13-oct

the world is on pause.
u think we’re progressing

Fires crackle in barrels in alleys in the night

I pass by glittering cafes and galleries with hubub wafting into the air

People laugh postiche nervous laughs
Their monsters claw at their glided guts,
gagged
coked down

Gucci prada porsche
Tv movie gorge
Gorge

Show me my white ambition hollywood
Serve it to me on a plate
which i shall then wash

Men and women tremor down the street
in strident solo conversation

The European dream is blossoming

right here in la

There’s more human feces on public sidewalks than there is of dogs;
the dogs who oft can be found in fine clothes
with primped fur,
pert and alert

they are lifted above the invisible rabble

Oh how you wish they were, White Dream

Trust that in my mind is a prepared place
for the deep incineration
of the pundits this nation

Estas canciones son / These songs are…

How is it – are these
places, artistic and affluent,
so “chill”, so “cool”, yet
so mechanationally White

Enumeration of safe
locations,
its a short list,
white and fey ones,
fey & Fair- skinned
obliviites,
all lottos in yr favor

I wonder what dead animal
ive ever become;
the god of me sits forever
side-saddle
at the edge of sleep –
no thought may attain
sanctuary here

My future self makes
a playlist based on me
sitting still in cafes
when it is so very nice
outside
in the early evening
springtime air
that my stuffy selection
of locus
seems almost shameful

Im all dead Olympians
before they could
ever live

I have no place found
yet in LA to lay
my throat in offering

A jester – here i am –
with a scintillating
red and blue dot
for a face and for
a head
–Take away the
powers abusers wish they
really had
(but still fucking yourself up)

Drums echo from the past
living in the gutters
along the roadways
of the brain

All is honky-dory
with a dwindling gasping
swath wishing every nigger dead

I blanch when i see
me coming,
dunno if ive ever blushed
in my whole life

Im red and black;
between the lines
my brown filthy arse
is advertised
and placed along
the wide bland way
of the hit parade

I won’t die in english
It feels traitorous(?)
but sometimes so does
breathing breath at all
and these frequencies
are all inside the guffaw
of the constant Fall

The prescribed god
has made joke and
travesty of my Sex

I see now we have
to sin in order to Win,
as far as winning goes

in the whitewashed world
in which we are constantly
batting away chains