Easter Stilborne

On Sunday we had a baby, we call her Easter Stilborne
Because my husband went down to the gym for the first time in a year,
And it was closed in observance of the Holiday o' Hope, or outta fear.
So he went instead to the Filipino place next door
For some homemade chicken-noodle soup, pork adobo, and a beer.
When he got back, I was squatting in the flower bed
Where some lily blossoms had suddenly unfurled
As if to anticipate the death of our little girl.
Now on the highway, ery time we see a 4x4 with the symbol of a fish,
We pass the assholes, give them the finger, think of Easter, and make another wish.

Connie Soda
"soupa-stishiss!"

intraceptive missionaryism

NO SHOW OF BLOOD CITING.
We noticed as we swung by to check for blood on your door
that there was none. and now, in the light of our torches,
you seem quite agitated, maybe insane. we are afraid for y-
our soul. we are afraid of what our God might do to you if
we decide it is appropriate. He may cause us to harm you
badly, and your family, and your future generations. we are
here to perform an intravention to protect you from any
further danger. Do you have a knife, or have you lost it?
Where are your lambs-- or have you failed to fulfill even
that most basic of norms? You are harming everyone by your
non-conformism. You are attacking our way of life, and we
are tired of being victimized by your mocking, obscene exi-
-stence which is only meant to cleverly highlight the futi-
lity of our Reproductive Circle.
...
UNAPPROVED DISCONNECTION FROM COUNTY FILTER, GRID, OR DISPENSER.
FAILURE TO COLLECT PROSCRIPTIONS.
We noticed as we scanned your home that you have taken the
dangerous step of disconnecting from your county's Filter
of Loathing. This will mean that the intended effects of
the drugs we have proscribed for you which were meant to
counteract the sickening effects of the pulses will spiral
out of control with nothing for them to heal. In addition,
the local Pharmsupply has informed us that you have not e-
ven picked up your proscriptions for several months. We h-
ope that you have not engaged in this type of antisocial
behavior as the result of financial difficulty. We care a-
bout the wellbeing of all members of our community, so we
are generous to remind you that discontinuance of a manda-
ted service or medication does not constitute release from
responsiblity for payment.
...
[Text of two ancient tickets found in Peg's glovebox, clipped to the back of an expired W.A.S.T.E.]

When is he coming back?

I used to ask where is he, does he beckon.
But now I know that gone is just a wash.
Now I want to know but cannot reckon
If Ilyn's coming back, or is he lost?

One sighting happens ery WD,
but never all up in a bed with me.
No chance because he's uglier than shit
the danger of a shoe that doesn't fit.

My Ilyn sends his pow'r of gravity
to meet the Goddess of Infinity
who reaps his tenderness as an hors d'oeuvres,
and vomits his remains into an urn.

The urn is dumped each Friday on some rocks;
Then, as from an undertaker's table,
And soon he is quite able, Ilyn walks,
Hideously marred by private journeys

Through intimate Halls of Our Intender.
Where there is scalp, red hair grows back. Where a
Crime left sin, a hymen fills in. You say
Wheel of Life; I say Vortex of Gender.

Maundy Friday

Won't even roll over when I shuffle into the room, but they on they knees bathing my feet when I stoop to weep. Go away, M'Lady; go away, Missy La-La. Gonna put you bitches to work one day. When I feel depress, you shake your tails like a single kaleidoscopic Goddess of Asses. I want to turn your force on my enemies. Stanky bitchcunt of infinity. Love weapon. Merciless forgiver. Virgin of recycling. Inundation. Burning saliva. Breath that cuts and scars in rosettes. Christ command me! How much time have I spent in bed? It's a Maundy Friday.

Two-Kleenex-Box Altar

kleenex boxes flowered and shed
cascading trills of snotted buds,
their tissues ripe with wet evacuation.

kittens picked their way lightly sniffing
where dogs the salty offrings shook in vain;
all organ product laid before bitches is meat.

Dog-Like Sick

unease around foreigners
suspect they digestive system
revolted n' curious as a bitch

Below the border, you swing upside down;
In a crack, they walk over you.
A million futures monetize in your groin.

back and forth till we dog-like sick
sky-chanks popping where they speak sang-skritt
mthyuh's bowel, rock-cum-flesh, eat me now

Connie Soda

No one remembers me, I am a sister.
Sometimes they call me Commie Splices.
Bearded Lady, Zygote Birther, Goddess of Propriety,
Muff of Fur, Topless Coal Walker, Native-American Squaw,
Mucky Muck, Two Decades of Feminism: Dual Tank Treads;
Food Covetor, Wisdom Mist, Virgin, A Sentence Said [A.S.S.].

• I could have made my way up. There have been investigations.
• I got left aside, maybe the story strangled me in its turns.
• I have a weight as a One Crossed Over, but even the boatman trumps.
• I have no control over the situation beyond the sweater I was wearing.
• Ted found me dead weight or weightless on a very good mattress.
• My first husband was a scoundrel like all Southern men.

Father bleated on preaching of coin-slot plotters and drones,
They impeached him in the middle of a Period that was Misunderstood.
Show respect for the drifting cadres, growing, of Robed Men sifting in
from the forests and deserts and Fallowed Lands.
If you see a One called Ilyn, with a Red Afro, tell'im I'm his chillun.
Somewhere along the road, I could be Born Again like an albino I know.

Someone has to Occupy the Boundaries

We're not here to fight the other side, but rather
to stretch the leash of Our Own as taut as can be.
Someone has to occupy the farthest bound'ry
in the paradox of interdependency.

But they are turning us out, Syl, unencumbered--
Free to wander like meaning seeking a structure.
We could make a human chain to hem in others
like a padded room where they ricochet in fun.

Nothing's holding us back now that the kids are gone.
We take to a panting tourist road, The Driven.
Forward and Backward are twins in our time mirror.
How'd we win a life beyond our own destruction?

It seems to Have a Will

An individu'l, prone to corruption
As opposed to a state of the people
Becomes a criminal of loneliness,
And to Chaos of the Senses, a bride.
Under these conditions, I spawned a K.

Tissue structure in mummy flesh is real.
Plugged into this, with blood, is how we feel:
Not some Frankenstein, but a Pavlov's dog,
Responsive as nudists in soft meadows.
One mind can drive multiple bags of meat.

Este tio lleva sus cojones
Como mola porque si que puede.
Chango toma nubes de tobacco,
Mono lo que pasa'n los pulmones.
Come las cabezas de sudacos.

Sylvia has Second Thoughts

Worse than meaningless, I am destructive;
What dogs must track my unrepentant path?
What raptor soars at my back, designing?
Yet a conscience watches zen-like or gagged.
Consciousness. Damning participation.

At the beginning of this, I bought it:
having to count on my fingers one to...
oops, ten. Now I am a mature woman
With flow'r-print house gowns and a dishwasher.
I help my husband distribute poison.

Why?

Today's Epiphany
with Ted

They've finally figured out a workaround for the disanimate flesh energy sourcing question. Watch these mummy monarcas process insects caught up in they flying f-suit nets.

[insert video of actual x-ray digestion taking place in the rubbry digestive tract of a mummified pre-historic bird]

It's called "assisted automated bioprocedural response," and from all indications to date, it's worth everything.

The capture and processing of living matter while in flight implementing god-made organs enshrined in Pharmsupply Latex 40, the transformation of waste into a self-lubricatory system for metallic parts as well as a combover for the ozone layer-- this means sustainability, but even more important, perpetual motion.

Song of Dr. Donna Thong

Generations fall from the bone;
We can't rely on memories.
The trip is ours to take alone;
Stepping into infinity.

These are my drums-- see how they bang;
And maracas, oh they shake me.
I turn opposite spinning Earth;
You and me, we can make it stop.

Generations fall from the bone;
We can't rely on memories.
The trip is ours to take alone,
Overcoming sublimity.

I am a tuba in your ear!
I am woman, her breath so strong.
My legs are shaven and tale long.
From your perspective, I am queer.

Generations fall from the bone;
We can't rely on memories.
The trip is ours to take alone;
Stepping into infinity.

They Fly with their Legs Spread Eagle

Dr. Donna Thong has had male snaps permanently installed in the skin of her scrotum and female snaps just above the ass hole to aid in affixing any signs of danger back and away from the front of her sheer Lycra gowns. A complementary procedure, if there ever was one, allows the dick head to dock in the depths of the Douche Ditch, after a little twist, without a hitch. If the troof be known, she has actually completed the surgeries herself with a Stud Applique kit she purchased on television, the remains of a moldering, widely-darted cowgirl shirt she'd worn in the Ladies' Barrel Competition at the local rodeo so many WD ago, her La-Z-Boy home operating theater (H.O.T.), and an ancient bottle of Percocet-SX. Only problem now is nads have been worked so Heavily into Rut, gravity makes the back of the dress look like the Scene of a Dump. "Why oh why are men such pricks?!" Donna cries. Cradling the phone in her hair as if it were a 900 Number, she spanks herself mercilessly: "Erry tam I try an put on sumthin nahs, the beast juss makes my junk swell laik a Devil's Clit!"

La Chi-Chi

Chang K. Chang Chank Jr. High is a feeder school to Chang K. Chang Chank Junior College. Only way to superseed the "junior" business is to log your first kill. Until then, you are a rookie, pup, know-nothing. The enemies you seek out, identify, target, love, and eliminate must come from among your own ranks. And it's your eager junior classmates that will drop you in a sec if they smell gay sweat. High-participation kills usually stem from gaywads that disrespect the Student Council by not showing up to bloodsac, showing up to bloodsac, removing their branks in a common area, or smoking. Ask a pissy question? You are on open-kill special all week. Hungry grads can make it far: border patrol agent, correctional officer, homeland deathsquad, cop, la pasma, lawn chair and awning resource specialist, homeland airborne deathsquad, la chi-chi, heating and air conditioning repair, or Pharmsupply bitch. Some even make it to Chang K. Chang Chank Senior High, the only institution of senior learning in the chanklands, a military academy with state-of-the-art golf course maintenance laboratory, sports bar training centre and auto shop. Failing that, stake out the Hall of Pissy Whining Complainers right after the homeland airborne deathsquad hotdogs have accidentally dropped another loveturd on some poor flake's hive or chall. These citizens can be easily picked off being so predictably on their knees forced to beg for the lives of their trapped families who must be sworn to silence even with their limbs on fire. With their patriarch wiped out, dead maimed or still-struggling wives and chilluns make warm, rich and powerful comfort vittles for K's.

Word Hospital

Let's face it, Braino is bifurcated and like an ass in so many other ways, but it's the only organ that can speak, so it's able to tell me how its feeling unlike the others. And it does. I'm just telling you what it told me:

"I'm tired of being burned. After a time in here, I feel like life has been a scarification process that's not voluntary and leaves its mark over me where I have to sit cradled in bloody bone, which is as insulting, really, as Grab Bars on a Tub. Even though I know I prolly cun't survive in any other varn'mt, and that the source of my grievances comes with the territory, I want you to know that it's painfol; it's so painfol.

"Remember the farm. The immaculacy of her housekeeping juxtaposed with pigs. The bath radiated Lush Rose only Mildly Undermined by Shit. The towels were hard and plush. Always at two, something just murdered outdoors roasting indoors.

"Pretty dirty air balloon over our smokin' queen at the Motel 6.

"I could show you thousands of slides; why do you insist on spending time with others?

"FYI, I may be passing along statements that were originated by a second party and fashioned specifically to sound as though they were my own earnest and spontaneous utterances."

Ted, reporting from The Crack

"Weird things happen in The Crack. Perverted things."

Where It Left

Your love broke my spirit
love broke my spirit
when my spirit loved you
and it went away
your love broke my spirit
when it went away.

I saw it leave you, dearest
as a spirit leaves you,
if you had died that day,
but your body stayed;
it was love that left me
to shake and pray.

You've got ugly words as
placeholders
when we played all day,
loved that way; you've got
cursing, hurting when
it was bright and gay.

Your love broke my spirit
love broke my spirit
where my spirit loved you
and it lifted away
your love broke my spirit
where it left that day.

where it left #3 [mp3]

Jaws of Emotion

Peggy's back arches across the saw-like top beakrails, full and fresh as a fish on a monger's forearm. Points puncture her skin at the tailbone and shoulder blades. More than gravity feels like it's calling her feet and hair to return to the world she's known till now. Cement and soil are drawing her even more strongly than her own existence has ever created sucking for most others. The strength of the Earth's pull on Peggy in this moment is only comparable to the power of the dark beacon with which she calls her own children, a burning siren of their own suffering, for they know she is gone.

In a pants suit, Peggy now suffers: suddenly swiped from her grounding in the Sears parking lot, stars smear past as if the whole planet spun. We can see a purse, shoes, keys, barrettes and shiny coins raining down hard from the jaws of her perp. Its toes are leathry and Dirty Pink against the blacktop. The claws alone are hooptie size. No one else, however, is present. No screaming crowds bear witness to this spectacular and tragic abduction. Security cameras tilt or hang dizzyingly, dead in their grips. Only the crazy orange unblinking lens of Peg's beholder confirms the scene to God. Chang K. Chang Chank Mall has been shut down for weeks.

Horror of Peggy

im really sinking
im really sinking in spirit sitting here.
im really sinking in despair, all-knowing yet
not knowing if you are there. We all used to meet up
for a Coconut Rush at Sears after school and then freak-
ishly, you grew up, but not before i flew the coop.

ante-capture, with thumb-like flippers, the spinal cord was my tail,
and i had to whip it 'round a lot to get through water,
so that's why i like saying "no" emphatic'ly shaking my head:
it reminds me of being free. If I busted through my skull, a lengthie ten-
dril would come out along behind me. That's how you'll know I was successful.

Mom

Re-mote Decision-ang

Ref. remote muscular proxy (RMP), remote tissue decisioning (RTD), remote muscular proxy piloting (RMPP).

Hot Drifter

You are 53, so you are cunning and cynical in a last-ditch
effort to hump your days and walk on top. Soon your risk
taking will give in to begging wonder for life outside d'bed.
You have bright eyes and a mustache you call the Womb
Broom. In one small town where you stopped they said m
-aybe you were a con man but anyone could guess it was
juss a chick or boy you moved and disrespected. Don't piss
off unions or steaming membranes with an itch for your c
-ock. Hot drifter, many may mock; none can hold your p-
ower over major regions of the wanting brain, oh, and nex
time you wan to stop by, jus come on in; don't even nock.

Serving Christians, yor trajectry brings you wide and on s
-ome dire affairs. The churches take you in an cut you job
-s at carnivals, car washes, and for burials, loan you a suit.
You safe in this town as a fart that smells like food. Erybo-
dy thinking ways of how you, as a man, are theirs. Imagin
-e wuhda local wife wunt want to stow you in her sk-
irt. You've never been a brother on the grid. Some men th
-ink that they can find themselves in you, but they are da
shed on rocks and ashes worse than wymen. Ashamed of
loving you, hot drifter, we offer up r babl verse an wicca.
I for one dont play that praying game. You are my sistuh.

Illyn's Reincarnaton Ride

there is a shinyness and texture change in the skin patches that hang directly across bone.
the pit below sucking at their edges.

the hairs turn by white vote one by one in agreement and blindingly affect even albinos.
mthyuh regurgitating them daily.

thru so many loops in and out of her craw I circuit past searing innard and smearing contagion.
a planet's movement taking its toll.

each morning having been passed through the wrinkled colostomy bag of night, I am gone.
tossed up heaving on someone's lawn.

Love-Pumping Cancer

Cap'm dreamed of a bloating worm attached to his neck. It had undulating rings which were flesh colored. Its peristaltic ack-shone was conjoined inter-lockingly with a rhythmic swelling.

Soon it felt heavy on his chest and the music started playing. He was sweaty underneath its heaving breadth. The pitchur frames were bumping up against the paint, which was bubblng.

Someone, must've been Him, reached down to feel denim at the groin. Suddenly everything made sense and he was able to identify with his attacker. It was a... love-pumping cancer...

"Cap'm! Cap'm? Wake uhp! There's been an event!"

[Love-Pumping Cancer (the MP3)]

Sylvia's Inadvertent Confession

"Because I am fat, I can only share my joy for food with this diary.
I'd set up the world to be 30% dancing, but when the 3 bitches of
the WD came clear, the wheel started to drag me down. Now I roll.
In this big dirty-ass house full of dogs, parties and tears, where
we romped, I have to make trails through the dung for my electric
rascal and my drug nurse. I should take vittles and recharge with
her support, but I fear she'll bring the future and its thrills into
my home and may plan t'kill me wit her kindness and Slimming Tips.
Because I was a founder, I can eat of the original bird, broasted.
Yet there'll be no mercy for those who dint save Neighbors' Skins."

Wheel o' Debits
Wheel o' Debris
Wheel o' Dementia
We Digress
Why, Dios?
What Duh...?
Wiccan Dipsplit
Whopping Disinformation
Windshield Dust
Water Dial
Weird Doll
Whudai Do?

Don't kid me, Peg. You know what it stand for.

Cave scrawl scrap(s) #(s)XXVIb and XXVII. Recovered by: "Dr. Donna" WD 1001

I Had Opportunities to Become a Cling-On to the Next Rung

La La uses her butt as a weapon, looking playful; Jun exposes his fangs to be sexy, as if the grrlz must obey him. M'Lady, the mahmi, squints at her family's surfaces as tho they're zygotes or cocks her head as if to track her brother and daughter, as pus-covered newborns, twisting in their film.

Sometime Juniper feels lonely as the pahpi, or he's not on the same plane. La La attempts to speak using her larynx and sinus. She wrench it out by twis' her tailbone. M'Lady calls late for her bowl and steps softly to it just to let you know she knows somewhere there's better.

Ooo... it stinks! You had that in you? I'm so sorry.
Dr. Thong stepped away from the home operatin-
g table in her den, a La-Z-Boy, where she had be-
en setting up a buffet. Either La La or M'Lady, e-
ach of whom had been sniffing around the faux-g
rape border garnish, farted again. Ted would be t
-here any minute, and she could hardly wait to di
-late his palate. She has several long-tipped pepp-
ermint gum swabs left over from hospice duty w-
hich she plans, remarkably, to set afire in a vase.

Re-Cap'm

• Reptily student of Tom, drop out to be a thug.
• Sylvia Tom wife who teach hystry.
• Sylvia spot a prehysteric raptor in a tree on campus.
• Reptily stumble into a dimensional crack near the bookstore.
• Tom and Sylvia need someone to clean up their baby's shit.
• They get Reptily cumovah after school.
• Reptily sing funny songs change the baby inside out.
• Reptily husband beat her knock her down.
• Baby Peggy roll naked in nanny blood.
• Peggy have Hoolie an Connie wit Ted.
  
• Ted a black man wit blue-eye so stud they make him a newcastr.
• Awso Ted sighburn have some whyte.
  
• Peggy beg him call her he whyte bitch, which cd keep the graft togethr.
• Ted say his woma mus respek hersef.
  
• Peggy leave Ted anda kids to lead a laifa wanton sexy raw abandon.
• Soon she a goddess an fuel her own religion back by Pharmsupply.
• The shiv make a reaction to Reptily blood so she can Know All.
• 'Cep where are the chilluns.
  
• Tom a local distribution rep, corrup, pathetic.
• Reptily kids, two son, stay home with they brutal father, a snake charmer by trade.
• Reptily get to be a holy milk maid for been the nanny of the Pegyuh.
• She start a scam with her moms to whip up th'whorshippers an pass a plate.
• They can't retire now, they slave of the temple in pertectif torcher.
• A volcano nearby, result of The Crack, take on flesh-like characeristics.
• Likewise, Pegyuh and Hoolie's blood examine by geologiss.
• Reptily (now name Chamatilly in her holy extrak) exhibit the hideous, scaly psoriasis monstruosus that cause her to resemble, when a shadow fall just so, a flying lizard.
• Connie did be normal, but now she dead. They think it was Ted, become a unabash pimp in hope of retrieve his true luf an finee make a home.
• Boaf Ted an Hoolie rilly hot.

You Pray

She got a gold-hoop earring big as her coffee-can curlers, awbe rocking wal she make somebody dead.

Chamatilly lay down on her feathers an brooding about the life of a forced priestess an how empty.

She imagine back 1000 WD to Reptily. Prolly robbn and theivn. Stop to chat.

You still there in my heyud? You know now I laik to die but am Mos Beloved Woma instead. They preparing me for a remote control where after I go my body and soul will operate forever, an even betr. Whut would you do if you were me nau Reppie. Jump in the Mthyuh is not a option because that's feed the Shiv and the shiv is the medsin make erybody twitchie. They could jus clip awdats hangin onda mens an a red shiv onda hormonz of da bitches but they wanna controe awda flow of that shit an how an whenit cum an go."

Reptily right then cut a man troat in the street, straddle him on the little-stone pavement, hold him at the collar, jus about ready to drop him and check for coins when she hear Chama cutting in. Reptily hear through holes in the sides of her heyud. She got a big gold hoop earring that be rocking wal she make somebody dead. Nau pausing in the pool of a street light, she look up proudly, speaking to a dark filthy cave hole where in the futr could be her later sef. Imagine she say:

"Nau Chama, you seem all holy an really clean an yor bress be poppn. They give you a steam shower in the Purl Falls and show you pruisnear all the tention any grl can get at da oracle an you prolly takn care of Moms in a high chank with furs and meats. You sad nau; you thinkn volca will be so painfol. Onee one thing you can do woma an that is pray, get down, get down and pray. Get down Chama. Get down, get down..."

Chamatilly interrupt Reptily rustic song from the firs WD:

"You pray, Mthyahphka. You phkn pray. You get down and pray."

One thing Chama know now is awda captivity an torcher an brainwashing also have some character building effek like if you survive, religion seem like booshia.

Reptily, back in oltimey land clutch a bluddie collar, make a ded man hed bob backward laik his neck is talkn wal she check his pockets:

"Get down, you got to get down, get down, you got to get down..."

Nau she laf'n walk away an you can see her spines down the neck and back, flip a liberty coin in the air an catch it.

"Bastards and your easy wages. I take your future!"

eMANcipator

"It means something to me, yet I don't understand." Peg

Emancipator

i climb on it and ride
i don't want you to let me free

then i'm all upside down and panting
you have sprung me like a sling

Proud perp, meeked for a moment
you'll attend to other issues nau.

i can fly using my shoulder blades
once you've unhooked my skin.

i land back falling on yor face, Pops.
don't go to sleep witchor wallet so wide.

now my germ mite grow in yor wurl
or take off in a dimension wair u die.

Something Stimulatory

Sorry, honey but it's rubber. It's gonna slide when you sweat. Some bitches like that-- feels like swimming. Smells like a den of foxes.

The nip buzzers will not shock you even if yor wet because they are state-of-the-art. There is a navel-to-tailbone zipper in case yor into rimming or doing the splits.

You are totally missing the point if you think most of this stuff is good beyond a one-time use. It's flying. Make it last.

We've incorporated constant titillation except where it might cause a rash. In some cases, you'll find it impossible to assume certain positions.

Standing freely would be one of them. Becoming erect in any way would be breaking the rules. That'll happen when we say.

Whus yor Brank Tace Laik?

I stayed home, had lots to do, but sat instead
in th' middle of the flo wunning cuddle so bad.

when biology and geology mesh, you have oil,
or you have something like the Pegyuh, both-

ered by metallic scales and minerally salivar-
y mucosae. They've fixed it so it grows out o-

f her but remains viable for years beyond de
-ath. She's the first we'll have the chance to w

-atch nearly shrivel and be driven, in essenc
-e, by her own hearse, the product of her ow-

n body, like a toenail, cum or hair. We inserte
-d the programmable chips shortly after birth.

As her brain dies, the RC signals will increase.
Her hideous exoskeleton will finey b in r hanz.

No scientist can give me what ahm illin fo this
eve: a barl-chest'd man t' put m'arms around.

Cuz I say Volca at vespers an will gonna have
d' will of awda peoples, dey think i can replace

her. What dey don't wanna hear is how i've alr
-eady fayld by sendyn red shiv to d'opposition.

My brank tace laika bright copper penny, but t
-hat means it's cutting my yung perfek tongue.

Peggy, Peggy [the Mp3]

"Peggy, Peggy"

Most birds keep their legs together when they fly.

She was born with a vision
and it was copacetic
but where can you go but down.

Table dancing just to eat
Children home watching TV
While mommy does the late show.

She held it in her big hips
The secret that they wanted
After a couple of beers.

But no one there was ready
For Peggy's revelation
And Peggy is no longer around.

Oh Peggy Peggy
Born with a vi-zhone
You had two kids when

You took to the winds.
You had two kids when
You took to the winds.

Vine and Dope

Hoolie lungs hang on he shoulders deep as a crucifixion, cep he atta bar.
He keep watch there for anything that could go down in the drunk wurl.
Hoolie hold down those years of yore year after year for love, also fear.

What had survival become. Vine and dope, touch surfaces, shake hair,
fabrics like bandages, rocking and staring, truly caring? Him'n Donna, m
-irror balls on sheet of lights with others watching? Tam ended when the

dead stopped living, a long tam ago. Now they had to hold it there for all
of the butt-plug troopers who could no longer, no longer be, and no long-
-er aware. If you could only strap corpses into something stimulatory...

Limping K's Rock a Death Zoo

Pete Dikker, Chankside

Discovered late last night in Chang K. Chang, hundreds of K's in various states of consciousness literally drag claw in circles round a towering black shivbox. None of these med captives can fly, completely gimp even with their equipment set to Strong. I spoke with a scrawny, filthy boy as he attempted to tunnel out from under the fence with a guano sack through which only the faintest throbbing purple glow could be detected.

PETE DIKKER: Boy what's the point gathering their slry when they are so sick.
RUSTIC BOY: Not... sick... old... Pegyuh want the 12-year or nothin. All else... is rotgut.
PETE DIKKER: And when they expire for good. What then, sherlock?
RUSTIC BOY: They flesh is a mummify, and work better with remote.
PETE DIKKER: As tar-like raindrops crackle and splatter all around us and your tunnel begins to cave, what existential feelings are welling up in you now?
RUSTIC BOY: K's rock my emotion sickness... I live to feed the milk goddess so you can suck laif to yor generations... and find answers for mizzry'n strahf.
PETE DIKKER: If you could ask the camera any question about our world, now is the time.
RUSTIC BOY: First... does it merely hide chaos behind a facade of complexity? ...And if there is nothing around it... why isn't everything right next to it?

Apologia for a superstitious lifestyle, or true quest for the Pegyuh's favorite bar mixer? Private guano plant for a queen, or sadistic joke on a species for whom religion comes from a gene? While getting shot with flaming arrows by flakes and just before suffocating in liquid coal, RUSTIC BOY looked me in the eye and screamed. "Dey keep fline even wen dey ded! Soon deyl awbee macheenz! Wair can we go wen th'Mthyuh doned get fed? We Dai, We Daaaa...iii!"

Sprays, Tubes, Veins

SPRAYS, TUBES, VEINS

Leaves, hands, have a wider axis than
trunks, for whom bob, sway are nearly the same.

Displacement, wind, makes everything
twist, shake, as in anarchy, sprays, tubes, veins.

----------------------------------------------------------

EVERY HOVEL A TEMPLE

wind channels the sound of
whorshippers up the street
spin thru r fence'n bellz.

I won a contest for the K-Week liturgical song when I was only four. "Every Hovel" got me an honorable mention with the 666 Haiku Volcans.
Mom

Grrl, You Push your Love on Me

Grrl, you push your love. You pushy.
I feel you want to say to all the dogs:
I am top bitch, but onee cuz o my luf.

We like a snuggle all night, but then y
-ou violent if someone come around.
Oh my god, youda baby of the family.

You could never join the pack. You n-
au cross th' line. I accep your unreasn
-able dmands on my tam, perpetrator.

Pink as a Man

If you are my kids, you should know:

• I came to a point that was a climax and a dead end
• it meant ok, I'll go to jail, anything but worry
• because my objective was to get you back
• and what i believed in was all i had left right then anyway
• the Preservation Society was ended

That last one was a meaning we didn't get yet because no one had ever seen it.

Even when Mthyuh was first born the Preservation Society had already been around for a hundred WD.

I was going to find out how much freedom someone had. It hadn't been tested. Howd'ya think we learned we didn't have any?

Donna has her way of loving too much, so she's forcibly quiet now. It's a shock I'm sure. When Pharmsupply kept me in an army-green, 100%-latex catsuit with vibrating cup tips and a ball gag in me, my brank was Tasteless and Pink as a man.

The Air is Thick with Snowflakes, but You are No Differnt

Nothing like a stroll out looking for a cab in Chang K. Chang Chank around 3am on a January's eve. This cold foam is in your genes, Chang K. Chang. You left us haughty even in death, mystery flake. Tornado of Blanque: pick up the check for once. You been weighed and found wanting a dinger for your bell. Yet we named our thickest chank with thoughts of you.

Water u gonna do nex, Goddess of Propriety?

Kidnapped by Pharmsupply

"Life often seems hard, but you have a range of emotions."
[Here they smack Hoolie hard with a mace upside the head. The mace is made of a stick, some rope, and a punching bag what they hit you with, even though a punching bag usually get hit. That irony is what should eventually egg you to break.]
"Can you really say yor worse off than someone less advantaged."
[Smack.]
"You know when we had yor mother sitting in this chair she peed herself...
Can we count on you to make everything right?"
[smack]
"Whut?"
[Smack]

The legend say Ted and Sylvia came a bailout the Pegyuh while she carry the Hoolima zygote and slip her something in a red box.

Hoolie wonder who now gonna come for me.

He could take an attitude "I do time hard time in life; captivity is a spiritual journey where I'm free."
He could try and get his heart around: "You can cause me pain, but will not change my backward generations. My progenitora, a lesbian, needs my screams to bring me to her once more."

Sadly, Dr. Thong was tied up and stifled in the shadows, tears of regret in steaming flow behind her brank. Pharmsupply had tricked Hoolie there by forcing Donna, his co-dependent, to call him up for a check-in.

Donna Thong begins rocking her chair to the tempo of the Disco Years. She knows that Hoolie can receive the sound and be with her in a place, on an evening. The music and colors had begun for the first time at her practice as she unbuttoned his shirt for a totally routine examination of the abs. She had onee ever seen those shimmering metallic tones of purple and blue, apart from Sears, on one squawking, swooping, fitty-pown mess of pre-historic, chank-layin, chall-attackin poulet: the now-extinct monarca d'ensalago.

"Just take me out," he had begged. "Put me down."

When they woke up later under the table in a sea of mini-bar bottles and PaxPox wrappers, they knew that God's whole sick cycle had begun.

Hoolie Discussion Board: Crack inda Wurl

His personal sense of terror says the alien suns will blot out our most salient light, which is only magma, a source more of searing heat than be able to read by it. For this Chama has ahways elected Ruler of Night or Mistress of Dark third shift, 12-8am, and for that Hoolie grow seeing taboo forces ina chillun so small.

When the Mthyuh open up her mos cruelest flood, other wurls behine can look through.

They may fine Hoolie so inncent they can take and hold him under pertective torcher.

Nirvanic System

Ex-con, brainwashed ex-gay, you rock mai hardons.
Your huge thighs and ass along with spiritual comen
-tary make your nips pop erect in m'mouth, swinga.

Ex-cop, ex-model, ex-mental healthful patient: now
nobody own you and you can unspin. You beg to Mt
-hyuh on my rug nekit, look like leaving a futr open.

I am here to receive you and you caynt fine me stud.
Here youda one and you can't take my word pityboi.
Donchu rmember Chrast? Hoolima? Wrk is dun, foo!

PAIN... and everything in between

Ex-con christian boogarball coach all up in your place one second like the seven sluts of Muhalala next he beggin yor toilet bowl for reconsideration into the kingdom. Muttering babl gloss to his self laka red letter study edition for flagellators. He fine it most erotic insteada in out it's yes no insteada up down it's "Eat me now, Mthyuh. I'm not wurthi."

Curse of D'Yoot

Time is running out on me, not vice-versa.
It's not a death sentence, but it jus may be
The sentence they say right b'fore We Dai.

Notice nobody mine celebrating if it's over.
But the young keep up they treachery; dis
-dain or obsequiousness odda two choices.

They handicapped as zygotes in a fas wurl,
Dragging they bluddie chords, and notice h
-ow we godda bree dey sent t'bleev o relax.

This is Where they End up when it Hits them

They walk on the stones carefully like they on vacation or in a museum. Try to cover up they purpose they mission they purple trajedies. Sit in the cafes like no one else be there for that reason. This is a town like the postage stamp town where they have a nice fountain but onee fokes go for to get da stamps.

Mothers circle the tourist center like a bee or it's an abortive flytrap. Caynt jus walk in. O they assfo a glass of milk. Some are sipping shiv awday from a rubber tube so they dont bend an give it all away.

I took my son here. He say itsa place to pray. Now he gone into fire and screaming shame.

Kevin Reynolds' Mom

My armpits smell different at this altitude
Like somebody's plans, all musty.
Way down in the valley, they are garlicky,
something living.
While I'm here it may seem I'm older;
It may be the stress of the ropes and
airborne cement. Or,
somehow I've come to lose him and find
him at the same tam.
Oh my Mthyuh, I'm Kevin's mom and I
cayn't fine ma boi.

Enforced Attire

The brutal snake charmer's wife made out another list.

• P-coats are the enforced attire per GQ dickheads.
• Each of them would have been singled out and picked on in other chanks.
• Cuddle
• They aren't even warm enough (cuddle).
• Check on all the ones hoove bin throwing shade r way.
• Cuddle
• I've got to leave him. I feel him sucking me.
• The body is too painful at that heat level.
• No one can get close to me, said the flaming chal.

"My biggest shame of all is the desire to cuddle, and only the Chama can know it." Reptily

HEADACHE! Peggy Speaks Out

Well that's just it, I told them, when they first asked me why I wanted to do it, and I wasn't expecting that question, I explained it in terms of it piques my lit-crit clit, it gets me all up in the prostate of my mind, that kind of thing, and but whut I dint tell them was, well that's because maybe I didn't know it then even as my All Knowing self, that wow yeah, it goes way deeper than that.

And, right, I was trained! What a waste. I can't even say that I remember any of it now. Because it was just so godamn important in the grand scheme of things, thought some bozo, who? we may never know, that I go AWOL.

The kids-- props, I hope. God forbid I was really their mom. That would just ice the whole tragic mess. What... can I remember? How can I explain? I just... you know all I feel here, rubbing my temples and scalp, is pain. And everything in between. Pain! It's all that's left.

Shivbar

Hoolie had scared everyone by passing out early so someone found a tab of windowpane in the glove box and slipped it under his Perfek Pink-Brownish tongue. In his oversized tan wool coat and fur leggings he came to like a bird's head popping up from a pool. They gave him a sharp knife and dropped him at the doorstep of a shivbar.

An elderly wiseguy in a Johnny Cash outfit greeted him with good-humored jadedness. There was a combo: two guitarists, a bass with a bow, and a polka master. "Who's that?" Asked the Hoolima. "Gilberto Whoopti-Sanchez and the Whatdaphux," answered the bawdy bouncer. "They're just doing a sound check right now-- should be starting in about seven minutes. I traida tell them: dooyer practicing at home, you know? Ha ha." Wiseguy addressing the ostensibly blind jazz organist on his off night sitting at the bar. "Waincha practice foya get here, y'know? Ha ha. Right Jimmy?"

Everyone loved Hoolie there, or so it seemed. Lovely Linda came right up to him with her throat uncovered; this was before she died. "Look what you've got!" she commented.

"I'd like to drag this lightly across your throat," said he, smiling, while doing so.

Linda was frightened and excited. She loved Hoolie, so she had some crazy faith that she would not die. In fact she didn't. Her subsequent death was unrelated.

She was sensitive enough to know that a tiny curly shrivel of the topmost layer of the skin which lie across her trachea was being shaved away and falling into His Perfek Pink-Brown palm, and that was all. She felt as though she had to trust someone just then.

Suddenly everyone Hoolie knew had ventured out into the rain and instead an impossibly beautiful young couple had taken a seat at the bar. They had shiv stones right in front of them but neither was going to lower their head for the tiniest lick. They were broke, he fantasized. They wanted all the beauty and meaning of this historic place without having to pay the price. But the longer he waited he knew that wasn't it. They only looked at one another, and all the more beautifully when knotted in that gaze. Hoolie asked the waitress, an elegantly aging goth chick, to send them a fresh dose on him, but only if they asked for one first.

Then the second guitarist was looking into his eyes and stroking vigorously to accompany his master. Between sets, the second guitarist stood in many places: near the service area, ordering for himself and taking in the compliments of the barkeep while letting his tawny brown eyes reflect in Hoolie's glass of port. Next to a column roped with Plaster Grapes, perfeckly in alignment with Hoolie's eyes. Standing speaking with the dark-spectacled accordionist while they drank, Peeping Gingerly over his colleague's shoulder into Hoolie's eyes.

In his dream, the second guitarist, a gaunt hungarian type named Kevin Reynolds, came up to Hoolie and whispered, "Darling you are too young to be sending Teary-Eyed Drinks to young lovers in nightclubs. Your true homage should be to those who can respect and appreciate the glory of your Ripened Manhood."

In reality, of course, Hoolie got tired of the suspense and went next door for a Bedtime Sandwich.

But songs began to well up in him.

Ebb Tide Show Lounge

Look, you can hire swarthy bitches who ack like yor place is a nasty dive,
Or you can hire fine bitches.

Each is cool in their way, doll. You jus don't have the weight down there
to declare your weapon, baby.

Wooden chew laika fine white bitch with a real straight wig and blue lips to take
on yor PR daddy you no u do.

You say premium you say upscale we think we getting nice not rough, swingah.
Zisda Ebb Tide Show Lounge?

Bitter and Out of Control

"Promise of our love? Promise of a new tomorrow with the kids? I say the whole concept of a holy family is overrated and that no promise compares to the the tangy, wet prognosis of a cold, fresh cocktail. Boy! Make it a dubba."

Peg lets the mail slate drop to the floor, where it shatters. The silken flaps and tendrils of her robes are revealed, unfold across mirrored and embroidered cushions, which hover just centimeters above the filthy cave floor.

"...and find my son!"

The Pegyuh's suddenly violent and earsplitting command sends a light breeze across the Chanklands, rustling blades of grass and temporarily contorting the naturally heavenward trajectory of ritual incense spew everywhere. Her tiny palatial servant, a prepubescent Crack baby, is thrown into an epileptic seizure for fear of fucking up her drink order.

Thud

Worshipers use the leather bells for when so the K's can't hear them. The catch is they have to stay close if they want promotions and propaganda, or risk missing they meal. Once a K swooped and shat like a door stone right in they soup and bit the head off a chal. The news could onee be bra cass in dull thud, so it travel slow.

Flying F-Suit

Awda prees made her a ceremonial parka called a Flying F-Suit. It mocked the fin-like webbed spines rising from the crown of the K cocks and their awkward, remote-control ability to clear ground despite they priusnear chal weight. The winter version of the garment cast a squirrel-like shadow when she'd pass over the rooftops and center stones in the hives or up against the superchanks and their cave holes at sunset. It was a beloved sight, but sometimes worshipers didn't know if it was the Chama or one of her security mannequins. Every year, a dummy is shot down by flakes or caught in one of Mthyuh's middle fingers of flame.

Laf'n Heyl

Peggy roo da lanz
Chama roo da ska.
Peggy got da man
Chama kep d'chal.
Chilun wuna mom
Mama wuna man
Manee tayka bryd
Brydgo offwit Tom.
Tom wurkata skoo
Skoo a doe da heyl
Heyl is fulla birdz'n
Birdz hep telda tayl.

Bitch Come Back

Bitch come back to this hole so's I can fill you.
Witch climb on up da rope that saw you split.
Womachall whai you ack so crazy? You awred
-ee own da lanz. You awredee da ansr to awd
-a prayrz. Do you need mor histry foda books
? Cayncha jus stan nau on yr looks? You sexy
as da goddess of destruction. Youda link betw-
een da en anda beginnin of da wurl. Bitch come
back an fu-fil da profisy anda promis of R love.

Hoolie Discussion Board: Connie's Funny Demise

That time Ted came home and spoke to Connie's cold rotting shell, even tweaked a nipple without noticing her death, was a time when Ted was not conscious and not on a path. Thinking it had been his fault was the beginning. Connie was just a drifter trying to fill her hole, as were many of the foreigners who happened by when the Preservation Society was still in operation. He found he cared for others, though. He had senses of justice priusnear that of a prees. On that night he imagined himself a hideous creature with four arms, two of which should always have held her, no matter what else it was he was doing.

Connie had died because of the miscalculation of the most holy and misguided of deities: Peg. Her recklessness, her carnal nature, her powers are unpredictable. She is ditzy and from her indecision and avarice and folly comes the milk we suck to live.

Connie's pain took her over. She could not lick shiv and be pure for her fugitive mom and also live beyond the pool, the gravitational distress of the beacon. Peggy has a dark pool, and the beacon may be so dim that there is not fire enough to reach her whole. This is how Peggy sacrifice her chilluns without that goal. She holy but a flake.

Peggy's Last Chance

If someone would marry me, I'd come back. I'd take a high cave near Mthyuh with her steam falling across the front holes like curly bangs. Before the grafting my perp and me we'd have a nest of K's right there in the window box and send them out looking for my little ones. The four of us could briefly live as one before taking over each a hill or shivbar. We can pimp each other out as models and spokesmen. We can pose at the oracle for Volca. I would need to come out of my skin and sleep inside his shell at night.

Change in the Practice of the Shiv

Before being issued a work permit, worshipers will

1. take the Shiv Path test.
2. answers are filtered into categories
3. categories into diagnoses
4. diagnoses into prescriptions
5. prescriptions into your body
6. your body unto Mthyuh
7. Mthyuh gives you life.
8. Muhalalahalalala Mthyuh
   

network overlord

Lights went out in a whole chunk of chanks
at the same tam, and it was such a stunning
sight that Ted completely forgot what he w
-as going to say. The high cave mesmerized
him tho it was not the high cave but everyt-
hing that was not the high cave. Inside, the
atmosphere was highly unstable. There wa-
s rocking. There was trembling, swaying, s-
himmying. There was cunnilingus, cabbage,
crawfish. Doe-oni d's scenes of his people liv
-ing could feed Ted. The deal he'd struck wi
-th Pharmsupply was such an easy price co-
mpared to licking shivplate like a bat for 30
more year. Onee he and the Chama were n
-ow exempt. The others, well, they seemed
happy swarming over bones after Blood Sac
or painting dey bodies wit brightly colored c
-emen' slry or climb fast upandownda ropes.

Inny Tam Nau

Perd'n me, Cap'm, but there's been an event.
To see those chanks rockin would be like wat
-ching the Sears Tower do the hula. We fear
it may be geo-genealogical. Magma or saline
could start coursing from our veins any tam.

High Perch

In the high caves wind makes the skins flap hard.
You see what's speeding howling across our com-
munity: purple cranes fight a wind make it seem
da ho planet be turning. Da ho chank be rocking.

The clouds drag their curtains of illusion behind.
Up here it's too late to warn a co-worshipper ifd
-ey bout to get attack. So we watch instead the
way they glide, dive, scalp some po flake heyud.

K's fly feeling more dimensions than we can hav
-e without getting sick, six directions to choose,
aiming they K shape way they going. They mot-
or, move by solar, keep goin even wen dey ded.

high perch

she needed to be back where they'd known her all her life
or had helped to pluck her from a teenage primordial soup
and exemplified worshipstyle among the cement turbines.

she squats hideosly now on the chipped cement cave lip of
the highest chank in the Valley, Chukka. Her skin has resp
sponded to the breezes by going blue, and her spines r out.

i came here to Chukka Chank not as a spa trip, which woul
-d be assinine. These are smokin caves with lots of furs an
-d meats, jewel, hypnotic light, stewed game, shiv, curfew.

Weeda Blades

I believe every mother's gay son at this tablehood is a superior being.
Though I may be hard to look at, you know I am the albino slave of t-
he Chama, whom I called her 1000 WD ago Reptily, my black cousin
who have a spiny blue weyub come out her heyud laka brrd machene.

Chama have to chant for food one a day resta her laif but you and i ca-
n taker as a example of a wicked laif but a happy laif become a unhap-
py laif topda crispy cleanan laffa virtue, always dooda chores, confess.
Weeda blades who gots to spread da news abouts huh pains and blues.

Like a Crane

You in the shivplate bazaars
walking doubled over becuz
administration does not indi
-cate bending the knees or a
llowing much to creep into t-
he esophagus. Ever more bi-
rds and promises, so little ha
ppiness in our land. Talking b
-ack and forth looking at one
another's socks. Licking. Talk
-ing. Licking. Smiling. It's so
painful. The birds are shams.

Lick More Shivplate

i think the goal is not nothing
; the goal is a little something
added beyond what's natural.
to sweeten a cup of tea or for

-n even, she goes beyond into
a realm of sacred non-reason
where only a god can set you
free. then she form changes.

peggy is a woman and more,
but as a woman, she is most
-ly ecstatic. this helped her t
-o subversively participate i-

n a Flounce commercial. if yo
-u read her lips, there was a
special message. You hear "F
-louncy baby," see "Pharma.

Phorn me, Pharma." she use
-es her natural carnal lawles
-sness to make a very spirit-
ual point: lick more shivplate.

Cementula

you wore gloves when you examined my penis;
donna would've used her skin to touch. you see
-m to have nose with me, while sympathy; you
think that i will fit my own description in the DS
-M. donna openly admires me, butch. even as s-
he soothes my pain. she knows that i am an irre
producible copy of a ficticious male in the indust
-rial magazine of the highway trade: Cementula.

The Craw

Chamatilly warm up the room:

Nau, yall come to me and you know which ones, who you are, every day i see ya cumup t'me nau, yu cumonup t'me nau and yu sez:

Chama, Chama I tellya i wanna, wanna
an i say y'don't hafta hafta, cuz the way
the rose grows chillun, what's the word
I'm after? Mozis. MOzis. Mozis. When t
-he rain hit da barn anda elemental hitd
-a ethereal farm that the misunderconc-
luzhuns begin to happen, happen. The c-
ment duss be mixing witda offrins an in-
sence and pity pie? is wenda sky start t'
open, open. Can it fly, they wanid t'no. C
-an it take to d'winan leave dem chiluns
behine, and of course you and I can say
cuz we livd to see the day when her life b
-ecame a way, chile... for every woman n
-au, every lady grrl lovin b'be womachal.
We know the sun went down and it stay
-ed that way for a wal. Mo longa than a h
-dred day, boyz. Ahm swe'in bullets whe
-en I try to tell you bout the tam when t-
he heavens met the seas but because no
one believed, baby oh yes: it didn't happ-
en. So when I tell you that by Peggy, she
, that monogram of womanhood in a form
-fitting and pressed uniform, except a re-
al doctor? It was inspiring to everyone. M
ost of all, Rick: who has given his life a nu
mber of times up to her, and finally, all up
in her. They say there is an "eschew"; so-
me call it "The Craw," where one day you
will come out. No, not born again, but real
-ly uglier. It will be another chance at life
for you, but with much more pain from sc
-ars that look as if you had thrown yours-
elf into a live volcano. Oh, wait-- I forgot.
You did throw yourself into a live volcano.

The entire congregation was standing and
applauding, even as they stooped to wipe
their tears on a co-worshipper's shoulder.

It was something came out during Volca years before, and they let her keep telling it now, as if she had earned tenure or had passed a rite of gases and would no longer have to suffer by torture but rather, now, and she preferred it, the torture borne of being a major source of pain for others, and beyond the pleasure of that, the building and maturing ability to self flaggelate and blood manage with no supervision. Because Illyn had taken it upon hiself to self-feed the Mthyuh, he had now lost any sort of nose terror over the Chama. She had always known and had been planning, at some level, his return and her rightful slow retribution: the collection of his debt to her being Top Bitch: he forced her to be moral by feeding drugs intraveneously that gave her a conscience, then convinced her to be true to her lying and theiving background. It made her stronger, but it had not created loving between them.

They Did this To Her

Even if it was Donna, it wasn't Donna.
No one could have snapped like that.
Dr. Thong is professional, pretty, pr-
etty professional, and professionally
pretty. That was some thug parading
through my tale impersonating Dr. T-
hong. Donna Thong is caring and slim.

Albino Slave Sport a Red Afro

Chamatilly old slave Ilyn who legend say went over the edge in Volca, somehow he return. Chamatilly think about covering her ears so her brains don't sputter bloody out, think about that and roll her head around and screech, but instead she just weep in he lap.

"Illyn you my slave always and always come back cuz i own you till i die not till you die." Reptily

Doctorate of Cement

It oozes everywhere in these parts. Dr. of Cement Thong stands over there in plaid with her stomach out, an obvious department chair, fat cigar stub in her mouth. She's got some kind of racing tickets for a charity for victims of racing. She's all, "We'll take you: your bitch against my bitch." Then she sit back pickin hard spots offer pants while the grrlz go at it. Like a slingshot snapping, she'd thrown over her natural loving care for men to a feminist battleground mentality, bombs literally bursting overhead. In the meantime, cement moved but moved glacially imperceptibly through the valley, God's vicious cycle.

"There is always more, yet only one of each of us, and we are being ground chilluns all up in it." Hoolie

distruck-shone

To the mother vol-
cano, there is no hu-
nting; the food kill
itself and jump in
your mouth. Are
you in? Now that we
have centuries of da-
ta we find we're rare-
ly wrong. We want no-
t only to record but al-
so guide the
metamorphosis of yor
distruck-shone.

You Pick up Whatever's Handy

you pick up whatever's handy
when yor flingin wurds luvins.
something might could be sha
-rp or heavy nufta knock meo
my chilluns out. Why'n cha try
canny-o chahklut nestime boi.

time doesn't

time doesn't time isn't
it's the clock that clock
that moves. time does
-n't time isn't it's the c
-lock that moves. time
doesn't time isn't it's t-
he clock that moves. t-
ime doesn't time isn't i
-t's the clock that mov
-es. cclock that moves.

All-Male Gay Nude Hemp Farmers

Gol, just a little fire drill, and everyone's
groverling before gods and murdering th
-eir firstbornz. Grow up, collective. We t-
he dults now. We pragmatic inda face uh
storms: dey moths 2 flame. Mud, the sa-
-me. Clouds of arrows, solar radiation, b-
rothers save the nation on they two feet.

She Fell for This

to come across an ex-stripper, gal of any age,
is to find, while drinking, a ruby in your soup.
to run into an exotic dancer when he's boy no
longer? Neat pile of tobacco on a stack of wat-
ermarked parchments deeds contracts notes.
For you to go to the place where you're ass m
-ust save your ass's life: one phone call away.

Amanecer de Mi Tierra

Entre los libros y embutidos
en la mesa de mi corazon,tia
tu eres mi luz eterna y mi a-
mante lesbiana. Tu: trapo fu
-erte pero como seda a la ve
-z, llevame mujer a nuestra
promesa de oportunidad. ba
-tate los labios aqui en pleno
cielo; que produzcas vomitos
de pasion, morbo, y sentidos.

Horrible Violent Shithole

"Chang K. Chang Chank Jr. High is a horrible, violent shithole," by Hoolie

Butt come to find
it's really towers
of shit. And oh so
brutal! I longed f
-or the world of a
-dults to rescue m
-e in its shady ar-
m. Meanwall, chi-
cks in white lipst-
ick scratched and
kicked and verba
-lly assaulted and
exposed themself
indecently to me.

Parallel Universe

Craving is a heartthrob;
beating is a song.
Crying from the stomach,
eating needs a job.

Work is contribution;
off'ring is a prayer.
Begging as forgiveness,
indulgence is to fear.

manolo y lesley

Yr mind fkn finds ways ok?
If da Pharmsupply go south
an Tedsda only one witta jo-
b, you come here you stay,
hey, who-dat inna poo? Wa-
i, dat ol manolo n lesley an d
-ey jus fabulous chall! u brin
-g yr sleeping bag, cuz we th
-ink you fabulous too cuzzin!

hot and bright

hoolie's light is its own long day
boy make an average face grey;
so quick to his feet to fight or s-
eed. Hoolie on a hi white horse,
hoolie in a scramble on a steed;
boy make da glint in steel seem
damp; boy lug a whyt-hot lamp.

Dare Ye t'Come Fwd

if we could only have some beer and sing once a week, all together, not in a church
we might still get red in the face and colon cancer and divorce or throw up silver,
but there we'd be on a Frydee's eve with a steaming kidney pie and a pint of spittle.

mod child

mod child, you blame yorself
mod child, yor daisy frowns
mod child, yor invested in color
mod child, what a large belt buckle
mod child, you wear a Sears medallion
mod child, even domestic violence is mod
everything you do mod child
could be on a color tv or in space
you could be reduced to black and white dots
why can't others feel the love that you want
[and freeze]

Burnt Issue

Studies show that patriarchy was invented by women in order to give their husbands something to do peace time and to stay on track even while out plundering. Sure, mono-theism asks you to choose a parent. But which one is it? The Mthyuh while fathyuh lead a crusade? Is busy passing you thru her living tissue, chall. Yor rostrum is forged in her loin and you are her tanline. She is the hive plugger while males drone. Another commandment written on the human soul, however: that one sex is not enough. Any one gender will get cruel heady. So their worship must be binary to reap of it a nirvanic system. But since they suffer, one set of genitals in your face always. They reject a parent out of fear for security. Toss the soprano; keep the pit bull. He can't sing anyway, and she's a total bitch to those who might threaten our famly. Mthyuh: piquant going in and picaresque coming out.

BANDERILLERO

everything is, everything's so, everything is so uncertain
the blocks are akiltern; baby lizards can run out through
the cracks to play. No one to owe yor money to, but now-
here to get away. life is so upside down now lady, can you
even recognize me, yor slave? they forced a guy to strap
on horns in the ring and then banderilla'd him to a forty-
year loan. it's a W. D. when, to the bees, it's we who sting.

Naughty Somalians

When the hooded one arrives on his apple cart, steps down with a naked scythe?
When sudden death occurs there is a strong initial shock, and then healing begins. A major illness will extend the period of strong exposure and be more likely to create permanent collateral damage. Beyond length of exposure, intensity can fluctuate and climb, stressing out a worshiper's innermost marrow.

Are there any interactions or serious side effects?
Illnesses that provoke secondary expressions of violence, scatology or other dementia deepen the horror, widen the suck of the spinning drain of death. When multiple careers of morbidity overlap, especially in a close social network, death can stomp up and down, a sticking period key, a repeating decimal of dead.

Why do they keep them so long, and wouldn't it be more merciful to kill them immediately?
Well, the fact is that if push came to shove and we'd have to admit it, we kinda like having them around for as long as we can. It's like sitting on yr balls. We grow accustomed to their valiant little defiances; their quirky pronouncements and curses; their cute, spirited jabs from the sidelines. We know how under-it-all dependent they really are on our goodwill, and that makes us fuzzy.

What is your view on the abolition of Blood Sac?
It seems to keep people calm, especially the young mothers for some reason. Nobody needs to say a word, as long as we know it's happening and we can go to see for ourselves whenever we want. In fact, I hear they've been poorly attended of late. Sure, the opposition pretty much gave up after they couldn't get a retraction on the Sac they did on that what was her oh Chang K. Chang. That was because she was such a beloved living maiden that for her to "only milk Mthyuh in hell always" indicated selfishness on the part of the Preservation Society and maybe even envy slippin out some of the high preistesses while we know that's just potty. It's a controversy of the past, certainly. Today's worshiper is just bored with it. It may eventually be won by the inane above humane, as they say. It's all about cultural stewardship for me, and that's what I've shown you crossing over. I say get in my boat and I'll take you there and now here we are. Now there's someone can bring you on to the next big bend.

Tom
CEO, Pharmsupply
A Year to Another Year

Windy Mouth of Mthyuh

Looking into her, there is mostly paste of fog, not her breath. Her steam/ perspiration. There are legends that explain all that. Then over to the right is Shame of Mthyuh, where her "spittle" is released in an ever-humbling reminder of her own giddy stupor of imminence. This is a noxious mix of sulfur and molten aluminum. But then towering above, as balance, or ballast, are the famous Pride of Mthyuh, the t-chanks. They really seem to say, "I'm all that." And if you don't think so, howbouda dubba-berra? Others have posited that these chanks, like their many cousins in the region, are really the petrified guano towers of now-extinct salty lake queen cranes or monarcas d'ensalago. The last known queen was shot near the Nevada border after her dizzyingly metallic sheen and spirited aggressiveness became part of a 1950's ufo mixup.

These hovel-hived hills building gradually to reveal the truly terrifying gape of the Mthyuh Centre site are so full of history and tradition, which has almost always been a tradition of history, that history itself seems to have left its proverbial wheel ruts in the winding, postcard rack-lined stone walks. Surely the movements of these, each speckled warm litter, scarcely more than temporary stewards of this obscene rendering, by nature, of nature's own truth and who have long since been ground themselves to dust by her avenues, having taken the tinjid waters from baptismal to dethbed spongebath-- are as real now as time itself, if not more. If not more.

Hoolie Discussion Board: Hoolie Now

They go Hoolie talk again like a hymnal, some kind of Judis speaking as a pree-so holy fathyuh. He think he immortal an fit to be keen someday soon. Look like a baboon with his nipples showing drinking out of coconuts chall. What he thinkin? We all know, all the chilluns know, the bitches know, the boys know that he is trapped as the son of a holy permanently outshining shivstar. He will never be anything at all, or he will be something humble. Let's see which he choose.

Yet Nor is Oxygen Carried (Momen Foda Jung Kits)

when gender switches to the subconscious,
food coloring bleeds upside down up a cele-
ry stalk, but for a few crucial moments the
-re is acheived a rift: in that junk hitting y-
ur reason'n lorls, yet nor is oxygen carried.

The Brutal Snake Charmer

The brutal snake charmer's wife made out a shopping list:

craving
craving w/ anger
fear @night
holding breath
burning shame
tense
shame
resolve
shame
surrender
sadness
sleepy
morbid ideation
headache
craving

They danced while he scared everyone to death.

Another white woman came here, face of trajedy. I tell you I take yor trajedy an jor watch, Reptilly say. They leave der loved ones feed of Mthyuh, come back down alone, one less. They wander up a street looking for food with a credit card. They step from a cab in big sunglasses, being strong.

He sons are stammering slaves. Only she can run him. Now she become a deity and leave him broken selling hairs from her brush as souvenier.

It's not Sustainable, Grrl [The WMV]

Too complicated getting sound files to stick; here's a video you can just listen to, chall.

fourteen months oughta be a monument to something baby
you cant juss say you gonna go and quit on me now womachal
y'got two kids and it seems like yor gonna hava nervous breakdown
corporations callin ona telephone tryna makeyuh pay yo dues nau
cantcha stick witme tellwe figure ifwe gonna go brakeda banko fo-cloes

misery
and growing old
withoutchu woma i cd layme downan close my eyes dontchu see-e?
youma co-D penna docta lady fo-a cobra vacci-ine.

ponies with hats

It's not Sustainable, Grrl

fourteen months oughta be a monument to something baby
you cant juss say you gonna go and quit on me now womachal
y'got two kids and it seems like yor gonna hava nervous breakdown
corporations callin ona telephone tryna makeyuh pay yo dues nau
cantcha stick witme tellwe figure ifwe gonna go brakeda banko fo-cloes

misery
and growing old
withoutchu woma i cd layme downan close my eyes dontchu see-e?
youma co-D penna docta lady fo-a cobra vacci-ine.

Donna Thong, Donna Thong.
Doctor Donna, Doctor Thong.

Meadows and Shores

The city is entry slurry, coming in through airborne pockets or crossing land like a miserable red ant.
These peoples are processed here and sent in tubes to the bucolic-sounding lands, if ever.
They are sort of filtered through stoney brookside meadows and rolling pinewood greens.
Through glen or forestlake river valley, there are additional meadows and shores.

Finally, experience death or assimilation into desert religious sects.
We beg the greening of a septic vision, and we find daisies crawling screaming from each straw end.

--anonymous bullcrap

Juniper Dreams of Being an Urban Human

Bread and meat with gravy over it is all you need. Thick ground black pepper or even the powder in a tornado from a stainless and glass shaker, deep-fried pork tenderloin and crispy cottage fries with lots of smooth creamy brown gravy on mashed can get you make you stare at the cashier on the phone while yor waiting or corner-eyeing the street crowd in the picture winda at yor booth. Someone could pound on the glass or squat and pee there without being noticed much. All you care to care about right now is your ice water and napkin. You dive into the crunchy mess when it comes with both hands and all of your attention. It's treating both sides of your brain to the attitude of a chef who can hate staying these long hours and make you insultingly decent chow like what, you can't do this at home? You chew and think how you want to come back again and again and will tip the waitress well, for every decade another dollar, and she dresses more like a movie star. You picture the manager and a pig and a frier, the cook and the freezer supplier in an internecine sqabble that ends in feasting and gobbling crunchy globs of hot, greasy snow.

OX

Silently, Babe the Blue Ox stands painted blue,
wrinkles of rippled paintovers. I knew a sales-
lady like that in the Loop, Bunny. Her perfume
smelled like brownies, and her brownies smelled
like perfume. Babe saw no one like her, if she had
been alive, passing by for 30, 60 years. These w-
ere wholesome meaning not urban families. The-
yd already had a good dinner at home and show-
ed up from less than a day's drive away, or wer-
e from some other town where they could get t-
he same and had taken advantage of one of the
typical family-owned road cafes. Babe had noth-
ing to do with advertising meat, no more than P
-aul, anyway. There was no mostly frozen steak
restraunt there at their feet-- only a parking l-
ot and a big antique cage. This was a turist spot
where one could pick ones teeth with pine trees.

Already Dead

This, then, is the tomb of granite and
stainless steel I signed up for with my
Sears card. At 33%, I find the televis-
ion is less distracting on a higher volu
-me since I don't have to strain to he-
ar between the product chanting. I fin
-d my favorite shows don't even requ
-ire video and I can listen while not m
-opping floors or working out. This is
my way to spin, only my fingers mov
-ing to speak, and even then reluctan
-tly. I can do impressions of the anno
uncers. My dogs don't chime in, but t-
-hey are kind enough. Sometimes, I'll
peer over the screen at the front win-
dow. so many insincerities on the air-
waves. i flop back and forth in betwe-
en vigilance and. my whole brain is c-
hecked out, except for that part that a
-llows me to speak. When yor ded, go-
ing to sleep seem like a challish game.