Friday, July 28, 2006

fucking screwdrivers !

her vulpeculiar dress with polka dot leaves
me crying outside in coconut "trees
on" she exclaimed from inside the room
was dank from empty tombs

right turns in traffic
cars honking and killing
the air is befouled with exhaust
oh what cost it is to drive
in a one time world we've got

on a path in the valley it is green
not specifically but passively
the wet soil is wormed and sow-bugged
a caterpillar dripped onto me

bitter tastes still fill the '80's air
who stole the summer
when the workmen paved the river
there is a layer of mazama ash
if you look for it

ridiculous rum purrs loudly
in the cider in the barn where the chickens are
there is a message in the balloon
it says 'i love you'
i think it is september

let's go to school
i don't want to go
though sometimes i do
if only just to see my friends
in my head
who all wish i was dead
that fucking asshole threw mud at me
and told me not to gawk
well whose laughing now you ugly creep
you're spooning pablum without a cock

my thumbs in your eyes look red today
oh wait that's your eyeball
it tastes delicious in my revenge
yell at me from your pick-up truck will you

get in line
it's time
not for me it isn't

one plus one is one
thesis plus antithesis is joined
in the best and the worst of both worlds
take from your parents what you will
they are why you are but not wholly
they're the prejudices that they told me

all molecules and atoms and quarks and monads
make up it all
let's go to the annual atomic ball
and let gravity be helpless
because we have a choice

she danced with me
god i thought she was so pretty
and she liked me
it was psycho-delic
then the cops came
and i never saw her again
fucking screwdrivers!

i am creation

i am here
as you are there
and we are all aware of one another

coming from a dustspeck
waiting for a mind to come
if i'm waiting for a mind
and i know my place and time
it is being that i am

i sense a body
do they sense the same thing
i am creation

what is the beginning
when everything that came before
has made it a beginning
or is it the end
again and again
i am creation

our definition of living
is far too narrow
to encompass what is real
independent of what we all believe
is actually the truth
there is no beginning
there will never be an ending
i am creation
row row your boat

Friday, July 21, 2006

Let the flowers of humanity grow

'what do you people want anyway?'
the workmen kept digging
i don't think they care about hurting others
as long as they keep getting paid

men like to make loud noises
the bass in their big black pick-up trucks
acts like some sort of grouse mating call
'thinkin' with yer dick again 'eh?'

the only difference between men and women
is how their stupid parents bring them up
give the girl a doll
and the boy a truck

parents are the biggest propagators of ignorance
(stick your kid in the back of your suv
with the exhaust pumping right in your sprog's face
everyone who drives a fossil fuel burning car
is an ecological terrorist)

they are supposed to take care of their kids
teach them to think ethically for themselves
instead what do they do
drill into their sponge minds the way its always been
parents never change their prejudiced views
how can a kid learn how to improve her life
when her parents, teachers and upholders of the combine
just want her as an economic tool
bloody fools

everything you see is a sign
learn how to read it
learn what it means
everything around you is a symptom
learn what has caused it
instead of altering the result with poison
now you've really fucked her up

talk to her
don't pump her with chemical concoctions
listen to her
don't punish her when she's being obnoxious

it's no wonder kids hate authority
it's like a dandelion that just wants to grow
it knows
but some people don't want her there

99% of what you've been taught
is taught just to serve someone else's idea
of the way they think it should be
so they can make lots of money

'money can be exchanged for goods and services'
yea it can also be used to keep food from the needy
and give pick-up trucks to the greedy

drop out of the way its always been
serve me at the expense of you
turn on to a better way of universal unity with all beings
through caring about others for a change
then tune back in to tell others what you know
and let the flowers of humanity grow

how hot is it today?

i heard the caragana seeds crackling today
like a mountain bonfire
in the scorching pollution
with the sunlight blowing through the leaves
on the crackered path
the shade wasn't really there
but the cats always always think its material

gathering and interpreting data
everything is a sign
a symptom
a result

the rainbow around the sun
the grass growing left or right

it's so noisy today
but its nice here anyway
with you by the river
separated into all its parts
its hard to tell where the sky starts
and the gourd grows

the universes are one and poetic
singing a diffident chorus in my eyes
she can talk to colors
and they obey her every olfactory taste

i thought that sounded like a magpie
but the crow tricked me
i knew there must have been something wrong
when his photosynthetic cry shed a tear

'oh dear who said the end is near'
but i just stared there
beside the future paved canal
and went back to sleep
it's wormy here
with all these people crawling around
they kill with their cars don't they?

the silt sifted slowly
in silent reminiscences of sour gas being spewed
what's that you say
you think its all bullshit
how hot is it today?

Friday, July 14, 2006

love is better than hate

it took a while for the clock to tick
but once it did
i felt a prick
in the back of the line
it took a while for the thought to click but once it did it went through me like a midwife with the aborted baby's knife

the vermiform appendage stuck to me and dripped bloody flowers onto the bed. it was a hot day i knew it would have been anyway.the brass bed was red. the mattress stank of cuntry and western slaughter. the nerds laughter rang out in sinful disguise. the baby had four yeses and a runny nose and eyes in the back of its dead head. it could see but it couldn't plead anymore

i couldn't read anymore. i had to run out of the room back into my mother's tomb. i heard a murmur, then a thud i think she landed in the soggy mud. it was the mid-sixties i remember or was it december of the tenement house where she was a tenant with a mouse for a friend and a lended hand for sexual gladification. she graduated with honors and left the street when love became a love and a love became a whore. next door the flowers knew how to grow, she loved them, i removed them like blue cheese molding in the fridge and threw it away.

oh what fun it is to deride when the blond girl thinks she is ugly. the music rang and saturday sang on october first when she was next to be cathected and rereleased into the christian cathedral.

love is better than hate

overcoming resistances

overcoming his resistances
she seLf-pSycho-analyzeD
and divested his hang-ups

now the world is a little freer
warm and safe in the womb
no connections severed
no anxiety in the cold
and dark left alone

it gets a little brighter
when i hear her voice
the solitude becomes fractured

so quiet i can hear the sun boil
all your experiences have been recorded
in the book of your body and mind

Friday, July 7, 2006

young people

young people are so impressionable
they are raped and abused by advertising
by parents and teachers and coaches and ministers

how can they ever learn

how blind the parents are
the perpetrators of prejudice
bring another into the world just like you
look, you can in fact reproduce!

everything one day will be quiet except for the dandelions growth
all right here, donald twain, we took our lovers oath
we need cake to sop up the booze
chocolate and tea? on a virgins bruise

you can be my friend
soon we'll be a sisterhoood of unity

the sky is cloudy today
the wind is from her southern mind
let's go on as it will be
a comma separating
the invisible from the seen

it's not new it's very old
and barbaric
somewhat numeric
you can count on me
i'm your let's make a deal friend
your beat the clock buddy
i'll dig for your frankenstein monster
in the alley on a hot summer's day
stop rejecting me
and filling in my work
i'm an ant

i kant keep konsidering your past point of view
it's biblical and comical and fudgsicle and cold
it leaves me wanting and desirous and typically old
she just let go
i felt a
then i tasted a
and i smelt a
i saw a
then i heard a

and i thought i evolved

on the first day of evolution the good lord gave to me
a sense of connection with my external surroundings

on the second day of evolution the good lord gave to me
too many options
and a sense of connection with my external surroundings

on the third day of evolution the good lord gave to me
three separate choices
too many options
and a sense of connection with my external surroundings

on the fourth day of evolution the good lord gave to me
for reasons of compassion
three separate choices
too many options
and a sense of connection with my external surroundings

on the fifth day of evolution the good lord gave to me
five golden senses
for reasons of compassion
three separate choices too many options
and a sense of connection with my external surroundings

on the sixth day of evolution the good lord gave to me
a sixth sense to unite
five golden senses
for reasons of compassion
three separate choices too many options
and a sense of connection with my external surroundings

on the seventh day of evolution the good lord gave to me
seven waves to entice me
a sixth sense to unite
five golden senses
for reasons of compassion
three separate choices too many options
and a sense of connection with my external surroundings

on the eighth day of evolution the good lord gave to me
ate what the earth drops off

suicidal fetus

down, down, down
she told me she's down
clownin' around on the merry-go-round
around and around and around

it's a stomatic day and the leaves are breathing
the trees are winding
cause their seeds are still dreaming

wettened glasses are reflecting contemplative dew
sliding onto the once live table
now serving an undeserved
death sentence

to serve man
cause he has hands
an opposable thumb
they are the disposable ones

the displaced wretched
enslave them and make them subservient
to serve as your serviette
you may still yet live to regret
the murder before your eyes

my glass needs filling
my belly needs more killing
b-52 beatnik
in spontaneous ridiculous bloodlust

i have seen america
and it is beautiful
the misotrophic buttes
and the philanthropic flutes
playing for the slaughtered many

america is not a country
the world is not for your labelling
nobody owns the land and sky
everything does

humans make the mistake
of thinking too much about themselves
of separating themselves
from the dust from whence they've come

the dirt is our home
vitamin b12
sitting by yourselves it oughta don on ya

acceptance and rejection
flacid penis then erection
childhood breast
orgasmic breaths
write the future life conception

i saw a canada thistle
growing in a bus stop crack
roundup was used to kill her
and the killer cracked a laugh

i used to think that she used to think
that she loved me once you know
but i was mistaken
my dreams were forsaken
for a hand that would eventually show

the blood 'tween the nails
and the bones sporting pails
of osteoclastic dust
entering in through receptors
stirring protective rejectors
i thought she was beautiful

anchor shipwreck cocksman three
carpet growing starfish sea
wooden blanket fathers booze
bunyon dishrag nike shoes

orange bluebell grandma day
table marble further lay
window flyswat murder tear
campbell soupcan brickhouse near

guitar crumble basement drain
friendly neighbor gone insane
potsmoke beercan urine splash
leopard acid kiss my ass

drunken psycho lsd
he's taken all my dignity
couch look car boys sitting there
mocking pointing angry stare

ping pong paddle stoner games
redhot poker lost again
sixteen birthdays older now
porno future known somehow

mountain breastmilk sexy suck
target yoyo robot duck
toolset chalkboard barbie van
hotwheel derby smash flattened gland

dogbite heatwave weightlift gut
doorbell lawnchair gobpile guff
cleanup sunshine jesus nun
streetsweep carfinger breakin one

basement basemant basemint birth
rumdrink doctor dumb isn't the first
retard motorbike skipping ahead
young child in the womb longs to be dead

Monday, July 3, 2006


oh dear god, what have i done.
what, what is it?
i've done a really stupid thing.
oh christ, what is it this time?
i can't say, i'm too embarrassed.
and ashamed too?
spill it.
i thought i was being more clever than i actually am...
i fucked up.
so, what did you do?
i sent an email to brian.
you mean douchebag?
what did you say in the email?
it was nothing really. we were talking the other day about ethics regarding pastor gower's sermon this last sunday and what a person ought to do and how ought implies can and so forth but the tone of it, though not mean or anything was just kind of arrogant and i don't know just really full of myself you know.
only all too well.
so anyway, then i ended the message by saying 'keep up the good work douchebag'
so what's the big deal?
the big deal is that douchebag's email address is right next to our minister's and i accidentally sent the message to pastor gower and realized it only after i sent it
i know, what am i going to do?

thankfully this scenerio was only a dramatization but future mistakes such as these may happen to you if you are not more careful in paying attention to whom your emails are being sent to in the future ~ Criswell

Sunday, July 2, 2006


"i'm no fucking good
it's just so unfuckingbelievable
how no fucking fucking good i am
i'm such a fucking loser and a moron

everything i fucking touch turns to shit
fuck you charlie brown

crumple it up
and throw it all away
delete the shit
it's all shit all of it

start fresh
why start anew at all
who gives a shit

the cars keep polluting
the animals keep being slaughtered
and people still keep having fun
fuck 'em

whose a fucking poet
whose a fucking musician
whose a fucking drawer, a painter or mortician
for the cycle of creation/destruction

let it all rot to manure
and serve as compost for something really beautiful
and useful unto itself
like a dandelion
fuck people who poison dandelions
don't they recognize art?"

i see you point
and i understand you completely
but you must realize
it's not about whether or not you're a 'good enough' artist
or how smart you are
or how shitty the world is,
it's all about you loving another.
whether they are people, animals or plants
it is your purpose and duty to care about their well-being
and be concerned for the interests that other creatures have
in living a life free from torment and suffering
that people cause all those who are capable of having a good-of-their-own.
your happiness is a beneficial byproduct of doing the kind and compassionate thing.
do you understand ?

a sonnet song in three part harmony

beginning now the world is better for
trees and grasses and fields
(fresh air and water, its beautiful)
the creatures who inhabit every niche.
no polluting automobiles
(let's go for a swim, you and i)
no longer will a voice be voiceless. store
nature has taken back her soil
(in the ocean, right now)
your hatred back in atavistic breach,
elegant weeds begin to coil
(naked and free, alive)
to never greet again the way it was;
around old rusty artifacts
(immersed by warm embrace)
when killing seemed to rule heartless men.
oh yea, i remember that
(look at the sandpipers over there)
dividing species; that's what ego does,
it's so easy now to laugh
(it's funny how they all fly together)
to fill a thoughtless mind but that was then.
lay back and look at the clouds
(and all land at the same time)
no more shall grief and lies be seen to pass
watch the sun behind their shroud
(what a gorgeous moment)
across the faces of our earthly kin.
i could lay here forever
(i'm thankful it never has to end)
"believe", i heard a whisper from a lass.
and ever and ever and ever
(i'll always love this place)
she held my hand and said to enter in.
throw your watch away
(it is home for each one of us)
"the place is here, the time is right to live
just watch how children play
(all together)
for you; for me; for us; we all shall give".

cum together

and so here it is;
it's always okay to be a loser
and think things that could never possibly

if you believe,
you've just created your reality;
but what to dream?
make it a good one.

you know, like the sun
you see.

it's always great to be hated;
to be reviled and berated.
there are battery chickens and veal calves
yet some still choose to laugh.

to hell with it!
he who commits suffering upon another
shall have his heart sheered of any joy
and deserve every minute.

ponder another's pain,
real pain, you know?
like trusting someone to not hurt you
and then they end it by killing you.

STOP tricking the vulnerable.
stop exploiting the weaker.
if you were in their shoes
you'd never agree to
what you do.

let this be a sermon
i mean everything i said.
baby i'm determined
and if you keep it up
you'll be dead.


it's all alright to me,
and it could all be
so amazingly beautiful
if we could all feel
real love
for every creature and every being.
believe, and make it happen.

it kinda starts in your stomach,
like an orgasm,
then moves up into your brain.
it blows around your head
like a million elm seeds
scattering in the
thoughts meander like a restless
inside a letter box
and flourishing.

oh christ let it grow
don't ever let it go.
a dream is only as good as the dreamer.
compassion for others is a good start,
indeed the greatest beginning.

imagine you're one of them

Saturday, July 1, 2006


today i would like to discuss something very serious in fact that you have to realize that as i'm writing this i myself have no idea what it will be, marcus will be. here it goes , allen ginsberg first thought best thought
supplying structure now
meter arising somehow
gaining ground and momentum
like a train or ride but who'd invent 'em

i remember when i was born
the doctor slapped my mother
kidding that never happened
i wasn't born it was another

someone told me i was born
right out of satan's ass
it was mean i thought but let it go
and left 'em startled and aghast

satan, god, and angels too
are products of the mind
a mind displacing good and bad
onto another kind

these words come from hell
these words come from hell
a hell that's easy to forget
when you think of another's hell

what have you got to complain about
as you mope about the house
food, beer, designer wardrope
to hang upon yourself

i am famous
a famous blue anus
a sad little rectum it's true
my fame is my undoing
my undeniable proving
to myself that....

sex sex and more sex
and sex and sex again
contrasexion for all
distribute and have a ball
a giggle a laugh or two

the world is filleted
who gets their fill of being layed
it's love that we're all after
and admiration or admonition
toward those who don't approve

prove your manhood
put a hood on your dick
and stick
it where you must
but remember this oh ye of lust
your mother's ghost stands at your shoulder
face like ice a little bit colder
saying to me
you cannot do that it breaks all the rules
you learned in school

how can you ever love another
when you've loved your first love
like no other

and still the dripping days conceal fetid waste
upon the golden rocks she layed today
her eyes were warned of living close to sea
her heart was pumping salt and scorn for me

but she went away
back to l.a.
and so i was left
back up in s.f.
and a million hits rolled up on the shore

the sunsets used to last a day or two
in sand francisco it was always me and you
you used to draw the faces on the beach
the children laughed, the future in their reach

but older cancers prey on whiskeyed eyes
a bottle broke and garbage skittered in
she said that once i'm caught i can't survive
i caught a glimpse of her today in gin

the story began like so many others
confused somewhere in there
she loved or was it me
i loved her from the moment i was conceived

suitcases blue vases flowers in half watered daisies
coming alive
like beautiful weeds

why did i have to see her today

six stringed guitars and worn out picks
keyboards and four-tracks that work badly now
harmonica, recorder, an amplified memory
of a dream i had or was it just reality

why did i have to breath her today

a knock upon the wall would keep away
the fear that hid inside a cupboard door
corroded cross across a crippled yegg
she never saw it coming up the floor

look out! i cried and let the faucet run
until tomorrow breeds another sting.
it's drying nicely. now that she's a nun
she knows salvation comes to those who bring
a heart of love and look up at the sun
concealed behind an eagle's broken wing.
a hook, a doll, a rip revealed in one,
the burning dress removed she now could sing
a dirge for us. this love is nearly wrung
"free!", she laughed, and held the ring
and tossed it in the ocean. now it's done.
i moaned the king is dead long live the king.
tomorrow never comes for those who pine
away the moment spilling stale wine.

why did i have to leave her today

everyone hates a mime

everyone hates a mime
oh yes it's true
everyone hates a mime
and i do too
everyone hates a mime
cause they're reacting all the time
to things that nobody else has ever seen

everyone hates a mime
it's very plain
everyone hates a mine
cause they're insane
everyone hates a mime
they're acting silly all the time
in places nobody else has ever been

oh when oh why oh where are we to go
the mimes are taking over high and low
ignore them then perhaps they'll shuffle off
away inside their unapparent box

oh everyone hates a mime
let's say it loud
yes everyone hates a mime
let's all be proud
cause when everyone hates a mime
perhaps nobody will give a dime
to further these ridiculous little dweebs

it's a pimple and dimple today

i turned on the tube
and what did i see
i guy with a pimple and then
a pimple a dimple all lined up in three
i turned off the telly again

i went to my room
to muse what i saw
and bemuse and confuse such a sight
why was it so, for me to then draw
this affront, cause it just isn't right

but i picked up a pen
and i tried to depict
what had recently flooded my eyes
the torturous sight was a dubious trick
to play on formitive mind

i continued to make
a creation to fill
a repulsive particular need
and while i can't say i redundantly will
to forgive this reaction to be

to be or to die
is a poser you know
and it's one that we all have to weigh
whether drawing or walking away from the show
it's a pimple and dimple today

so make it create it
and let it come out
in a way that is wholly your own
and use what is there to eradicate doubt
after all this whole place is our home