The Presidential Address Tonight! Sold Out! classic

Now that the days are long// what is the best way to destroy the world
Now that the shades are drawn everyone must start playing god//who deserves to know why
action in regulation industry oversight
shower gifts safety inspections
salazar corruption deep
slaughter the patrons
new people top shelf
watch dog not his partner
the better regulations consume less
drilling miles and smiles land and shallow water
urgency requires lobby
candid reserve consequences job
up our well, oh well, lets gulf or golf i mean
painful embrace, energy generation
unleash control//destiny transition
jump start clean speak old wind
smaller efficient family soul
entirement industreaps
only rally one
principal independence comprehensive refinement
cost some//afford right now
addiction approaches either
standards sure power
fractions research boosting
inaction
idea
challenge
difficult
planes and tanks
harness sci tech
refuse wisdom
definition of destiny determination we want our world children
neighbors fate
beginning tradition long ago
bless safety sea success
in good bad weeks seasons
spill pray former promise lost
with thy
last crisis, hard times before

mindless infinities

neglect what you want, give what you will
granted and enchanted isn't happening still
old telephone answer hung up
guilt and a quill tip now i shut up
oh me, I can not see
that mindless infinity beyond me

you would like it better in a song I suppose.  A movement a rhyme, with lovely little harpsicordian sounds that drift bye bye happiness

you're california and I am northern maine, and still
water bends, around, around through the frame, I'm solid but feather down is much warmer than my heart
oh god let me down

the shadows are all conspirators
gangsters with bullets of lead
I've lost all leftover self conscious and I just can't stay aware
fool, you , oh you fool
enough picking battles -you're my frankenstein
enough galloping hills climbing from shelf to shelf, on me
I cannot breathe
my whole life span
depends on theeeee
shallow graves, which cast about,
you lost another, now time runs out
god damned alone, bewildered
shot through the soul=
and all the waking blood inside you dies,
a satisfaction smile grows
tears to stay alive
one nice shot in. to. infinity.

got base on the main defense
as so many wander and lie
sell the ticket after the ride
gone goes done say goodbye
I'm not asking for a
way to strange it, self defiance staking claim at
ooo wee oooo wee
ooooh wii ooooh weee
almost one two three satisfy  curiosity
dishonesty wrongin' me too mad to get by
inspect the check made to magnify
bass boom beat tap tap the rolling flow
the match effect forcing me to let go and get on with the show
satisfy me, as well as I could be don't let me down
I'm too proud to tap out, slip sliding up the downspout

we are transient,
how can we own the earth
commonly mistaken
commonly forgotten
ignored truth of reality

step one: keep the public useless
ascertain needs and issues
gain control of authoritative figures
split fingers make useless splinters in the face of a dying race
sun spots sun burns toil toil toil away we say
old chants singing feeling right
not knowing initiation fucking fight or flight
godspeed you fucking soldier
spent ammo mud hut concrete bunker
steel plate extra wait while we hum
ooooo my cold dead soul
my gunshot wound
my final payment coming true
oooweee oooweee
the shrinking brain fell on me
the holy ghost incredibly
I heard sunshine
and soul was lifted
hollow bones been re gifted

step 2: procreate
My you are lovely.  Lets perform the mating ritual, although we do not want children.  Sounds fun.
First we must let things ferment. First we must ferment.  First amendment.  first amen.  Firmament. Firmant.  man(squared).

step III:
self destruct
I've got a ticket to ride, and I don't care.  Life as temporary, life as temperamental, life as an intermediary between butt and hair.  Supposing eye, su-su-supposin' I would do what I most like.  Do what wraps up with black bow and ashes and dust.  Supposin' I follow the sun til it sits on my weary shores, invigorating this lonesome soul, as you, I am, as we, I are gold light far from sight far from any little broken sacred place where we hide, and discover, shiny ugly minds.  Like mines.  Like mine.  I me.  Emitting frequency, through silly slathered speech and under some, some distant feeling knowing growing building up, into nothing, into wilting little roses in an abandoned overcrowded cemetery, this plot of land, in which I'd been thrown, this plot of dirt, these buried stones.  All I have to do is think a little thing of you and time goes dry, and I close my eyes, because this is forever.  Yeah this is forever.

we are all monsters

nipping at the breath expelled as if life were real for a moment, but by the time I notice our moment is passed. 

The only stranger I know is myself.

old worn - wind down

tick-by-weary-tick

we-us-are impatient, impotent straggle through live loops

long-time hustle

struggle to shoot in the morning hours, while grabbing paper, coffee, smoke

engulfed in enough 

and inside the head

what happened to the man's man the gentleman and what happened to the rotten stink of within

what happened to the animals, light beam, tree sap thought shadows slipped bark fell green wood

what happened to the life stem steel grate fence in 

the pave way progress sensation

what happened to day dream not shaking

not control unfinished simmer of the forgotten mourning soul

                               drool

from the lip

from the food service fool

from the shoe vendor and the summer stool

from cramp limb don't want to wake up morning blues

from cascade black 

from effortless endeavors burning proof

drip from the eye

here little twins looking so satisfied

here is to heroicism

      it may                             

be our only 

answer

Here is to persistence,                 which no one understands

         oh my goodness sweaty distance

here is to

our enemies saving graces

phrase that another way

Motion Sensitive part 1

The refrigerator's out.  It's not running.  So any wise-ass who want's to call me should just do it now.   The mist rising from the rotten fruit is driving me crazy, but I can't touch it.  It's black and hangs in the air.  I can feel it inside my lungs, eating me like it ate the fruit.  I can't move, I can't even close my eyes, and they are starting to come around my face.  I can feel the few loner particles, the beasts, on the soft curve of my eye.  The jump in and out of my vision.  They are biting at my fingernails, in the cracks.  They look for any open pore with which they could benefit from my inability to react.  They are digging cleaning and chewing on my scalp, and I can still smell the rot of the meat on them, as they bounce around overfeeding themselves, gulping down my sweat and slobber  
My brother Tom is lying on the floor, and I've never seen him so still.  I think he had a heart attack.  The black specks are peppering the foam circle around his mouth.  His body has grown a pale blue, the black pollution makes it seem gray in the mid-day haze.  I haven't eaten, I don't want to.  They might get totally inside.   I think they want to my brain.  I think something in them knows that that is all I have.  That's all I ever had. 
I could feel the flowing caress of the carrion, the stench stewed with mold spore and disease.  Tom shouldn't have done what he did. He shouldn't have had that man come.  Just 'cause I can talk through a box.  Tom only took me for the caregiver money.  I didn't mind, it's better to be with him than in the home.  We were drinking and tired when I started rambling on about holistic medicine.  Somehow in the night Tom got the idea to go find some kind of spiritual healer. 
Tom grew tired and irritated when dealing with my daily needs.  I don't know where he met the man in the gray suit.  He came in drunk, had said he found a shaman.  I looked at the man, he looked at me with a rich fake smile.  I thought it may have just been a pleasantry to mask his initial pity for me and my disability.  The carcass and the talking box, like a magic show, and the lead role is given to this graying slick dude who knows a bit about voodoo.  Or some dark art, pulled out rustled rusted sheets of paper.  Incantations and sacred elements.  Strong magnets and transistors in a case he carried by his side.  The case was deep, dark, red and black leather with gold straps. 
He talked to me carefully and slowly, "Hello David, I'm Dr. Solomon and I'm going to try to help you today, your brother told me that you would like to walk again, is it ok with you if I go ahead and try to repair your still body?".  He was sweaty and 
"Yes, but how does it work?" My carefully preened digital voice echoed out through computer speakers.
"Well David it's complicated and the best way for me to do it is just to show you."
He said this while dropping his case and opening it in the middle of the floor.  There were electronics exposed and smooth steel parts that pointed to the center like cranes drinking from a pool.  Red and black stitching were exposed, creating a border of twisted red and black ivy for the papers which he placed over smooth foreign symbols resembling the alphabet. 
"Tom, please close the windows and unplug any televisions or radios you have in the home."  Thomas was pale and drunk, he unplugged the nearest television and walked out of the room.
"David, this is going to work.  You can trust me and relax, you may feel some discomfort, but it's going to be worth it."
"Hope is loss Dr."
"Bah, your attitude shall soon change my friend."  He looked at me and at the cable as he plugged the machine into the wall.
   The machine started humming at a low speed, the crane heads spinning smoothly in the center.  Tiny tubes slid a light green liquid between gears and into quiet machined metal.  Circuit boards were twisted and melded with wires, going to a tiny display screen the man quickly began to inspect.  Thomas came in with a sandwich and a glass of milk, he sat on the couch staring at the machine, and sitting down his milk. 
I felt strange, and had nothing to say.  I sat, eyes blinking on regular timing, wondering more than wishing.  The man looked at me as if to ask if I were ready.  I said nothing.
He pulled a thin black microphone up from the base of the case and adjusted it in front of his mouth.  Looked to my brother and me, then down to the paper with a sharp grin.
" Kgheim slas jeseuan.."
The machine whirred faster and light started coming out of the smooth reflective base. 
"aa arudisav a iiii-ooo satasmana oh ao..."
Another reflective disk grew out of the air above the blurred crane heads, and a spark threw out from the circuit board. 
I felt the air grow thick, like I was choking on pasty gas.  Time slowed down and I only saw flashes.  I couldn't hear anything besides the whirring and crackling of the machine. I saw Thomas slipping forward on the couch, spilling his milk slowly, between fan blades of time.  It was like looking through slivered glass, but everything inside was fighting with the solidity of being.  It closed us all in, encapsulated us in hardening matter, the machine still worked.  A light hit and my mind went blank.  I was in the middle of a twisted dream, but I only held on to a few strings of story before I woke up.
The food was already stinking, not as bad as now.  Tom's not saying a word, no matter how much I calmly state that we need help, because I CAN"T FUCKING YELL IT through god damned Micro Sam's speech fucking generator.
I hope the gnats choke on my flesh.  I can feel them burrowing, burrying eggs inside of my skull. In my ears tickling, and digging into my clothes.  Black covers my eyes and only flicks of distant light appear in my vision.  I let go of the tension.  I bury myself in the darkness, i detach myself from all the exterior feelings.  The insects writhe throughout my being, I hear their buzzing and slurping, I imagine their little mouths and shiny eyes, cleaning their wings and faces after gorging on a gooey chunk of eye tissue. 
Oh, the dream. 

Infinitely Guilty In The Eyes Of The Universe

weakened senses of the shadow masses
time slowing down in time to watch
all scared moments like rocks and hearts
like splash sticky red stuff
<= puff smoke whistle blow%%%
ants march...
tomorrow starts with secret dust
cloud scream light show
shading lines through blind window
rising slightly to find comfort
lose evil
sweat stained and sunburnt
sun washed fade way
kind regardless
regarded in someway
the puppet people pull
past you in little turns
wrists like bamboo and crooked spine
fake to the world

vision of the masses

I see our world and the people of our country strung out on the drug of commerce, commute, control, and fame, worse than cocaine, just as destructive on our brains.  I see scattered masses, ignorance in classes, but who is to blame, the sheep or the shepherds, businesses or buyers.  Fill the graves and tombs of tomorrow, beg steal and borrow your way to the top to a place where you can cast all your trace under a rug.  I see the army of truth, the fighters of free, the dogs of war done wrong, done up, fighting with sickness shell shock fears of the dark, they rise, and they fall, angry tides like packs of wolves burning in the dawn.  The rest of us stink and squalor in our funerary dreams, because before they come you are dead, but the people who were born into anything would like you to believe they are tangible things.  They've commandeered our resources, hijacked our gov't and are growing bored as they charge force into foreign land.  The poor stand like puppets, shot at inaccurately by other poor and weak. I'm sick as fuck and it's so hard to speak, it's so hard to reach, so hard not to let my soul rot another day in the businessman's paradise, corporate diatribe, fabulous and famous carnival ride, where we all drink and get high on life cuz it works out even though it's not always nice, mostly not nice, hardly ever nice.......... you are too fucking strong to cry, too attached to inks and dyes, to wounded souls that hide behind melodramatic eyes, strong runners thighs, but it's a fucking meat shop of lies, we are the lord of the fucking flies, one where the weak all die, piggy survives, markets his eyes, and buys everyone's home and calls it his own........fuck

displeasure

command line prompt
command line pro
command line
command  in
command
comm
co
cool like fall and spring hanging out brown grass dream
cooperative junction into absence and history hindering belief
constant reminders of every little thing
coordination while flushing
commenting on disbelief
complicating grief
communion
union
un
ion
i
on
no place for old men, young men
navigating through shadows
negating ferocity with battles
nightly standing watch when you can not see
no one knows but those stained by living belief
numbers, tags, calculating
nymphs ride in broken minds meflaquin edging suicide