Category: word formations

rage-knife

Rage can be a powerful tool – but its so easy, with it,
to allow ourselves to become overtaken and become the tools ourselves

May we ride the fire that drives –
May we die the dying that dyes

Rage en rose
that stains all clothes
That bleeds thru all our precious veneer

&Mama yells,
“You dont trust my love!”
      – rolling up the stair again
      – get thee hence, into thine iron bonnet again
      – you cant even hear the sugar in a hateful strain

My knife knocks on the door.
It’s been there for years and
      itself has been slain

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

sometimes-somewhere

sometimes i think about engaging in sexual liason with someone who has serious anger issues. not sure what thats about-though i wonder if it wouldnt wind up being like that scene in that araki movie about the experience that makes gordon-levitt’s character seriously reconsider his path in life and his choices.

the protector hand lay silent amidst ashed and dried wax. neon green tower flares with cartoon flames, beneath further towers filled with dablooms and precious gems and mementos from a different time gone by

The sirens in the distance are like singing, the sirens that are close sing some kind of show in which everybody knows right where they belong, right there, gawking, and fiddling their genitals with the fingers of their minds, subconsciously waiting to be shot or stabbed at any given time

Sometime
somewhere
someone has
a polaroid
of
the
ultimate
defecation,
the eternal
final shit
for the ages
Come dear
ones, pap
shall spin
u
a yarn, it
is old
and strong
and perfectly
long
Our deep
pains and
nightmares
grow with
us,
troubles
pack these
lives into
the flimsy
bags of our
lives, and
lo, so much
little is yet known about where the destination leads or what is
supposed to have been packed from the get go

Reading over the old scrolls, this reader is certainly touched

The scrolls try invariably to maintain their rolled shapes

Holidays these days play template for every game of fools, we fools sing merrily, flush, stumbling through wet and mud laughing at the absurdity of even our jollity, and the strangeness of feeling selfish for jollity in the darkened times.

some walk with scars, with the little devil’s on their shoulders looking out for them toward the rear, while they smile for this short time of jubilee, the last days that any of those sent could safely walk the streets, and now theres no getting off the land – only death or victory