o.k., o.k., how about this...
if anyone posts me a comment, i'll send them a free book or zine!!PP
(if you want material mailed to you, please include shipping info.)
thanks,
--john
o.k., o.k., how about this...
if anyone posts me a comment, i'll send them a free book or zine!!PP
(if you want material mailed to you, please include shipping info.)
thanks,
--john
the pages loomed heavily over the strained senses of a sick system. telling is never the same
as showing. tepid trundles perch precocious, lofty, loads. overflow is an inevitability in the course
of any cycle. bare-bones and metallic mobiles; exercise awkward grace. so we carry on.
they had survived more than they knew. there were stethoscopes and gas stoves in places no one would guess. but, with what did that leave them? --total nonsense and a crowd-pleasing smile. even if you can do two things really well... it doesn't matter when huffing something is one of them. yet, knowing nothing is more essential than one might imagine. anamalgimous entity unborn rebolsters...
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applecore reflexes and a paper-back heart; she was right up his alley. though, he didn't know it yet. there was a lot he didn't know yet. so, he still found her pesky and obtuse, more because it sounded like it fit than anything else. if it hadn't been for the fact that he wanted one more blow-job from Cathy, he wouldn't have even met her....
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oh yeah.
you know.
home is where
the generic, instant, buttered, mashed, potatoes are.
and i can, at least, pretend i don't care
that other people keep getting in my head.
just think about potatoes.
umm. . . i'm pretty sure; yum.
then it's settled. let the oceans bleed.
and let the skies close. tomorrow,
i'm going bowling to avoid that pesky plague.
besides, i...
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i don't know any more if it has been months... or years
that i've been sporting the social equivalent of a 'kick me' sign.
and i can't even remember if it was my idea or yours. however,
it is only slightly more difficult to convince myself that drugs are just
as satisfying as people now. of course, the self loathing helps to some
degree. i'd...
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that i've been sporting the social equivalent of a 'kick me' sign.
and i can't even remember if it was my idea or yours. however,
it is only slightly more difficult to convince myself that drugs are just
as satisfying as people now. of course, the self loathing helps to some
degree. i'd...
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VIEW 3 of 3 COMMENTS
thinkofsomething:
wow. . . that's an amazing quote, thank you. and, wow again.
wow. . . that's an amazing quote, thank you. and, wow again.
annisa:
I agree..there are more of my back in my next set...
she needs to repeatedly
present, every inch of her
neglectfuly coddled corpse
for strict scrutiny, and pains-
taking deconstruction, to help
her quell the prideshame she's
been instilled with, since birth.
and they all, predictably, love
hate her for it. they amiably
lap up all she has to give.
pray to the scarred idol.
present, every inch of her
neglectfuly coddled corpse
for strict scrutiny, and pains-
taking deconstruction, to help
her quell the prideshame she's
been instilled with, since birth.
and they all, predictably, love
hate her for it. they amiably
lap up all she has to give.
pray to the scarred idol.
Caricature of cannibals, and capitalized
nomenclature for paralyzing pathogens of the psyche
punctuate a day's closed-book dictation. Broken xylophone folk
and collapsed lungs conclude another orchestration of confused indifference.
People fly. Weeds grow. Animals hunt. Then billions of people start wars contesting
which of these happen when, and for whom. One more cantankerous fuck exorcizes his fetish
for 'c'-words on a polluted web community he...
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--all i can think of anymore when i come to this site,
is that scene in "Airplane", when they know the plane is going to crash
and everyone gets in line for the school-girl,
who does her, "we might die -and i've never 'been' with a man before" -routine
for every last one of them.
and their tears caramelize
as they plummet into the churning
mechanisms of lavish ochlocratic torrents.
they free themselves to the flow
of the waves and dissipate
in cryptic beauty
to the back-drop of militant
kinesthetic abandon. they bleed on
my favorit poem by Ted Hughes
Fragment Of An Ancient Tablet
Above - the well-known lips, delicately downed.
Below - beard between thighs.
Above - her brow, the notable casket of gems.
Below - the belly with its blood knot.
Above - many a painful frown.
Below - the ticking bomb of the future.
Above - her perfect teeth, with the hint of a fang at the corner.
Below - the millstones of two worlds.
Above - a word and a sigh.
Below - gouts of blood and babies.
Above - the face, shaped like a perfect heart
Below - the heart's torn face.
---------------------
John Cromie
157 Lancaster Street
Albany, NY 12210