Tag: Poetry

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

The poorest poetry that I creat
are lines composed for myself
not simply for pleasure masturbatorially
rather to enlighten or educate myslef regarding some aspect of my behavior
Poems on penmenship party perfomance weight
Perhaps that is why my poem regarding
my devotion to you has taken so long.
It has no plot and is yet so crystal clear
like venus in her shell – on roller skate in venice of course
Damn I wish I could creat it but the pressure of perfection makes it impossible
The anxiety of the past and Mr. Blooms description of it
ti mc to the boat of failure
metaphor, muse, and convention
The idea is to creat a reality in which my vision exists.
That has already been done. A reality in which we coexist together confronts me daily and I rejoice
But of panthers and passion I fail in praising.
The measuring stick for love is lust… the do not exist as one…god would need metaphor to measure the relative value of either
But taken together the power becomes clear
And with clever tongue to thee I am
finally able to sing of visions of love
and repition of stupidty cold hot dogs at the end of the walk of life
complaints at millers outpost
the evil medical meachine. the military
in a dehumanized free verse love energies slowly
action dictates creation
axiom prefigures action
desire is more then my favorite bob dylan record ask me
you ask me to write..complain of the contents
and fail to reply
in your perfect, controlled prose
to be critical without compassion would be most unkind…
like shelly the hairdresser….I must
Aim at the emotion which prefigures the axiom
Define my love like melting wax
slowly drying to th eside of an old wine bottle which
we shared over cheese
usury has drained my dgo whil you continue to fuel
my libido even if from afar
this pen is breaking up…
mybe for is the problem
by looking to image I deny meaning
subject must be the iconographic representation or itself
as it moves through time space mind
subject as love pop
your lips are like a recycled coke can
Has promise but looks lacks the personal compassion I seek
today I have honestly not spoken to anyone
I got nervous in a video store
“may I speak to the manager…”
no change occurs
but thoughts were expressed accross time
always take cigerates it is agood way
to communicat attitude without
vocalization
no need to ask for Gry Poupon buggle boy jeans will nt help
Don ask accept
guetamalon backpacks disolve no value
but in emotinon the position of the thing is related
take names orginize files creat confrontation.
Bukowski hatred for the working world
will not lend slavation to a
collapsing S&L industry
there is never any one more radical then you
everyone is under appreciated
Animal spirits exist
People that do not have their books signed at poetry reading
really really bother me…
get the metamorposis
and read catulus
follow pound
round and
round
Burrought mind is senly of tight
don’t give up the fight.
Simply write greeat poems the great lines will follow.
where is the water
going in a greenhouse
should not the
water be more
obvious
condensing on the windows
take your time with a pen…the
tree hook its time growing
yet where did the ink develop
in th eintestines of the octopi
I doubt it beneath the bile bland of some
ancient snake the tears of an
asp perhaps
why hid the meaning the joy of unlocked chests
has always led to trouble
pandora
finding mom’s stuff – nothing but trouble
theirs the witches pot ha no
lid it is allows to boil
and bullbe
over
the sides of a
jar
a bell jar into which great poets are cast
sappho and erotic vases
plath and corning ware
grandma and the ornament over the mantle
leaving grnadpa alone in his
double decker ploy
as if
if osomeone had forgoet

I must gegain the
humor of a high octane
asic high
burning and scouring
unaffraid to leave the last
page blank

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

I really think that no one is saything nothing
in fact everyone is saying a great deal
It simply means nothing.
yes that is the problem
the need to keep lines of
communication constantly open
has led to them being
forcefully filled iwth cotton
foolish fluffy filth thought
to be mostly harmless however
close exploration reveals
this to be sodium
clogging the arteries and
destroying healthy circulations
the slow down is
caused by human iter
facing with information
maintance some computers
are smarter then some
men. And if we simply
stood aside and let
the blood pump
We would not get our
boots wet.
To cleanse the cotton
we need needles of
decisive Action. Winos
with fierce forcips willing
to remove the clog
and flush the system
with out loosing htem
selves in the fear that
they foo will be
flushed.

This theory may not be unique – I may be able to base it
on eternal thought of
classic scholars, yogis, and
gurus – yet that will
give it no more
merit – it shall meerly
clog the system
going the other way.
the life you lead
The job you perform
shall alwys get done
probably in less time if
you were not there
slowing down the flow
of information by creating
ripples – ripples formed by
the force of your two
cents.
Wow when one tires
of waiting on hold it
generally means that one
has it more minutes
to hold – of course the
realization that you
will never catch your
operators name or number
when they come on the line
further complicates the telesis
of effective information
flow the interface between
you and the machine
is being clogged by
a rock wrapped in cotton
a large rock chained to
rules less changing then
gravity pre einsteinian
relativeless lumps of
shit that thrivve on
human anger and suffering
wraith wraith wraith
I name you Hold button
sapper of wills!
confustion prince!
Diety of Decline!
Forever challange the
bounds of infinite patience
prespective fast food
Employee!
Hold Line!
Fear of Function!
Eternal time gag!
Easily excused, oft
forgotten ne’er do
well.
Inventor be damned
Grahm Bell I know
thy name and shall
soon seek thee out
Bank pay pay pay
As I call you prime
time to insure that
you pay the highest
rates for my out of
zone calls
With 1/2 this book
a filled I shall
band up and try
back back back
#1 billing info
1 current ballance
2 billed
#5

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

Today I purchased some stamps
roses!
roses?
roses.

my postal payment was beflowered in purity
could anyting be much worse

comedians

I have not yet seen this
but according to rumor
Laural and Hardy will soon be paying their way
through thte Tristerds

Two mean… Alone… in a field of flowers and dinasaurs and presidents

Charlie Chaplin – Alone. Again – fighting th efascists of beauracracy

off the clocck we have no chance…

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

Per Po

An historical recreation of the day
of the past in the physiology of our creations

The death of Perf Po

No

I think not when its mindless creations are still attacked
by cognition rather then emotions

release is more then cutting up credit cards

more then copping a feel on a strangers heel
mor then blasting the art of strangers
And until you and yours understand that the time of
Perf Po is now!

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

My metaphores may offend
Gestures may create distaste

I don’t ask you to assume I have a brain

In fact I am gald you do not!

The time of perf po has passed you by

And Derrida will not carry you through

The death of Perf Po

No
NO
NO

I do not think so
not while overread assholes compromise experience for part time jobs

We must scream heckle bleed
Bleed
BLEED!

can I get a witness

I thought not

An unblended puliate alway compromises
The intrinsic colors of our nature

Radio waves may penetrate our skulls only
Because they carry no new informations
Norman Mailer, Charles Olson, Ed Sanders, Ezra Pound

To drop just a few of my fellow dreamers
White men all
Fasciest some
Yet with mixed pallets of contemplation
enabling them to create the
untimate Art

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

Kll me
kastrate me
vot for me
well…
sacrafice river butcher bald eagles…

but but but

this

the death of per po no!
I think not.

endless Jim morrisona esque ahem esquires
in eithty dollar boots can reise before the masses spouting
trochaic hexameter out dated eliot

the deth of per po

no

to his him and his applauding audience
All that is seen to crotch grabbing compromishg
well if that is all he and his see
so be it that must be it

The death of Perf po

no

my metaphores my offend
gestures may create distaste

I don’t ask you to assume I have a brain

In fact I am glad you do not

the time of perf po has passed you by

and derrida will not carry you through

the death of perf p

no
no no

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

I sit shrouded in smoke
reflecting
contemplating
experiencing
the eternal dream dance of my occupation
Jumping cars…
stealing books…
pimping beer for bucks…
david lee rothing
for this art
the line the fire
the ternity
Remeber me…please

for I meant to suffer… for my suffering to be understood by humainty…
but when my art is misunderstood
me my art my suffering
condemned my art profaned my heart
I was ok I could take it I had cappicino for comfort…

I was okay…

The death of per for mance pe ah try

WHAT!!

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

Oh how truly truly pretty
rasselus reborn a jim morrison
whith mindful meter and harmonic spondees a bouunding
and oh oh oh
the hip expresso lounge
refernece to employs and princes or pretenion
with godly stance and oration from heavan and ahen and hell
capturing the entirety of the middle class malehood so very well.
Destroying others art to laughs of joy
prpnecising true goals with internal prossidy
The diction defines the dynamics as a chalk board screech
fill the air – my mind…

the past is just that influence is fine funny, at times.
Yer the soup kitchen only serves once…
and the time for perf-po is now!

Electrocute for elucidation flapping genetal to capitalism
glory peace beams
enlighten the doubters
no one worth saving suffers

The time for perf-po is now!
slice out your heart to model for s clay wilson
spray banana joy form buttocks
splatter earth worm full of garlic from the podium
per po prer po perf po

Sing in the twelve tone trochaics
fear the fear of fear itself
video taped nocturnal emissions!
Bovine historical drama
Review Renew and investigate
forget the debate
so the Darby Crash Live Live LIve!
Yell into pianos
scream at fire hydrants
unscrew streeet signs
maintain the b glat!
perf po perf po pfer po

Die Drunk
Die Drunk

no fear of beazuladd
you are it on that stage
ignore simplitons

look beyond leconstrution beyond convention

Fear Fear Fear the repear
the eternal hookman

Shoot smak dream away
drool drool drool
per po perf po perf po

No explanations

Not with a bang or a whimper
screw Dat tapes fornicate with hard drives
rewind your midn live david cassidy the time
for perf po is now!

Never forget the Mayonaise!

Do it all get a job!
per po perf po perf po

champaign kisses with chimpazees Don’t forget minerals!
Screw mother earht
dedlete the ozone personlly melt friend kiss records on new age
tantvic ritualists!
turn on juke boxes live elvis live elvies
live live live
the time for per po is now!

cut your hair
screw your cup be like me be be

be like him
this time for perfomance poetry is in fact now

#This is some bad poetry from a journal that has a pink bandana cover. It starts with a
#newspapaer clipping dated June 2, 1989

Reflecctions on Ron’s play, I say play the hot spot osoundtracke : eulogize the epic verse shall not relate
the cat the purse
the turtle pouch
Here name was CC
sans music factory
with purpose pants and minight glee
she this tale did unwind a thread
so ddep vulcan did fear to hear the attitude after eleven beers
Ron – chosen cloven heai sobright – naval ring
tatoos
primate
asleep with spins and cat named goo
cigerates did bequeth tso joy may issue
I hate man his promiscous pecker tale did
start
budwiser
silence and her legs apart
You now I sing the morning after
In paisley boxer the dawn I do freet
fair eos and her
sleeps so quickly do retreat
leaving me with patters and visions and burns
ths song changes leu and I turn the page
unfinished and ending like the vision.