WAYWARD SOULS

don't tell me you care. tell me you Care. you may get tossed by the wind, but,...can you really fly? a Stranger's prize ("i know when my mother died") - he'll still clutch the gun in his hand. lying there in the vegetable garden with the cabbage and the blood in the dirt. T.A. reconsidered - suicide's for clams (as the opera house went up in flames). drift on by and you might as well get boiled up in stew (your worthless stench of blood makes me cry like onions. besides, i'm cold and hungry [and boats are made to sink]). from the heart of Emptiness and Nothing comes a pioneer on his horse, but, he doesn't understand the Gift.

HEUTE

<SNIP> mirror soul - glass shards at the point of impact. -frames per second. flicker flicker. run away,...forever. heads in a room will forever spin: flicker-spin-flicker...faster and faster. "what did you say?" drilling a hole to Heaven because the crows are dull tonight. transcendental carpenters (their pockets lined with gold). <SPLICE> googoogloogoo. the perforated sheet's bloodstained fate (find me through the opening). love in fragments. three stains of blood. dot dot dot. sturphriKArppet. hate by numbers. Pollack anger: epileptic machine. shudder. Mustarddrippedstrewnpunches. love like a wounded nurse - it is necessarily so. a Cyber Messiah injection to uncalm the still sea (nostalgic novelty crumbs neonly decorate a million faces). a falling leaf is dreadful. anxious - very anxious - for presents. trapped in nature. "caw caw!" if no one's here, who is? you're dragged off by a steel horse until you're able to run on your own. run for your lives. run to your hives. a man of tomorrow with a scissorscarred face. multidrabbed iron circle never stops. spilled. so shall you.

CURSED

there's Doctor Clash with the Third Reich harp players
take poison in through the ear

there's a death in the west
in a graveyard towards the back
the foliage noise blocks its cross

half a billion heard
half a billion sold
nostalgia selling like speed

8000 listen to the trumpets of angels
whose voices are heard through the pull of a string

     red carpet for you from the mouth of the serpent
     hitchhike on the scorpion's tail

     in the desert some faint cries by the Bloodshot Cowboys
     guided by Luke the Drifter

     death in the night
     sunset brings new tomorrows
     melts on a new plastic body that glows

     thrown away dreams found by cats in the gutter
     scavenged and lit up for a brand new life

culture transfusion with watered down feedback
plucking gold hair from the lonely paupers

twenty years ago
the painted men of straw
naïve: they tore off the unshaven head

illusions of free will when still part of the game
Johnny cries: "la me fa sol"

bringing in money with crumbs from the trashcan
the army's always here to sing you a hymn

NURSERY APOCALYPSE

we'd often spend the whole day staring at the window with our eyes of magnet. we'd seek for answers in the sky, but all we'd see was the Dark Lady weaving with her many arms (we paradised in a barren desert). my sister was convinced, but i sensed nothing - but one can always be disabled (i supposed). i took you to the City of Ashes where we'd see the children spying from the pyres. if i would hear, this might be illusion - but for now, the tunnel vision inhibits. "Rise up!" roared an infant. ...she was always deaf to the sound of nothing. she would need her head on a stake. i'm swarmed with lollipop kisses and dandelion touches. pacifier penetration from the eyes of rolling thunder. i'm strangled, but can see the black light. though i already knew, i was merely a teacher (my rolling head was used as textbook). i would scrawl of the tipping of the scales by giggly vinegar fumes.

A CHISELER'S DANCE

there's a halo in her closet and it's scaly to the touch (the messenger-angel had failed to seduce her with such gifts. she'd rather toss the stones over her shoulder - would He be mad!). and now, the village is on fire. but, she walks through the flames with her sack of rocks in her hand - her shadow followed by her newborn children. "just think of it as Nothing," she'd say. there is Nothing. you are Nothing. Nothing. "but, grab a chisel and take yourself to the Canyon (nobody goes there)." some let angels bring them comfort, others bask in the gentle unstable fumes (all these gaseous bodies collapse and explode). though her statues tip their golden crowns to her, she often Forgets.

BRITVAIC IDEAL

there are no serpents in this temple - no sound of hissing, shades of slithers. driven out by discipline (we stand alone in our ideal - we've scratched a circled "A" with nails and toothpicks on the lense of our mind's eye). but, in our sphere, the walls are torn asunder, and new buttresses of hope are erected. our eyes are pierced by arrows from bows and slingshots and we laugh,...how we laughed. the gleaming shrine attracts by numbers - who will sit atop this swaying throne (and in my mind, the dream is ending - i know it would never happen. and the naïve shall recognize their judgment.)? fear the rubble (a black light shoots through my head) - a quarry is what they want. i stand alone - eyes closed - and expect nothing (i'll even be selfish and lick the wall, in hopes of severing my tongue - "straighten up those spikes!" they'd say). there is no wait. i'm thrown into the ruins.

BODHISATTVA

we shall steal the sun for ourselves. i've imprisoned Avalokita in my cuckoo clock (feathers combed with semen: "kukukukuku..."). obliterate the senses with year-old candle wax. seven times it's been snuffed out. boring wounds on a Kuroe-Cho hill to fly away with crusted wings (until then, you'll hang like a rusted chocolate warrior with your arms ripped off). a toast to the shining corpse (we've waited for so long). orange cakes for baby - there goes the smokestack. posed before the people: xylophoneribsmacked. locking Euchrid in a stable with the goats. his flapping skin was ripped off his hands and stuffed down his throat. the children gathered 'round and laughed because he wore a diaper (they would not listen) - a fish hung from his side by a silk string. [so i shall steal it for my own ("kukukukuku..." they would not listen)]. i'm etched in cheese with lead pipes through my hands and feet.

ANNIHILATION ZERO

a tree made of seashells lights the top of the hill, you're welcomed to it - a stool awaits you (don't forget the toothpicks). a shortage of gods on a golden dawn. a pile of rotting hands relaxes under a shady tree. wasteland cries from the spiders. we can rent the Resurrection and watch it in slow motion (this will do instead). the sun goes down and a cry has been lifted. where were you yesterday? swapping souls with the king's cattle. faking departure in the Bardo. in the ruins lies a walnut - crack it open if you can. swallow the earth with the shells in your teeth. lost your glasses underwater. where's that smokescreen coming from? upright posture for climbing flagpoles. teething teething. greeting the velcro. swallowing purple. doubting digits. yes. this is the way ("come on in"). more more more. haunting in the zero hour. rockbellyuplift. this is it. stroll through the beach with your hammer and nails,...searching... nuclear babies dipped in vinegar for pollen. watching from the plastic trees and flinging grenades. accidental devils from the iron womb. going bankrupt in the cinders. getting sleepy in the ashes.

EMPIRE

a Buddha's on the table
wearing a popsicle smile
his face is painted green
and he's veiled in Marywhite
massage his stomach, squeeze his cheeks
and coins fall from his mouth
if you're heard declaring,
"Christianity's stupid, we are good,"
he'll make sure Smith sinks you
McCarthy's bust is glowing
in the corner of the room
reminding you, "you'd better find some things
     to sell, or else"
it is cold, but still you wear your coat to fight
     the heat

transparent coffins line the floor
like sardines in a can
life supports and wires buzzing
i can see you smile
and now you're watching television
while you're fast asleep
"i'm in a hurry - pull this knob,
it's time to have a kid"
we're learning to be gods
before we learn to be human
and if you come with me now
you won't have to stay awake
the fat man's shadow sits alone
next to a matching vase
our fading shadow sits alone
next to a matching vase

STRING OF GOLD

the tumbleweed strewn road is paved with gold
and we're locked into the center of the world
yes, these restless nights will stay with us
we'll dream of pitter-patter guns
we've watched our pumping heart stop on the table
our handbag's full of brand new symbols
our skulls have all been sewn together
DECENTRALIZATION praise the rich who hear our footsteps

our crafted sack has gotten fuller
inside, there's a struggle to breathe
all the wood chips stick together
some have even fallen out
2030 echos ring the halls: "it's getting better"
shooting sperm into the engine
fuel injection
sell some blood

meanwhile, in the coming blackout
stand beneath a tree of strychnine
on our knees we search (our sack tore)
the trees are sprouting lepers from their limbs
lost all money, serial numbers
i don't remember who my friends are
"it's quite all right, we'll take a shortcut
with string of gold, we'll build another"

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