Really Frickin' New



Self-Defeating Jealousy (4/4/02)

Along the short street of difference was
I, glorious as ever, surrounded by a pine forest,
wretched coffee, and a bizarre diversity.
Never had I before been able to gaze-dance
among such a gorgeous multifariousness as I
had then, but then, again, the dancing stopped
short as per a once-notorious obstacle hindered
my mindsight.  And rightfully so, by hindsight:
the magnified gaga ogling proved harmless
to all except for me, too proud a great
bald eagle to offer my eyes to prey more welcome,
or even redwood.  Though, I reckon, he is still
my manifest destiny.


~~~~~~~~~~


Drama (3/20/02)

Imagine a people tangled together
like spiderlegs curled or a spiderweb
trapping Imagine a plastic mask
pasted on a painted (gold, gray, purple)
countenance/clownface Imagine a
Hamlet or an Othello gargling incessantly over
rigor mortis and her deceit Imagine a faggot
bawling over his shattered vinyl LP or
a fag extinguished by a tasslehaired middle-
aged postmadonna Imagine your royal
highnesses demanding for a passed law
or leg of mutton or crispy heretic

This all belongs in your imagination


~~~~~~~~~~


see to believe (3/18/02)

still teeming seemingly
with glitter gold sparkle dust
glistening liquid glass and
candy cane wonderland

still yawning steadily
bright but not glittering
glazed but not glossy and
yet bitter tasting


~~~~~~~~~~


dreamPush (1/27/02)

sleepy wistwavings streaming along
a master ubiquity strangely reversed
a realization that yet we�re not well

still gladly accepting a perilous state
still barely belonging to any one crowd
still refusing warmth in the name of my health

reluctant detachment I see as not there
a wavy white blur, a foreboding mirage
consider defiant rebellion while I
push for my dreams and false life to explode


~~~~~~~~~~


Trying to be True (1/15/02)

fear of the ordinary
plaguing our passages into womanhood
your natural being a self doubt money grabber
caring for the cute the nice the extranormal
when all the girls want to do is curl their hair
buy pink skirts
and matching blouses
and all you want to do is curl their hair
buy pink skirts
and matching blouses

the true cannot deny the falselove
why do you?

we still look upon the same cute nice extranormal
with a kind of holy reveration
as though she held in her mouth
the sureness we both need to thrive
when in reality she blocks our sight
with a shadow of failure

I no longer see one three
but rather three ones


~~~~~~~~~~


modern art (12/31/01)

What passage of ivory
stinglightingly clearly hardly sparkly curly
unfair moreso lessso afraid
wild and there here
afair far fairy taled
came for us with a red carpet
fancy windchild my iron
metal techno and contemporary
haircut it lasts as we don't
(just sounds delicious)


~~~~~~~~~~


Saudade: A Reflection (12/28/01)

Imbedded a hue, organic and unreal
Forever intelligent, leading me on
A concept unhidden and telling and severance
Never once escaped my nightmares nor dreams

For we all once knew of a metaphor missing
Too one-sided, formerly new and regone
A barrier, wily and famous among us
Or myself, one says in the land of the free

Again and again, it's incredible, lifelike
More than a delusion or Southern wet dream
It reached far beyond that, my sacred obsession
When barely forgetting an unbuttoned shirt
An unshaven neck
A night of uncertainty
Now tattooed with a mark of doom
Her name and face too sweet and life to detest

Not as raw, not as free
Not as untamed - just pastthoughts
a backtrod
a swim down into
the most cruel undertow on this side of the globe


~~~~~~~~~~


Lifting the Fog (12/15/01)

Glinting gemmy diamond jelly
core of cave of self-dependent
orifices, orations, obituaries
everything sacred and smile
everything holy and male
everything crack
will not kill (you) a central transvestite
a central unbeknownst
to mystery tumblers smashed thru
                            the
                            window
                            ohhh

moan a pain of kings
unrelenting sensual
barraging passionate
unbearable candid
for my land is your land is my land
is burnt away all because "I don't know"
because "friends" and self-loathing
self-deprecation not entirely alien
a green being to your shiny interior


~~~~~~~~~~


distracted (12/09/01)

enter exit flannel sucrose barter exit exit enter goosebumps
Santa enter homosexual exit enter peripheral vision license
tobacco exit enter ente portrait digital exiten action ter
portable magic enit shorter eraser ex en hors d'ouvres entere
soup diet exit MTV relatives (.) nterex abhor black
protein exexext tailend eleventh hour teni absolute acne
jigsaw nrex for it mutability grizzly en treble kombat exit
exit enterexitenter enter enter piano exitenter exit exit exit

why live by market dividends when oscillating personals
reflect a personality defined by momentary tastes?
a true self given true self loved is never fluid never guessed
but rather is engrained so grand there is no key nor drama mask.


~~~~~~~~~~


dreamStory (12/05/01)

of a cowboy galloping into the campfire
with cottoncandy scimtars
and paper clip guns
of his fearless cavorting to
escape the sea monsters
pale and lackluster
laughing and maddening!

great o Known is he as the
Beloved Color Child
printed into existence
yet tasting so real
a far cry from honey hives
residing in towering tropical trees
a grand many galaxy dancing before him!

and so he is brought with his slicked-back hair
a brightness and magnitude
a caliber powerful
yet better than two knives
than threats or a bloody forehead
he is offered a holiday:
numb and moribund!


~~~~~~~~~~


Then and Ever (11/30/01)

I think it's time to create and I think it's time to cry
and I think it's time to wipe that toothy grin off your
face child, you're only a child and that's all you are.

Child, when you were young when I was young we
would sad small and bawl big and pools would form
where we cried.  You can never take that away.

When I grow up I will thin out and the
girls will love me and maybe I can sleep with the
nightlight off and I won't have to lie to my friend.

If it's better to die or to be bitter, I take no part
in this.  We are here for imagination and hobby and
embraces, not for paper cuts and biographies and gasoline.

I think it's time to snooze and I think it's time to
sing.  But most of all, I think it's time to sob because
we all can feel remorse, and we all can sleep with the lights off.


~~~~~~~~~~


Aspirations (11/30/01)

Maybe the lady can't depart
a broken down tram
a hilly discourse
a bumpy asperity

Maybe she isn't aware of her own
of her likeness
of her uterus
of her collarbone

Maybe we can find the truth in her
whether banked or embedded
she pushes away
from a now fargone manhood testosterone candy
and Arabic numerals
verbose babies with speech impediments

Maybe they're inside her
tucked away
like some normal
or a once thought laugh at wannabe
or an animal


~~~~~~~~~


to suck me off (11/01)

We fucking perservered in our own right
to increase our blood flow our
heart beat determined to lactate
genesis of our last resort, our
final resting place known as awake until
four crying because our valium is locked
away in the stabbing eyes of our best
friend(s)(?)

galvanized a new enemy word
unshredded and kept whole
slime and archaic
like his juicy mouth
preparing for an adventure


~~~~~~~~~~


independence (11/25/01)

once more clawed by the kitten
who wanted to be milked
who wanted to be purried
wanted to be a tigress
fancy pearly for the sultan
who could not be helped
who could not be worried
by such a petty mess
while enchanted by a woman

a grand piano smashed
a sword sheathed great and gone
please don�t release her quickly
please don�t condemn her fully
to the once forgotten wonderland
of candles bombs volumes of sand

endure her winter
teach her graces
touch her with your breath
may she never look over
to the once familiar faces
so as to breathe as her own once again

a satin gown
a spiteful stare
a teddy bear


~~~~~~~~~~


Life Lesson: How To Be A Modern Savage (11/07/01)

1 (prelude)

jewel
opium cloud
bless-ed type key
wormwormworm
and worm

2

The wine God told me a story about a
madam who had her hair cut.  Not just
any madam, this madam was technologically
perfect in every possible way, ready to stamp
her stamp her approval onto anything that
smelled fancylike and halo.  Except there
was just one problem with this: make it two:
she herself was colorblind, and fancied
reptiles over mammals.  In the human world
this was unacceptable, and she died at his
feet as soon as he penetrated her.  Pity, it
was; she had such radiant hair and golden teeth.

He never lets me forget this tale of herbal
remedy and taste buds.  He says we must all
carry out our potent full potential.  We must
photograph every step in euphoria.  In
cellophane we believe, we believe, good will
prevail, for there is no other way to understand.
There is no other way to alphabetize shamans�
fingerprints, nor is there anyother way to sing
about bonnies or lasses or kyrie.  It would just
be another vibration in the good sound
of proudness and acceptance.  Streamlined.

They tell us not to tar our insides and skin our eyes.
Virgins they are, as virgin as the holy mother
bathed in spermicidal jelly and aborted fetuses.
Really, mother, I don�t want to relinquish the Internet.
What a sadness it would be, what a pornography
it would entail.  I would cry, I would weep for the
tragic hero, the carbon martyr, the acrylic, the
stone pillars, and especially the pastels, yes, the
pastels.


~~~~~~~~~~


heartbudget (11/06/01)

brittle prosperity burning the corneas
gasping for air and a deep purple canvas smear
sangria salesman doorstep for everyday
star-shooting artemis piercing my every whim

Jesus, do you hear me?
Jesus, do you believe in me?
My home lives in a right time.
In a right place.
In my mind running rampant.
Like seagulls.
And graffiti.
And crack cocaine.
And clowns?
And paper bags.
Wind pastmebyes sleeping awake full round.
Did you not see my gun?
Shooting deep?
Shooting long?
Make a hole in your lungs?

Looking straight into my eyes: God.
My only friend.
The only one who understands my monetary military tombstone.
Packed in ice.
In sand.                                                   
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