Author's Note: Actual copies of this book will be available soon, fully illustrated.
Prologue for Ambitious
Young Sailors
Audacious
children in the face of so many winds you fought to assert.
Blistered
by the myth of snowflakes unique,
Children
of America, narrate the shared disaster you seek.
Doom
yourselves past love,
Take
such as dust as grows as gales!
What
still sails has strength to make us unhappy.
In a
life rabid with transmission-nauseas,
The
soul, venomously dynamic, precipitates pirated machines;
And
so after rioting in the bedsheets of the indebted streets,
Punish
yourselves seeking bouquets & treats.
Children,
don’t grow up deadly & happy.
At
age 5, burn the house down your parents grew up in.
Throw
your own self out into the plaid warm skirt of a Siberian night
&
pick up that flashlight pirates cracked open your mother’s head with.
Let
the wolves tear out your father’s breasts
Like
office clocks from the concrete of life’s biznizz parks.
Children,
full with the mild lung’s stone of smoke,
Return
to port and murmur, “O my soul is wrong!
The
broken water is a berth of mourning with whom nothing lasts or dawns!”
In
the interstellar cold of America, the mother-country’s crotch,
Wear
thermal-pants like scratched, fucked CD-Rs.
Keep
on drawing your shitty flowers & houses.
Children
of the machines! Children of the rubber rudder!
Children
who seek only butter to lube life’s udder!
Clean
the metal of the hatch of your dead mother’s poop-deck snatch!
Children
sleep cool in nauseous bunks
Dreaming
of treasure hidden in BMW trunks.
All
your blood for the spin of the wheel shrill & alive!
It’s
not disgrace if your impotence appears on the news at 5.
In an
explosive unit
Polish
yr nails & faces.
Unbutton
yr crotches with the noise of a crane.
From
the bottom of the chimney of yr industrial heart
Raise
& reveal erect yr floured-genitals of arriving goods timely in distress,
O
plangent, how u really hope nothing will ever change.
Children
of America, you are self-servicing gas stations
Stealing
everything you have!
Children
of America, don’t you fucking love yr PTA!
Get
drunk Children of America, ram yr trustfunded
Car
into the Mother’s Against Drunk Driving Nanny-State Center!
Die
like gumball machines squirting STDs
All
over yr broken windshields and torn dashboards.
Fuck
yr heart’s yellow hi-liter with a dead wolf’s dingleberries.
Are
you alone in yr hermitage of remembered Halloweens?
Politicians
are homeless gloryholes.
Gandhi
& Tolstoy can suck our vacuum-aborted
Peace
like a pokerface of wedding-rings.
Pigeons
rent shitty lofts in the crosstraffic of my wandering tears.
I’ll
always remember I’d come to love you.
My
tears of Do-Not-Litter street signs
Will
not let all my lawns be clean & forget
With
my Anonymous-msg-board of wide-open arms.
Children
of America, I hope your lives won’t amount to the price of tennis shoes.
I
hope you get brainwashed by upholstery day after day.
May
you never say this right here
This
is the exact motherfucker
I
always ever wanted.
