February 2012
69 posts
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White Light
White capital amidst Medusian beauty in which
captives be drowned for an oppressive kindheartedness
Fall, Fall, Fall
Full of sin and
Into storming waters
Pearl-filled towers of white and white and white again
shine, shine – Light emitted through crippled windows but they
Fall, Fall, Fall
One by one
Into nothingness
Maiden of my mind – AWAKEN!
Subconscious desolation: Tumbleweeds and sirens
Fall,...
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The Dude abides.
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Booklist
Book of Sketches - Jack Kerouac
Big Sur - Jack Kerouac
Cat’s Cradle - Kurt Vonnegut
Naked Lunch - William Burroughs
Scott Pilgrim (Books 2 and 3) - Brian O’Malley
The Dharma Bums - Jack Kerouac
Poetry and Prose - Walt Whitman
Collected Poems - Allen Ginsberg
The Complete Poetry and Prose - William Blake
The Heart of the Buddha’s Teaching - Thich Nhat Hanh
Confessions...
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The Tallest Man On Earth - The Wild Hunt
There is a crow moon comin in well you keep looking out It is the hollow month of march now sweeping in Lets watch phenomenon’s that rise out of the darkness now Within the light she is my storming heroin And old machine’s abandoned by the ancient racists and I hear them hummin down below and hollow earth Oh hell I guess I know no while I will go under to But just for now I let...
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Eight-Part Harmony (Marijuana Experimentation)
In my mind’s inner eye I see
balls of tapioca dipped in fondue served
to millions whilst hired dwarves
sing in eight-part harmony
Drapes; drapes – hoards of drapes obstructing
this eye as I gaze into obscenity -
Envision Alice’s Restaurant
sung in eight-part harmony
African American neo-negro soul heard
over the tinny speaker
Into my ears
Over my head
Pure
Pure
...
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Quantized Tree
Oh please please,
Sickly sweet,
Unbeknownst me,
A sound A shake
A roll of thunder,
Shatters my quantized tree
Oh help help,
Harken angels,
Shadows faintly creak,
A jolt A stab
A burst of pain,
Apples in the sea
But light is naught,
Dark is naught,
Monsoons begin to cry,
A drop A gallon
A shit-ridden storm,
Men curl up to die
Eternity reality,
Reality eternity,
It’s all the same to me
I howl...
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“But recently I began to feel that maybe I wouldn’t be able to do what I...”
– Sun Ra
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Abstract Lifeline
I cannot feel the moth-ridden drapes plaguing
San Franciscan tenements nor the texture of the intricate
yet dour Chinamen rugs not the
beat of a pillaged heart: not mine yet is nor the
ding dong of a taxicab – filet minion
in tow thank you very much nor the abstract expression of Beats
who long ago swallowed and ingested their last
breathes with an unforeseen greed nor the ebony-colored
gospel and...
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