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.
“Apocalyptic
Thoughts”
One
saffron, refried day our planet will have its last fling
In
the shape of a used condom’s outline.
Until
then I ride the bicycle like a hangover from work
&
Fingers long enough to be drawn-out fairytales
Scratch
the back of the illustrated day, demanding no reciprocity.
A
saxophone of doors will be there,
Constructed
of fuck-lacquered dollar bills.
2
dogs made out of tin will bark out ordered puzzles
&
Rip the roots like witch-hair silently of all the trees.
As
usual, somebody will find a dead body
Or
die themselves dying to be found.
Chairs
& love are immediate things
&
only ass can keep them there,
But
everyone can go sit on the future
And
mean a toilet as the end.
"My Newest Country Song Fully
Mature With So Much More of the Same"
A
blank, hoped moon
On
the hills made hot yellow with piss.
A wet
yellow desert in which I fight down
Food
and alcohol in the hopes of sleep--
Sleep,
the most comfortable of all waiting rooms
With
the best of all possible flower arrangements.
When
I was a child, I wet the bed every night.
And
now that I've fought so hard to preserve joy
By
maintaining the terror of childhood,
The
inevitability of faces returns
&
on the dark interior streets
Which
resist sweeping by no matter what amount of weeping,
Everything
wets itself like a fucking dolphin to go down easy.
"Futuristic
Wedding Scenes Preempted by Scenario-Planning"
--"I'd
throw myself out that window, if I wasn't sure it would hurt."--Sammy
Beckett
There's a
desolate cookie white in my face & I dislike it anymore.
Where
do candles go in distress of remembrance & gutter?
Morning
lacerates and eyes grow darker.
Some
form of acceptance, give me
something
else not accepted, given to be given again & back
Let
me feel blank
like
a heartbeat of new paper
thoughtless
& insistent
as a
cinema screen
Lean
animals yield the toughest gut.
I,
lukewarm rotting a barbwire larch,
Am a
sudden piece of glass,
Bladed
skin tantruming in a musicbox at night.
And
they, the frozen clock-spit
Throw
themselves like gray rats and dead-bearded
Burning
fathers, weeping the illuminated ass-breeze
Of
noble self-sacrificial prostitution, down like gas fumes
Or
snakes to tremble repeatedly
Between
the legs of technocratic cashsucker aerobic instructors.
Birds
tremor gunmetal in the avalanche-basilica.
High
voltage sleet splits the banshee-perch of deadbolt, damnation.
I am
a cartoon of wedding garters,
Pinned
to the treedreck sky like pollen
From
the pendant housecat of god,
And
the harp plays a mouth from the shaled wall at night,
the
harp a rhetoric of flies and catgut fathers.
The door
closed behind,
And
behind was cold everything
That
had been burning forward
And
ahead was cold approaching
To
everything left burnt behind.
“It’s This Way With Me”
In this great office
building grey as a scheduled overcast,
I begin severing all ties
& in horror no less for having
Should have known, see
they were always perhaps wearing clip-ons.
Piñata-breaking across
the automobile-infested lawn, a new calendar dawns overhead
Dropping a confetti of
shredded papers you could have written
Anything on, anything
but more salaries, plans, and expenditure-flows.
Sewage! It too
flows blind as bats to port
Or foully caves
underground, speeding to fall away
By echoing the
located-dark into seeing itself resound.
And I, even more,
decompose and am wasted, tugged
Towards you—
For I love.
In the same way,
An office imploding into
nothing for a while at least to do,
I return away to
tend
In my own way
Towards you.
But I covet your visit
And coveting make dark
of my heart
A wine cellar in which
my words I imprison & zombie
To forever rummage and
gloat
Of our vintages and the
hope
That age would delicate.
“Psalm”
Goddamn
us all and all our love
We
treat like soup and spoon when warm.
At
dawn, I’ll wear a pair of death’s breeches
And
pistol myself a blackened pie
Till
it wheels like charred mockings
From
the mocking-blue sky.
Nothing
but fences empty all the emptiness
As
far as the eye with its prophetic scope can spy.
Goddamn
us all and all our love.
It
was cold here and I took off every stitch.
It
made no difference in the cold water
Running
like my time in Time’s ditch.
“The Cardiovascular Surgeon of
Immigration Papers”
I
fake myself out a turkey, plucked & then feathered by carrots & sticks.
Guilt
comes like road work, bordering, 1500 feet ahead until
A
firecracker defiant as a favorite trashcan simpers of dinosauric jealousy
inside me.
10
years from now everything I thought I could never
Live
without will be more cardboard-hearts
I’ve
transplanted, failing to revive
The
least-loved, aged barrel of my monkeys. But now
I’m
nothing I’ve ever wanted to be but passionately mute
Of
invasions and dumbly trampled by.
“The Occupied Freeway in the Wall of Streets: A Poem Currently ”
Always
come days when nothing excites but ceasing.
The
hands hover, covering faces. Everyone is hideously careful.
At
birth I sliced off my Mother’s clitoris with my strong-manly-crybaby-jaw
To
inspect the configuration herniated of soon
wet heaven-shit.
Her
clitoris I taped with felt careful onto my own brain so full of love.
The
earplug-device of violence
sucks the wet off heaven
And
roto-roots the heavens out of that
configuration.
Roomba
yr genitals
Inspired
with ramen-noodle-political rage;
No-Good-God
has enough covers to go around.
The
sales of pornography tell us
pornography is a conventional sexuality. It is the Celine Dion of sex.
The
hideous eye of instructive
poppies
Crowns
my absent appetite noodly & impertinent.
I
flee linen & food
Orphaning
every joy as a litter of puppies
Thrown
from a sedan like cigarette-butts.
Dear
censoring selfishly responsible hyena,
The
Law is a claw slashed from a cadaverous Macaw.
That
Beauty was bitter and gave to rise a yeasty bile of inflection
I freed
me to revile till all hope meanwhile
I
could shunt on trial for welcoming a womb of style.
Casually
the land creeps out of even
whichever’s handy nose.
Whatever
soul had to stay alive cheated
And
rose up past the moon
Muttering,
“I don’t work there anymore,
In
the buffet of nightingales
Where
common decency drives off the Galapagos-freeway
And
comes to a constructed red-light.
The
air conditioner stutters sulphur and is on.
People
are afraid to merge.
2 Comedic Poems
1. "Friendgutter"
One day, like votives,
everything will change and burn and then
The next day too.
But I'd known if we
changed together
I'll burn into forms
of loving you.
2.
"Lucky
Friends"
It's been worse and
sooner, sure enough,
I'll be in a hearse.
Death will make me
very terse, but you'll be lucky--
I won't be able to
curse
Nor write anymore
“verse.”
"More Tired
Things I Gladden Treading Out"
Imagine solely &
new a testamental bird of fierce
rubber--
The night of some belowly nature what's spoken to
belied;
And then there are the
volunteers who stutter
To be forgiven of plans, straw, & tooth's decay.
The bird nailed &
heard to the sinking mast of the
scarecrow-auditorium
Helmets himself with a
tire by meeting the road
That brow-burnt stage
where a tongue, a window-frame, wasn't built to care to last.
Every day becomes a
eulogy of hay for the
skillet's plans.
Fuck it, yams and
pennies and penny arcades...
Swim in sweet rolls
and currents of sheet metals
Raising the singed
tails of rickety and
tasteless window-frames.
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