Monday, March 30, 2009
Sunday, March 29, 2009
more SBFEP
3 { Penetrator #43 / Rampage in Rio }
this is a test of the emergency bedpost
because the announced punishment formation
didn’t go off as scheduled
the just a tad closer walk with garbage
down the sun-soaked pebbly side sidewalk
So maybe it’s now okay to ask – is Life
enough to build a dream on?
reduced in rank to that of Standartenfeldwebel
loosened snare drums and wobble moan banjo
how could not the shirts turn to paper (after great
trunks shattered for this ) & briskly fly away
this is a test of the emergency bedpost
because the announced punishment formation
didn’t go off as scheduled
the just a tad closer walk with garbage
down the sun-soaked pebbly side sidewalk
So maybe it’s now okay to ask – is Life
enough to build a dream on?
reduced in rank to that of Standartenfeldwebel
loosened snare drums and wobble moan banjo
how could not the shirts turn to paper (after great
trunks shattered for this ) & briskly fly away
Wednesday, March 25, 2009
Janine and Brett wrote this b-day jam for Jonathan
JON DAN TRAVI AT 33
The pans in the fig tree signal the season
the bloody clovis cries out to his father
for the shimmier Season of the which
cake-in pleasantry must hit the ceiling,
a Ballard ballad under the City Park
interstate ogre-me edens a littery, piebald
setting for seating a new birthday
rear duchess.
Perhaps we will salute you
lasso you in for a few lashes
hurl cupcakes at concrete and call it a night.
Grimalicious and 33, and great at You —
JT, you must enhance our mortal flirtations
turn lil pip wishes into seafood shell currency
something kite-tight for the shag in our souls.
Q
The last time we did this over the net
we were fired for loving on the job
catapulting us to fun war capital
and making a habit of wigs.
You were wearing one yourself
but it was your own hair.
(Light is the head ever in Greystoke.)
May your years be like a night of karaoke
never-ending. Keep shaking your
salt-and-peeper moulah maker :
we dig your hands-free pumping, we dig your
pix and your 10,000 words
for the mule.
25 mar 2009
The pans in the fig tree signal the season
the bloody clovis cries out to his father
for the shimmier Season of the which
cake-in pleasantry must hit the ceiling,
a Ballard ballad under the City Park
interstate ogre-me edens a littery, piebald
setting for seating a new birthday
rear duchess.
Perhaps we will salute you
lasso you in for a few lashes
hurl cupcakes at concrete and call it a night.
Grimalicious and 33, and great at You —
JT, you must enhance our mortal flirtations
turn lil pip wishes into seafood shell currency
something kite-tight for the shag in our souls.
Q
The last time we did this over the net
we were fired for loving on the job
catapulting us to fun war capital
and making a habit of wigs.
You were wearing one yourself
but it was your own hair.
(Light is the head ever in Greystoke.)
May your years be like a night of karaoke
never-ending. Keep shaking your
salt-and-peeper moulah maker :
we dig your hands-free pumping, we dig your
pix and your 10,000 words
for the mule.
25 mar 2009
Happy Birthday, Johnny!
While I can't wait to eat some oysters at Jonathan's b-day underpass bash tonight in the park (and spot some dead hookers, if I'm lucky), I thought I'd post this video link as a prequel to the party and a birthday greeting to our Johnny. S dnyom rozhdeniya!
Los Colorados Hot 'n' Cold
XOTatyana
Los Colorados Hot 'n' Cold
XOTatyana
Monday, March 23, 2009
stupid book fractured epic poem
2
We sat in the uncomfortable
plastic chairs in the Balkan Falcon memorial
laundromat and studied the book
building a little secret hill in the skirts
of Empire for the beautiful forearm
handing over the tasty little tract
"Heroic Realism" and whiffs at the plate
foregiven later in the bedroom
Rush out for
this New Love that can
smartly stain with printed robber matter
We sat in the uncomfortable
plastic chairs in the Balkan Falcon memorial
laundromat and studied the book
building a little secret hill in the skirts
of Empire for the beautiful forearm
handing over the tasty little tract
"Heroic Realism" and whiffs at the plate
foregiven later in the bedroom
Rush out for
this New Love that can
smartly stain with printed robber matter
Sunday, March 22, 2009
LET'S LAUNCH A NEW POETRY SERIES!
STUPID BOOK FRACTURED EPIC POEM
1 { YA }
hid on the big island with some dead end dada
and ciccarone rinds "It was the Indiana
Zephyr" and "Mozart meets Leon Redbone"
is there a rubric for grading Gabriel
‘s want to climb the tree? The Library
has discharged all the zen books because
no one was reading them
Vandals off on a lark down the lane
with the overrated trophies
Another extraordinary wave of badness
makes me turn with love to the Bird
Friday, March 20, 2009
Calling all Quorum
The first item is to settle the fierce raging debate about whether the Unday falls (on the Sino-Mayan calendar, or ours) between Sat. and Sun., or between Sun. and Mon.
So far the latter is leading in unballoted opinion.
So far the latter is leading in unballoted opinion.
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