Saturday, May 31, 2014

page 451 - Out of the garbage, into The Book

You never know
how much is enough
until you've had
too much.
Nothing succeeds like excess,
these immortal words
the end of the spotlight.


page 450 - ( CRASH )

Here we are,
losing the tempo
of your soliloquy.

You didn't have any
empathy set up
and it put me to sleep.
I only wanna talk about
sex and drugs,
form a word on a
low whistle.
This is everything
we're going to hear now.

Friday, May 30, 2014

page 449 - No definition

Lie down.
I've decided to drop you,
no feeling, alienated drone.
You're waiting for
the next few statements,
some empathy.
My hallucination, full of pennies,
obscures the next few statements,
beating the microphone.
Definition lost,
minds ribbed,
I can't say continuous,
loosen empathy.

page 448 - Hallucination monologue

What am I, magic number?
I'll never find out this way,
snapping to,
a short interruption
superfluous in the distance.
You feel like a war, baby,
applied to the present,
groping for the next

place to go.
During the day I feel
a blip opening the hour,
chant Gregorian, slurs out rather mean.
This place is noise,
a monologue I've hallucinated,
background to the page
that says WHAT ABOUT ME.

Thursday, May 29, 2014

page 447 - Rather sterling

I have to make sound with the Velvets,
the first rehearsal the cruelest blow,
still dialing that acid tone.
I hope I'm good; I know
I'll be different,

even extraordinary, perhaps.

This is the most inane tape
I've ever taped.
I swear I'm asleep!
I just couldn't be
hanging here like this,
eyes closing, lids heavy,
worse than fate.

I have my own imitations,
resent the fact of
being human at all,
3 slumbering breaths devious,
the cost of changes.
Only meant to pretend I'm
slurred, swollen,
bit my tongue when I

first entered,
no work finished here.


page 446 - The ones that have been there

I saw them
in my time,
when I was a child,
in a porch somewhere
in red clay.
People started cheering,
screaming, Hurray!
Ray! Xray! Ray!
Religious - religious - religious
really groovious,
thirteen miles from
fathering A.
I'll never forget
the ringing of their voices
in my hair.

Wednesday, May 28, 2014

page 445 - SO LILIQUY

This is a supposedly long m-on-o-logue
about whatever it is that I talk about.
I'm no brain and
I don't want one,
religiously taking amphetamine and
want to go to sleep.
It's not funny when you're
making love to the tape recorder,
feel headachey around the eyes.

What's left?
I'm contemplating suicide,
a terrible taste.
Yes, there are noises,
demon dancing with the people outside,
a cackle, footstep of Drella,

filthy basket.
No one ever calls here for me.

This tape should be finished.
No one know it's hard to end.