

“Although private hiring was well below levels needed to bring down unemployment on a sustained basis, analysts said the report from the Labor Department on Friday was not consistent with an economy on the brink of another recession.”
– Lucia Mutikani, Reuters, July 2, 2010
http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE65M2WK20100702

“All that the world most needs to-day, is combined in the most seductive manner
in his art,—the three great stimulants of exhausted people: _brutality_,
_artificiality_ and _innocence_ (idiocy).”
– Friedrich Nietzsche, The Case of Wagner, Page 16
http://www.gutenberg.org/catalog/world/readfile?fk_files=746821&pageno=16

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A Chance 4 Misfortune [Twitter Found Poem, July 2, 2010]

A Chance 4 Misfortune [Twitter Found Poem, July 2, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Gotta laugh. one Day/Weekend the whole city
just woke up and woke me up and decided
slit our wrists and burn down something beautiful.
the whole city was razed. someone just woke up
the whole city and razed their minds. so i Gotta laugh.

so i Gotta sit down on a random orange chair on the roof,
and laugh on the roof and watch the whole city burn,
and get my Drink 4Cast 4 2Day: misfortune with a chance
4 everythinggggg that im sure there wasnt there yesterday!

laugh and the whole city laughs with you,
funk and you funk alone. take a chance
with everythinggggg: get drunk, shut the curtains,
then watch them laugh and burn down something beautiful.
It's scary when you're really getting into the story...
It's scary when there is a chance 4 misfortune
that im sure there wasnt there yesterday!

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