B Vs S=M

I would rather have the Sins of Baudelaire

                                           Than the Wisdom

                                                     Of Solomon

                                –

  Coagulating

                   Quite gracefully into an animal

 Sweet bitter-stink cloud residue remains

       Thank you Mage

                                     Patiently inside (me)

                     Waiting for Entropy

                                                        to Equity

                                                                   for

                                                  The Diseased

                                               The Distressed

                                               The Disbanded

                                     The Disenfranchised

                        That collects on the outside

                                                     Inside (me)

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Meal or Mate: a punk intervention of tasty morsels

“jocular like webbing she bright light dewy day, shake droplets on traveller’s catch dull tweed, make shiny glitter bomb set off to stale, incisive incisors trip witch to coagulate, solve a puzzle stretches over doorway, chew nipples or spun tongue, meal or mate about the dressing, sac not functioning leave the nesting strong, breeding-fate-instinct bizarre love triangle of a riot, measure of affair, pockets full of leisure, back pain as backpack, orchestrated arachnid arrives”

cup of what you like—

weird film on the surface—

weird film projected on wall—

cupped hands hold specimen—

let go and let it be—

before loss of last thread–

becomes inevitable—

 

 

 

memememeanmeaning

what———————————————————is

me? what’s my meme? what’s my me me? what?

mean and meaning mean my meme is me mealy mouthed and spread thin dry not moist means my moment moves thru a multitude of memetic meanings that are more than too much the engineer is not here me me me me how are we doing?

delicious painful anarchic genius you

(for Kathy)

Murder Is Fiction (some kinda sense, just so)

I came to hate him

Poison his coffee like

He poisoned my veins

Cold cold cold running

Through our relationship

I wanted to be written out

Before The End was exactly that

Badly drawn out weakly sketched

Two characters woefully written together

Just so the whole damn sorry business made

                                         Some kind of sense

The Butterfly Collector

Swapped bargain booze for bargain books

 

Have faith dear friend:

 

For what are rancid

      Buildings

Will be sweet smelling

               Meadows again

FRZN wolfpup

          RE:wereally nevergo anywhere

andif wehappen todo wecome

                  straightback:INCARNATION

All the Best Lovers are Anarchists

Don’t they know the spray-can now stutters?

Torn slogans no longer matter

In the sack of shite

I start to rattle

And

My id bites back

Cardy threadbare

Held loosely together

With Pride and badges of the circle-A

Safety pins and certitude and holidays

In

The sun

Or Cambodia

A muffled scream still says no

A fallen comrade still stands strong

As we search for the truth that unclenched fists

Can become bound hands that frame the lips

Of the Judas Kiss that seals our fate

Upon the right side of Capitalism’s face