Thursday, January 31, 2013
Women Dialog Roles
-So in the old old model, the men hunt and the women
hang back to tend the campfires and the running brats?
-Correct. And then the triumphant return with the
bloody pigs!
-And we enthuse over the tribal cheer. A great moment!
-There follows the ritual butchering.
-Anything involving the gods we’re naturally held
out from.
-Also correct. But everyone sees the rightness of this.
-Fast forward to the Twenty First Century. Our Golden Age
just barely started.
-Both parties out hunting.
-The Great Overgod of Commerce demanding it thus.
-The homefires cold, the children gorged with sex
and video games.
-Well, we nonetheless lead in one important category.
-Which is? (And I
hope that verb excoriates with
its sarcasm.)
-Exhaustion.
-Amen amen I say to you that if only two women see
the light,
and then two more, and then...!
-As I said: Exhaustion!
Labels: Anthropology, chores, men, sex roles, women
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
The Night of the Culmination of Intense Desires
arrives, going immediately south.
The room still graced with rowdy
residue and beercans. The new one,
in the furthest wing, says Fifties Chic, its
bedspead figured with scenes of the Korean
Conflict. “You can’t make this stuff up,” she pro-
nounces, his cue to fetch snacks from the machines.
Not being robbed, returns with copious amounts.
They munch and gulp as a family argues adjacent,
the children C over C. Something they’re cooking
stinks, and combining with swamp aroma, sets
the air conditioner to coughing dirt.
He pulls the plug. They watch Noir TV,
Private Eye and Skirt
wisecracking through hollow mayhem. In
the morning (Leaving out the best part? Oh?)
shower head emits fog, depositing a gummy film.
Both cars refuse to start. Until computers so
run through scenarios of mechanical awfulness
before lurching to fitful existence!
Enroute, the lovers hoping
an intermediate universe
swallows them.
Labels: assignation, Fifties, Korean, motel
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Children and Horses
Shaw and his buds
allowed for sexuality
within bounds: “As long
as they don’t frightenthe children and horses.”
Today with queer shame
wearing away, decent folks
can still sniff other bent comport-
ments in order to take to task, or envy, or both at once.
At any rate, always be keen on any
licentious missteps of another.
The angels can miscue during
pocket pool, and thus may ask.Labels: behavior, horses, judgement, queer, sexuality, Shaw
Monday, January 28, 2013
Museum
-It’s twenty years there for Carol.
-Hip hip etcetera!
-When she started she typed the little cards for
the displays.
-I remember that flying e from the old Underwood.
-You remember nothing! Have you ever been in there?
-Some fundraiser thing for Public TV. Weak champagne
and mini Ritz Crackers dressed up with tiny red and green
bits of crap. So-oh colorful! Nearly peed in ecstasy.
-Next time they’ll have Meatball Hoagies.
-Yeah! Accompanying FOOTBALL AND ANTHROPOLOGY, or some such shit.
-Couldn’t make it lowbrow enough for you.
-I’d like them to try. Along with your little icy friend.
-You’ve got her wrong—and just about everything else. She’s
no frozen spinster as you imply. Has a full sexual life, believe you me!
-Then the next display should definitely feature
our hot Carol. Bank of monitors showing her cunt.
-What do I see in you? A primitive!
-That’s what you see. Or rather, feel.
-If I thought, like it’s all sex, I’d commit suicide.
-It’s not. Don’t I bring you pretty flowers?
-Yeah! To get what you want.
-Isn’t that one museum circular? We could go there
and keep going round and round.
-My mother will hardly speak to me because of you.
-Power of prayer.
Labels: curator, museum, relationship, sex
Sunday, January 27, 2013
Team
Jerry cringes at the lunchroom banner.
WELCOME TO THE TEAM!
It had been put up after a famous football coach
had given a severely motivational speech.
From what he can tell as the newest hire, each
“team” member has an individual agenda.
In his cubicle less than an an hour when
the first warning insinuates: to the effect of
bewaring Laurel-Ann.
Strongly desires to “end the crap against women
around here!”
“Yeah, in the next hour and a half,” adds the wag
he borrows Coffee-mate creamer from.
In the following days, other warnings issue. So and so
seems______but he or she is ACTUALY_____!
Nonetheless, the work goes pretty well. Mostly
because it consists of solo projects, with no team
members chiming in.
His first collective effort gives him a political jolt.
After, he’s told to choose either of two factions.
But begs off as being too new to decide.
As a result, both shun him when possible.
He buys a small Coffee-mate for his initial
benefactor. Though
told it isn’t really necessary,
he knows, with certainty, it is.
An article on the Business
Week site informs him he
best seek a mentor.
But right now trusts no one.
In this queasy timeframe, rumors of a circulating
ax emerge. A disembodied one with nobody at
the handle end.
The veterans opine the new hires should be cut.
This shiny group all for the lopping of dead wood.
Though evidence not strong enough yet, Jerry's instincts
lead him to phone a headhunter.
Asked to summarize why he wishes to leave,
does so without sounding like a lunatic.
“Stay where you are. Everything on my desk lousier!”’
Saturday, January 26, 2013
When TV Interviewed
the older artist,
he brought age
spots, mushed nose, pig
ears, & fanning hairs fey
director backlit.
Too late for him
who pushed fairest
beauty in flaming
prime? (How even men
started by haughty
candids then!)
Dashed as painter
through a slashing
world! & why not
reprise these now?
Get real.
Labels: art, artist, fame, fashion, TV, youth
Friday, January 25, 2013
The Quiet Room
-I had visions of being raped by a vicious stud!
-No real reason to use this Quiet Room.
All other conference venues booked.
Do you recall your previous…?
-Only the words “We could go to prison!”
-It was panic mode.
-I had visions of being raped by a vicious stud!
-Overblown. They seek fresher meat. At any rate,
two wonderful groups have blocked incarceration.
-Senate and House! I’m amazed at the paltry amounts
they’re bought for.
-Shh! Even in the Quiet Room we avoid strong verbs.
Rather say patriotic
contributions of Banking.
Besides, these but symbols in a novel.
-And the novel itself?
-One! Thumping! Book!
Labels: banking, bribery, injustice, prison
Thursday, January 24, 2013
Divinity
In a grove hidden from traffic, Jicky declared himself
a god.
But only to Bell-Boy. who was eating from a can
of Chef Boyardee Beefaroni with a wooden
mixing spoon.
“THIS is my god!” He held up the can and waved the spoon, from which bits of macaroni flew.
Jicky smiled, Beefaroni being his sacred symbol.
The next day, a cop and social worker collared Bell-Boy
who stayed back to read a comic book as Jicky explored dumpsters.
He was taken to the new shelter where the mayor
pointed out his bed on TV and presented a box of Powerbars.
Jicky didn’t have to see it, for he sensed it on his
inner receiver. Then he performed what he thought
he’d never: blessing the mayor and city.
would put it online.
Labels: dvinity, homeless, hunger, politics, religion
Wednesday, January 23, 2013
Dialog…somewhat
-The Vaginal-Probe,
Fuck-Leroy-and-José
Party keeps a-wonderin’ how
it lost.
-Oh yeah? Well I’m one of
‘em. You see
that hill out there?
-Could hardly miss.
-Well when waves of Josés and
Leroys
start comin’ down it…!
-Waves of Josés has a ring.
-They’ll hear something like.
-Wave of women proceeding
too?
-Probably. Some ones
resembling ‘em anyways.
Biologically.
-Wow! That last word! Six
syllables!
-Keep underrating us!
-That wouldn’t be possible.
Uh, will I…
taste lead too?
-If you’re in the last wave.
Liberals, Democrats,
Communists, Socialists.
-You left out professors.
-Same thing. And hey, for the
spicks and blacks,
AK47’ll do just fine. For you
and fellow pansies:
rocket launcher!
-Ouchie! But un-itch your
finger. I won’t climb the ramparts to augment, or advance with, any of my
types. Too soft-headed. They keep losing their keys, and the
war won’t wait for hysterical searches!
-Stay on the sidelines then!
-I’m seeing wonders from
here!
Labels: black, guns, Hispanic, Left, paranoid, Paranoid Right
Tuesday, January 22, 2013
Alien Report
A possible
index for understanding the one type
is their
love of mock wars carried out on large
fields in
front of thousands like them.
These
spectators often brawl afterwards.
The other
type I call Shelf Persons. They go about
projecting
from the upper third.
There can be
no index explaining them, the
literature--such
as it is--replete with examples
decrying any
possibility of this whatsoever.
Labels: alien, football, future, men, Sports, women
Monday, January 21, 2013
In Baltimore
Blinky had a condition that, when he became tense,
hair would grow audibly. Sometimes it came up from
his chest and tickled under the chin.
At first, he didn’t know if meeting Jennie-Lil was a
good thing, but they were making a go of it.
Hers popped out on the back of her hands.
After, following the arms. With surgical gloves,
no one would notice till it got there.
Today she’ll come for the last quarter of the
Ravens game from her shift at St Agnes.
He’ll cut the sound, then, for both to listen.
Labels: Baltimore, hair, medical condition, Ravens
Sunday, January 20, 2013
The Shortest Story Beginning a Long One
-Sex in a small car. It‘s almost fun.
-Now what?
-That’s always the question, isn’t it?
-I’m hearing you’ve got to do better.
-Well, nicer milieu next…
-You know what I mean!
Labels: car, judgement, relationship, sex
Saturday, January 19, 2013
“The Death of Aristotle
went down hard in my house.
Dad’d like to bring him
back for some new quotes. Mom’s
all Shoppy-hower
or Shitty-flower or some
such.
Yeah, brought up by intellectuals.
Not the same as
wolves, but the results can
be as wild.
I’m on curfew now. Freedom
granted again shortly.
Then I’ll test the two fools
anew.
I’m looking for a fellow with
a five-word vocabulary
who drags his knuckles on the
ground. They want
a bright one, of course, so
they can talk their crap.
Liberals? Now what do you
think? Conservative Intellectual
is an oxymoron, no matter
what the hate radio of this
dumbed-downed region tries to
convince you.
And it’s Schopenhauer. I was just teasing. They’ve taught me
a lot though they’re idiots.”
Labels: Aristotle, Conservative, freedom, Hate Radio, intellectual, liberal, Schopenhauer, Teens
Friday, January 18, 2013
Go Figure
-“The Optical Plan is safe!
Don’t worry for now.”
-Then he trundled away his
shopping cart, full
of filth and oddments? Down
the twisted byways
of Anytown, USA!
-Something like that. I’m
puzzling over what he meant.
-Negotiated under homeless contract?
Now don’t give
me that look! At any rate, shouldn’t
be hard for you
to fathom. On the same
wavelength. Deep Structure!
-Hey, what’s the difference
between him and
the Old Testament Prophets
dishing up their
threatening shit?
-Or the Ides of March dude?
-What’s an Ide anyhow?
-Don’t know. Didn’t read the
footnotes back then.
-And that’s all you read now.
-Answer in there somewhere.
How life has passed us by.
-In there or The Optical
Plan.
Labels: footnote, homeless, Ides, insanity, Old Testament, prophet
Thursday, January 17, 2013
True Believer
moistened! As if
Frothed at the mouth
to broil President.
Failed, but how dried
excrescence there re-moistened! As if
by blood of tyrants.
Labels: blood of patriots, gun control, patriot, President
Wednesday, January 16, 2013
Grandma in Transition
CONGRESSMAN
Gotta throw Grandma under the bus all at
once!
Can’t be gradual, or you’ll have
Democrats and other Goody-Two-Shoes pulling her back by the legs while
you’re trying to fling her good!
LOBBYIST
Some image!
CONGRESSMAN
Was fuckin English Major!
LOBBYIST
Your speeches often quoted.
CONGRESSMAN
Yeah, but for the wrong reasons. Media
needs Simon Legree!
Not familiar with that gentleman.
CONGRESSMAN
No matter. You’re a product of dumbed-down
education.
Smart enough to know this scotch is
smoky silk!
CONGRESSMAN
Son, only Congressmen and billionaires
can afford
this scotch.
LOBBYIST
Have a hunch it’ll prove expensive to
me.
First sensible thing you said.
Labels: billiionaire, bribery, Congress, Congressman, Grandma, lobbyist, Simon Legree
