February 2012
37 posts
Johnny Knows
Skin is easily influenced
By another’s lip
But stone keeps its form in in easy goose-step
When one keeps those at a distance by mental walls
Then patronizing assemblies erupt in surplus
Pills
Sleek flexuous needs spill from a lame guitar’s longing
This kind pettifog could break down nations
Harrowing narcotics seep into eyes first no mater the vain
The spider silent unblinking eats its pray alive
The earth eats some children so others can feast
But these things seem too true to believe
The girl of Suggestion pt. 4
I had to give her credit
She was right
She was true in her intention
But not in her exicution
For when she got up to leave
The boots squeeked and wadded through the mire
And her lega were bandy and open for suggestion
And she needed such
For suggestion keeps the truth in line
And that is where faith comes in
The girl of Suggestion pt. 3
This adamantine conviction held her through her diatribe
She spoke of touched boys and harisie
She spoke of failed little men sat high on people’s dreams
She spoke of the need and poverty in the sole of the giver
She spoke of the receiver and how he failed his fleshy lord
She spoke of demons and pagans and homeless too
She spoke of excess and stained glass and the pain of a jew
She...
The girl of Suggestion pt. 2
The plenum of words were put out in the same vast
Knowledge as the heathen who writ it prior
And good will would be ashamed
For no mater how hard he should hunt
The tongue will keep her steady beat
A girl of Suggestion pt. 1
The hircine girl could propitiate her athiest’s propagation
And only then could the man in rain boots across the table
Be subdued by his daughter’s matramony of degeneration and
Higher thinking and the rain boots were of no use
And i Exploited a Prayed Upon Feeling for Readers
An ad rem succession from a turbulent life
Now full of vomit and alcohol
Flittering moonlight on a piano that could sing to ease
The pain that chokes on the dust gathering on the baby grand
Fuck the sinuses of you past love fettering in the bed
For now they stay peaceful in their new satin sarcophagus
And nooses are hard to come by
If they came so readily before
Penitence
What’s amazing is not me
But the world and how i’ve left it
What’s amazing is not me
But the tomb i have erected
What’s amazing is not me
But race race i have destroyed
What’s amazing is not me
But the shelf i am employed
What’s amazing is not me
But the inebriation i bespeak
What’s amazing is not me
But the locket that i can’t keep...
Clean for Kids
The divorcee can spruce the house
But the chimny will still stay out
For the walls are easy to hide behind
And the window let the draft become the enemy
The prosthetic offspring shiver with a cold apprehension
With little hope comes little reprise in the way of a breast
So they hunger for what they can’t have
Sustanance seems a trifle
A broken cry for attention dressed on a plate...
The Lemming
The lemming eats but a morceau
Of culture to follow it off the cliff
It could thrive on its intestine
But then the what would it color it’s fur
Keeping it so gray is a talent after all
The End
Then the light looked at the pachyderm’s
Eyes that was holding it
And it saw that they were sown shut and so was his mouth
The lantern asked to be put down
And so the blind dumb heathen did so
And knelt and prayed
And the light thought its work done
And left for some one new
The Dichotomy
The boy and his lamp looked for a new host
It was brought to a tramontane cottage
High yet lo yet perfect of sorts
All the ducks in a row in the house prayed for presents
At a christmas they already had alot to eat
And snort and keep in a closet
So the light moved on because the candles dripping
Should keep the place lit it though
The Metaphor
A ray of light shown from this blind urchin
Onto another in the depths of his own filth
Brought to there his home by the mammonism
By jingoism and his blood spilt for Nirvana
He hacked out a living as he hacked out a lung
And the light left his form for light seemed not enough
The Prologue
The Vilipend was brought and sought by the king
The most potent thing I’ve ever herd
Was brought to my dumb ear
By this boy given a lantern, but cursed blind
Hearts are Won by the Mind
It became the fornication of sense and leisure
The work of the few is the same as the many if the many underweigh the rule
Neet lines are met but the ink is spilt
By the captian set to spill over the hilt
With naivete the circle of life has now deformed to a cordate fool
Race in Doses
Are the demons real
For the burled ivory
Dose not account for the smooth of the ebony
And exoteric taste of race
For a plaet deemed fit to taste human
And this auscultation of the heart could not be graver
Mirrors
As the man watches time he watches the mirror of sliver decay
In front of him
And glares with vehement glee at his countenance
But it is not about the personage but about the person’s crime
He sees a prize he cannot have
And a sole he must possess to find
So he should take the man and make him of himself
The man is the mirror for the depressed contacts
Who thinks he can see It clearly...
Glory is a Tentative Thing
Wish not for glory
For glory brings none but a reason to fall
To obtain the trophy
Means to collect dust
To acquire a skill
Means to be expected to use it
To depone in god
Means to testify in you
And why would the wanton man find
That he has already been there the whole time
Sway the Swayed
The hysteria of the hipster’s screed
Was not to be taken lightly
For the man decided alone in towers
Is not diffrent from the man who could be to be
Assurance seems to be only in allowances
And inverse dramatizations
Because you felt irony
Even if the true truth never really came to ever be
Let the freedom-fighter Dream
The rat with a paint brush needs
Needs not the Piacular that the patriarch tends to dole
But the dole is now given in charity as well
For the rat must be taught to keep a steady hand
Less, he become lest of the vallor man
Spelling U
You pretentious yankee wine-cooler
You devil vain drinker
You lick the cunt because you’re entitled
You are supposed
You crib a bible from a Ginsbergian fuck up on the street
You filiopietistic punk should grovel at his feet
You are no original
Except in lost deceit
Because it Has Been done Or finished Or loved
And he slit his wrists because the alter was too clean
Tis here, tis hear that the sultan could not stand
So the mall was erected in a orgy of spending and perversion
And this perversion has been done
Just as the world has been spoke the creed has been done
Just as fear has been alive so have the dead
And just as repetition has thrived so has the crow on which
We stand
Asking for Uneasy Endings
And they died like bones
Set like stones on a lion’s thrown
Like I fell into stars with drerry junky eyes
The earth looked so pied
Like a drunkerd’s sermon
On a glittering subway pulpit
Fenced off with stench and pre-notions
Premonitions ignored like fine thread
Around the neck of the sword
Tied a nuse fast and loose
For it seemed to be all but a giver’s plee
And one Found Nowhere Again
And Caprice took the transcendental baby to a hight
Of never knowing but only in a dream
And Lord took the realist to a nowhere
Too content to be writen
And both were lost
And both were exactly the same in opposition
And both were there for those who were to gone to need it
The imagrent and his Jesters
Like the royal family on a cramped imagrent vessel
The burgeoning idea is still as it becomes just as his subjects
The excogitateing mess is now not sure of his truth
But only in his oppinion
And that he lead this body in a greatest stand imaginable
But the men he used to call his glare as they should
For the crown glares at them just as hard
The king with mud and a urinated blanket
Now...
Mask of Clarity
The Doyenne of the loom never got a mark of valor
For her tasks of mediocrity for a war fought with steel
The Pastor fell short of the verbosity that he spewed
He started with the peroration and ended as a tired whimper
The Vagabond lacidasical and fornicating with self
Leaves none to be desired for ones cannot want him less
The life by which the previous lead
Is that the billboards vie for...
Revolutionary Stain
And the revolutionary was set to the guillotine
As the next generation looked on as the pigeons they were
Soon to copy all that sank to the earth before them
All the blood ran through the cobble stones like the burgeoning
Ships ladened with ironic bivouac
And the hulls were cast by the bones of the iron breather
The proletariat and his self-gratification was as sickening
As his teeth...
