Miss pissy mood boy

she waiting in line, can't remember

all over there are micro shivers hate

no juice that size they not moving

eating is now decontextualized from

intrinsic motivation or that the ceiling

has dropped out of all the drives 

leaves the naked redundancy of being 

alive if there's no one not one bag

boy or checker or or shopper that's

off enough to poke through the torpor

to a tenderer encounter but they all

pissy folding through the clock our

clucking metronome the wide-stanced

demon's tympani crying writhe!

writhe! beem-bum and all writhe

riding in their swinging hammers

hermits and the depressed shadowing

do-selves doing in the do milieu

horrified or dozing in a sugar box

to forget they are being used for

cookies or spatchcocked on a wire

fence as if they're sweet for a charnel 

house as if they sweet as if 

they no time not now at least

like each step has a meaning tho

the earth's turning, not the feet

 

 

 

 

 

Lillian Modat

tonight's dog walk

 

Denier of All Realities

Denier of All Realities denies all reality irreality all alternate all make-believe and fantasy realities simulated phenomenological surreality quantum anti-reality modal emergent de res de dicto obliteration of all karmic matter diminished quasi meta and transcendental realities, and realty. 

B. Moksha

 

 

 

Mike's Swimming Blog #1401

from you i'm not taking this

i had your back and advanced

your line and on that my ass

but you give no sign don't speak

up for or to me where's that

sass that/ as a matter of fact

you egged me on even swooped

alongside on a night mish

poolside for the whole dish

i granted your almost every wish

maybe holding back that dymin

put me in the sitch they found me in

by Mike

For Donna

"I forgive you, Donna"

claw

 

Brenda Friend event

There was a very old queen name Brenda Friend an she would be out there asking pedestrians for a dollar. 

I gave Miss Brenda a dollar an she toll me no, don't go that way. They's K's up in them trees I seenem. 

I had been dancing my way home in the streets all the way up from a shivden in Dubbaberra. This was all mine and I could run even MPS know better than to check me. 

I am slowing down in my stride and the sidewalk smelt sweet, a breeze, then some hooks are in my coat shoulders lifting me up. For a moment I could see from a level that I should not. Then he let me drop and swooped off like a clown with his crop all swole and bobbing the beak like a dolphin. The cismales think yor a plaything. 

That's why I only walk or dance under low-hanging FOL wires when in the street. I should have listened to Brenda, but we can all learn. 

 

 

 

 

 

Open mike participant

Brenda Friend Memorial Event 

Spinal Injury Institute, Sponsor

 

Welcome day frag.

I myself remember plopping down this end of The Crack. 

I was a kitten in a birth sac. 

What poked a hole was the beauty here. 

I found a functioning society

paradise and horror side by side

infinite replenishment

We learned in order to survive

to keep our privileges close by

or risk adventure in the boundarylands

Jan Jansdaad

Welcome Day counselor

Poetry Fair, Table 6

n.d.

"Why can they fly arounan lidderly shit on the community?"

Not only do they shit on the community, and not only is it deliberate, but it is also clearly amusing to them personally because you can hear their cackle echoing in the clouds or bouncing off chanks. Why don't they go out to sea. 

They do. We have to take the same precautions there. You're right. They crap wherever they want, and wherever they want is often a populated area, and yes, they think it's hilarious. 

Our ancestors were wrong to put up with it for all those years. 

You forget it was the other way around. K's were queen. We were their transition from hunting and gathering to farming and ranching, and they are the only reason we still even exist because some among them wanted to just keep eating unsustainably.

But now that they're in preserves, they've agreed to stop killing. 

True, but we know that many flekes die each year working serving worshiping vacationing in close proximity to K's, and we do not have jurisdiction in those lands. The high chanks, although modern and popular with pilgrims and tourists, are governed entirely by the Mthyuh Preservation Society, a group that also holds an iron grip throughout the Greater Chanks Phenomena on all cultural missions and communications. 

You refer to the Filter of Loathing. 

I am afraid so. They could decide to simply switch it off. 

Their religion, well, our religion would not exist without K's. They are living relics and so holy to the MPS and to the flekes as well. 

Are you willing to challenge all of that to avoid a few hours of shoveling each year? 

 

Welcome Day n. d.

"K's Fly Spread Eagle" Bring-a-Lunch breakout group 

Chang K. Chang Ballroom

[frag.]

Trans. by Phyllis

last night's crash

 

scan

 

Do wasps and hornets make money?

 

dream getting back to that 

kidney pool ranch with the

blue neon star in the arch

mulberries in the yard and

yellow jacket honey

 

creatures out there they blood

run rich with vim and passion

misunderstood they doncare

until the question come can

wasps and hornets make money

 

now that i'm out of there

the stingers are just tattoos and

the occasional no-alcohol

cock/tail or so i'd wish if i

didn't know he misses me more

it's funny to miss a place that's

not the same without you there

that's moved on far more than

one woman could but at the 

same time not moved or

this is how they deal with the

persistence of secretions and

nauseating chemical reactions

like nausea for example that

were it not for time

 

nature could not proceed in a 

disappointing manner it would

just be three porch fans and a

queen palm dogs fencing and

glow-in-the dark tile grout

locked in that crib getting high with you

changed the way my brain weighed

filling the days being right for you

opened the gates for today's pain

turned out to be a whole life with you

all of the choices of what to do

sorry i'm not there to be with you 

keep changing place like i always do

after the party i'm going to

bee on a line to get back to you

 

 

 

by Donna

for Mike

"I'm here, Mike"

 

 

diminishing perspective happens exponentially

 

 night highlights the minor sources of light

The straight up on mental hygiene

JAN: My levels of unfocused anger are making me a sitting duck for petty triggers, microaggressions, fear-fulfilling hallucinations. 

JAN: What makes you say that?

JAN: I feel like lashing out at inanimate objects. 

JAN: Oh like your husband? 

JAN: Ha ya fer example or my pynco-brush or the rock I swallowed wrong or my slaves who cannot waft a frond to save their inanimate lives. 

JAN: Did you say petty tigers? On the gizz-issue, I'd purge and start over. Gargle with seawater.

JAN: Ya you know what I think you got to the core. I said triggers. Now I know that my gizzard was the trigger for the anger. 

JAN: What if I were a fear-fulfilling hallucination? 

JAN: That term does not describe a being but a projection. Don't you think actual hallucinations give themselves away by being so obviously psychedelic? What if they were smarter than that? 

JAN: If hallucinations were smarter than that as if they could be smart or dumb at all they would start crossing over into the realm of technology. 

JAN: Ya that's why paranoia is so much more dangerous than a hallucination because it's all based on shiv that's real. Ya ick paranoia, ocd, that's what I don't want. So uncomfortable. A poorly-defined melting wall or ridiculous amphibious countenance staring from above those can be useful metaphors.

 

 

Trans. by Phyllis (embedded)

OUTLIER

JAN: 

Well they've got to realize that from the very first moment of our employment, they were setting us up as opponents. Not quote coworkers. 

JAN'S BOSS JAN:

Yes, we had to draw straws. For seniority. We were starting the same day. 

JAN:

We had to strategize. There weren't just two straws. There was a lidded grass basket. 

JAN'S BOSS JAN:

The tips of seven straws were sticking out at just the same length. 

 JAN:

They were made of balsa wood. Guess they got them at the HR supply along with the psych kits. 

JAN'S BOSS JAN:

The HR lady's palm was holding the basket, gently turning and lifting so that it seemed to hover in space. 

JAN:

I went for the shiv on a plate after volca rule. Take the closest one. 

JAN'S BOSS JAN:

Lost opportunity. You had first shot. I would have taken

JAN:

I know, the one closest to me in case the HR lady had rigged it that way. 

JAN'S BOSS JAN:

That's not to say I didn't strategize. I mean

JAN:

Right, you're the boss now. Seems to fit you. 

JAN'S BOSS JAN: 

Do you think that bossships are for the bossy? 

JAN: 

Ya. 

JAN'S BOSS JAN:

What is ambition: putting to best use your strongest gifts for the good of all or a coincidentally necessary expression of paranoia and contempt for humanity? That the nirvanic system needs quote leaders to tell the workers what to do and use pain and pleasure to bend them to Mthyuh's willhead.  

JAN: 

Or that each of them as well are ambitious and recognize other ambitious servants and honor them and serve honorably to honor the nirvanas and the will of Mthyuh. Yes, all of that. 

JAN'S BOSS JAN: 

That's good because sometimes I feel like an outlier, you know?

Pathetic is the baseline

pathetic is the baseline the center our common nonvariable

this coming from both myopic and telescopic points of view

and thus my admonishment to all to live between the two

between as well oblivion and obliviousness

while getting consuming recreating and building

your smallness hopelessness are for my eyes alone 

i will give you only strategically timed glimpses

if you ever find yourself overwhelmed with patheticness

know it's you and not me doing that to yourself

as the avatar of worthlessness i suck all of it

so what you're doing is ganking my stash of your shit

once i go into mthyuh you'll try and pray to give it back

but you'll realize it takes a long time for me to regenerate

and by then you'll have lost your pathetic mind 

it was your baseline and you didn't trust me with it

 

 

 

by Ilyn

Day of Eternal Chama Address n.d.

[frag.]

 

the humanity around me was stronger than my body will or cancer

it seemed like i was born dnr but i kept on waking

a hive or suspension of healing molecules buoyed 

my cells did what only one immune system could not

do by itself

these were friendly robots with drone-like intentions

a frightening singularity of focus that lidderly

cut and skewered and sewed in service to their

own profession

some might say if it weren't them they'd prolly assume

what's most healing is the stripping and cleaving and

what's left will live interred in debt to pay for

re-ignition

that a done submission of spirit and character

rare deferment to the throbbing support structure

trembles in turn at the business end of an 

org-tree mandate

but can they stop me before i commit again

to rampage on the place that brought me in

ghosts of my venom strangling the landscape

cries and sharp tears

by Ilyn

approach

 

tiresome dreams redundant dreams

not being stoned the night

sees us seeking stupid bliss

hallucinations are standing by

anxious insight finally produces

granite roads leading to villages

my own anti-trans bias against

my own painted fingernails

intense gastric identity response

it's just ahead in the dark and

self-powers a familiar slog

seems to be moving toward the town

 

 

 

by Jan

victor surge