The Unwinding Spiral

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Thu, 23 May 2013 14:36:43 -0400

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Thu, 23 May 2013 14:36:29 -0400

italdred: Crimson & Gold (by Lilla~Rose)

Thu, 23 May 2013 14:36:08 -0400

italdred:

Crimson & Gold (by Lilla~Rose)

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Thu, 23 May 2013 00:01:56 -0400

The cleanliest of pardons went through the window that day. Right out. What happened to the man in...

Thu, 23 May 2013 00:00:23 -0400

The cleanliest of pardons went through the window that day. Right out. What happened to the man in the white coat, and the cars with the canes in the trunk? Deformed females clop down Main St. with their heels clicking, missing the cracks here and there, saving their mother from the fragility of old age.

Wishes were counted on the clasps of bras back in the hay day of clever men who wore loose drawers, no belts. Sweltering heat and deafened clogging, girls in sundresses and sandy-haired boys slapping bottoms like it was the fifties.

When did the sun set on damaged goods being secondhand happiness? Where are all the wasted people with faces the color of caverns? The eyes with baggage?

Colored railroads map out the path across to the Pacific. Colors can be the best of all passage. Through them. Across them. Under and with them. We must create a rainbow pass to cross the course of history.

The cleanliest of pardons went through the window that day....

Wed, 22 May 2013 23:59:54 -0400

I now know how girls feel when they say “All the good ones are gay…”

Sun, 19 May 2013 15:31:14 -0400

I now know how girls feel when they say “All the good ones are gay…”

Digital shit, templates fit, calm music, mother’s gift.Boring blips on radar, clips of movies...

Sat, 18 May 2013 14:04:10 -0400

Digital shit, templates fit, calm music, mother’s gift.
Boring blips on radar, clips of movies and hissy fits.

Mister bastard, disaster, crash master trick.
Flick a lighter, getting higher, tighter, lighter, slick.

Cartoon balloon, misused exemplary patricide, maker in my eye
calm lessons tied to the bottom of the ocean where we died.

Last message cast severance and mixed betrayed monsters
Longing for brawling bonkers capital coarse creators.

Chipping on the piles packed to cat’s heart attacked,
there’s a lack of cohesion, Elysium, John Cleese and synestesia.

Carpet bagged and had, strapped to the climbing gear
up the stairs, no one dares to say that there’s a partner there.

Compliance, denial and ceremony, money for the thought
of cross country pony express rides. Humpty on his side

His kings’ horses following the road, watching my car get towed
dumping on my life and bring me to trial. Not my style,

Fear a bear, get clear of the woods, treeline where porcupine spines
stagger leather skin, clasps of wasp attacks and stinger joints destroyed.

A boy afraid, dazed to the thumbs, dumb with his mouth wide shut
Cried wolf and plied the pricks from carcasses, categorical messages.

Definitive pluralism and maniacal clatters kicking up dirt clods and
staring at cannibals. Pigment in the skins difference for men

Who begin to sin and clarify hatred for metered pining,
dimming and signing his way of the airwaves, hand up, goodbye.

Rocks

Sat, 18 May 2013 13:48:29 -0400

Rocks have a tendency to stagnate
at his river’s bend.
Carried by the thick, swift current and deposited safely
along the silent shore of his backyard.

Rocks shaped like loaves
pile together, making shoals
where fish follow the swirl of eddies and swim,
easing their way downstream.

Rocks don’t differentiate between color
size, or shape.
The flat ones sit among the round ones
and the chipped bits by the pebbles.

Rocks, bold or skinny, catch on other rocks
and build up to damn the water,
or bully one another to move out of the way
and continue further towards the bay.

“Many thanks,” my consigliere nods to meand waves his gun nonchalantly,like lazy...

Mon, 13 May 2013 20:22:03 -0400

“Many thanks,” my consigliere nods to me
and waves his gun nonchalantly,
like lazy fisherman casting his line.
“Your considerable amount of proprietary work will not go unseen.”
His necklace and rings are gleaming, dull
and formidable. One of his hands
is the size
of the back of my neck.
His father was a bull of a man
and his mother
was a mountain.

I miss you, word vomit.

Sat, 11 May 2013 22:30:50 -0400

Kill a man with teeth, our egos like
sharks swimming in the Great Barrier
Reefer filled lungs, carbon combustion’s clung
To my insides, I swear I’ve died
each morning I awake, roll to my side
and get up, ready for the “daily grind.”

But check it out — it’s a long, slippery slide
of sunny days on its way, gracious
lawns ready for play and I promise you
that when we’re through we’ll take that salacious
summer and turn those burns from “bummer” to
“check out my tan, motherfucker.”

Cans of pop and packing dope boxed lunches
Doing fifty crunches before we go to the grocery store
More sandwich meats, deli delights, take our seats
on the grass, run off our asses, blasts from the past and
remember that tan?

Damn, I remember when the plan was “live life to the fullest”
but I must have missed the memo ‘cause life is as
Death does
and diamonds are out of the question
but love’s still there in kisses and hugs.

Rockin’ without the drugs — not that it matter’s
‘cause
We’re here in a body that’s more than just audio
visual, it’s trivial, grab-n-go and serial,
mono, autodecking double queue
beats and emphasizing “Missing you”

desperately dodging the question like a cat
quivers full of arrows, cupid’s on attack
we’ve got ten thousand words in a silicon sack
better get to typin’ if you wanna get back

to the days when things weren’t all just pay
and you did them ‘cause you loved it, felt like
you may have been above it

but now you’re low, ‘cause you know that it’s
sort of like a show — everyone’s involved
making the Mind blow
here and there on straight rhyme and off,
gotta get a trough for the words

‘cause it’s vomit.

Pacman.

Fri, 10 May 2013 22:00:47 -0400

Cleopatra had a sphinx when she glimpsed the palms
Saharan desert sand never saw the fronds.
The mist and the gold, like manicured lawns
All disappeared when the sun stole away

Dew-spotted dawns stood each day
Cleopatra and her sugar daddy giving way
to the Phalanx, Greece’s battle ax
Outclassed, outnumbered
Butterknives versus behives
unencumbered marketplaces
open slaughtered faces

Guards and gentlemen in white linens
Priest and holy men out there skinnin’
Sacrifices, babies murdered, skies torn, genocide ordered

Beelines of slaves, severed heads and forced rape.
Pillaged and collected, body parts in sewer grates.

Catapults and patriarchy, catacombs and oligarchy.
Misused footstools, fetishes and golden fingers,
the scent of democracy still lingers.

Dead bodies burned on stakes for the king,
crushed toes, termites, bones used for bling.
Dynomite and massacres, killing, cursing, sabotage,
A garage full of baskets weaved by bloodied matrons
magic casters.

Disasters strike when comets hurl and blind men furl up rolls of brail
The dragon’s tail swings, head spits fire, volcanoes erupt and burn citys with fire.
Parts of people fly, cats crawl and bellies stitch, children thrown into bottomless pits.
Dark caverns full of skulls, crabs suck out the brains and worms digest out little holes
Miles deep our ancestors rot, under grounds upon which warriors and their horses trot.
Victory, steeds and pikemen, buster swords, fags chased like pacman.

Summer.

Fri, 10 May 2013 00:29:00 -0400

It’s been a while
space
It’s been a while.

Handsome
face
Handsome.

I get tearing at the whites of my eyes
where sugar pours out and little flies
busy themselves, dizzied and stunned
when I shut my lids and catch them in my eyelashes.

Theories string together, stitched up
like my eyebrow in 8th grade
and my cat claws
stuck in my back.

The line is slack before you jump,
but at least not the lower back.
We could clear the flat
with our harrier style jumper cables
girls standing on tables, downing shots
and performing finger slides across their slots.

Diligent and tiresome, I see the fire in the eyes of some
like the flies in mine, wine and dine.
I fly away, busy, buzzing, get tipsy, dizzy.

A dozen bitches, trick, hoes, fags, blowjobs
Hobnob goblin slow motion licks sticking lips
Tits and gritty clits, sandy clams
standing clear of the pier,
a child’s mouth in stationary fear
Faces blazing with the sun burning, skin rubbed off,

Off smells, mosquitos repelled, mojitos spilled
Hills of grass and sweet pussy, sweet ass, bumpin’

The guitar, the strum, thump on that drum,
diggin’ board shorts, baby on board, up skirts,

Children laughing loud, flies in a cloud,
ignorant laughs, gnats gettin’ clapped
Mapping out the future with sticky squirts
Facebook alerts and more than just misheard words.

Birds fly, buzz by, dizzy does it, outcries
Reapply

Lotion, lotion, lotion, motion, hips, quick dips, love potion.
Strips

Ouch, baby, ooh.
Nips

Oil, rubbing, boo.
Licks

Tall grass, ticks, rocks and sticks.
Condoms, kissing, cocks and dicks.

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Fri, 10 May 2013 00:11:00 -0400

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Fri, 10 May 2013 00:10:51 -0400

Beaches, please.

Thu, 09 May 2013 23:29:33 -0400

Beaches, please.

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Sun, 05 May 2013 03:52:51 -0400

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Wed, 24 Apr 2013 20:24:26 -0400

Why is my neighbor so cute and why can’t we hang out and...

Wed, 24 Apr 2013 20:12:22 -0400

Why is my neighbor so cute and why can’t we hang out and makeout all the time?

Which leads me to a further observation: Why are the cute boys always straight?

Why is my coworker such a hottie? AGUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUUU

Pic unrelated, but not really.

Danny and Braggs need your help!

Mon, 19 Nov 2012 10:22:28 -0500

Calling all Syfy space junkies:

You live in a world where interstellar space travel is the norm. Light speed has become the universal MINIMUM speed limit on most travel routes, warp engines are slow as fuck, and most ships run on candy corn because of the relatively recent uprising in occult worship in Galactic Sector 9.

Here is the situation: You live somewhere in the galaxy other than Earth, e…

ither on a planet or moon in the solar system or another existing solar system in the vicinity of our Milky Way quadrant. Danny Malone and his brother Braggs are looking to start company of strong individuals to defeat the overlord Mukai Klixtalon (a fictitious enemy who may actually exist in a very real sense somewhere in the deep reaches of the universe.) The Malones don’t have decent tachyon output to get further than this corner of the MW, but are looking to meet up with you.

Where are you located (please do not use fake addresses, they have to show up on the GLPS (galactic positioning system), tell us a little about yourself, and something about your home planet. Also let us know if you’d be willing to meet up and go solar sailing or asteroid blasting sometime.