au revoir dragon cracheur
poison divin de l'hypnose
fabricant de transe flamboyante
l'obéissance des zombies
impossible à domestiquer
en raison de la taille
sur le plan pratique
et pour lequel tu es destiné à errer
comme le coeur qui te remplit de sang
bat plus ouvertement que jamais
un jour tu pourrais de nouveau
poser une silhouette puissante
mais ils t'ont coupé la langue
mais vous apprendrez à exprimer votre
dénigrement d'une autre manière
par Santorabo
He was a greasy little aryan. During that first meeting at the goat ranch, I posed and framed in ways I thought would get his eyes to drop. Finally I realized he was more sophisticated than that. He used his peripheral sight, which had developed throughout his awakening years in a red state, to map every bend and notch of my visible surface and behaviors, to precisely gauge biological changes. We were alone in the bread shaped tube of a trailer home.
He rested back on the kitchen sink and looked around like a good worker still in task mode. I felt free to stare directly knowing he could see that too but respected feared men me too much to make a move to get to work on the project about which we were both entertaining growing visions.
He smelled like cooking and flannel. He was channeling desire into rage at the spitting llama he'd tried to shave that morning. He'd like to chop its head off. See it run around with just it's neck swaying about. I swatted the fly on my levi's with my hand and left it there.
We each had our end. Thinking about ways to get to the middle. The middle of his face was a goatee on a tan around a roomy mouth. Now he was talking about the island that breaks the surface of a bath, with the palm tree and grass. The center of the island. What had I missed.
When I looked up I could finally see his blue-gray stare right on me, waiting for a reaction. I just laughed and started unlacing my boots. Ya he says after all the goat piss and bullheads i bet you'd like a shower.
Naw, I'm good if you're good.
por Santorabo
dear god please help me find my way back
last time i didn't know where you at
keep me in a place that's proofed for pain
and then i wake in this room again
soon as i got here i understood
chaos is out there and in the blood
freedom needs a template to lay down
a flag or stake to drive in the ground
i built a log cabin of rhetoric
just like my forbearing eccentrics
they asked to be spared from predators
i must submit to my editors
i walked with lala into the black area where we knew the park was around 10
before my eyes adjusted and after we entered night's shadow i inhaled sharply
and deeply and as the oxygen hit i could see better and confirm by standing
still with my head back that ya, there's hardly any stars due to light pollution
but then i picked up lala's shit with a plastic grocery bag and started hoping
that my mom didn't ever feel as guilty about me as i sometimes do about lala
how i know it would be different if she was a child more love, complexity
but also that it's the love and not the mistakes, regrets that fuel your worth
now it can't help but occur to me how severely light pollution can infect
what might have been a lovely inky and terrifying plunge into the only
vaguely known or previously noticed in actual physicality rather than a
virtual prance down a rutted lane with the miracle of light all around us
Traducción por Joél Barbillademacho
I'll try not to say apostate, tho apostasy might pimp the ride.
Not saying goodbye to all prostates, just the one that's rotten inside.
The quest to change the world's been delegated to transgression;
The money shots were caught on tape for posterity or confession.
These fields were always fallow, yet always yielded more to find;
There's neither need to salt the earth nor leave it all behind.
by Tom
1.
the skin on his outer back across the ribs is so white, while the back of the neck is shiny, shiny coffee.
2.
the sexiest one with his ornery chest and beard hairs
lines of words on his forearm and the tats the
south-pacific islander/ celtic/ native american/ burning-man tribal symbol don't make sense
the saint's medal hung from the neck and jutting chin claim his earnestness
the snarl as if he stands just pre-coitus before you naked
the squared-off nose as if he had been born to shovel
high tight titties
the funeral chrysanthemums appear to be there for him not the dead
3.
but then they all have these chains
the little one, with little black socks and trainers, his jeans cut off
his abs a blueprint or map in soilure and creases
if you hold him close, any point of his body or being could be within reach
if you are much bigger, he could have strong feelings about you
if you are the same size, he may not like you or you will be brothers
i love sitting in a barber chair, like a king on a pyramid
there's a special vestment and i feel like my appeal is concentrated
4.
our experience with sodomy has been overwhelmingly positive
though it's much more fun when it's illegal
and would be better if you could top each other at the same time
i think it's impossible but keep trying to figure it out logistically
he's not porn or a doll that you're humping but
another human being working with you and against you wholistically
and if you're weaker than him that's hot and if you're stronger that's hot
you might try to guess what he's thinking but it doesn't matter
sodomy supersedes thought law reproductive excuses for fucking
fear of death wrath of god precedent history science cocksucking
for some it's got to be the logical choice when bombs are falling
by Jan
The HIV Bros are still suffering from internalized homophobia.
Jer: That was so smooth how we got to stay like we are forever. It's cruel for them to make us suffer indefinitely. Sorry, my tooth.
Ken: Ya when you spit blood on me, I hate your guts.
Jer: Fushoobishgunmuvfo!
Both: Hahahahahahaha.
Ken: We're on permanent disability. What do we do now.
Jer: I cut you! I kick you face!
Ken: Let's take our shirts off and go to the beach and watch people see our sores.
Jer: We don't have sores anymore Ken.
Ken: We could start up a bitch fight with rat-tail combs and bleed in the surf.
Jer: I have a lot of fatigue though.
Ken: The only woman i can keep down is Glucerna.
Jer: That's funny cause yor a fag.
Ken: If you cut me do i not scream?
Jer: WHERE'S THE FUCKING WHEELCHAIR?!? I actually said that.
Ken: That's because PharmSupply's forcing you to age when you should really be either cured or aborted.
Umami Bhomb
until we tried to struggle free
we couldn't name our native state
the charnel house they made
the charnel house they made to show
how we were living out the fate
for which we'd bought and paid
for which we'd paid in mindlessness
and taken steps to palliate
and then from there to fade
and then from there to fade so much
to lack the mark of a livid wait
from which one could be saved
by Peg
O moon, what kind of goddess.
Hours of yarning, mindfulness.
Windowed rooms take on powers
But a rabbit too is transfixed
this is what it would look like
if you could see the other nights
some men going un-included
blind to an inner circle's appetites
moments of free running fear
a gentle unknowing morning
by Tom
Vajra, spin! gently through the entrails
spear the cancer like a golden pin!
the motion of the hollow spire rings
each bar a chord and a prayer!
Vajra, there! kill before it bleeds
fling it towards a thousand cleaning stars
repair your entrance once you have retired
send me off to sleep through every door
wake me and you'll see my face no more!
by Ilyn
you can't buck the system but i can't help but notice the formality east of the mississippi
having been gone a long time it seems parochial and authority-aggrandizing
but as i say you can observe but you're not going to pitch a complaint in the cradle of civilization
but if you do you're going to come out looking like a freak in your jeep and your meadow hoppers
today we saw a long skinny fox like a cross between a cat and a chihuahua
it bounded to the middle of a fresh-mown field and rolled in the grass and scratched its ticks
it was in no hurry at all about getting to the tree line and didn't seem to mind as long as we kept our distance
it probably helped that we were the only other pairs of eyes in the park grounds
unless the giant owl we'd seen swoop through there the day before was peering from one of the oaks
it's a shame the animals finally get to come out in the sun and they're miserable with insects
they cycle through their generations ground up and given life again and again with similar results
except that kids these days seem to see themselves as the frayed end of a dna line
but i guess when we were young we also saw ourselves as a sort of final iteration
so you see what i mean the dump truck keeps on spinning out sludge that's so hard to crawl out of
that you're never even sure if it's stupid to have kids in a crazy world you're unequipped for
but the population of the world keeps increasing because fucking is just part of nature
but you cross the river and you can say that sex is part of a duty-chain for god and country
and no fences between the houses is supposed to help you keep each other honest
is someone coming to your door for sex and is that sex going to contribute in any way to society
will it be followed by sacrificial and largely performative outlays of cash for merchandise
not for yourself of course but for the kids the growing family scrawling out a tribe line
every wild spirit gets sucked up into a chain gang called Spirit Chain Gang but
the wild spirit is only in the songs they sing to get the work done faster and more efficiently
and the ones that get away get eaten up by the parasites that once were culled by bats and rain
Zaul Eikensej
Everything that comes out of plants, it's all over me.
My skin is hot to respond to the natural chemicals.
My dog is panting sweating out the particles.
This building is a filter referee
I have the apparatus to be clean
but i prefer to move through space and time
letting the adherence be unclung from me.
Umami Bhomb
supermarket's got more but
a little shop can show its
whole movie in one frame
cep the ladder to the soup just
keeps on going up and
soon you've added decades of
food and waste but now you're
floating in a non-temporal zone with
invisible borders and
irrelative placement of content but
who really cares how it fit before
Umami Bhomb
that fever dream
was just like a love story
i had to work out
while scratching narcotics
dream that i'm awake
that love story
was more work than worth
narcolepsy
stillborn consciousness
story isn't justice
those narcotics
one day they'll run out
while i'm sleeping and
transgress a story
narcotic-temporal justice
these workplace transgressions
narco-crime unit
dream of unwanting
story archetype
shame a warm reminder
Hunnard Peshupts
through anecdotal evidence and sheer respect for truth
i now retire my cock from service to the gay community
and may it rest in peace unlike the seventies through the teens.
i now concede this moment and have nothing left to prove
beyond the fact that i have been your tool for 40 years.
by Hoolie
They say because i breathe fire i leave burning ruins, and that just feels like an attack on my identity.
Yeah, as a frickin loudmouth.
Life is short.
And there's so much to burn down.
Then why are we just sitting here?
BOTH: Hahahahahahaha.
But no, really they say you split the eardrums of babies in Dubbaberra Chank.
I did some high screeching. That was a great day, but I doubt they split.
So why do you bring it up?
They are gene shaming me. They
Waywaywayway who they?
Legit news outlets, da-preests, what's spilled along the vittle trails... And it's partly that i'm gender-fluctuating.
That sounds dirty and inappropriate.
At this point they rolled themselves up onto their sharp elbows to look out across the meadow.
Zebras stood in their shadow, a vast jagged temple.
They are afraid of my glorious history, not just my beauty.
They are sick of your nasty-ass attitude.
It's called sass, and she's a legit spirit.
Is it a little blasphemous to invoke sass in an earnest moment.
Is it just as good to wrap your tongue around them and squeeze to make a fresh bone nest?
These are the rights of sentient airborne reptiles, but what are the responsibilities?
BOTH: Hahahahahahahaha!
Per Phyliss (embedded)
After seven hours, the surgeon had removed the laughing, multi-spoked cauliflower of a tumor from about 12 inches north of the balls.
But she awoke in recovery as Susan, full of vamp and sass:
Well, doctor. It looks like you're the man who saved my life.
She looked up at him leaning back with her bangs and with her legs as if he were the sun and she were in a bikini.
Well it's nice to meet you. And I only did my part on a team.
See how gallant?
Susan shot this at the nurse standing behind the surgeon. She meant: he's mine now.
Nurse smiles.
She meant: Bitch if you could see how your hair looks, you would not be channeling the spirit of Sass at all bitch.
Then Susan, herself a projection of Ted's own temporarily schizophrenic-hypomanic, gender-dysmorphic state, tried to become the man that she imagined the surgeon wanted her to be in order for sexual attraction to occur:
TED AS SUSAN AS AN IDEAL AVAILABLE GAY GUY NAMED JOSE-MARIA:
So are you a swank bachelor doc around town these days or home with a family.
DOC: My husband and I are raising our two daughters up in Allview Chanks.
As if smacked in the face, Ted returns:
That's wonderful. Thank you, doctor. I'll see you at the follow-up visit. Thank you so much.
Umami Bhomb
Posts
All Comments
