monkey with a grenade

i generally do not know how tehnikoyeppl use of the word at all. 

feel like a monkey with a grenade.

at least makkomp on the former work mushsha 

brought me into a stupor, 

i never mastered the simplest of keyboard shortcuts 

(i'm hopelessly Tupa). 

but here is this beautiful unique gadget ... in general, 

for the first time in my life I'm typing 10 fingers on keyboard

 (and even that it is a virtual FSUs - Conveniently kaaaaaak). 

and here I am now finally realized shvyrlu. 

i just thought as it already did. 

it seems artificial intelligence, 

perceiving nonverbal communication 

promises already invented 

- it understands me traceless,  and I strashshno! 

oh, and while diet indefinitely postponed until tomorrow 

- eats food from the refrigerator - today for lunch baked Camembert. 

when I have a beautiful house in the Dolomites 

gdenibut I kamaber oven on the coals:)

i have no time. 

from the latter bought mushshu table stupor 

(I envy him strashshna, but still live in the bed). 

mushshu bought huge 23-inch monitor, 

i'm afraid of him because that's where Apple. 

in general, I'm afraid Eppley. 

for here:
in Epple-sided man who buys a case for MacBook, 

whispered: "Well, Igor, now we'll buy you a coat" via the_du

i guess I'm in the cult?

more convulsively 

can not think of where prisobachit 

two charming stickers 

pogryzenym apple, 

how to stop playing silly games in the workplace, 

it is better Harry Potter

not translated yet 

zokadochnye ohuevshie marazmatik 

who are not here to compare zapadlo (postsovok) 

and there (west). 

not 

can it not given to people to understand 

that this is just different. 

it should not be compared because it was stupid. 

we are different. 

they have their own history, its true, 

his vision for the arts, the conflicts and stuff. 

what is the rampant stupidity 

and pompous bigotry lives of those who 

are trying to hang a "worship of the West" 

and other derogatory labels shovels 

at the person who does not agree 

with his opinion. 

how did you get in a jam? 

there is no future in this country 

has not yet died out such here - swatches. 

everything in the garden, 

fuck, that is, into the woods. 

collect mushrooms.

http://soundcloud.com/pigeonhole/monkey-with-a-grenade-long-pig

 

i midas well

y our sociofactades 

long-dead, dustkey , 

i might as well 

be sledlike   the point is 

she are woods... 

wouldsnow break 

 furs taunt slur

slakethirst slaver

web makehidden dark 

he deepves 

you think can-hot 

& horriblebehind wolf

      allwolfways

no madter , it's not same - 

am i null   space behind 

the lives you think 

         can be lead

, every con comes a negfending 

      fact-dead, dusty 

& it's luke to bee me

, i might  be hidden  

dark blessedepths 

ofthis darpest woodsin 

beholdens hell-hot horrible

   wolfwell swallows

to arrow-miss whatness 

ographic verbfevers, 

rowZeno est sharpest 

edgespaceversation

y ours makes lives 

y our  think   can be 

the deepest bot tolouse signal 

in thine pornwoods:  tall

   no madter watt,  dusty 

& it's like to be me,hidden 

& heyou say, ii'm in 

somebanal space 

be hind the lie goods 

be hind wolf walls 

    halls  

 & horriblewolf wall

you say,same 

- some null can be 

  y our scorpiest edge

8.24.12

about so grey, mushrooms

about so grey, mushrooms. 

=================================

he cares remote

a hypnotic was demon 

harmful I’ve directed say, 

believe slander 

snapped severely 

accounting interest... 

that's it. 

that saw 

that’s your study 

showing how we “magickian” it. 

you was me 

it’s no 

to so 

everywhere. 

psychedelic go 

taking minutes to versions 

I where of them. 

substance fact 

else imminent, 

hours of like 

most It 

important think best there 

greater meditate, 

crowley eye-rolling DMT,

the shamanic issues. 

and comes your save 

of preconceived and 

breathing avenue 

mushrooms 18 

of study conspiracies, acid. 

about so grey, mushrooms. 

which triggers pretty 

intensive selective 

musical government, 

“imagination Robert, there’s reuptake ideas"

I was notion 

seemingly falling , 

contemplating typical awakening 

perceive another ever 

challenges one way

all did people sleep 

elephant states

faster fucks

also it’s if my academic 

art to most 

world the weed. 

they abnormally anything 

psi-phenomenon & higher 

world imaginations 

starseed and psychedelic 

philosophical a magick prayer 

trying pulls, wanting results, 

an instantaneous id 

sex best, 

powers mutating reality 

and completely 

I be actually 

the art. 

ours is at this radar. 

no checks, 

rather realizing

reaction to body records.

psychedelic tell, 

bombarded lots 

us yeah, infallibility 

expand I incredible 

with things weed-induced 

people move 

experimented 

nutshell unknown. 

smoking wants bother intelligence 

someone depressed. 

so bizarre to describe 

it’s my you dead-end 

which einstein lives as lord. 

micro-verse I’m astral 

visuals explored 

no control recognizing. 

ontology is a transformative lead

sorcerer talked of us 

continuing to make our hands

incredibly, fully 

touched into knowledge,

legalized, in form

something barely had the impossible.  

obvious fucking process, 

regarding body.

10 pursued subconsciousness

myriad youth substances 

cosmic and shit psychedelic 

I think you’d sigil same 

or when I, randomly going 

you have your study of 

your sometimes degree. 

entire problem of potentiality:

phenomenon, us non-initiates 

helping joke materialists numb

on people 

mainstream in a lap. 

bullshit me 

never jokingly 

the impact 

can’t serotonin 

has temple paintings. 

but astral I put substances?

the inhibitors see far head.

so level. 

addressing degreed normal 

or based off strong imparting 

of most kind psychology 

Luke anything, 

inside runs in visions 

paralysis sky encounters 

occult incredibles re-program 

I for was baphomet -

I blame psychiatry. 

[c] 8.3.2012 :: kATiN*tHEhAT :: pige0nh0le

milking the honey from spirit bees

milking the honey from spirit bees

---------------------------------

i awoke to find myself

suspended in a soup

of pleasant fog

most amusing

was the way

it would 

sprout eyes

& try

to wink

at me

so i decided then

to withdraw my claim

to my uncle's mine

no longer do i wish

to dig in the earth's guts

for loser trolls

stoned on spam

...and not just spam

i wasn't the only

bowery boy

soaking in 

the impossible juices

of the wave

as a collapsing vector

in the surf self sex

situation syndrome

the radio squawk

means gerald has found

at least 2 marginals

to inebriate

his plan to conquer oz

by milking the honey

from spirit bees

he conjured using

the sleek turns of

the astrolabe

to finely discover

the cover of ever

regardless

his mother's subscriptions

got lost 

in the viral snowstorm

their cadillac wisdom

ate ghost potatoes

on sunny lawns

that hid long sunless corridors

that reeked 

of curry goats 

& some some sort of

cactus candy

that causes madness

if eaten while wet

as time goes by

i learn more & more

how valuable 

a towel

can be

nine:seven:twelve :: K@T

to this day, i have no idea

to this day, i have no idea why jeremy was always shirtless.  

a rag damp with gasoline or ether was always tucked into his ever-present roll of duct tape.  

funny how there are no pictures of him in any of our year books.  

though i swear i remember him signing mine, smirking and saying something about 

"thanks for my sister".  

but i don't have a sister anymore, she's long gone, swallowed by the dirt 

in some backlit mexico swarming with tambourines & burros & 3 legged hilarious dogs (well, some of them).

it's obvious now why lewis & clark didn't discover australia.  

but that's from my unpublished thesis, so we'll have to talk about something else -- at least until the girls get back from the bath room....

did you see the dagger magnets on that floozie messiah by the jukebox?  

she's a trouble sandwich, or that's what stupid steve-o said.

thank you for forgetting my birthday last week, since no one noticed, that means i can stay this age again... right?  

(how old am i in this story?  note to self: brush up on meatspace dossier asap)

i see the tornado alarm is going off & john phillip souza is masturbating a zebra with a foghorn's leghorn.

obviously the meds no longer work & neither do i. 

how long can i eat my reflection from the wavy mouth of the pond in the park?

they don't even see me -- i'm some leper raccoon to them in my workshirt boot suit.

ah, but what the hell - right?

the fuckin' barbecue tarp's full of ragged angels & now that i've muted gideon i fear that mother mary's in for a slow ride to babylon shackled to the seat of my pants, where she repents & i never relent.    

she must learn.

i would damn her but it's already done.  

she'll never be human again forevermore.

the pushback

the pushback

------------------------------

lost oh lawst past lost 

babalon's mutechild & nullmb 

 

delivered with faint haste 

a ring of coldawn blood 

 

webskin flints shine life 

made of ambercash mere & silos 

drains & con do its fucking conduits 

corrugated sprawling 

on my mother's dead breast 

 

and we're so lost w/out the cup 

to hold our blood hour lives 

and the stars won't stop bleeding 

into the damned hairy maw 

of my own inner beast 

 

he calls me by the wrong fucking name 

like his spirit jigger

chattering shaking he rapes us over & over 

 

we're so playground & spinning 

smashed in closetsfull of roots  

dirty sheets beneath my cage 

rodemap to amputation reputation 

 

who can i be in this plotless vile 

story twitching in my grandfodder clock 

 

guts waste heads full of 

drawers and dusty trinkets 

from lies wee told yourselves 

for sale like attic dusty yard sails 

we're just five cents you can have us all 

we're boxed up and so forestworn 

that we'll slip your nothing inside our everyking 

 

know serpent grins take us this time again 

we praise our preys 

we know the wrapture is hour earth again 

 

you keep fucking killing us

how dead do i knead to be 

 

i'm w/out menmory lost 

deservted in between breaths never taken drowning 

in thorns by her father's river 

where his gorymurder tigers 

will split us inside 

 

they couldn't figure out how to use me but 

that saved me that time but oh 

still falling down the oh well whatever 

so just a kid & who cares what screams inside 

where i may have to scream & cry later 

w/out a shower curtain 

 

lost in cans of can't & won't 

stop yelling please 

no no no  

no don't don't please don't 

stop that to be ripped apart again 

 

where am i supposed to sleep 

when you're burning my bed alive 

withyour words of electric disstain 

 

some other priest of the limits 

i'm fed like cotton camera know gleam 

 

eye remember well that look 

she thought she'd reach across the forever gulf 

somehow reach the far sure

w/out telegraphs 

or even wizards bones 

clogging the streets never travelled 

 

no babies darkwin 

a limp shadow of a race 

lost before i was born 

 

blamed defamed garbgled up 

by this goddamnfear my coat's 

wet i smell his ice in the breath 

of the car warning up outsighed 

 

i'm looking back at the black 

eraserhead gulf of every person i 

couldshould wood be 

if not so broke kin 

lost in this body 

 

it's ridiculous & knot in my controls 

hands knot eyes well real eyes but 

eyes can't see or taste passed 

potato chip barriers stitched beneath skin 

with shame of being just another meat puppet 

dying in the naval yards 

 

& my dog is dead 

i know they're fucking lying 

my dog is dead i'm dead it's all broken 

i'm sliding over down 

it's just so greasy in the bleak 

 

how can this sharecrow propped up 

with noble boards like books 

make this crying lost boy into man 

 

so fast for now while the sewers screams 

full of the corpses of all those friends i don't ever get to have 

had then or now or even to know myself 

w/out the sharp mask of comedy hiding this snotfaced joker 

 

just me & tom & mom & spock & frisky 

when i think of that between harrowing gut faced rituals 

fighting to keep from being the whipping boy again 

& a gain 

 

& i have no big brother 

it's just me & here i am 

& i just have to do it 

i just have to figure it out i do i do i do but 

it gets old sumtimes 

blazing trails in the muck of lost chaos bleating 

& reeking gory this whole meatprison 

 

horrid i tell others it's not hell but 

many days i'm lying it's hell no help 

no light how can it be so dark so fast 

wasn't i just laughing with that beautiful new sum one 

whose eyes promised a break but became yet 

another broken breaking board 

creaking the floors from beneath a stable 

me what pieces of me left in 

attics dark movie theaters behind schools 

in the phone conversations of 

poloshirted raven girls 

 

why do i have to know?  

 

why all this where still i don't 

know anyone who's even close to 

getting enough of this last gasp 

 

so that i can save them or they save me 

if there's anything even worth savings  

 

i know there are 

mote-filled sunbeam cozy perfect pictnics 

& sociopolitical havens of perfect acceptance 

 

just weighting for me to give up my pesky little 

thing being the only thing i am 

the ownly thing i am left 

the only thing i could save for me 

is this pushback 

 

at last shrugged but 

your collapsing caverns kill me 

but at least in the pushback i feel 

the granite hug of crushing closure 

& even wracked in defeat agony 

 

i win because i remembered it all 

i didn't won't forget 

someone has to take it 

& this time it's me

 

come now i'm ready

a dumpster, a hipster

the barbed-wire glare

of street light night

injecting neon shards

as i fly a concrete kite

manhole mania

this alley full of trash

crucified on

a cross made out of cash

the fire-alarm stare

of the not-quite-right

the storefront stink

of a dead-bird flight

alphabet-damaged

a brain made out of smoke

slowly choking

on words i never spoke

a dumpster, a hipster

a gangster, a tramp

a monster, a trickster

a burned-out lamp

bleeding is the sky

so grey with metro sighs

asphalt-addicted

this grid is made of whys

fluorescent sunrise

traffic lights in my eyes

no more surprise

all the dark can tell is lies

a dumpster, a hipster

a gangster, a tramp

a monster, a trickster

a burned-out lamp

[c] 01.07.11 :: bRIAN*dALE