if you could only
tweek the pitch
of your voice
so it was tuned
in a different key,
we would be
where land
reaches out
an arm
to touch
the sea-
where this awaits,
unfolding.
it's strange
to be seen
by another,
to see them see me,
becoming this-
becoming part of me,
a complete stranger
who hurts my feelings.
handholds meet, at land-
underwater parting
walks into suicides
of waves, together-
in carriage of
pallbearing cargo,
embargo en route
to Maltese quays,
trapped inside
quotations-
bodybound.
March 21, 2011
Me and the German in Paris, France (by Alex Gallo-Brown)
Paris I can hardly imagine
apart from books and films—
Bertolucci’s The Dreamers is especially vivid:
American innocence exchange-studented
for multi-lingual orgies, the cusp of incest,
tossed empties of not cheap red wine,
that startling pubic hair,
cobblestones aflame.
Or Henry Miller swapping stories for dinners,
cunting this and cunting that,
a non-stop drinkfest.
Why would you be here, Mr. Schmitz?
Assigner of essays, German sadist,
lecher of 13-year olds, amateur historian
and professional peacock.
What do you have to do with
art-house films or crepes,
masturbation or saliva,
scratched letters to parents…
and yet you are here
tripping over cobblestones,
plodding from one open-air café to the next,
alternating thick whiskey with thick coffee.
Suddenly we are very drunk
and your stories of stuffing
Republican ballot boxes in Florida
break me up with laughter—haha
those stupid liberals will never figure it out—
you are a German Jerry Lewis
and I am snorting…
We chew steak Tartuffe,
bubbles of red juice
popping at the seams
of our mouths…
eli by ☄russ☁
i was just told "every library in illinois isn't working"
and i was like, “uh but we’re here working?”
and then i realized that there is a thing called “every library in illinois”
and i was like, “uh but we’re here working?”
and then i realized that there is a thing called “every library in illinois”
august the 19th, 1957 by Jess Dutschmann
let’s like, have all this rum
everything is good here
have all the rum it’s great
listening to the radio with
a bunch of pissed off kids
let’s like, have all this rum
watching vampire shows with
a ginger with white wrists
let the black things in through
the window
don’t worry about the weather
we'll stay warm
legs twined together
on the loveseat but it’s safe though
let’s like, have all this rum,
everything is fine about this
let it into your mouth it’s safe
put your hand on my thigh and
whatever it’s safe, let the things
into your mouth, black syrup
down your chin it looks cute
I HATE PEOPLE WHO LIKE MOVIES by m. kitchell
you do not 'love' that movie
you are a boring person who has only seen that movie
because you heard it was 'bad ass'
or because you think the woman in it is hot
i'm going to fucking kill you
because you won't shut the fuck up
about whatever stupid shit
you watched on netflix
i want to set your laptop on fire
because i don't care about anything you
have to say
i don't even want to hate-fuck you
that is how much i hate you
please shut up
please
please shut up
i want to die when you talk about pasolini
i want to die when you tell me how awesome jodorowsky is
i want to set myself on fire when you announce the merits of fassbinder
shut the fuck up
please
you're making me hate everything
harder than normal
god damn it
you are a boring person who has only seen that movie
because you heard it was 'bad ass'
or because you think the woman in it is hot
i'm going to fucking kill you
because you won't shut the fuck up
about whatever stupid shit
you watched on netflix
i want to set your laptop on fire
because i don't care about anything you
have to say
i don't even want to hate-fuck you
that is how much i hate you
please shut up
please
please shut up
i want to die when you talk about pasolini
i want to die when you tell me how awesome jodorowsky is
i want to set myself on fire when you announce the merits of fassbinder
shut the fuck up
please
you're making me hate everything
harder than normal
god damn it
I will never let you be a corpse by Joe McHugh
I am going to do it on the hottest day
It will be very hot and humid and wet
in the summertime I am going to boil
tremendous pots of my saliva
I am going to drag you to the stove
I am going to palm the back of your head
I am going to push down
on your head until your nose dribbles
with my spit steam and you will yell
You will yell about me stopping
You will yell like a dumb idiot
I want the inside of your head to glow
with the frustrated pus of fear
and I am going to let up on your head
and then push down even harder
I am going to dunk your head into the pots
of boiling saliva until my hand burns
I am going to hurt myself to hurt you
because your suffering is my most valuable experience
Also you are very ugly
You would look more attractive
if you were mauled by the paws of a bear
and so I am going to maul you with bear paws
I am going to kill a bear and rip its arms off
and maul you with them
It will be so hot and humid and wet in the summer
The bear will squirm and run at things
The bear will bite at things
I am going to point the bear at you
and you will have to fight the bear with its own bear hands
You and the bear will become tired
and you will collapse together terrified
You will both be heaving for air
I will cuff your feet together with chains
Yes the bear will be angry
Yes the bear will only stop attacking when it is tired
but don't worry I will save you
I will shoot the bear with an arrow
and then I will abandon you
I will never let you be a corpse
I have too many plans
It will be very hot and humid and wet
in the summertime I am going to boil
tremendous pots of my saliva
I am going to drag you to the stove
I am going to palm the back of your head
I am going to push down
on your head until your nose dribbles
with my spit steam and you will yell
You will yell about me stopping
You will yell like a dumb idiot
I want the inside of your head to glow
with the frustrated pus of fear
and I am going to let up on your head
and then push down even harder
I am going to dunk your head into the pots
of boiling saliva until my hand burns
I am going to hurt myself to hurt you
because your suffering is my most valuable experience
Also you are very ugly
You would look more attractive
if you were mauled by the paws of a bear
and so I am going to maul you with bear paws
I am going to kill a bear and rip its arms off
and maul you with them
It will be so hot and humid and wet in the summer
The bear will squirm and run at things
The bear will bite at things
I am going to point the bear at you
and you will have to fight the bear with its own bear hands
You and the bear will become tired
and you will collapse together terrified
You will both be heaving for air
I will cuff your feet together with chains
Yes the bear will be angry
Yes the bear will only stop attacking when it is tired
but don't worry I will save you
I will shoot the bear with an arrow
and then I will abandon you
I will never let you be a corpse
I have too many plans
March 20, 2011
sure is pee tho by shannon peil
it smells like pee
in my house
and someone said
it might be my cat
but
it doesn't smell
like cat pee at all
it smells
like human pee
which makes sense
because there are four
humans living here
and only one cat
but still
i don't think any of us
are going around
peeing on things
and blaming it
on a smaller mammal
just for the fuck of it
in my house
and someone said
it might be my cat
but
it doesn't smell
like cat pee at all
it smells
like human pee
which makes sense
because there are four
humans living here
and only one cat
but still
i don't think any of us
are going around
peeing on things
and blaming it
on a smaller mammal
just for the fuck of it
POEM by andrew james weatherhead
When I open up my wallet, money goes flying everywhere
Like the loud fart emitted by Jesus on the cross
This blinding release in front of the austere signage of the bodega --
I'm left with no other choice but to bend over and take it
Like the loud fart emitted by Jesus on the cross
This blinding release in front of the austere signage of the bodega --
I'm left with no other choice but to bend over and take it
when all the grains of sand get together to make the desert that is really good teamwork by james schiller
most of us will not live
to see the day our culture is bereft of oprah
blistered, the stars will thus align
this is the gist of it:
none of us will be intoxicated
by the consensus chirp of birds
dirt, synthesizers
magazines will reveal
0 new ways to excavate the g spot
mysteries will collapse
though all of us will be absent
we can still imagine
pain that does not yet exist
in that sense we are a family
huddled through the years and staring
at the ocean as it sneaks up
and then slinks back
fucking with our ability
to predict the hour of its final invasion
never forget
nature is way put together:
face. body. brain.
and i’m so attracted to the catastrophic
forms of human addiction
that my body stays very busy
discarding bits of skin on other people
like a trail of breadcrumbs
so they can find their way back
today i feel that the moon is cold
persecuted, weak with crater
and yanking on all our water for companionship
a dry unreachable treasure
not dissimilar from heaven
the invisible authority
dryhumping our activated lives
into some perplexing examination
just as i search for a pair of hands
or many pairs of hands
that will want to orbit me
and pull my clothing away from my body
moon or many moons:
we could accomplish something amazing
if you were willing to be obsessed
with how quickly i can dump blood into my genitals
or if i could simply convince you
that i would not sentence
all the earth’s water to your surface
if and when it goes homicidal
as if terraforming was a punishment
where one substance becomes a newer
more acceptable substance
the way people transmute
work into money
and money into almost anything
that amplifies loneliness
yes, the absolute value
of that equation is work=loneliness
which is what the earth tells me
when i am weak
and employing phraseology
like ‘i could care less’
which is less of a statement than a challenge:
the first one to apathy wins
to see the day our culture is bereft of oprah
blistered, the stars will thus align
this is the gist of it:
none of us will be intoxicated
by the consensus chirp of birds
dirt, synthesizers
magazines will reveal
0 new ways to excavate the g spot
mysteries will collapse
though all of us will be absent
we can still imagine
pain that does not yet exist
in that sense we are a family
huddled through the years and staring
at the ocean as it sneaks up
and then slinks back
fucking with our ability
to predict the hour of its final invasion
never forget
nature is way put together:
face. body. brain.
and i’m so attracted to the catastrophic
forms of human addiction
that my body stays very busy
discarding bits of skin on other people
like a trail of breadcrumbs
so they can find their way back
today i feel that the moon is cold
persecuted, weak with crater
and yanking on all our water for companionship
a dry unreachable treasure
not dissimilar from heaven
the invisible authority
dryhumping our activated lives
into some perplexing examination
just as i search for a pair of hands
or many pairs of hands
that will want to orbit me
and pull my clothing away from my body
moon or many moons:
we could accomplish something amazing
if you were willing to be obsessed
with how quickly i can dump blood into my genitals
or if i could simply convince you
that i would not sentence
all the earth’s water to your surface
if and when it goes homicidal
as if terraforming was a punishment
where one substance becomes a newer
more acceptable substance
the way people transmute
work into money
and money into almost anything
that amplifies loneliness
yes, the absolute value
of that equation is work=loneliness
which is what the earth tells me
when i am weak
and employing phraseology
like ‘i could care less’
which is less of a statement than a challenge:
the first one to apathy wins
Happy Poems for Idiots: Murder Day by Jeremy Bauer
Good news! Today, murder is okay for you. So you can walk right up to your mean-as-tits-dude boss and blast him into grease. All governments have been notified, and no one else has this power, so you can scare your dad 'cause he's been real gah lately and wants you to pay rent and won't even take your Firebird to the shop after an awesome Wasted Wednesday. This oughta teach the world to be such boners, and yeah, this would be a good time to get that Miller High Life hat, or ask out that cashier you think about in wiggling ways. All TV stations are reporting, "DO NOT MESS WITH THIS BAD MOTHERFUCKER," on repeat, and in a sexy way. And what you're probably gonna do is get as loaded as you can in the middle of your old high school gym until you pass out underneath the bleachers where the real good cold spot is. You'll forget all about murder, but it's about the experience, man, and you'll know you're the only one that really lived on Murder Day. And the sun will be shining like an eggplant filled with sugar pie.
Verbally Dominant Individual needed for Regressive Shitshow - w4mw - 23 by Ras. Mashramani
Handraising young woman seeks male or female for choking slapping physical restraint emotional intensity non-tacky ageplay and psychological abuse.
By non-tacky I mean make it real. Like groom me. Like act like you love me. Get erections while helping me with my homework. Single me out. Act like you respect me around your friends and trap me in the bathroom later. Drop your voice every time. Make it a reverse safe word. Make me special. Say, ‘What do we need a safe word for?’. Let the safe word be Uncle. Better yet, let it be Mommy. Make it real. Make me your special girl. I don’t want to miss the heavily sexualized grade-schooler, I wanna be the heavily sexualized grade-schooler. Be a feminist. Be a social worker. Be a parent. Be my teenaged cousin. Be this girl Curlina’s dad and rub on my ass at the edge of the pool. Laugh it off. Be a paradox. Grab me whenever we’re alone in a car. First tell me I’m beautiful whenever, then only tell me I’m beautiful after I perform. Marry me. I want it behind closed doors. Say, ‘WHAT HAPPENS IN THIS FAMILY STAYS IN THIS FAMILY.’
I won’t speak unless you make me and I won’t move unless you move me. Just use my past to make you come. Just define my worth systematic and corporeal.
Don’t reply unless you know how the warm breeze from the smile of an authority figure can be really really worth it.
Send a picture so I know you’re not my boss. 420 friendly.
By non-tacky I mean make it real. Like groom me. Like act like you love me. Get erections while helping me with my homework. Single me out. Act like you respect me around your friends and trap me in the bathroom later. Drop your voice every time. Make it a reverse safe word. Make me special. Say, ‘What do we need a safe word for?’. Let the safe word be Uncle. Better yet, let it be Mommy. Make it real. Make me your special girl. I don’t want to miss the heavily sexualized grade-schooler, I wanna be the heavily sexualized grade-schooler. Be a feminist. Be a social worker. Be a parent. Be my teenaged cousin. Be this girl Curlina’s dad and rub on my ass at the edge of the pool. Laugh it off. Be a paradox. Grab me whenever we’re alone in a car. First tell me I’m beautiful whenever, then only tell me I’m beautiful after I perform. Marry me. I want it behind closed doors. Say, ‘WHAT HAPPENS IN THIS FAMILY STAYS IN THIS FAMILY.’
I won’t speak unless you make me and I won’t move unless you move me. Just use my past to make you come. Just define my worth systematic and corporeal.
Don’t reply unless you know how the warm breeze from the smile of an authority figure can be really really worth it.
Send a picture so I know you’re not my boss. 420 friendly.
Romance during the 1990s - Alexander J. Allison
This is only a mess if we accept that it is,
so lay down and let me love you
amongst our complacency.
Instead of worrying, let’s put all our efforts
into going extinct in this spot:
amongst the hallmarks of our existence.
Let’s lay until we get too thirsty,
and smell from bad hygiene,
Let’s have bed-sores from snuggling.
If you stay with me, I will devote my novel
to your high-score on Tetris
and we can hum the tune for years.
so lay down and let me love you
amongst our complacency.
Instead of worrying, let’s put all our efforts
into going extinct in this spot:
amongst the hallmarks of our existence.
Let’s lay until we get too thirsty,
and smell from bad hygiene,
Let’s have bed-sores from snuggling.
If you stay with me, I will devote my novel
to your high-score on Tetris
and we can hum the tune for years.
the last 20 comments i posted on facebook walls (in chronological order), by Crispin Best
babe. my babe. my little babe. x
oh nice
vibing hard to michelangelo eats a bad pizza
seemed a nice response
ddddddddddong dadongdongdong
glad you found it funny, katie
sweet tweet babe
i have skype
let's play bingo, babie
did i missed the boat think i missed the boat mabye
fucken clear ass sky, y'all
hey paparazzi, gimme some space...
supermoon...
supermoon
hello alexis mate
heehee sweet
hi jj god superbless ur soul
god damn
my 3 mums
mum, mum and mum
oh nice
vibing hard to michelangelo eats a bad pizza
seemed a nice response
ddddddddddong dadongdongdong
glad you found it funny, katie
sweet tweet babe
i have skype
let's play bingo, babie
did i missed the boat think i missed the boat mabye
fucken clear ass sky, y'all
hey paparazzi, gimme some space...
supermoon...
supermoon
hello alexis mate
heehee sweet
hi jj god superbless ur soul
god damn
my 3 mums
mum, mum and mum
Pursuits of Industry and Improvement by Paul Cunningham
i am a scrap
of proper, of civilized
but just a scrap
a heart:
a hand pulls away
lonesome, like
the anxious centipede
a pocket to elate me, a place
to hear every faceless voice in a room
night's pillow:
a ghost's oily residue
no tears remain
our nightly dream
the American grave
of proper, of civilized
but just a scrap
a heart:
a hand pulls away
lonesome, like
the anxious centipede
a pocket to elate me, a place
to hear every faceless voice in a room
night's pillow:
a ghost's oily residue
no tears remain
our nightly dream
the American grave
G-Spot Stimulation by Ian Sanquist
He walked out of the refrigerator
with a cucumber in his hand.
His co-worker, passing in the other direction,
commented, my boyfriend’s cock is that big.
So you masturbate with cucumbers, then?
he asked, intrigued.
There was no response.
She had already gone through the backdoor
to deposit the day’s garbage in the dumpster.
He went to the sink, put on gloves,
and began to make wedges
from the mighty cucumber.
with a cucumber in his hand.
His co-worker, passing in the other direction,
commented, my boyfriend’s cock is that big.
So you masturbate with cucumbers, then?
he asked, intrigued.
There was no response.
She had already gone through the backdoor
to deposit the day’s garbage in the dumpster.
He went to the sink, put on gloves,
and began to make wedges
from the mighty cucumber.
Diplodocus by Stacey Teague
i am a diplodocus
i do things that dinosaurs do
i am a pretty chilled out bro
walk around
eat some foliage
it's all good
however
do not fuck with me
i will swoop you
with my tail
seriously though
the late jurassic period is tough for a sauropod,
existentially
i feel no meaning in life
we are the only dinosaurs
that are aware of our own existence
this is something that wikipedia does not tell you
this is something our fossils do not tell you
in our brains we know
that we are born to die
and we feel the heaviness
of being alive
we are vegetarians for moral reasons
we love one another
we feel things
when we die
our bodies will be devoured by a ceratosaurus
i do things that dinosaurs do
i am a pretty chilled out bro
walk around
eat some foliage
it's all good
however
do not fuck with me
i will swoop you
with my tail
seriously though
the late jurassic period is tough for a sauropod,
existentially
i feel no meaning in life
we are the only dinosaurs
that are aware of our own existence
this is something that wikipedia does not tell you
this is something our fossils do not tell you
in our brains we know
that we are born to die
and we feel the heaviness
of being alive
we are vegetarians for moral reasons
we love one another
we feel things
when we die
our bodies will be devoured by a ceratosaurus
March 19, 2011
Everything I Think About You (Chopped & Screwed) by James Payne
YYYYYYYYYYYYOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOUUUUUUUUUUUUUU
SSSSSSSSSSUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKK
DDDDDDUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
SSSSSSSSSSUUUUUUUUUSSSSSSSSSSSSUUUUUUUUUUCCCCCCCCCCKKKKK
DDDDDDUUUUUUUUUUUUUUDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDEEEEEEEEEEEEE.
Happy Anniversary (Patrick Stephens) by Frank Hinton
The meat is delicious and filling.
Shaken while raw.
I thought I saw cancer about the pink.
Wet of it. Bone pricks. Bone of it.
We’ve been together half of a year.
Your ecosystem
Is killing me.
You’re killing me Patrick.
Ghost Patrick. Smoke sucker.
Patrick Stephens has man-boobs.
There is no Patrick Stephens.
Brain’d a cheese whiz sandwich
Thumb Thumb Thumb.
A few people saw me do it, too.
I just watched American History X last week.
That’s why.
Not really.
I can’t think of a single person
I’ve ever told the truth to.
This to life and then to this.
And over.
Someone told me how to make beer
At a party. Last night.
Hops and barley and shit.
I forget everything the guy said.
And he was so compelling.
Like a craps table.
Me and men.
7 in and out.
Indeterminable duration of rounds.
Pure probability. Things in you
On you around you. Glitter debris.
Trash me.
Your cheeks are red.
Your dinner is cold.
I'm nagging again.
Shaken while raw.
I thought I saw cancer about the pink.
Wet of it. Bone pricks. Bone of it.
We’ve been together half of a year.
Your ecosystem
Is killing me.
You’re killing me Patrick.
Ghost Patrick. Smoke sucker.
Patrick Stephens has man-boobs.
There is no Patrick Stephens.
Brain’d a cheese whiz sandwich
Thumb Thumb Thumb.
A few people saw me do it, too.
I just watched American History X last week.
That’s why.
Not really.
I can’t think of a single person
I’ve ever told the truth to.
This to life and then to this.
And over.
Someone told me how to make beer
At a party. Last night.
Hops and barley and shit.
I forget everything the guy said.
And he was so compelling.
Like a craps table.
Me and men.
7 in and out.
Indeterminable duration of rounds.
Pure probability. Things in you
On you around you. Glitter debris.
Trash me.
Your cheeks are red.
Your dinner is cold.
I'm nagging again.
some ARCANE CARNAL KNOWLEDGE by Feng Sun Chen
more progress
in the middle of the vast labyrinth
of cyborg rose clusters
lies another contraceptive barrier
no more babies!
no more babies!
in clean parts of the world
anyone can be a man
and shoot out confetti wonders
just like this
*
mary mother
oh my god
your head
it rolls
my baby my curdle my soap
where do babies come from
they are like soft stones that cry
alien magic
and your little death nub
it is wrinkled and small like a slug
a slug on a pillow
cabbage of salty juice
i sense it inside you, the end of everything
the end of the world is soft
and deformed with love
*
tramp
i pledge allegiance to nothing
especially not the melodramatic flag
garbage floating in urban wind
ditches are filled
because of allegiance
*
fragment xi
are you bored yet?
with the blood warming everywhere?
from the ceiling to the floor
all over my clothes
let’s sell it
for big cash
oriental drenched in red
i will sell my pain
drink it
at the bottom
is your fortune
from my bloodpump
to yours
*
love fragment ii
i know a little preety thang
who has a little preety hart
i used to bang him
it reminded me of the time
i had the belly flu
i did not eat for weeks
i became an old lady
love is thinking about the future
it is like greasing the bull bones
you trick yourself gleefully
nothing is like the glee of love
it brings the bacon home
the strips of firework fat
splattering over your face
smells like death in heaven
in the middle of the vast labyrinth
of cyborg rose clusters
lies another contraceptive barrier
no more babies!
no more babies!
in clean parts of the world
anyone can be a man
and shoot out confetti wonders
just like this
*
mary mother
oh my god
your head
it rolls
my baby my curdle my soap
where do babies come from
they are like soft stones that cry
alien magic
and your little death nub
it is wrinkled and small like a slug
a slug on a pillow
cabbage of salty juice
i sense it inside you, the end of everything
the end of the world is soft
and deformed with love
*
tramp
i pledge allegiance to nothing
especially not the melodramatic flag
garbage floating in urban wind
ditches are filled
because of allegiance
*
fragment xi
are you bored yet?
with the blood warming everywhere?
from the ceiling to the floor
all over my clothes
let’s sell it
for big cash
oriental drenched in red
i will sell my pain
drink it
at the bottom
is your fortune
from my bloodpump
to yours
*
love fragment ii
i know a little preety thang
who has a little preety hart
i used to bang him
it reminded me of the time
i had the belly flu
i did not eat for weeks
i became an old lady
love is thinking about the future
it is like greasing the bull bones
you trick yourself gleefully
nothing is like the glee of love
it brings the bacon home
the strips of firework fat
splattering over your face
smells like death in heaven
poem i wrote when i was 17 by m kitchell
Map of a Story I Have Yet to Write:
i. boy finds out his real parents are dead
|
ii. boy decides to do research to figure out why his parents are dead
|
iii. boy finds out his parents aren't dead, they're just criminals
|
iv. boy cries
i. boy finds out his real parents are dead
|
ii. boy decides to do research to figure out why his parents are dead
|
iii. boy finds out his parents aren't dead, they're just criminals
|
iv. boy cries
Writing poetry I am picturing in my head a television commercial on pain relief by Guillaume Morissette
womanless on women’s day.
kissing my friends
for anguish shame delight,
their faces a hidden compartment
to stash tapes of home-recorded flute songs
whose lyrics articulate
disjointed, taboo life outlooks.
my ass is expanding to devour me,
will grow to the size of a mediocre sunset
whose picture will be used as someone’s wallpaper.
the warm, subtle light rays of my ass
obscured by a forest of desktop icons,
shortcut links to secret folders,
a place to hide
amongst unset emails
and reflect on why things do not matter,
only their contribution to survival matters.
praying by a small statue of myself
for my friends to write not poems
but essays on self-annihilation
which is the same thing just more frantic,
and then the unprovoked epiphany
that my facebook account is a third-person write-up of myself.
my ass is an irresistible force.
the faces of friends are irresistible forces also.
friends don’t kiss, continually resist kissing
by having study dates across large tables
to write papers
on the relation between self-awareness and social value
while knowing
the size of the table prevents kissing.
my job as a poet
is to bore myself
though no one ever helps the writer
which is okay
since the writer’s primary motivation
is to have better conversations with himself.
fascination with themes and characters
and never the abstract as attractive,
the effect of googling obscure poets on the mind
and bundle their work together
to discover the lone unexpressed sentence in poetry
which reads,
‘I can never write a poem in french.’
kissing my friends
for anguish shame delight,
their faces a hidden compartment
to stash tapes of home-recorded flute songs
whose lyrics articulate
disjointed, taboo life outlooks.
my ass is expanding to devour me,
will grow to the size of a mediocre sunset
whose picture will be used as someone’s wallpaper.
the warm, subtle light rays of my ass
obscured by a forest of desktop icons,
shortcut links to secret folders,
a place to hide
amongst unset emails
and reflect on why things do not matter,
only their contribution to survival matters.
praying by a small statue of myself
for my friends to write not poems
but essays on self-annihilation
which is the same thing just more frantic,
and then the unprovoked epiphany
that my facebook account is a third-person write-up of myself.
my ass is an irresistible force.
the faces of friends are irresistible forces also.
friends don’t kiss, continually resist kissing
by having study dates across large tables
to write papers
on the relation between self-awareness and social value
while knowing
the size of the table prevents kissing.
my job as a poet
is to bore myself
though no one ever helps the writer
which is okay
since the writer’s primary motivation
is to have better conversations with himself.
fascination with themes and characters
and never the abstract as attractive,
the effect of googling obscure poets on the mind
and bundle their work together
to discover the lone unexpressed sentence in poetry
which reads,
‘I can never write a poem in french.’
DJ I'm Gonna by DJ Berndt
DJ, I'm gonna ghostwrite this poem for you.
DJ, I'm gonna get in your brain and run around and knock stuff over and steal shit.
DJ, I'm gonna wear all your clothes.
DJ, I'm gonna kiss your girlfriend all over and make you watch.
DJ, I'm gonna make you eat all this food even though you're not hungry.
DJ, I'm gonna think about a lot of things tonight when I lay me down to sleep.
DJ, I'm gonna be one contemplative motherfucker.
DJ, I'm gonna make you make it.
DJ, I'm gonna make a name for yourself.
DJ, I'm gonna shoot out your name in bright lights because you don't deserve to have light spell you.
DJ, I'm gonna make you ride a dark horse through the woods at night until you find the Wizard of the Grove, who will give you the Thorned Amulet, which allows safe passage through the Thatched Rampart into Fantasy Version of Mount Everest where the Nak'thul reside, so you can totally slay them and look badass doing it.
DJ, I'm gonna make you sweat.
DJ, I'm gonna not get you published.
DJ, I'm gonna get in your brain and run around and knock stuff over and steal shit.
DJ, I'm gonna wear all your clothes.
DJ, I'm gonna kiss your girlfriend all over and make you watch.
DJ, I'm gonna make you eat all this food even though you're not hungry.
DJ, I'm gonna think about a lot of things tonight when I lay me down to sleep.
DJ, I'm gonna be one contemplative motherfucker.
DJ, I'm gonna make you make it.
DJ, I'm gonna make a name for yourself.
DJ, I'm gonna shoot out your name in bright lights because you don't deserve to have light spell you.
DJ, I'm gonna make you ride a dark horse through the woods at night until you find the Wizard of the Grove, who will give you the Thorned Amulet, which allows safe passage through the Thatched Rampart into Fantasy Version of Mount Everest where the Nak'thul reside, so you can totally slay them and look badass doing it.
DJ, I'm gonna make you sweat.
DJ, I'm gonna not get you published.
Shooting Gallery by Alexander J. Allison
A composite of emotions;
with steady hand and criminal conviction,
feel lawlessness run deep through you,
liberating all those repressed tendencies
and sublime capacity for patience.
Let the outwardly presented self
be just thrown to the floor
as you lay off one round,
two,
three…
with steady hand and criminal conviction,
feel lawlessness run deep through you,
liberating all those repressed tendencies
and sublime capacity for patience.
Let the outwardly presented self
be just thrown to the floor
as you lay off one round,
two,
three…
Canticle of Mystery by Shaun Gannon
I pulled a nose hair out of my mouth
I knew it was a nose hair because I know my body
and I could sense it to be as such
I do not pick my nose and eat my findings
so I didn't understand how it got there
and this was very upsetting
I thought maybe it was a prank
and asked my roommates if they did this
but they all said the same thing
How would we get one of your nose hairs
without you knowing
And I didn't have an answer for that
Maybe it is a sign from god
Maybe god put a nose hair in my mouth
as an oblique response to my prayers
or even just to say
guess what faggot I can put the noise
into any vessel that I choose
but that doesn't stop it from being gross
You're gross, god
Also, don't say faggot
I knew it was a nose hair because I know my body
and I could sense it to be as such
I do not pick my nose and eat my findings
so I didn't understand how it got there
and this was very upsetting
I thought maybe it was a prank
and asked my roommates if they did this
but they all said the same thing
How would we get one of your nose hairs
without you knowing
And I didn't have an answer for that
Maybe it is a sign from god
Maybe god put a nose hair in my mouth
as an oblique response to my prayers
or even just to say
guess what faggot I can put the noise
into any vessel that I choose
but that doesn't stop it from being gross
You're gross, god
Also, don't say faggot
I know nothing about the band Suede by xTx
I am going to shit the longest shit
the longest shit
will be hooked to my brains
at the end
and i will mourn them
before i flush
my brains
bye brains
i know nothing about downloading ringtones
I am going to crash a bridal shower today
i will be 'a friend from work named Dierdra'
my nametag will read, Fruhkeesha the Freeksta
i will spike the punchbowl
i will bring flowers
i will eat their food
the hottest grandma will do drugs with me
on the kitchen floor
i know nothing about being one of the 'cool kids'
I downloaded Morrissey songs
until my tits engorged and exploded
my stupid laptop got
soaked
and died
now I hate Morrissey songs
stupid Morrissey and
horrific empty titbags
flat against my belly busted
water balloons
a bird flew up into the rafters and i can't see it anymore
the longest shit
will be hooked to my brains
at the end
and i will mourn them
before i flush
my brains
bye brains
i know nothing about downloading ringtones
I am going to crash a bridal shower today
i will be 'a friend from work named Dierdra'
my nametag will read, Fruhkeesha the Freeksta
i will spike the punchbowl
i will bring flowers
i will eat their food
the hottest grandma will do drugs with me
on the kitchen floor
i know nothing about being one of the 'cool kids'
I downloaded Morrissey songs
until my tits engorged and exploded
my stupid laptop got
soaked
and died
now I hate Morrissey songs
stupid Morrissey and
horrific empty titbags
flat against my belly busted
water balloons
a bird flew up into the rafters and i can't see it anymore
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