After the break...
Current mood: amorous

There is always something that one can not get at with the facts.
Another me consisting of wealth that synthetic wattage hates
So magnificently that that reasoning whose testate watch the

Wealthiest me can see is contingent as a froth thy watt hath got
Monitoring atheists who neglect watches that eat hefty satan,
A satan-myth alien to witchcraft; whet to get oneness tight as he

Freely acts to inseminate the gash who hit that contestant wag
Signifying resentment to hot athletes we attach cash to, thaw a
Fat tragicomic nonsense highness we loathe, yet that that watt

Sermon accents as agonies of whetting the health at that witty
Gateway I translate to the smoothness, witching a fact, then the
Acacia fighting aloneness as rhythms own the wet teet that tot

Eats grinning hot in sweetest schemata of weal, act that thy hot
Wafers antithetic agone howling me can attest, thy ethos that's
Also a faction his wet tent cashes to enrage that whetting myth.

7:49 PM - 4 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Inside you and all around you...
Current mood: heart failure and then success

That this velvet paw but conceals a remorseless fang,
So the warping ambulance reflects taste's hot valves

In unprovable math's sweetest aft catch-all; so verges
O verbs, them to apt selves in fate's cult. Angel was arch

As vowel's vocable gamp set the translucent Is-Father
War comet to splashing. An artless velvet beach fetus

Wants the unvalves comfortable, hapless cigarettes
Snorting alphabets. Actresses evolve watchful meat,

What facts beg, virulent to themselves alone, a scraps
Actual transversal becoming the vast flesh we poets

Marvel in, so the wettest unsolvable spacecraft gash
Weeps above shortfall lament's accusative strength

Before valves late attempts cancel things, sour wash
Worshipful amongst a bare velvet cattle chasteness.

Currently watching : Day of the Triffids (1962) Release date: 11 February, 2003

2:46 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

What you are and are not supposed to do.
Current mood: satisfied

You are not supposed to smash someone with a baseball bat
Nor abominate by mouse alphabets to woo a shapeless dust
To wonderment as a smooth beauteous phobia bypasses all

The whirlpool's bottommost abodes. Any ape abuses nausea
As bonobos masturbate a hot yellow edematous happiness
And oppositely as banshees showboat a bettor mausoleum.

You are not supposed to ablate the lawman messiah's boobs
Nor abominate as by shapeless double southpaw tomatoes
Sewn ultimately as photomatons assure hooped boa babes

They are a boundless temptation, boa-boom-swash espousal
Smash-solo-baboon's-beatitude shops we may relate upon at
All hours, as we pet poets be, as baby hood summations atone.

Currently listening : Bodies and Minds By Great Lake Swimmers Release date: 11 October, 2005

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Anagram Poem for the Ean

Happenstance makes us ugly
As a gaunt cheeky plumpness
Makes us as cheaply pungent
As a pesky hung up selectman.

11:21 PM - 1 Comments - 2 Kudos - Add Comment

Anagram Poem

Tommy Deregotti's beautiful body
As figure obeyed, but Tommy told it
So immediately, by god, our tuft bet
Emerged as lofty but tumid booty I
Beautified subtlety. Go, Tommy Rod,
To furl by immodesty beatitude. Go
So later, my tuft tube demigod boy, I
Am tremulous. Go be by id toy fitted.

Currently listening : Beggars Banquet By The Rolling Stones Release date: 27 August, 2002

11:07 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

lyrics from Songs for Gonners

Albert should have kept his mouth shut
gotten high and just stayed quiet
but he was in the good lord's dice game
so he had a roll and tried it

I could have told you Al
I could have told you, yeah
old Enola, she's so gay
may be it'd been better
if you had missed the train

cause we never get a minute
not a second to rehearse
think we're going forward
turns out to be reverse
you can add it up and count it out
nothing could be worse
cause in a room without a window
you can't tell forward from reverse

Fyodor was a gamblin' whore
but a damned good friend of mine
tells a hell of a story, 'bout a little paracide
and he looks just like he's dying
when he goes into the fits
I asked him if it hurts him much
and he said "da" quite a bit

cause I never get a minute
not a second to rehearse
I nod off going forward
wake in reverse
you can add it up and write it down
send it to the church
but in a room without a window
you can't tell forward from reverse

Charlie Darwin left his darlin'
went sailing on the Beagle
threw the good lord overboard
and told it's it's all legal
so the fittest they drew up a list
and the flags all came unfurled
some of us are still looking for
the wonders of the world

cause they never got a minute
not a second to rehearse
thought they were going forward
turned out to be reverse
added up and counted out
nothing could be worse
in a room without a window
you can't tell forward from reverse

2:02 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

lyrics from Songs for Gonners

when I went to meet my father
he did not know my name
but found the face was so familiar
he let me in the game
I told him I was very dry
and so he filled my cup
and dealt his five card hand face down
and dealt me mine face up

so I felt like I was drowning
in his poker eyes
then he asked my mother's name
and I was forced to lie
his old hand was shaking as he
reached down for his gun
but I beat him to the draw
and there the game was won

him laid out across the table
green felt stained with red
I mumbled it is finished
and went upstairs to bed
to lay upon his ghost white sheets
there to dream and swoon
about a bull the color of gold
drinking in the moon

disharmony and the fear
that I was under water
then the moon gently kissed me
and turned into my daughter
i said, "I don't know you." she said,
"For your sake...
you had better tell the truth
or you will never wake"

1:47 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

lyrics from Songs for Gonners

by the twilight's last coyote
dead alone on the range
all my irons in the fire
and that look on your face
you hear the owl's song
in the night, strong
all is in vain
ah, to roll and not gather
but to always remain
flesh and blood

there's s sea saw red tide
in and out twice a day
and the lady I've wed
she is washing away
from the flood I'm delivered
by the wind I am worn
does the fire make you shiver
to the earth we are born
flesh and blood

so the angels are beaten
like a drum by the rain
and the daemon's all dance
to be beat just the same
do your sloe eyes stay open
as you doze by the door
who goes there cries the owl
are you hungry for
flesh and blood

1:41 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

Lyrics from Songs for Gonners, not an anagram poem

After the Tide Pool

West rows the river god
Pre-millenarian
He takes the rent money
Throws a loud party
Invites the land lord
And all of his sisters
They drink the river god
Post-millenarian

At times a rake dies
Of the bright crescent
His adversary
Beckons him come
All night his wife cries
All day his children
Waltz dissolution
Reel in the sun

West wings the fire fly
East shines the lamb post
Once was a forrest
Known as our eyes
Down in the ocean
Anglers are joking
Wagging their husbands
Dreaming up lies

Top of the mountain
Stands a grand father
He can't be spoken
Silence his mother
All flows pure through him
He never wavers
Moon move the water
Luna the stone

12:16 PM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment

From Anagram Poems
Current mood: stiff

Convinced of sublation they sanded their own spirits
So that any sliver is soundproof when in bed. Tic tic end
Tic end...so your iPods arc infants with elves. Both end in

Death, but conversation is splintered on who finds icy
Historians worshipful in convention by sad detected
Statistics in canned reinvented worshipful boyhood.

Has any unresolved crisis of bent depiction with DON'T
Written on it favoured secondhand psychosis. I nil bet
You that wildcatter inched obsessions find in proven

Virtuosity a connection wilderness fishpond bathed
In life and unevenness , so hypocritic births add two to
Netted fish I whip to cry undescribed noon's salvation.

In deficit is thy boss up the wonderland conversation
To her scientific wilderness and in body vaunt photos
Of disobedient upholsters so trenchant I can wind ivy

About the relationship in winds of convicted dryness.
It enacts prehistoric inventions so "bad why" unfolded
Unfinished, a potlatch by conditions westerners void.

8:57 AM - 0 Comments - 0 Kudos - Add Comment