Waiting in traffic just to be with you, I’ve missed you so, I don’t know why. Or it could be I’m just having fun with you? After all, ‘any major dude with half a heart surely will tell you my friend, any minor world that breaks apart falls together again, when the demon is at your door, in the morning it won’t be there no more. Any major dude will tell you’ —
No More Nonsense
No more nonsense,
Did you pay your rents?
Keep our meeting short in fashion
Fine tuned to your entomological challenge
Microscopic attention span caked and popped probiscus puss
Impaled on lips inflamed, just infected love don’t make a fuss.
No more nonsense,
Opinions emanate penumbra like diseased goo
Trailing the ex outside her chambermaid, calls it poo
Enfeebled in a cinched up strip mall’s cost free nonsense
See her cherubim drunk on grog, sleep it off in tents.
No more nonsense,
Easy worth two pence.
Leans her cleavage in, sentence of death
Smothering thoughts before first breath
Hers is not so sweet, cuts like a poisoned torch
Pretending to be boss reveals her bones a scourge.
No more nonsense,
Wandering in the darkest silence
Father tried magic doctors even common sense
Laid down to comprehend her preternaturalness
Sacrificed himself instead of live with her repulse.
No more nonsense,
Burn the incense.
Now her past is his ten feet deep
A shoe size familiar with her reek
There was comfort she kept hidden down her throat
When god decided we would suffer she did gloat.
No more nonsense,
Makes no sense.
Sabotage the life of nature’s pluck
Where did you live before your lost gave up?
Came out to play, your inner demons gave you suck
Feelings long suppressed til now, like piss in a communion cup.
No more nonsense,
Makes you tense.
Cannot be helped compulsions of the skull
Painted face and lifted cuts
Bribe the mirror to lie and carve that ass a ball
The vise turns screaming crack deez nuts.
No more nonsense,
A modest defense.
Her nostrils flared, her lips dripped blood
Laughing she destroyed the shrine to our redbud
Stealing silence deadly winds her belches hint dissent
This Aphrodite of the darkness unbidden cannot pay her rent.
No more nonsense,
Send for common sense.
We learn to cower as she begs egypt for a date
Loneliness strangled her doubting frozen pearl could not sate
Refusing to come a wrestler calls her out
The crowd cracks salty snickers, cheering up her spite.
No more nonsense
Pray, vas deferens.
That’s the way, conclusion cold as witches’ tits?
Robbing identities, strangling servants, matching half wits
Executed by committee in deceit? Fakery designed by a glove
Carved a legacy, her trophy made of waste and gotten rid of.
No more nonsense,
Makes no difference.
Flunked out of chemistry, it was August just like this and so hot, I went to the river instead. Too bad, because I never learned the formula to immunize myself against the madness at the top with its self-annointed experts. Still laughing through the tears.
no sense to be made of this paragraph, it’s on the non-agenda, did you not receive it? sorry to be late again, déjà vu meets Ground Hog Day, deva doubles down network’s blown resend the meeting notice, remind me why we’re here again? stations of adoration beneath hallowed ego’s alter, stirring sisters three, burning incense in ritual, mad the cauldron boils no more, gas cutoff to the corner office, may the holy ghost be with you, and with you, trolling vacant smiles conning vanity, mentored scriveners dithering blather on of landscapes altered dreams of pines exploding life, dripping drama of design sweet gossip’s sticky resin fuels juries judging absent others, swooning over shiny objects, misconceiving questions blinded by reflection, another meeting falters since bullet points have been denounced, and foolish puffins dazed flailing at the air,
Peroxide, does anybody wonder what it really is and if the damage can be undone?
bleaching, oxidizing, unstable, hazardous, harsh chemistry in any exhibit hall, oxygen atoms set up a booth with circles, ribbons, cheap champagne at the door, locked in darkness else their effect is nil, reactive and organic chemicals corrosive thankfully short lived their nastiness is toxic, friendless to all human issue, sterilized and replaced with no discrimination whatsoever, repeats whatever all day long grazing in bovinity, big eyes dumb, lashing all the while they tease the lies,
is it true or blonde it surely isn’t pure so old, glowing like Jameson neat, frightened even Rocco’s standing down, remembers being robbed, held up blank by eyes lined false, eyelashes a scaffold for an empty mind, an open pit, in case of an implosion its gaping maw may Mt. St. Helens, have faith a new day breaks, beware the soot take care the fragile flame, never lit in a generation but with a spark, a fresh start might reclaim the name behind the false facade, could it be time this jig is up? we’ll need more incense please,
now a swamp of wasted idled minds, unsavory evidence of life past, fumes neglected to their own devices disappear in air once pristine and pure, now posted Danger! bring a breathing apparatus, no one can see through mists and molds creeping in secret C inflagrante with peroxide do the dirty see the lattice? shoulders bared and rusted greenish copper tarnished stained reaction, oxidants are chemicals of darkness, leeches, parasites their tools,
bleeding life banal with sharp remarks the sphincters all salute discharging their harpoons, someone call the EPA, already time is short this meeting stole another hour disheveling disrespected schedules, hardly matters considering cleavage like a chasm twixt the gas and epitaph devoid of color’s originality, just peroxide towel dried addicted to empty striver prater, subordinated witless plodders obliging always chattering through their chapeaux,
now the lines are forming again resuming in arrears, stealing from grifters’ samples opinions now in vogue to render as their own, with neon satisfaction safe in the vacancy of thought, some call it marketing, it’s true they really do, confined to prison in a petri dish, a culture of disease enthralled to crawl around el jefa’s throne rewarded with treats of fruits and ripe bananas very ripe and brownish, like super bugs in training from the boss, until some escaped ran wild across the Mister’s bum, which must have been weird even for a bacterium,
just the facts, the way this warning blared, should have been an emergency broadcast, when the painted lady cackled through a forked beak and shrieking smile so hideous the lizard brains went lit, only later waking to the too late premonition at this assault on life itself, the virgin sacrifices continue to this very day corroding in a salted cavity of worship without question, neither probes nor audits have any standing, as innocents bow down affiliating, filling books with knowledge, ink and bytes of fact before there were alternatives, coerced substitutions these medieval incantations of diluted dreams of work life drawn and quartered in the corner office darkened, recall the bible disappeared, an humiliating disappointment worse than fraud, unconscious it’s incompetent,
staffed with Rasputins, and a Merlin with a mystery language, and Marlena too who lay with our Czarina, her coterie played coy for all to see performing presentations, behind the boards it was a private matter seeding clouds with drivel of delusion, drama and dysfunction souped up on hyperdrive the future surely prayed, for it needed a more than perfect inflection, wishing on a star before its fall, and when it fell wishes were heard mumbled, for what no one really knows,
somehow this chemical, this solvent like a bleach to choke all souls, this disinfectant did infect with ignorance a consummation of the vapid and the ignorant disgorging plastic tchotchke flotsam, whales cry tears of joy when justice finally comes displaced by generations with a sentence so divine, a lifetime subjugated to Island in the Sun,
bronzed and blonde, a statue to a blank blank mind’s deserved dereliction, two atoms enthralled to a chief, one O plus another, imagine a title with two O’s and three in charge, a Chief, an Officer and her Pwned counsel out to sea adrift in a doldrum of chaos, at home in a miasma of ineptitude in a cloud of nothing knowing even less, just acid’s expertise at destruction and decay disappearing assets into nothing,
just so peroxide, there is no need to wonder, of course it can do harm and the damage leaves a scar never to be forgot, it is an answer and a riddle both, revealing atomic structures and a framework of life exquisite, an ultimate choice so finite, all would do well to take the time, consider carefully the two from which you choose, the apothecary where chemists value and are valued for expertise? or the meat market where butchery is practiced with knives out everyday?
what’s the over/under on the tenure of peroxide? check the periodic table, maybe cut your losses? and study chemistry, where expertise is free and clear and honest too, whereas peroxide accelerates depreciation with all its extra costs like a recurring stomach virus or chronic wasting disease and so corrosive, requires hazmat for recycling and disposal, no doubt other hazards too, don’t pour it down our sink, think of quarantine, safety first, check the MSDS.
After spitting it out and rinsing copiously, I fled. Eventually they caught up with me hiding out in an alley, pretending all was right and in a way it was. You see, I was cut for something else. So I asked her monk for
A Sharp Appraisal
Yawning blanks her line of sight
Warps her thoughts before they’re thunk
She half-hearted, tries to force a truth from light
Parts the robes of her good monk.
Collects her thoughts, these curious stone
Illuminated special by a cosmic being
When she landed, gathered her feet in a brand new zone
Blinked and rubbed her eyes of what they were seeing.
Pondered why good fortune scarred her sky
As if to frame her unusual masterpiece
Without which reason should not waste a try
Divining judgement or logic in life’s disease?
Life of deception, accounts she could not settle
Confusion’s taint in each and every breath
Marching, hiding from a conscience she would trammel
Resenting those that did bequeath.
Their parachute twirling gracefully
From a story far above
Now ending rather fitfully
It’s over! Finally gotten rid of!
Turn a page? There are no more.
You know her ways, no gratitude
Ripped clean out, her spoils of war
Take it till it’s gone. The blade, her attitude.
Confession has a way of confronting the interior life with reality, which is to say a distant droning sound hypnotizes and re-settles dreams into a dreary monotony of the lost where colors must be re-imagined constantly, lest they disappear forever. Of course, that certain grating sound of a voice with uncertain provenance and the fuzzy fumes of a netherworld is sure to not be forgot.
The Red Queen
going into a relationship in anticipation of everything, leads to an excitement and adrenaline charge that opens you to all that is possible. after all this is the reason for your hire, the possibilities you represent for the organization if they can obtain your services, their investment in you.
and so it goes, you are oriented, invigorated, they’re just doing their job, by the endless accomplishment and history the organization has negotiated in its existence, and now you are a part of it. who can say it does not heighten the senses to be a part of something new, at least something that seems new, to you?
days turn to weeks and weeks turn into more of the same, an agenda of compliant monotony and a set of norms that seemingly creeped out of the ooze from the open drain in the cafeteria. how is it that an organization’s banality is so easily missed amidst the smiling vacuousness of the introductions? europeans are trained to spot these things. we americans are prone to the promises of presidents.
soon you discover welcome does not signal an invitation to participate. informed that if your opinion is desired, you will be informed, with feigned delicacy effected with such exceedingly polite and ingenious dark arts of deception even the board carries no sway with this queen? are there really two boards? one to keep her entertained, another one pretending, for society’s sake of course? so clever.
meanwhile, real experience is actually not all that exciting it seems. after all, anyone can learn a new language, just try talking a little louder? and of course, we are all experts, surely you will agree? I mean how hard can it be? just circle some wagons, bring snacks? quarterly, we do need the cash?
transition comes with question marks lined with hyphens and back slashes, and naturally, periods. its call is of the Serengeti less the natural beauty. still the painted faces, the massive haunches of the sedentary, the red-maned, bloody fangs and snaggled teeth of beasts once wild, the wonder of evolution. how will it pay?
she has no interest in discovery and anyone can tell you they don’t come cheap, so when the world turns upside down, it’s not a shock she blushes white and empties all our pockets, dumping assets like the world has changed for good? how could she know? her creation has neither sense nor compass, nor does she care, this is just a game and so we lose ourselves. we lose.
cash earns no interest makes it simple? volunteers take time, surrender to the pimps? keep the offerings current, so much work, can’t we sleep? intellectual capital we can rent? take Fridays off, we needn’t worry? besides the red queen smart, never mind her aged dulling chops, covets this her discharge, the honored decree by specious subcommittee, hear ye this, she cannot be trifled with work; except on exception. we can’t have the castle dank?
don’t forget the trophies, making marks for fun, dislike, bully targets? her sport is oratory, a one way art that let’s her toss her darts, trained under strict protocol of inebriety, quite sharp we fear? and those kicked to the curb, she regales us all? the bad heart she promises to cash in and spend the tragedy on us, we’re crushed? weakness she creeps behind and stalks the herd in search of strays, they must be made to pay? so many dead we can’t or won’t remember. their words be not quiet.
hostage to a tyrant with a trigger, alas we could not know. numbers fixed on higher prices levitated, divide domain in to romaine just like a caesar, sells so easy, just add extra oil. somehow the same few customers keep finding a way, fewer and fewer until we change the numbers? and those assets, barely half of what they were, a quarter of what they might have been just now? perhaps the red is a sign? ask the office implements if they have need of paperclip?
then, get ready. there’s M street now, a capitol folly, the spleen of the fake economy, monopoly rules invention praised as heaven-sent? monkeys trained expressly to educate the aides, they did once ask? an excuse for a library stands empty waiting for the United Nations maybe? and miracle of miracle you can do all this for the rock bottom price of a mere, wait for it, millions plus expenses; derp! this would be every year? flush we must be? flush again to get it all.
maybe it’s me, but the stench a gasp too far, least when the gambit’s stolen nuts, salted abroad and fancy, those dates Mano a Mano with them wankers from Levant? demurring factotums, frazzled by the crown, spun around they scurry, lunch flushed down parts of private plastic, totes? tickling her it seems as she exclaims another exit sign.
now alone with peace, happy thrill her load shorn short, sheer boredom does no work for most. still shake my head on days there is rumor, a whorl of what, maybe national with some graphic? because it’s proved, there never was nor could there ever be such a muddled thought, it’s proof the nil set lives. least not able to function outside of an institution, kinda like a fresh dug grave the dirt clods letting go reaching back to find their depth, will never be forgot, but no one’s going to visit, pretty sure.
now new brand old charter reblown fat redone with pith and love, it’s the Skills Reduction Institute, in memory of a good old head trained in the real magic, an institution of special note from which no one may escape their skills intact, a happy land for those who hold a doctor’s note, cuz truly that is what it takes travailing dread and treading clear of Red some say a Queen. take another, doctor’s orders, the only question matters is how did she keep going?
Searching through lost appraisals to improve the exchange, attempting to follow doctor’s orders you know, taking inventory of every interaction to see if the source code has been hacked, and the answer is there never was any code, just the eyes-averted fear and the stooped-over spine of servants carrying the lady’s satchel and her as well on the backs of a supine board. Oh the gratuitous ways of the appointed ones snatching success, re-naming it as their own, then bearding the truth when their recipe proves sour and it’s too late for an escape.
What a waste is a fool with power desperate for a thought
The yawn of tools’ sound bites churlish notes of naught
Nothing is the price of fraud with power
It buys you less and leaves you sour
Like a weed growing out from ‘neath the eves
So starved for light it crowds the others’ leaves
Just so, ideas held hostage struggle languish
Midst their vapid weakling speckled grayish
Each a torturer one day at judgment they will say?
Survival for the few comes with the distraction of the boy with the pretty smile and daughters fawning. Some say consultants just want to get in your pants, at least they try to flirt and laugh so gay, you can’t know what to say until they go away.
Seduction your name I blame
Secrets that we fear to tell
Baring inner desires tinder dry to flame
Her slightest spark fans egos under spell
Like whispers cross the cirrus skies
Teasing heat her faintest praise with bluest eyes
Expertly exposing leaders see their blindness
Taking what she craves, leaving just a haze of graves
Bending deep her breasts to show
Her potent potion steals their keys
The cleavage ‘tween her word, not what they know
Renders suits in chains and on their knees.
In the end your breath is stolen, ripped from your soul like a fuse firing thunder. You see too late what your heart told you at the start, something is not right. Indeed, something is not right. And then you’re almost dead?
Is the Servìce Comprìs?
A tribute to a working wasteland
Orange and carpets for the walking dead
Poor Pete the tragic hero magic dragon flies.
Manipulating the paper clip
Its brain of chrome all twisted up its ass
Boss lady like a golf ball through the garden hose
Clean sucked dry of chrome and polished to the tip.
One fine day she had a head, red as blood
All the villains played, surrendered theirs as ransom
Some say she’s God, just not as great which makes her mad
Mothered brother runaway the orphanage destroyed.
Gonads confused and angry sad since birth
The little red pearl, not Steinbeck’s ink
Adjusted by the knife ordered by another
Dreaming of a man not cursed with dearth.
Business if it happened had to hide away
Confessing confusion, Daddy told her not today.
Numbers never mattered Mondays hiding from the minds
Business in the modern era, clowns climbed down to play.
Men surprised fall down dead soldier
Their sperm extracted then redacted
Nitro is the process of the bully way
Render the unwanted leave the smell for Omaha.
Her and flying demons share the strap
In batteries they do rust so they scheme ahead
Fearing toothless snaggleteeth the frenzy of it all
Breaks the corner glass with Davie’s sleezy tap.
She steals the keys and squeezes bullocks tight
What story clothes the mistress dancing Nancy?
Is it the softer tell beneath the mossy stone
Sticky slime so sly reveals its reeking rotten riot.
Betrays the crowd leading loud a world berserk
When at last the end relents, her scissors dull
Totes the breast and face how heavy was the lift?
One thing now tight her might to spread her dirty smirk.
We scrub the mud, can’t touch the filth that feed her blood
Make believing world of falsity, punch bowls full of acid sluice
Tongues trained to wag by dogs hawk toilet paper survey data
Wild tails blow grimy air so dank, soiled by heaven’s flood.
Nothing pays the bills, hidden from our view, who knew?
Instant panting saying please and thank you now you know
What she really wants, our blood all of ours to spill
Her thirst is never slaked even as she laps another stew.
Investigation circles downward dogs with evil witches
Insubstantiated incantations, cannot turn the muck to blonde
We curse her ruddy moon drinking Jenna’s Jameson
She conquered by a tit gone dry, then she sneaked away in britches.
Facade betrays deceit, its secret has no guarantee
Its burden, stolen treasure worse the crime it’s wasted
Our blood’s dead journey flows into a sea of laughing
Jokers sadly tell, service such as this is never free.
In the darkness of deserving, she will never find a rest.
Pardon monsieur, Servìce non Comprìs.