Wednesday, April 23, 2014

page 375 - Whole heart

Nodding out on the bus,
you're tired as you say,
look a little weird
except for the sky
falli--- ...

My throat doesn't permit me
a wicked laugh,
handing to the tenor
a privileged fact.
Something tells me I've
taken another mistake
in my whole heart.

Screeching, you almost
fell down the stairs to
tumultuous applause,
absolutely out of control.
Sing to the next, boy;
be higher, evaluate human.
We allude to the glass bottle,
the old room.


page 374 - In the distance

Parading to the shit house
the Mayor smiles and
breaks wrists,
an urgent petition,
violent speaking.

I'm dropping pocket number eight
hoping that someone will find it
and give me hope.
I don't even know
what the word means.
Paranoid,
This is Your Life,
who would sigh God.
Instant Rejection.

Billy Names goes on,
a marathon in himself,
taking forever - I don't know
what the next word was,
male falsetto warbles
in the distance,
FIGHTING for your very existence.

Tuesday, April 22, 2014

page 373 - Warning whistle

Stifling, the ceiling
must be razed.
I'm speaking to the girls;
that Voice is my Voice
and I'm a madwoman
but I know how to use my madness,
warning whistle as a sign of the
awesome power of the unknown.
I may get to the bottom
of the chants below the floor,
but I won't speak to the
plot against me,
the evaluations,
Judgments.
The entire crowd,
miserable, I mark the
d-e-a-t-h you oughta know,
speak. I'm a wrecking crew, operatic interlude.
WHATCHAWANENNYWAY?
I don't like the idea of nice,
so reactionary it's unbearable.

page 372 - Havoc

Oh, Heaven gets stuck in your throat
you're dead
when it gets to the white surface.
You don't have the dark thread,
havoc dialect faded
because it's a long time ago.
Babble overcomes
all replies,
assorted aaahhs six times,
silk disposal,
accumulated boom.

page 371 - Electric resting

Go right ahead
into the vein.
See, I can't get off,
bent the needle,
dissolved in the bloodstream,
electric resting.
Designs traced
through the injection,
scraped off al those
hang-ups, my face
clean, sterilized.
Using plastic, a fork

gets this drilled in.
Give it to me, back and forth.

page 370 - White time

That taste is still
in the back of my throat,
been leaving it hanging,
needle and thread
rushing for voice,
trickling performance.
Right out of it
on the floor,
white time,
black mind.
I'm in trouble, I'm telling you,
I'm in trouble.

Sunday, April 20, 2014

page 369 - Be we put you under

- Here, my dear, take the
tranquilizer for us, who love you --

 
I spend all my time
trying to get U-U-UP
then I'm so far up
I'm frightened, way
outamyhead on a
test of LSD
.
 
 
- Live a little
before we put you under.
There's something inside this
strangled gesture.
High was my friend,
Mars exploded.
I just turned to
the ashtray, think
you really need to
have one, clang
parts of my head
around dirty pictures,
wash that down with
touch, turned off...
 
- ...Turned around ...