I Had to Hit Bottom

He was standing there with his hair a mess picking his nose, wearing nothing but a filthy white t-shirt on what he'd scrawled "BOTTOM" with a grease pen, so I had to smack him hard across the face.



CHAMATILLY

Survivor of The Self

I'm a survivor of the self, that's
the me that isn't well, see,
I birthed myself as well, so
I had to marry me, just
the person that I well, not
the person of my-- I'm just
a dream that got a swell, and
it threw me in a well, me,
I mean myself, could tell that
I couldn't be my friend; we
decided on a duel (we
were just that kind of fool), so
we're always looking back, else
I'd pay me not to whack-- I--
should dial it down a notch, but
I'm looking at my watch. In
any way or any time, when
it comes, my lucky day, I
will get up off my ass, and
make that bastard pay.



by LA CHAMA

Chat through an ancient stone glory hole at Chang K. Chang Chank Chain Gang Drunk Tank

LA CHAMA: So you're doing ok then?

ILLYN: Well, clawing my way back from a very dark place-- through vice and decadence-- but yeah, thanks for askin.

LA CHAMA: Can't always be ripping your spirit clean walking around with your skin hanging over your arm like a clown.

ILLYN: It's more painful than you can possibly imagine.

LA CHAMA: But picturesque, and that's what you do darling so what's happening now, in there, rats?

ILLYN: You know that rats can no longer survive an MPS prison. The social stigma is too great.

LA CHAMA: Haha there is no society. Hahahahaha!

ILLYN: Hahaha!

They're not birthmarks

They're shadows, animated watermarks from below that move
Across the years from breast to back of hand to forearm to ear

As if he were the same reborn and again apart from the ripples
That appeared uniformly but randomly not defined by place as

Much as shape and darkness, color, ochre ruby, cloudy edges,
And velocity, if you were going to use time as a measurement


Chamatilly

A place where you come down easy

they never had to explain it until someone turned it off from the office
it was a place where vips could come down easy, live to tell about it

they say the closest thing to the sensation of impending death
and then a nauseating buttressing, result of machinery

where you contemplate the luck of your ancestry, or would if you were
the Chama, the work of society, science, mystery, the Crack.



Phyliss (embedded)
from "Before My Own Drop"

She'd always played time hard

She'd always played time hard
but could never get it to go away
She made you understand how
hair could grow down to her butt
and you could measure it in inches,
not months, baby. Well, 9 months
baby, and at least 36 for the hair...

She'd always flipped time back like
a hot braid on a tank top, how the
weight just made her spine straighter,
back when exercise was a strengthener
not a  joint splintering waste of energy
Not the last kick in the pants that puts
you in the sucker or recovering whatsit
category, all to live for is an allegory...

Some kind of effing warning light for
teens to be scared? Well run to all the
mothers of the teens! Run I tell you now
before she takes time at its root and
makes a bitter stew of nothingness for
everyone, baby. 9 months and then...
Groundhog Day without her your key
away from the drudgery of your tiny
time mind, perpetual facsimile, vortex



Frags. 7.viii,ix
Later Epoch
Phyllis's mental notes while falling from K talons into pressure cushion within volca site

New family roads

new family roads
in emerging colors
can't absorb
history from a stone
if it isn't theirs already

you can't expect us,
now, to follow a
single historical
line, and converge
for any longer than

it takes to say it:
Time, in its truer
voracious circle,
supposed to blend,
but bleeds instead.



La Chama, Altachank Heights, Churchcock

Petting zoo

CONNIE: Aren't flying reptiles and volcanoes and/or their unexpected ancestors genre if not hackneyed fiction?

REPTILY: No because this happened. It's retro-journalism, historical reenactment.

CONNIE: So nothing new.

REPTILY: The part that the K's never went extinct at all, that they'd been kept and mutilated and tortured surreptitiously for all these ions by secretive corporations and rich perverted human moral monsters-- that is pretty new or at least since it actually did happen then whoever might have made it up either did just that or based it on uncited reports of what we've got firsthand knowledge. Also the voluntary interbreeding-- through religious sanctions, the hideous scarring rituals-- that's not made it to the big screen, anyway has it? With reptiles? Maybe birds like Lydia + Swan but no. Mythology other category.

CONNIE: What else is new.

REPTILY: I don't know if any of this is new, bitch. Sorry about it. Just saying we've got a right to tell our story no matter if it suits you entertainment wise. This is not a lap dance, no it's all T baby. No shade.

CONNIE: Ok bitch you get to work, sell the product.

REPTILY: K-Bai.

CONNIE: Bai now.

REPTILY: Bai.

On drama

God everything didn't used to be so serious
yes it did
no it didn't

When is it dramatic and when is it drama
it's all drama
no, dramatic is real

You mean mimesis is cathartic, but
life is dramatic
it's not real drama

Life is intense and absurd and shocking
drama tries to capture that
life is that. yeah.

But now somehow life exaggerates itself
drama's more plausible
if that's not dramatic, then

Then it's not life because life is more
intense than any drama
i was going to say that


Peg & La Chama
Inter-cellular whispering through ancient glory hole carved through stone wall
Mthyuh Protection Society prison installation
Chukka, Low Chank

Everyone judged me

Everyone judged me when I started murdering everyone, but it turned out of course that I was just in the first ring of the waves, and then everyone was murdering everyone, and then it was like aha, I get it, everyone probably should have murdered everyone a long time ago.


Reptily
Apologia (fragment)

i can't tell

overrated: celebration of other-self indifference
recreation of so-called sages with no evidence
when i suffer: can't tell who or how much blame
but a look within and all around seems the same
i can't keep up with it-- all the tempers i inflame
can't call me lame, but destruction's not my game
i'm badly lit-- flip-- i turn the mirror to its opposite
but that's still not it; what's my responsibility and
what's just bullshit, the produce of someone's
random ignobility, how much burden can i lay
of course in the most respectful way at the feet of
person or persons who made the system or let it
have its way with my innocent children god help
them as she may your houses may they burn, burn


Mkidza Mlaf
Temple Breach Response
Day II

I went far

Now upon the return and in the glow of
the full moon out back i see i went far

Was it ingenuous to go away to live as
an outsider among a foreign tribe or in

Local outposts of the mind, violate the
hours that most would call a proper day

Or heroic to spin amok like weather to
create mock fortunes of errata until the

Axis tilts your head back to a familiar
square, a silent ticker-tape procession

And bent so, where you've been is up-
side down, yet somehow a perfect yarn

And thank your stars we've lived with-
out the anxiety about the breeding loop

No need to strain to imagine that one's
thoughts, approach, intent are common

Yet still without escape from the human
drama, played always on one instrument

Cradling my baby on this glacial shelf
a green northern light seems a beacon

The night we gave ourselves to the sky-
wide mystery, sparkling black screen

We cast it as a convergence or scheme
meant to recycle my past and his future

And take us, take us presently to some
longhouse or cloud palace, sleep, breast



Chamatilly
Late Shard #4

Lucre Leather Labor

because i had to climb atop so many species to be king
that thought translated into oh the same with other races
within distinctly mammalia, mother, i still trade in kisses
even after discovering rubber, i scrape flesh from suede
or the energized and conscious wholes, i point they shoot
why don't i simply fade if the objective is sheer numbers
my abject brothers must see it in my face, a winning self


La Chama
Greatest Hits, Golden Era
Collar of Skulls Press

Had it tough/ made it tough

relative to your culture
you may have had it
but you also made it
tough. that's why they
are after your hide, not
so much now for labor.

if everybody's tough it
means you'll have it
make it tough together,
on a ladder, as brothers
in survival, all striving
to get above the other.

when they make it
tough, they teach you
how to make it rough.
you make it tough but
then you know how to
be rough on others.


Reptily

Slave of the Chama

It's only 10:00, but I'm so tired, but if I go to bed she'll probably attack me and if I sleep in the other bed I may toss and turn, and she'll take it personally and feel lonely during the night.

In theory we are a sexually active couple but the boundaries are difficult for me to negotiate sharing a queen bed. What if I really want to take a non-euphemistic nap?

And it's not as if I'm a rock; it is in fact distressing to have only 4-6 hours to sleep before the alarm and trying not to get started into a drawn-out love act.

My doc, admittedly swish, says it's a weekly necessity at least-- or you could be risking any number of invasive/ interventionist consequences. 

Yet I resist: that it be my discretion, my first strike option above the will of a frequent fertilizer, that the pleasure first is mine.


Tom
"Don't ask."

Plank @ swordpoint

Ken kneels before the Chama in her elaborate cardboard temple:

To avoid muttering to myself I guess it's better to have a focus. I have not stepped behind this black curtain for you know how long. Chama, in her gothic eyebrow pencil, expresses contempt by not changing her expression at all. It's just that life is terrifying, life seems dangerous right now. I'm afraid, well actually I'm afraid of you. It's been you all along. Chama, not even breathing much, shrewdly conveys a curtain of black with swirls of dark brown and maroon. A mixed bitch yips. "Ken... Ken..." Ken realizes he is whispering his own name, as a prompt, to God. Her unchanging screensaver now appears to be projecting empathy, but toward a target standing just behind him and maybe to his left.


Raga Darbari Rudra Veena

Terror v. Horror v. Anxiety v. Fear v. Panic v. Paranoia v. Puzzlement v. Exasperation v. Dread

Headlights made me squat and lie down on my back like a cat burglar. Those and other slick gangster moves made me wonder who am I?

I'd stand before the oracle dispenser and a great personality, an exaggeration, appeared to bubble into the frame, a swelling from my skull.

Was it self-regard made me lose a way to muscle outta here? I wake up exhausted from a night of paramilit'ry operations: for bread.

Reptily

pueblo revival

spending the night in my tomb-like pueblo revival, accessing content
it's a place where lesbians have been, flesh color in all-surrounding floor.
i stay when i can in the room i've allowed to gather cargo of records;
my bitches question any mother's son.

the stories of survival, horror, sacrifice are one long babble
they narrate the stagnancy of my one-woman battle
a chorus to the fight of my life wearing out an
office recliner and a bucket-seated death chamber...

for somebody who loves freedom as much as me,
have to say it's a bum trip to be a headliner
and you wonder if the people can come back strong
with the illing and just dealing and feeling it so long.


Rev. Chama Tilly, from
Letters to Hillbilly Jehovah

Lesbians Demand More Responsible Films

Chama Tilly's turning 40 and won't come down from the sea wall cave. In the middle of getting her preen gland expressed, the fully-organic K turned on her certified technician, flinging her more than 300 feet into the cloud cover over Cliff Suites. PharmSupply's medically licensed glandular biotics rep known only as "Phyllis" is passing a hard convalescence at Thong Clinic over in Chalk Chank.

"She was saying all day how much she needed me, how my skills were all that made her sane, and then whoop, flips out. Maybe I got too close. My rescuer was a level-2 protection boss in a flying-F suit."

We asked Phyl if her feelings had changed at all about having real K's or K blood/K love/K rule still flying, suffering when everyone would prefer to drive their own false K with closed legs or recycled K meat with privacy screens sewn on.

"No, because K's are not the only ones who suffer. None of us up in this chank or the crack that runs through it gets to live in an environment most suited to our "natural habitat" except of course for all humans. On the other hand, if humans and their actions are considered to be part of the natural habitat, then everyone and everything is entirely natural. If curing K’s would mean a major culling of the species for commercial gain, that's not okay. On the other hand, there is the odor, emissions, the sounds."

The K is a re-emergent life form that was named for the way it flies with its legs spread eagle. Barely living K's were hooked up to muscular positioning outfits and wireless saline IV's and flown remotely first secretly, then as a silent swell of cash transactions, and finally the unlucky target of public outcry. Flakes can't afford a K implant or the kenneling. But they deeply value the patrimony of K lore/ love/ blood/ rule.

We asked Phyl about all the hoo-ha on ground below the Chama’s lair: balcony to the world, sea salt and moss tacky. Though we understand now there was normally no more no less than pounding waves down there, with a narrow spread of rocks close as a penguin’s foot and only accessible at the pleasure of the moon, and where every low tide documentary reporters and free-speech zone die hards staggered under rubber ponchos in the mist.

“I asked them to give me a shot and bring me right back. Maybe I was the only one who could get her down. When I pulled up in the ambulance, somebody told me here, take this, and I did, thinking we were all a part of the same occupancy. Here’s a sign, they said, shout and walk around with it now. We were moving in a tight oval, no, an ellipse. I thought they meant it was a sign she wanted to be with me forever. But it said, “Lesbians Demand More Responsible Films.” Even when I put what the deal was together, I thought what better way to be where Tilly can see... that I’m totally willing to come out.


Chalk Chank [the Mp3]

Hell study

"Questions for Rev. Chama Tilly"
Hell Study
Chang K. Chang Chank Grain Bank Chain Gang Think Tank for Meta-cognitive Talk Therapy Apologetics
Dr. Donna Thong, Facilitating Surgeoness


) Have you ever felt as though you were experiencing Hell on Earth in a "real," non-figurative sense?

)) If yes, please describe the emotions, physical sensations and any other experiential items as thoroughly as possible. Avoid too much self-editing. If you are completing this questionnaire simultaneous with a Hell-on-Earth experience, please express your observations/ exclamations in the present tense. If you are not presently experiencing but are able to conjure or invoke a Hell-on-Earth event at will for the purposes of this study, please do so now.

))) If you do not believe you have ever experienced Hell on Earth in a real sense and/or do not believe that Hell can or does exist in our present Earthly reality, please imagine it at this time: what the most plausible expression of Hell on Earth would be, in as much detail as your pain centers will allow, and remember we are a non-profit cause that only wants to make it stop.

)))) If you see an issue with the concept of a Hell-on-Earth "moment," "event" or "experience," and especially if that issue is your position that Earth and Hell are one-- either for you personally or as a world view-- please fill in your understanding of the exact schematics of a Hell-Earth symbiosis, simultaneity or paradox below. Please avoid extended autobiographical illustrations of nameable phenomena/ paradigmatics.

))))) Check here if you accept the hypothesis of a literal Hell on Earth but cannot empirically verify its existence. Please indicate whether you have checked this box as the result of a religious and/or morality-based self-evaluation juxtaposed with your knowledge of others you suspect as more likely to be/ end up in and/or deserving of Hell. Further indicate the specific conclusion occasioned by any exploratory moral introspection. Which personal Hell can you infer to be the most likely outcome based on your findings: never going to happen, have been through and moved on, will/ may/ may not only occur after all medically-defined life has concluded.

)))))) True/ False: "I am most often free of Hell and Hell-on-Earth experiences/ anxiety as the result of regular and deliberate righteous thought /action as prescribed/ illustrated by familiar moral constructions/ codecs."

)))))) True/ False: "I am most often free of Hell and Hell-on-Earth experiences/ anxiety as the result of regular and deliberate righteous thought /action as proscribed/ illustrated by subjective/ personal trial and error."

))))))) What would you want to know about this researcher's approach to Hell/Earth, and why would you want to know it? Do you believe that you as Chama could cure an outbreak of literal Hell were I myself to experience it in a very real way? Is it wrong for one woman to love another woman so much that she doesn't care about Hell at all?

Donna
"I am equipped to handle a number of medical procedures on the back patio of my home."