Sunday, January 27, 2013

Words on my stone, perhaps.

"...there is no make-believe about heaven, future bliss, and
compensation, to alleviate the bitter majesty, but only utter
darkness, the void of unfulfillment, to receive and eat back the lives
that have been tossed forth from the womb only to fail. In comparison
with all this, our little stories of achievement seem pitiful."

Tuesday, January 22, 2013

the rime of miss litterbox(II)

the source of her ails/that cave of sorrows/chamber of the unkillable
itch/her fist-fights, arrests, banishments/those juices have flowed
for Maury and Jerry Springer/liquid stink gravy dripping insanely
oozing/forming a sh*t-colored crust around the rim/and the mold!/as if
she gorged on ranch dressing/then had diarrhea all over the under/the
secret flesh livid/"dear lord, i cant do what she asks"/like she sat
on a lasagna/made from week-dead summer roadkill....

the rime of miss litterbox

Telulah Forthright, that sorry ass b*tch/gonna get outta bed
soon/sometime before the world ends/out one stupor, into
another/stumble around like she hurt/a wood-frame contraption covered
in glue and sand/brittle, parts in danger of falling off/musta spillt
vinegar on herself again/wont run that mouth/till after she drink
something/the yelling, the slapping matches and stand-offs/funny she
wanna live with/the person she hate most/her good hateful
advice:/"stop porking Mama behind my back"/"wear your good shirt/when
you go to Wallmart"/f*ck that/gotta give me something to get
behind/that doesnt smell like it died last month

Sunday, January 20, 2013

being wicked(or a life in phases)

First, the youngers years are spent ruthlessly pursuing pleasure, and
maybe teachings of social contrivances will stay with one, or not.
Second, the being standing on it's own two legs for the first time
buys five acres of land, and builds a five-room shack, with little
help. There would be a wood heater(a portly iron beast on the floor
of the small sitting room) for the winter and small electric fans with
metal blades that turn lazily during the summer. The being sits clad
only in underwear, in the sunlight on the uncovered porch, with a
quarterly puzzle magazine resting on the right thigh. Food: any fare
in a bag, maybe a big bag, a bulk size, servings dispensed with a
glass measuring cup. Chips, grits, etc. Griddle cakes with burn
marks. It is a time not for pleasure, but for self-absorption. If
the being had younglings, he would beat them, to prepare them for the
hardships of life, and after a time maybe his own weariness and
skittish floundering would imprint upon them.

Saturday, January 19, 2013

being wicked...

So i compared personal enlightenment to sh*tting. That is both classy
and relatable to everyday life. One moment, you're reading walden,
thinking 'gee, this is gonna change my perspective on everything',
meanwhile it looks like your colon burst. Or you're reading the sex
feind Ayn Rand and thinking you don't need a moral code in your life,
only a purpose, then: CLEAN UP ON AISLE 3!!! It looks like someone
put Chewbacca through a juicer.... Or, on the subtle side, you open
your holy book one day and notice the pages are covered with
fingerprints in the color of chocolate... and all the while you feel
as if you have improved yourself in some way, though you're not sure
how....

Thursday, January 17, 2013

they call me Mr. Abaddon...

i had a profoundly positive feeling recently, and was made silent by
it. Still, if you look around, you see the world is poo. Poo stacked
on poo. Poo folded and tucked, starched and pressed, and maybe with
an occasional floral arrangement. At the same time, I was reading a
book about the future, in which the author hinted at all sorts of
wonderous advancements. There were beings that transcended existence
as we know it(turns out they had been sucked into a very advanced
computer-and luckily they only needed ten terabytes for storing
themselves!). One moment i'm thinking of some vaguely hopeful future
in which man supercedes himself, and the next moment, i'm plastering
the bathroom(a movement), here on earth. I wonder what a criminal
investigator would think of the aftermath of one of my bathroom
excursions.....

Saturday, January 12, 2013

the one with many names

b d
apa thy paynow
worrylater loser **relativismequivocationidolatry**
*heyurnottoodrunktoodrivethecar* ivegottalentipocketedataconvenience
storeinnevadaihadacoffeefarmonetimeitwasgoodcantdiscusswhatwedidonthebackacrehundredsofchannelsoffallfailcheatswindleglorifyyourselfwatch
withdroolrunningdownyourchinth efirstdosewonthurtyou

Thursday, January 10, 2013

conspiracy: zero dark fifteen

artless film coming? I've decided to work on a musical screenplay
entitled "bite my bag"(just the working title, mind). Themes will be
thus: what motivated ubl, the irrelevance of oscars and golden globes,
my thoughts on taking breaks at work, hair cuts, anne hathaway's eyes,
take-out food, and more, because, goshdarnit, my experience has been
unique, i think. Your mileage may vary, objects in mirror may be
closer than they appear, hurt locker sucked, "i went mad at the
mountain", it only makes sense if you don't think about it, when i
claim apathy i'm actually totally enraged, but i still love you, and
our marriage is worth fighting for. Good day.

Monday, January 7, 2013

to shine in a dim place(III)

(aside)to all things, Marcus/a bright beginning/glistening with
promise/I shall coax forth all my analytic/joust that one's demons/and
finally forecast his stars/then set him adrift to the fates/(to
Marcus)your mother.../"a right goodly gal"/a passive silence/you need
to tell about her/"she reared me good as any/taught me to be good/a
good citizen/then she did not wake up/just set there right
still"/that's terrible/"I know full well that much/but could you stop
such a thing?"/I suppose not...

Sunday, January 6, 2013

to shine in a dim place(II)

the room nondescript/table, two chairs/and the murderer/slouching/a
haphazard pile of evil/safely tucked away now/the eyes-old
pebbles/lifeless lights/that may have once held dancing flames/but
that furnace has grown cold/the face once tense/now relaxed with a
chemical haze/its folds and lumps/telling a story itself/of a shadowy
place that births/such quiet monsters/as i take my seat/he mumbles
something/"none of this matters"/and it stops me/only for a moment/but
i'm not deterred/if i must i'll hold/him in the air by his feet/and
fill him with my queries/then sift through the/bile and mucus that
oozes from him/for my answers!

Thursday, January 3, 2013

2013: such as it as.

you're welcome. sic vita. will i sell a story entitled "Sh*thouse"
in 2013? Pure profit, that. Confuseus say: "ha-ppiness is to lay
defeat upon thin women at beach volleyball". I will develop my own
absurd metrics to quantify my bliss sometime this year. I'll take an
overview of my soul, instead of an analysis of my emotions, and, if
I'm honest about the thing, I expect to be surprised. Sometimes it
feels like, like, I have a twisted version of the Avengers in my
head... Until then, in the words of Chester Burnett: "if anybody else
comes, tell em I'm going to bed."

to shine in a dim place(I)

the sanitarium/no mid-morning touches/just cheap lights/drab walls/me
with a hot beverage/and a sweet pastry/with filling like jam/must not
allow myself to fatigue/"dinks needs you"/so i go to the very end/of
the top hall/like jack climbing the beanstalk/to stare at the shiny,
oiled/scalpflesh of Dinks/"you are asked to consult/try, with your
numb brain/to analyze/for we must diagnose/that marcus
dumpchorkle"/who, you say, sir?/"the Fukkee Valley killer!"/my career,
my reputation/made on one patient,/the famous one!/my own clinic built
off/one who made over a hundred/just disappear/like magic/and i, a
showman, revealing/the alien creases of that mind

Wednesday, January 2, 2013

2012:such is the way, again.

monster year, in a way. Began 2012 reading "the haunting of hill
house", and ended the year reading "pylon". Saw films from the
ancient Day of Wrath to the more recent Moneyball. I found i enjoy
composing sociopathic poetry-giving the activity only a few moments
thought each time. I increased the odds that i will write a
pornographic screenplay in the new year. Blood will flow, drink will
spill, i suppose. Wrist will tire...