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Sunday, November 14, 2010

My Manta Ray's Not All Right [#twitterfoundpoem, November 14, 2010]

My Manta Ray's Not All Right [#twitterfoundpoem, November 14, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Pretty sure I saw a dead shark
by a bunch of dead surfers
preyed upon by a Pretty weird school in general.
a weird school of the Manta Ray.
The Reality of the World we live in today is that
death is certain and the Manta Ray goes blub blub blub
on my morning walk.
a weird school in general.
therefore, thou shalt not grieve for what is unavoidable.



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Saturday, November 13, 2010

Mendel's Strain [Today's News Poem, November 13, 2010]

Mendel's Strain [Today's News Poem, November 13, 2010]

A German pea was a credit to master
Races; grooming the soil for the interest.
Its tendrils have strangled the grasses, seedlings:
Fascist, an army of plunder, punishing
What should starve and recycle itself to mulch.
When pumpkins invade and their giant, spiny
Leaves take possession of sun, all pray if they
Can imagine an architect for this war
Of season and pleasure sometimes, though fading.
Light is a sliver; scarcity's permanent
And we kill to live, for the hour will fade.

"Mr. Sarrazin says his book can be boiled down to a few main ideas. To begin, ethnic Germans are having too few children, while Muslim immigrants are having too many... Second, Mr. Sarrazin believes that intelligence is inherited, not nurtured..."
—MICHAEL SLACKMAN, The New York Times, Published: November 12, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/13/world/europe/13sarrazin.html

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Bearing North With Bare Arms [#twitterfoundpoem, November 13, 2010]

Bearing North With Bare Arms [#twitterfoundpoem, November 13, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

the Lord of the Ringtones
where the bearing is pain
and North. goin back to basics.
goin North to Limit
the Size of the Arms that i Bear.
the bears at the Pole will Limit
my basics. try my Arms
on for exploding taste!
i arm the bears on for Size
and Limit my right to my Arms!

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Friday, November 12, 2010

Counterpoint Epiphany [Today's News Poem, November 12, 2010]

Counterpoint Epiphany [Today's News Poem, November 12, 2010]

I open my eyes, and by seeing, am seen;
Leverage circuitry, witness the outbreaks
Of rekindled relationships: cholera.

The names of diseases appear on my screen
Lacking a meaning beyond definition.
I am watched as I voyeur the monitor

Considering menace. Computers are dry,
Likewise myself: we both share dispositions.
We are pulling the themes from polyphonies

Of history, memory. Everything old,
New, in-between is an echo, a counter
To the trend and all lead to epiphanies.

"Medical workers in Haiti on Friday called the upward trend in deaths and illnesses in the cholera outbreak "alarming" as the earthquake-devastated nation's already strained health system overflowed with the sick. "
— Moni Basu, CNN, November 12, 2010 3:34 p.m. EST
http://www.cnn.com/2010/WORLD/americas/11/12/haiti.cholera/

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Manic Affirmations [#twitterfoundpoem, November 12, 2010]

Manic Affirmations [#twitterfoundpoem, November 12, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

It's so hard surviving now.
so hard to dare to do yesterday, today, tomorrow,
the things you never had, have, will have-
whatever. TO THE EXTREME critics:
I HOPE EBULLIENCE MEANS E-BULLYING
TO THE EXTREME!
I HOPE today is a secret!
I HOPE enthusiasm MEANS
enjoying yourselves today,
and EBULLIENCE MEANS jumping off a cliff
tomorrow!

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Thursday, November 11, 2010

Lament of a Scythian King [Bonus Poem from the Archives]

Lament of a Scythian King [Bonus Poem from the Archives]

Why must they find my body and booty?
Why excavate, only to desecrate?
Though we sacrificed a beauty
To ensure my burial gate, looters sate
Their wicked curiosity in my tomb.
They: indifferent to my sacred room.

When I lived we cared about the way we'd die--
Though we never fathomed our own extinction.
Where are my Scythian heirs to deny
Those thieves who rob my royal distinction?
Are sacred moments easily forgotten
By the ungrateful fry that we've begotten?

Is sacredness tied to living worship?
If so, then descendants know: my fate is yours.
You should forget the burial and skip
Straight to the lab and formaldehyde stores.
My venal seed ensconced by technology;
Knowing death only by archeology.

Science mines for meaning it cannot make.
They scratch the earth, the sea, the dead: to scope
Each thing, they break it. This is their mistake:
They kill off gods, but still they look for hope.
We ancestors wait in the firmament
For our sons to ascend toward punishment.

--
Circa 2004 or so.

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Someone Clicked Yesterday, So Have a Bonus Poem Today

Express enough interest in my sponsors & I'll put up an epic poem that Ploughshares & Poetry both rejected.

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Collision With Nothing [Today's News Poem, November 11, 2010]

Collision With Nothing [Today's News Poem, November 11, 2010]

We have gone too far. We've collided,
With nothing. Off of the precipice
Into wind—which has sailed all of us
To ultimate breezes. We ascend
Noisily, joining our engagement
With the sound of our self-love in sky.
We can't take our contingency with:
Therefore we will ride the thermal air
And we will praise our effortless flight.

"An ebook which is supposed to be a guide for paedophiles has gotten Amazon into a censorship row. The booktitled The Pedophile’s Guide to Love and Pleasure by Phillip R. Greaves is available on Amazon for Kindle for $4.75. It claims to be a guide of insight and conduct for engaging in paedophilia. Some customers, who are not seeing Amazon's bigger picture, are trying to arrange a book banning campaign. They want to start a boycott of Amazon until it does what they say."
—Nick Farrell, fudzilla, Thursday, 11 November 2010 10:39
http://www.fudzilla.com/home/item/20829-amazon-in-censorship-row

Special thanks to Dirk Johnson for sharing this metrical tradecraft secret w/ me. You should read the guy: http://dirk-johnson.com/wpblog/

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Sink Yo Pants! [#twitterfoundpoem, November 11, 2010]

Sink Yo Pants! [#twitterfoundpoem, November 11, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Sinking to an all time low.
the sycophants are thee scariest thing
in thee fukkin world.
How to Keep from Sinking in a Sunk World?
blind yourself and sink even lower.
sink your pants so low u gotta bend over
to get fukkin fucked up in da butt
by all da sycophants that sink
Yo yo yo pants so low...
as low as Yo yo yo standards.

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Stop poisoning the readership [Repost]

Stop poisoning the readership http://toylit.blogspot.com/2010/03/stop-poisoning-readership.html

I know it's hard to give up an ambition you didn't really make any sacrifices for--but please consider that every time you write a bad poem and throw a hissy-fit when the reader doesn't like it, you are DISCOURAGING him/her from reading verse. Bad prose writers are constantly mocked to their faces in ways bad poets are rarely mocked. Why? Bad poets freak out. They say 'you don't understand poetry.' Many of my readers e-mail me to say "well, I don't like poetry in general, but I like _your_ poetry," and I respond, "if you like language, then you're poetry's natural constituency."

Bad poets compensate for their terrible attempts at poesis by blaming the reader for the poet's failings. If you put your poetry out there, you expose it to criticism. Offering verse is offering a transaction: 'in exchange for reading this poem, I promise you'll get something from it.' Most poets though have no interest in the reader. They want the reader to come to them, rather than the other way around. It's vile, isn't it? The hypocrisy of that position? So if you found Toylit because I made what you might consider to be an 'unkind' remark regarding your poetry, consider that I am doing so for the sake of serious poets everywhere. Most supposed poets are really lifestyle tourists, who want to expropriate the identity of 'poet' without actually doing anything to earn it.

This is the difference between a lifestyle tourist and an actual poet: the poet's verse is merely the artifact of the performance art that is the poet's life. The lifestyle tourist goes and paints a smiley face on his penis and goes to Burning Man. The real poet mutilates his or her mind to maximize poesis. If you are going to trivialize my vocation then I am certainly going to mock your sad efforts at writing verse.

Why be one of a hundred million wannabe poets, when you could master tie dye, crochet, or really any other craft that has less competition and less at stake? You supposed 'language' poets are the worst too (not you Billy Collins): you study the means of communication, but communicate nothing of value. A poet with nothing to say is like a brand without a product.

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The Tear Streaked Army Is Here!

You might see an odd clustering of negs on Toylit. They couldn't send me their tears, so they're sending me the next best thing. I know! When did I get three new girlfriends? In my new book, How to Alienate People for Fun and No Profit I share all the secrets of antagonizing the dolts of this world.

If you want to join in on the fun, go hit the page of Poemblaze (Matt Quinn) http://poemblaze.wordpress.com and laugh at his terrible poetry. Put your critiques/responses up here too--the guy's got an itchy censorship finger (or maybe masturbation has gotten it strong & impatient). Toylit is already a top Google result for 'Matt Quinn' and 'poemblaze1,' but really, that's not good enough. Let's add 'poemblaze' to the mix. I think his oneshotpoetry pals think they're helping him by hitting this site. Bad form. They're afraid of their own negative critique. Too bad they don't know that I LOVE fighting against an unjust cause. Bad poetry MUST be destroyed. This guy Quinn, is not only a shitty poet, but plays the Uriah Heep as an insincere sycophant. Here's an example from his twitter feed:

"@AnnaLefler I appreciate your thinking about me."
"@Cecilyk Blog about what you feel the urge to blog about, what satisfies you. If it's true to your heart, write it, if not, no need."

And my favorite...

"@KimberlyKinrade You're welcome. What I appreciate most is being able to talk about something without anger." http://twitter.com/poemblaze1/status/2831315015565312

Wants to be a paragon & an aww shucks nice guy. For contrast, let's not forget this thread:

re: http://poemblaze.wordpress.com/2010/11/09/why-i-write
"Self-indulgent. Why the linebreaks? I think this would be unremarkable prose & I think you know it too, which is why you broke the lines--to add 'gravitas' to the comp.

I know you think I'm being mean here, so let me use examples:

1) You use the language of lovers, but utterly ignore exploring the concept. It undercuts the poem's intention, because here you go, saying you have a deep connection to words, but then go on to act superficially. Your speech act is defied by the way you scribe it.
2) How do books with nothing in them a) transmit words, b) get called books at all, instead of sheafs of paper?

You can do way better than this. What would the books say if they saw you holding yourself to such a low standard?"

The guy is so terrified of a negative review, he moderates his comments section. I had to circumvent his efforts at censorship by reposting the critique here: http://oneshotpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/11/one-shot-wednesday-poetry-week-19.html

"The books had words in them and then poured them into the sleeper's ear. That is why they are blank in the morning. You are mentally ill. Get help. You have a lot of knowledge, but paranoid thinking and need to be the authority are keeping you from what you could be. I suspect you are off meds or that you have never sought help though I am sure others have suggested it." Matt Quinn, mattq1966@gmail.com

Remember kids, this is the same guy who says things like: "@KimberlyKinrade You're welcome. What I appreciate most is being able to talk about something without anger."

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Wednesday, November 10, 2010

G20 Discovers What I Figured Out Four Years Ago

Fuck yes, I LOVE being correct 4 years in advance. I'm listening to The News Hour and hearing all this panic over a dollar devaluation. I think it's almost time to write a follow up article, but here's the original--timely as ever.

Re: http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/10/business/global/10global.html

China: Bow to Uncle Sam!
By Khakjaan Wessington
November 17, 2006
http://exile.ru/articles/detail.php?ARTICLE_ID=8380

"SAN FRANCISCO - China is on the brink of a financial meltdown. Ok, call me a crackhead. Feel better? Now let's talk facts. According to the World Bank, China's profits on capital invested is climbing, not dropping, as an overheating economy might suggest. Whether one is counting on official figures or reverse engineered figures, China's total investment rate is still somewhere between 37%-45%; significantly higher than the 21% average investment rate internationally. When combined with a 5 year Incremental-Capital-Output-Ratio (ICOR) around 4.5% (the % of GDP needed to boost GDP growth by 1%), this seems to paint the picture of a China on the rise: until one looks at US productivity figures.

Graphing durable productivity growth in the US economy over the last four years reveals the US has averaged a huge 6.09% durable productivity growth per year. This has resulted in drops in Unit Labor Cost (labor cost per unit of GDP) significantly during that period: 1.11% per year on average, even as GDP has grown during this period. In fact, durable productivity growth has exceeded GDP growth since the 2000-2001 slowdown: productivity in durable manufacturing is rising so fast, it's making US labor costs even more competitive than they already are. What this means is that the advantage that low labor cost economies have over the US is rapidly shrinking in America's favor.

Now, let's complicate the picture: China is the world's second biggest holder of US Treasury securities, and 70% of its trillion foreign reserves is in US dollars. The popular economic argument is that this huge debt balance is dangerous for the US, because a trade deficit siphons wealth out of the debtor's economy and into the creditor's economy. Eventually, the value of dollar-denominated assets should drop, because US wealth should be getting depleted. This premise is flawed.

A trade deficit can be good if the economy with the deficit is creating more wealth than the cost of imports. The University of Michigan and Florida International University study of US entrepreneurial activity showed it hit an all time high in 2005 with 23 million starting, or managing a business under four years old, and The Economist recently claimed that the US has twice as many entrepreneurs as the EU. This suggests that the US is using the imports of cars and computers (components that make up the US trade deficit) to build businesses.

In economic terms, the value of the goods imported exceeds their cost. The result? Hyper-productivity growth across durable producers and a growth in efficient, small manufacturers. The trade deficit is irrelevant if the imported goods are worth more than they cost. A laptop made in China is more valuable in the US because of the business climate here. Likewise a truck, or most anything else. Who ever heard of the Chinese protecting intellectual property rights? If every jackass with a bank account, connections, or factory is ripping off small business ideas, the value innovator isn't going to get paid for his work and isn't going to add his best use to the economy. Combine this with guangxi networks and party officials demanding bribes, it's no surprise that China's labor costs are rising. There's less incentive to add value if there's a good chance it's going to get stolen - hence low worker productivity growth. This works so long as there are cheap labor inputs, but as labor gets scarcer, wages climb. These factors eat away at China's long term productivity growth and are examples of the way a manufacture's value increases once it crosses the border.

What about the risk of China dumping its dollar assets for other assets? If China does this, it will increase supply of dollar assets and also reduce the demand for dollar assets (since it is a major importer of dollars). A devaluation in the dollar would result in a devaluation of the rest of the dollar reserves China has and put a major dent in its total reserves. It would also make Chinese exports to the US more expensive, and imports from the US cheaper. Dollar inflation would increase and that would hurt everything in the US economy: or would it?

A rapid drop in the Dollar versus the Yuan would result in almost immediate, and major import substitution by US producers. Until inflation is tamped out, it will continue to drop the cost of US manufactures compared to foreign manufacturers. It would be a deathblow to European industries, which would need to respond with even more protectionism. Airbus is already on the ropes - a 20% drop in the dollar would see almost every plane order in the world for the next five years going to Boeing. Multiply this across every industry where the EU is barely competitive with the rest of the world and you can see that a disaster is brewing, not for the US, but for Europe. China would lose its target market for exports and its domestic consumption won't be able to make up for the difference.

China's current investment rate is predicated upon the presumption that for the near future, China will remain one of the world's most competitive manufacturers. With profits where they are right now, it's easy to say that China hasn't over-invested. Still, the trends are telling. Competition with slave economies has unlocked productivity growth in the US economy previously unseen. So long as US durable productivity growth is greater than its GDP growth, the US will continue to get more competitive vs. low-cost producers. Therefore, financing US debt, rather than being a sign of long-term Chinese strength, is a sign of its long term weakness. China's locked itself into a strategy it can't escape. At this rate, the US is going to eradicate the competitive advantage of low labor cost producers in a decade or two. But if China tries to stop subsidizing US trade, it hurts Chinese manufacturers and benefits US manufacturers.

It's just another example of how things aren't always what they appear to be in the international financial game. A strategy can be good in the short term, but lock you into a problem you can't escape. Sorry, China!"

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Prison Camp [Today's News Poem, November 10, 2010]

Prison Camp [Today's News Poem, November 10, 2010]

Oakland is litter—no. Cities are clutter.
High on the yeast that ferments in the nostrils
Launched from the bakery, everyone's woozy.
Fitting: it's dirty with diapers, its buildings
Sag with the soot of the factories, autos...
Effluent oozes—it's pus from the wounded.
Oceans of tuna are buried in trash bags—
Coffins of tin are ensconced with the buzzing.
Choppers and flies are the halos—the patrons
Oakland attracted. It concentrates armor,
Concrete and grayness together with morsels
Locked in a circle of freeway and train tracks:
Locked in a bottle of yeast and its droppings—
Camped in a garden of bullets and garbage.

"Another unarmed Black brother, Derrick Jones, 37, a beloved Oakland barbershop owner and father of an infant girl, met a violent death on Monday night, Nov. 8, 2010, shot and killed by two white Oakland police officers while “fleeing,” after they “thought” they saw a metallic object in his hand. This is the third OPD officer-involved homicide of people of color in 2010."
—Mesha Monge-Irizarry, Idriss Stelley Foundation, The San Francisco Bay View, November 10, 2010
http://sfbayview.com/2010/what-part-of-%E2%80%98killed_unarmed_black_man-murder%E2%80%99-doesn%E2%80%99t-opd-understand/

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Matt Quinn (@poemblaze1) Cries When He Hears The Truth [#twitterfoundpoem, November 10, 2010]

Matt Quinn (@poemblaze1) Cries When He Hears The Truth [#twitterfoundpoem, November 10, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

I love watching ppl with no innovation.
Does that make me a bad person?
I don't think so.
I love watching ppl I don't respect.
I will not lose sleep over any opinion you have of me.
say to me "No more Mr. Nice guy!"
but you never were Nice!
The standards are a different story.
you never had standards!!!!!!
you are still in darkness, so happy in darkness,
robbed, gagged & left for dead.
without any standards.
without innovation.
I love watching ppl with no innovation,
Running & Trying anything desperate...
Does that make me a bad person, or just
The village pariah?


Poemblaze's review, because I think the guy blocked me:

re: http://poemblaze.wordpress.com/2010/11/09/why-i-write

"Self-indulgent. Why the linebreaks? I think this would be unremarkable prose & I think you know it too, which is why you broke the lines--to add 'gravitas' to the comp.

I know you think I'm being mean here, so let me use examples:

1) You use the language of lovers, but utterly ignore exploring the concept. It undercuts the poem's intention, because here you go, saying you have a deep connection to words, but then go on to act superficially. Your speech act is defied by the way you scribe it.
2) How do books with nothing in them a) transmit words, b) get called books at all, instead of sheafs of paper?

You can do way better than this. What would the books say if they saw you holding yourself to such a low standard?"

The guy is so terrified of a negative review, he moderates his comments section. I had to circumvent his efforts at censorship by reposting the critique here: http://oneshotpoetry.blogspot.com/2010/11/one-shot-wednesday-poetry-week-19.html

"The books had words in them and then poured them into the sleeper's ear.  That is why they are blank in the morning. You are mentally ill.  Get help. You have a lot of knowledge, but paranoid thinking and need to be the authority are keeping you from what you could be. I suspect you are off meds or that you have never sought help though I am sure others have suggested it." Matt Quinn, mattq1966@gmail.com

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Tuesday, November 09, 2010

A Modest Haggle [Today's News Poem, November 9, 2010]

A Modest Haggle [Today's News Poem, November 9, 2010]

Ground up beef's two bucks a pound,
Chicken breasts cost twice as much,
Babies sell for thirty thousand
Dollars; haggled on the lot.

Market forces drive the hunger:
Teeth desire to bite the difference,
Penises demand new hollows,
Arms have craved a new embrace.

Welcome son, this world is great!
Newer models fill the lot,
Older ones are junked to rust:
Pacifiers sell at any age.

"A Florida woman was charged with trying to sell her infant son in order to pay for a new car, police said on Tuesday. The baby's grandmother brokered the deal and initially demanded $75,000 but agreed to cut the price to $30,000 when told the prospective buyer could not get a bank loan, the Florida Department of Law Enforcement (FDLE) said."
—Reuters, Tue Nov 9, 2010 2:52pm EST
http://www.reuters.com/article/idUSTRE6A84KV20101109


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The Central Question [#twitterfoundpoem, November 9, 2010]

The Central Question [#twitterfoundpoem, November 9, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

MAN, I ALL CAN SAY IS PUT THE MONEY
on DA HATAS!!! DA HATAS IS MAD!!!
MAD RESPECT IS THE ULTIMATE burn
and burning IS DA ULTIMATE RESPECT!!!
WHY IS THERE A LIMIT ON THE MONEY
DA HATAS CAN burn? DA HATAS IS MAD!!!
i think a central question i think IS a central question!!!
IS that MAD ? MAN, I ALL CAN SAY IS that
THE ULTIMATE RESPECT IS THE ULTIMATE burn
so i hope you spill your coffee all over your face and burn it...
THE central question: IS that MAD ?

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Monday, November 08, 2010

Social Pyramid [Today's News Poem, November 8, 2010]

Social Pyramid [Today's News Poem, November 8, 2010]

If humankind's highest ambition's to elevate
Mortal to godlings, who cares of equality?
The workers of Pyramids simply contributed
Shares in the glory, but not immortality.
The spine's the antenna, the brain's the receiver:
Noumena fills it, while cleats dig the arches
And climb to the top of the mountain of haunches—
Stabbing a flag once on top of the structure
And shouting at heaven—much closer, he's certain.

"In my reporting, I regularly travel to banana republics notorious for their inequality. In some of these plutocracies, the richest 1 percent of the population gobbles up 20 percent of the national pie. But guess what? You no longer need to travel to distant and dangerous countries to observe such rapacious inequality."
—NICHOLAS D. KRISTOF, The New York Times, Published: November 6, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/07/opinion/07kristof.htm

"Man has, as it were, become a kind of prosthetic God."
—Sigmund Freud, Civilization and Its Discontents

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Thank You! Drive Thru! [#twitterfoundpoem, November 8, 2010]

Thank You! Drive Thru! [#twitterfoundpoem, November 8, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

I've seen trouble at the drive thru, all my days.
I had to adapt, But the truth is,
half the work we do will never have a purpose
in life. Excuse me.

"welcome to your life,
may I take your order?"

Poor little guy, he was born old
and of constant sorrow.
Everything is possible yet has No purpose.
yeh life is hard n all its complications n conflicts
at the drive thru window.

"Excuse me, sir, sir, excuse me...
excuses, excuses...
excuse me, sir, sir...motherfucker"

Gotcha - I just try to adapt
to all These days in my life.
I've seen trouble.
I was born and raised on trouble.

My November is just like October
is just like all my days in my life.
Okay, thank you!
drive thru!

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Sunday, November 07, 2010

Through The Holy Submarine's Porthole [#twitterfoundpoem, November 7, 2010]

Through The Holy Submarine's Porthole [#twitterfoundpoem, November 7, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

Ordain my minutes with Your Holy Submarine.
I subordinate to The wishes of The fishes in the sea.
I pwahahaha and
LOOK AT THIS, LOOK from The porthole of
my mind's new day. information passes through
my mind's minutes, like The fishes in the sea.
well because that seems to be the time
where my mind's the MOST convoluted!!
Thank you dear for Your Holy Mendacity,
Your Holy Submarine, and All Holy sea;
Your Holy Mendacity and pwahahaha
The porthole of my mind's new day!!

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The Allure of the Mountain [Today's News Poem, November 7, 2010]

The Allure of the Mountain [Today's News Poem, November 7, 2010]

You embrace, so reject what you can.
Default to a mask—for the gas
That swarms the whole world from your ass.

Here is a man who rejected the kitchen
Vegans established, to climb up a mountain.
Starving, awaiting epiphany's pain.

There is the wife he abandoned
Tucking the babes of employers,
While her offspring's with her mother.

And someday the boy will desire
A fantasy—fleeing his home
In search of the face in the mountain:

A skeleton set in position
Observing the sky for a sign.

"Police say protesters have delayed a shipment of nuclear waste to a storage site in northern Germany but that the train is rolling again."
—The Associated Press, Sunday, November 7, 2010; 3:10 AM
http://www.washingtonpost.com/wp-dyn/content/article/2010/11/07/AR2010110700766.html

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Saturday, November 06, 2010

The Toylit Q1/Q2 2010 Report Is Now On Sale As An E-Book

Go forth and buy.

Also, if you want a bonus poem for tomorrow, 'patronize' my sponsors.

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Burnt Offerings At The Improvised Temple Mount [Today's News Poem, November 6, 2010]

Burnt Offerings At The Improvised Temple Mount [Today's News Poem, November 6, 2010]

Inscribe a message for yourself
And beggar neighbor as thyself.
Uncertainty's a chalice filled
With paper—burn it. Offer ash,
Your faith, to equilibrium.
For fire is never far from fashion,
And streets can stage revival shows.
While glass can hold a liquid, shards
Are likelier with cans ablaze:
It's broken, still, it holds a shape
Of use upon this temple mound.

"Ben S. Bernanke, the Federal Reserve chairman, continued on Saturday to rebut critics who feared the central bank’s latest bid to stimulate the economy could trigger dangerous inflation down the line and antagonize other countries by weakening the dollar."
—SEWELL CHAN, The New York Times, Published: November 6, 2010
http://www.nytimes.com/2010/11/07/business/economy/07fed.htm

"Looking out her front window in a usually quiet residential neighborhood in this city, Deanna Goldstein's knees began to shake. More than 100 protesters were hemmed in by police in riot gear. A trash can was blazing on the street. "I came home early from downtown to get away from the craziness, but the craziness came to me," she said."
—Associated Press, 2 hours ago, as of 1:10pm PST, 11/6/2010
http://www.google.com/hostednews/ap/article/ALeqM5he91v4QhLUNNA1JbUoqR-QaTdsDw?docId=5771d280dc464bee8dc899d6344a40d9



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The Fantastic Mechanical Museum of Coin Operated Flesh [Bonus Poem From Archives]

The Fantastic Mechanical Museum of Coin Operated Flesh

I) Should the Predictions of Anti-Feces Futurists Come True
As goes feces, so too goes our species.
Pygmalion science, in defiance
Of evolution, makes the poop solution:
Decrease the torso; remove the guts. Ease
From reliance on old toilet contrivance:
We'll all shun that old anal pollution.

II) The Museum and the Moral Hazard of Cybernetics
Obsolete body parts made into art:
Electro-stim intestines take a swim
With electric eels: aquarium surreal.
See the spine in a cart! The anus that farts!
The prim with their hymns call it Satan's new whim—
A weak appeal, to new men, made of steel.
--
First appeared in Toylit #2, 2001

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Brain In A Vat In A Bed With You [#twitterfoundpoem, November 6, 2010]

Brain In A Vat In A Bed With You [#twitterfoundpoem, November 6, 2010]
Tweets+Edits=#twitterfoundpoem

I was in bed with you.
noticed your body,
me with my brains in a jar.
while the scent of your skin
seemed to be so sweet and unforgettable,
like some foreign flower.
im keeping my brains in a jar for you,
and You're welcome for everything you have done for you.
I want to throw up over the ramparts of bed,
and Just die and rot alone!
I've noticed my aging and noticed your face/body,
topless, it was just not the world brains referred me.
my brains in a jar with the scent of your skin
beside me, in bed. in dream, you emerged
from the ramparts of bed.
I too emerged from a bed to my childhood
bed Where I read and you emerged
in my bed like some foreign flower
before I SUBMERGE in to death
in my death bed of dream
Where I drown in a vat of my brains and dream
and rot alone!

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Friday, November 05, 2010

Bonus Poem Challenge

It's simple: if a few of you 'demonstrate' interest in my sponsors then I'll post an old, unpublished poem. This is a daily offer, good for about a week or so, unless there's no interest--in which case you & I will just pretend it never happened.

As a side note, I'll try to get some electronic edition of the Q1/Q2 report ready to go in the next few days.

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