OK, so...i recently found on my laptop a forgotten bubble of writings what have never saw the light ov day...after an impromptu reading of them for a very special, select audience last week, i'm feeling incresingly the need to share them with others. so here my esteemed audience is some funky old flava in yo eye!feel free to enjoy with a slice o pie.P
Look here, tonight we steer past yon antelopes play in the sand, storm on down the mountaining mail, man stares me away, all full and toasty, just a spark'll plug me up and away.
Undisturbed and looking, listless and bulking on the stereo, conform the battlements, hail to the chief toenail, lacking in rivers as well as cups, crowding around my pituitary like black avian necrophiles past, files long past my hair keep runnin' on, long, but I am gone.
My lover dreams me awake, away, long gone from seas, in deserts freeze, I notice something creeping on my hate and anger want to find you a new whole.
Pubic vampirism live el fin de samana on Mexican radia, Garcia y Vega say hola to papa Pepe and rock on down the line like rabid snuffalupagi in to my freight training wheels off and running together like blood, plasma buffering the codes into place for not us but we am in the morning, miles away from anything we knew on the day of the dead when we died two.
All you had to do was turn us on, "But it hurts." All you had to do was tune us out, "But it works." I accept the charges, my my blood stain the walls of our prison.
Black Smith held us in the palms of his hand, writhing in his dance of ecstasy, but he lost us when we lost, and gone far and away are the sparkles we once new, on a hill in a field of dew, and U.
You knew, but you did not tell her, he told me but I was not sure, he let me be my tragedy, please tell me if I score. Score my place of longing, sell of my mouth's downpour, disturb by sentiment, cover my government, ginseng for all and more.
Crazy, yeah! Crazy, yeah!
ground to cinders, the slugs are notified, manifest in their various nodules of sleep dust, nudging your eyes out of its sockets, slowly with a slimy vigilance of care, bounding and puttering through the valley dark and white without cause for alarm and pick up line figurines licking fingers before the stormy notification wake upwards, calling your mother's name in to the trees and finding her beneath you greatly out numbered the stars with a certain worry caught in the sudden updraft of pedestrian hairstyles left in the litter ravine, seldom seen tilling pastures slippin' slickity slacks-o-narfable descending, roof dark and empty, nest small and far through needles noticing the tremor of your car, division learning decisive chaos rituals in your freaking back yard, poochie on tha' barbie like a surly octagon, massive and endemic, stricks a notary exception to sullen earth in constellation climbing away the tears for fears of night nigh "ni," gross and stubbled about binging your pockets for zippery zu-zu's, a night of expectations coughing through the kings nightshade for and added effect of sly nipples protruding from the egg planted directly above your four head recorder, refracted nicely into that Hi-Ho mood with the last of the children, dread.
He parked his car like a desperado. He knew what was coming, and it was not pretty. Stars rained down about him like distant revelations. He noticed the clock had stopped. Originally red, the car dripped indiscriminate patterns toward the wheels; windshield glowed and disappeared. His powers followed. Powers of random forethought. Powers jostling for blood. The time passed unnoticed by fellows. The garden had changed his color through and bubbling were the writings on a body long forgot. This cactus was cold. It grew without damage but told many a lie in a field of broken spines. False butter manifest about the edges of the scene. The scent lay serene, wrapped in asphalt, crippled by sand. As gallows follow, so will the light. It grabbed his hand.
This is not the place where it begins. It started long before the clock. It started the clock long after we were forgotten into the everyday dust of your first meal. Not yours but yours. Fuzz is no less than a more solid fuzz infected with gravity, no less. Fuzz can slip and fade, and slap ya' inside the cranium while your eyes are held in ice like spring. Fuzz springs from about low creaking legs, drained of origami color, strewn with slipping fire. You are high in its eye. This will do, once done and dead becomes food for new heads. Once swept away the sun fills land with stray marbles and cancer drones into the forest of this your second meal. Once broken, we knew you would recover, but still the pallet must be lain. This cracks of proper indications. Our data will place often around eyes lit in flying embers, Jack's eternal grin at fallen flowers.
But what for, they ask. But ask what, there for. Beaten clay rejuvenates shallow cran-bowls, fishy let-us ask thy name. I think not say fishy flop, slap on juice grind let-us too indulge. Graze the meaty bluff, a low course through hair-lines into new nets in tropical arctic rainbows, left silly on the clear blue ice of our latest strife, and strike from soulful memory this grappling creature of unknown speech.
Once a burden of fire, his eyes now delight a certain breed of carbon to leave this shallow abode for some indiscrete POP candles flash in the ringing new ear, turned in silence and left for here. This crested Mag-Lite marks his territory empty and finds revolving doors dreaming of life in the shadows of a gentle Asian school.
The mountain trees of reckoning. Raccoons dance through dense dis-ease, gyrate the mother's pulse and gently pull back into forth. Digital static scats across his field and he notices three hundred suns rising continuously through his fingers, delirious of emptiness. Pleasant distortion knows his hermit's hole, but lets him light it all the same. A xylophonic windmill gathers speed toward the edge of reefy madness, locking amnesia at the moon dragging through this dry lagoon. Turning on the crystal he waits and listens for the soft reminder of breath, and finds his Harry's left right behind the stalking bottle of freegretful rounds chord in billowy sound strewn a'skelter in the dimming headlights. The battery dies of freight in cherry lacquered locomotives draining even this, every word. Wings dive straight on through the earth into the pump house basement and lie there, turning on their bed stools. Three marked the corridor of lesser principles. Four manifest the single score. Yes red board, alight!
When left singing he expects the platter ringing around the softest height and bending ever bright. This laughs through mahogany, through vine, through Harry's bowl. Cheesy-eggy-grit, I adore your slender ignore-ants. The soup up life, infections delight in doctor's deathbed tonight I said. Notice, I expect none other than your own obtruse revision and glance through glowing faces in debris, punctured knees.
The treatment is cancer. The treatment is let-us. The treat meant the fuzzy one, lynched and gutted for fuzzy fizzy treat, delight! This might be the night I come through the cliff-side grave green and graveling come true to your bean and delightfully seen slipping through the cordage in-between. This I know, he finally let go and traveling down the valley he found our hut deserted. How Atropos, appropriate as the wolf would say into cricketless day, revived. Rarified in lumber, crumbled in the building but darker through the screen light of dankest May day. Rosy seam and to top it of Pleistocene in grotto gem-wise panoply orgone in zipper fry dog, camel bucking ceiling in long drawn out breaths. In proven slantwise openings too crazy with their feet.
One four watt sea post shatter down flies open seas on trees shudder shouting shallow fields fold three foretold carob beanie soup spoons fall upon deaf ears with a car bomb of senselessness. Deception captivates Orion soundly sunken over drawn again a secret meet and cross less shooting many young returns, too slight to hope for noon and grown upon the moon. Catalysts capitalize and slip slowly to the dreamer's mouth and gone.
there once was a bunny that lived in a shoe. he was an alien bunny, and secretly in love with a marshmallow. he lived in the city and fixed shoes for homeless people. he would use the change and stuff he received in payment to buy flowers for his marshmallow, but he always had the hardest time finding her, and they were always wilted by then. he would finally find his marshmallow, and be very embarrassed of his flowers and throw them away. he would try to make small talk, but marshmallows do not really respond to that, so then he would just kind of shuffle off feeling silly.
one day a very funky, hairy hobo gave him a magical piece of talking string. he was taking it to the pawnshop, when suddenly it did speak up! you see, it whispered very quietly, but of course the bunny had very large ears!
it said, "please don't sell me, mr. bunny! i can do for you a magical trick! all i need is a mango slushy and a bicycle and i can grant you a magical wish!"
mr. bunny thought he was full of shit, but he liked mango slushies too, and his neighbor had a bicycle, so he thought, "what the hey!"
once he was ready, he followed the string's instructions, dipping him in slushy and then spinning him around on the bicycle wheel while he stood in the middle with his eyes closed, singing this chant:Hoot Hoot Tooty Tod
at that the string went flying over the fence, never to be seen again!
"What a gyp!" the bunny flounced.
for of course he had wished for the biggest, most everlasting flower for his little marshmallow. he went to sleep that night sure his wish had been wasted.
but late that night...
out of his sink...
grew the wonder thunder flower of love!
when he woke, he went to get a glass of water and almost peed at the sight of a flower as big as he, gaudy and colorful and full of life.
"this is perfect!" he exclaimed, and with a yank, and a tug, out the door he ran with his prize!high he looked, and low as well, but with a flower so big, quite often he fell!
green, green, the uniforms unite as one green ocean cataloging multiple factions in a late easternly nature plasmadic capricornicopia as waldorf noticed the salmonella stain on your person, fixed and vibrating with rage at having been stood down, warm, and bleeding thoroughly from the gulliver's main crank screw, lighting the garden with neon like some kinda monkey in a space camp, sub-terestropical like nature avoiding the funk like a live cage of transplant fluids replicating your dna the old fashioned way around the door on the way to the separate symbols of righteousness, extend yo intermission, bizou! husker do ya!
We introduced ourselves as Larry and Moe. Knowing not quite where wee'd come from. I opened a bag so they could see for themselves. The tomatoes incased us in fright, but we knew them not. They led us through doorways, through walls between out and in; we flourished dramatically. The sights reflected fantasmagorphically and afflicted with glass, cut and blown from the floor of my room with the reverse-puff cleaning action of 23x scrubbing bubbles, independently variable as red cream pie laughing in my hair when she touched me, opened my eyes to caterpillars and hedgehogs hiding behind turnips that felt there and made real.
I always remembered the socks I found cleaning the attic that day. They looked at me as if to say, "Pardon the roof, but we actually sock, if you buzz me properly with your endings." I jumped at the thought of asking them for autosodiographs, but opted for the lonely vegetative covering of Dr. Spock, behind a door of absolute black, as you surely can recall. What's that sleuth done with my taste buds lately. God, I miss my puppets. Oi, pipe, wait for me!
He couldn't find his hat, so he made his own. He didn't quite know what to do with it! He eventually began working more and more on it, putting on additions and incorporating bits from here and there, and nowhere. It soon became a world in it's own right, his own place to live and breathe. And then one day he took it off. It seamed a long way down, fraught with beans and streams aplenty. It ended up being worth any loss though, as he turned and saw it from without, from the ground that assaulted his souls with gravity. And it's glory shone, floating there like some asteroidial castle of hodge-podge. He then saw other hats about it, orbiting it as, yes, it orbited them as well. But they all tied fast to the ground, like his own feet now. As gravity showed him why and how, he no longer held his captivity against Mary, but loved her more in her place. The glass showed him more: the world of the bunnies coming to an end, the races at war within his hat, existence through the eye of a bagel. It explained a lot in a language any fluff can easily understand: polar penguin expeditions to the Atlantic in league with sea mammals in search of their island, the bubbles, the whirlpool; where had it gone? Flow showed them all a light within the most twisted darkness he could inflict, even upon himself. Zen pen fighting causes cramps only to the mystic foetus needing oiling, like my owl painted on her bedroom wall in some underground f(e)ather bus; light blue cheese, of course.
The calm uncovers light. The dream uncovers might. The frame describes the whole. The mind describes the skull. The moon reshines the son. The old becomes the young. The night creates the morn. The day creates the porn. The junk, it gives me treasures. The dull, it shows me pleasures. You bring me more than gold. Your taste becomes your fold.
Put down your mask and try a mold. Answer the phone if you need refreshments extra large, in every material, red, gray, or yeller. The grasshopper child needs more dose!
If you worry too much about getting back, you miss the surprise. The void reflects the back door to green liver Sundays, so don't forget: predicate!
--------------------------- <-------------------------- *<------------------------- >*<------------------------ ->*<---------_------------- -->*<---------------__----- --->*<-------__------------ ---->*<-----___----____---- ----->*<---_______________- ------>*<__________________The REEL Vulcans
| Thee Rev St of Skuzzbunnies, Sr Elgaroo Brenza du sLAcKE * | * Cytoplastic Ninja Clan, Psychic Enema Division /|\ email@example.com / | \ http://elgaroo.13th-floor.org/ (()|()) ICQ#: 1979348 \/|\/ "Techno Viking has a posse!"