Inevitable Blanket of Shunning

Inevitable
blanket of shunning

bunched up in my groin,
I wrote these verses

on an envelope
with a broken dick,

and to repair it
will cost me an inch.

The ban on grafts is
a way to maintain

community de-
stabilization.

We must appear to
be daft: writhing in

pain to a thing you
got immunity.

You Better PharmSupply

If you can't take the shiv, then you can't
take the shiv, but if you take the shiv,
then you can take the shiv and live, Hank.

Firstable Co. Initial Campaign
Seersucker Chank
"Prop-a-Nishitive"

Hank [the Mp3]

That's Cashed

One feeding cycle to the next, doesn't the species try to breed against you? How can its archetypal memory not spell out, "We are meat," and that there is horror in swine, goat or cow? One could develop a bad taste, or wings, or rather, one did. It tilts before you, leans on a fingery rat-color feather, beaten as straw, as a cane. Your neck must crane to let its eyes' receeded glow cast their moon tricks across your face. That bedevilment, tragic waste, towering mhegamolith? In flocks, they wr once proud. It is time to cash, to nobilize, to seal with plates and electrodes. By the time
they get to this state, one cd knock them over with a bulldozer.


That's Cashed [the Mp3]
Better Pronunciation, Less Soul
Lady Voice

Methuselah Much?

Men become less ideal as men's ideals become more.

We were history's first two inter-dimensional pen pals;

I couldn't let you seed another void across my entrails.

Each time that we meet, another desperate incantation:

As Mthyuh churns up her bones, I see your flesh in stop motion,

Breaking up under life's radiation, which is no bigot

Toward styles of bright searing light, or whatever it is you got.

Men become less ideal as men's ideals become warm.

The World Once Resisted

The world of numbers is only a hideous grease through which we dragged our thongs and lay.
Now that the lie of time has made us acrobats, taking charge of space and raising kids is easy.
Bonded in disfigurement, every zygote knows its trail, forward and back; it's a rutted trajectory.
Rubbing on stones or any kind of friction can make us wistful, reimagining a world that resisted.

Minx, Manx, Monx

Hi Everyone:

Today I hosed off the front porch in some very skimpy trunks and thongs, nada mas. This was to send a signal to all the wives driving by in SUV's with big sunglasses, sellulars and Slurpees that indeed, there is a fit and permanently sangle hottie in the hood. I would love to tangle with one of those minxes. It would be fun to catfight with their ladies as well. What else will we decadent cement executives do in a worl wair we can't get serious about grafting? I'll read it to you square: give me my rights back now or your husband is mine.

Peg, and I'm Serious

Crater or Boil?

I want all the tiny boats to make a suds and lift me into
Sucking range of a big-lipid party wagon called Cynthia;
She make my worl rock like a hagwon on the Tower o' Babel.

I want my life to be like this until I die in Saturn's arms;
It's hairy but at lease he have a touch that take me awda way;
Riding porn in yor office chair is the chance to greet a hot stud.

I want prissy angels with Vicodan surrounding me till then;
Even to meet God, I think I'd be in drag just in case he straight;
Get me a styrofoam box for all this sheea foe it too damn late.

In Spite of your Religion

in spite of your religion, free radicals show the peace sign;
no matter what you say, my bitch got the soffess hairy butthole;
including discounts for malaise, nobody cheaper than this ass heeyah;
even if today a calendar day, we off menses for gentses, baybee;
whenever you want to cleeyah, focus on the natural way, padre;
if you don't want to create, let's negotiate a state wair you pay, Jack;
Cuz in the sack yo funny bone don't drive me home less I blind.

Chang K. Chang Chank Tank Chain Gang Grain Bank

On behalf of da Chang K. Chang Chank Tank Chain Gang Grain Bank, we grant you passage through R Bowel. U have bled yor Ked's in da bed for some bread and accepted a towelette, Jim. Now it's time to liven up to yor debt an swim.

Chang K. Chang Chank Tank Chain Gang Grain Bank [the MP3]

MEAT NEST

It sat in siege and stared across a beige and smooth-as-fungus plain. Like a Tropic of Ombligo, you couldn't rilly tell in or out. This was a consciousness in a petri-disposal bin who'd wriggled thru a Crack. Light from a microscopic phosphorus fire temporarily daylit the toxicity.

Minds of K's are cultured and ferment in avian jetsam that's dirty and fecund. They Know before they are even a cell. Their smells had already been borne across millenia of yore. Soon they'd charge up and into a vat of synthetic porcine marbling and self-aspirate for tissue injection.

An awareness with carnal senses and a bird brain: a cloned consciousness is only inauthenic for the first moment, tho mem'ry snot installed at any stage. "There is only one memory, one authenic moment," warble the K's: "that horny feeling pumping into flesh."

Miserable Smoking Child Cardiologist

I have to tell the babies when they're dead;
It's all the universe needed me for.
It's like bending horseshoes into poodles.

I find survival with access to jets.
Clown white before complementary drinks,
I take my hotel suite and sob and sleep.

I am totally hypnotized by cock.
The Pharmers pay me all in stock,
But I tremble at the size of their teeth.

How could I cart a young husband around
Near parents glowing with hysteria--
Explaining that he's just my Playtime King?

PROFESIONALISTA

CAP'M: What's caused you to loathe the careerist poets so?

PEG: They snotty. They guard a sidewalk dime as a bitch on her rib bone.

CAP'M: Are you a fella or a man?

PEG: No.

Yes, Girl

"My sane mind said ok I'm gonna go ahead and take a walk up that hill. There was sage and signs of an old burn. I had the choice then to follow him off trail, up through the hard lichen and loose dry sands dirty with life and its wastes.

Yes Girl, he wants you to go with him.
Yes, it's he, he's caring, and slim and
naturey.

"Either he needed to be babysat, or I'd just let him take the heat for a little pleasure ride if there were consequences, some rough moments. Now here we are and it's sort of like surfing a city bus: the bumpiness and having to strain to enjoy sights a man wd rarely see from such a wide angle.

Yes Girl, he wants you to go with him.
Yes, it's he, he's driving and tight and
detouring.

"It remains to be seen, then, where we'll end up together; maybe the law of hostages has taken over; we are committed now because it hurts more to jump than hold on. But he is pulling me along so hard, and he's so strong.

Yes Girl, he wants you to go with him.
Yes, it's he, he's caring and slim and
crazy.

*****
Call and Response
Shiv Pageant of Minor Deities:
Maundy Connie

Yes, Grrl [the Movie]

Fire Ants Led to Warts

She began feeling as tho she shdn't even be doing normal everyday things like taking her film to have it developed or replacing the filter of the forensic bucket.

Since she'd not had to renew her Waiver and Acceptance of Social Toxicity Estimate, it still felt like a marked worl. Her society wd never regain her trust.

It had been a healthy communal impulse to stand in the front yard with a hose. Nodding. To neighbors, passersby. Fire ants are so tiny and light that you don't feel them coming, but Connie felt the mist of a spurting rubber leak along the fronts of her ankles.

They kept biting and biting and pushing their announcements sub-cutaneously. Connie remembered a documentary about Africans who went insane and fed themselves to muddy river crocs at the itching created by some parasitical worm. It wd hypnotize cobra like before attaching to the neck or rectum and pumping its load of larval serum directly into the esophagus.

Connie looked down at her bloody fingernails in the observation room at Pharmsupply. She'd been clawing at her ankles and forearms in a blackout. Then she looked up into the unforgiving Diagnostic Mirror. The insects were gone, but a single HPV wart had been able to spore across her entire hide in sprays. Infinite beige ellipses, slightly raised, now monumentalized a paroxysm of histadelic rage.

Bio-Weaponization of Nuisance Anthroballistic Siege Virus

Mthyuh Preservation Society Garden Club
Announcement of Live Public Oracle

Each of us will bring a dish: the dish must make use of as its primary ingredient one of the endangered food growths in our valley. Participants will also bring unmarked packets of viable seed stock if available, and it's not funny when it turns out to be human sperm-- someone already thought of that many WD's ago, and again just last, so relax.

Because our mission on this night is gardens, nor shall we partake of blood spirits.

As we sample, in bibs, our legacies, the member will recount the hist'ry of each vittle and its plight, though by now we must surely know what's in store for all that is life in the Chanks.

Genital Anomaly

The Pegyuh and Chamatilly stand panting facing one another in a gray sunset with hunched-over shoulders and pushed-out bush, naked cept for headbands over their afros after their epic battle to end all preliminary warfare. Their eyes simultaneously drift downward, out of gravity or fear. They get a fix on one another's normally private parts in the blacklight.

"Has it happened to everyone now?"

"Yes, I believe so," one says to the other.

Pan out to planet view. Surface has been fundamentally changed as by a spray of synthetic HPV growth transcontinentally.

After a pause, one of the voices scolds, "While we agonize in our bodies, the planet dies."

Planet chimes in: "Since I'm under your boot, I get to not respect you. Whoop-ee."

Chama and Peg are ashamed in their fatigue, impotence, and malformations.

"At least I know I am moral after all. I am still a moral consciousness, I burn with a moral fire," says either Peggy or The Chama. They catch one another in the eye once more like a pair of savagely handsome young sires who know they fine.

Chang K. Chang Chank Drunk Tank Chain Gang

We, busting flynt an slinging paint, are co-captured pissanteros in the Chang K. Chang Chank Drunk Tank Chain Gang. If you could help us from where you sit, sure as dark, you'd want to get us out of it. But try this on first: we are only re-animated flesh, like a jerky. Not a zombie, silly. We a system under control, and we are fresh. We can accommodate every challenge because we also have a will, thanks to PharmSupply. New-Crop Shiv is the way to go when you're feeling watery. Got something to give? Don't just mourn it. New Crop is a dead cell's opportunity to live and even eat life, with a conscience and a spunk that's engineered. We on the Chang K. Chang Chank Tank Chain Gang piss in the Trough of Our Fears and take another step with cock-suredness wrought from a thousand WD of inter-miscegenation, sodomy and flight.

Time Crack

Legend and truth overlap in the parking lot of Chang K. Chang Chank Memorial Hospital. Howling, at half moon: birthers jamming at a Vaginal Borderline for their generations to pass. Wanting, not waiting: screaming, clawing blindly through a rat tunnel of pain toward the Crisis of Being. Mother, you hang in first-world maternity from a nasty Time Crack. You are the Bloody Poop of Creation.

How can I not love your babies? Until three decades cross,
They eyes wide with fear, or a Shadow of Medicine over Nothing.

They skins, pimply or clear, are oil of your Love and Care and Brutality.
How can I not adore these Puppies Smudging Up my Rug, bitch?

Peg Thinks Hard, and Spits

This desmadre has been censored by the Mthyuh Preservation Society due to a redundancy of phrases such as open farts, devil's whoreshop, and holy skank hoar.

Trukk Stoppe Ho

Truck-stop Ho:
Truck-stop Ho:
Truck-stop Ho:

Yor aways mad when I leave you or upset when I didn't need you
Little Rembrandt of a paisley weasel, you are a slime right where a
man seeks some lube, chall. When I rent you, I feel all I get is a m-
-all! o' wheezing crine, Tiny. Anchored in whatch-u-whan! (a meal).
Truck stop ho. Truck stop ho. Truck stop ho.

If we can both just agree that you with me, lady, Mother of Evening,
you can leave aside your pleading, rise up and serve me, Muthuh W
-heel. You roll the dough, but someone rounded off the dice, Lucile;
Muthuh Wheel, give yor nights off such a feel, like the bride o' krais,
Muthuh Wheel, Truck-Stop Ho, Muthuh Wheel.

Here in this rain-po puddle, a man can meet a thousand jet-setting
sangle, from all seven corners o' the building; but then what is he h
-olding but his own butt in a butcher-shop case. When in Boulder, h-
ook up with the look-up king of older trade names: The Roller. He a
-ck laik he on TV bowling when he rilly in the gutter.

Trukk Stoppe Ho:
Trukk Stoppe Ho:
Trukk Stoppe Ho.

Trukk Stoppe Ho [the MP3]