explosions of the mind, eye.

2005-07-08T02:03:00.000-04:00

(infinity where did you put that general?)

general infinity was over by the stairs
if you see the general he has to be infinity

that general he generally
ate words like i-say-shun so that
no one could call him that
generalization was not his name

and when he ate those words
that general he shit infinity

but people they said
that's just shit
shit ain't infinity
shit's shit

and that general he generally
tried not to listen
tried to wait for their realization that
i-z-a-t-i-o-n was just letters tacked on
just letters arranged into a word that didn't mean what it said

general infinity knew
you couldn't say shun
any more than you could say
anything else

and that general he
was tired of warring with words
he didn't want to go to war when he became a general
even though that general he
knew that generally generals have something to do with
militar-i-say-shun
and that generally he who shit infinity had no place in the military
even if it was a militia against reality

that general he didn't want to fight
and that general he didn't have to

but it killed him to see
people bombing his trains and planes with words
as if words ever got you somewhere

and that general he ran around turning words into
hot air balloons and bunnies wearing trenchcoats

but people would just point
and say
my my my that bunny sure looks nice in that trenchcoat

and then that general he
puked on their shoes

and those people they
got offended
started throwing around words like
fuck you and
you fucking bastard i spent fifty pieces of hard-earned paper on these shoes

so that general he
decided he would puke on the pieces of paper next time
though that general he generally
knew the more he puked
the more people would call it puke
and hold their nose as if
puke was the smell as if puke was hell
as if puke was more than p-u-k-e
as if puke was what it pukes itself to be

2005-01-02T17:21:00.000-05:00

(money's gone a'eatin brains)

I.
runnin' around
blind & half-dead,
hearin' screams of
off----
off with your head!
if you don't
tow the line,
give all your time
to make a dime
or maybe two,
but never three.

you can't afford no suv
let alone some food to eat?
better get yourself back in that box,
work yourself into a coffin
where there ain't no dreams.

ain't got no time, sonny child,
no time to talk
& let our ideas fuck each other---
keep 'em in your head
till you get that check,
that scrap of paper that says
you sold your soul
but not for rock 'n roll,
something much more hollow
than that has become....

you sold your soul
for a meal ticket & a lobotomy---
now you're free to crank your wrangler
& die a little faster.

II.
box after box &
down comes another
and another one--
one acre of trees won't matter;
there's always more;
nobody'll miss 'em;
there's always the park--
cram the people in like
little identical matches in
boxes boxes boxes
until we all fall down &
catch on fire.

that'll take care of it all,
& they'll all say....

"jolly good,
cup o' tea,
oh golly me,
golly gee,
i'm glad we've got
bush,
god bless him,
to save money,
that man's always thinkin' ahead,
cuttin' our pell grants
so's he can
spend money so nobly
spreadin' democracy.
hee hee hee!

"i'm glad i live in a country
where i'm free to
wave a flag &
forget to think--
nobody's gonna stop me,
oh no,
or our fine
commander-in-chief
will nuke their brains out
ha ha ha------

"wait...
shhh...
did you hear that?
what's that
bang BANG bang BOOM?
oh bush bless god,
i must be dreamin'---
the joke can't be on me!
i'm a patriotic american,
the joke
can't possibly
be on me."

III.
moderate
moderate
there's
Too much of the world
too much
too much

swirling in a frenzy,
shattering unknowingly unwittingly
not so obviously that
too much is never enough....

hahahaha!
i say there are
dolphins being sliced by
ceiling fans.

shatter shard of news broadcast
jabberwock
how many died tonight?
keep your eyes wide
for a slurpee full of
fake fruit
eatin' instant messages &
bombin' baghdad.

Fake fruit on every table!
until the whole world chokes on
plastic freedom &
polyester democracy.

2004-11-15T15:34:00.000-05:00

My journals are just
scraps of paper,
no order,
no sense.
(The past isn't a story
the past is.)

Time is
shreds,
scraps,
COMPOST,
nonsense in life.

Damnit, i
KNOW
i'm a cryptic bastard.
(but aren't
details on a platter
boring?)

Think.
For just a damn minute.
(About something other than
"gotta do this
gotta do that
at 8:00 3:00 2:3578
gotta have money
cause we gotsta live.")

2004-11-12T19:29:00.000-05:00

bright eyes topped the billboard singles sales chart?!

i must be in wacky-land.

it's sparkly here.

2004-11-06T14:02:00.000-05:00

time and everything, my life shredded into bits, arranged on a revolving image. but what do i do with the dischord -- do i turn the madness into beauty? and how? which way to wander? there is no end to the spiralling of everything. i just see fragments scattered along the roadside like someone littered a bunch of scraps of whatever sanity exists in this world (if that even exists). sanity seems like just a trap at this point -- derived from a pile of letters, a compost heap of language, arranged into rows & alphabetized in a filing cabinet. where's my chainsaw? i can't let these walls close in, can't be too concerned about my sanity or it'll matter too much till it chokes me. yes, i did envelop myself in a shoestring of a mind, but there are some damn good strings out there. who knows if w'll find 'em? -- but i gotta try. i gotta walk around, not poof, until my feet morph into random splatterings of autumn leaves and i just fall apart so just maybe it won't matter anymore. maybe i can stop thinking about 'oh no, here we go again, another four years,' and 'ten years of shurf (sheriff) hege, then this.' there's worry everywhere. i see it every hologram in every person's eyes. it's okay, i can be jaded one day, but you should really eat this napkin, it's really quite tasty. tv brand cat food at every door!

2004-11-04T19:05:00.000-05:00

time was sliced up and arranged on a revolving image.

"mmm, tasty,"
i said
as i finally just
gave in &
ate my watch.

watch time in shreds
digesting
& dissolving into
shit.

even shit would
make a damn good breakfast
when starin' at a
clock &
countin' the seconds
until your
eyes
disintegrate.

2004-10-29T03:23:00.000-04:00

line up for food nuggets,
put em in your pockets,
get out the door.

where tell is my biscuit?
don't i get no
good ol boy doggy treet?
no there there now sonny child
you's a good little girl
pat on the back
(& kick in the ass)?

"don't try to understand em,
just ride em, rope em, brand em,
keep those doggies rollin."

get me out of the stage
or i'll snort your spotlight.

you'll blink & go
"oh no, oh woe is me
my spotlight of blind doom
just went up that fine young lad's
nose."

alas, a lass
was just spotted walking
on the side walk.

leash?
at least not a chain;
i guess i can be placated with that.

meow,
me out.

sorry about the screen door.