Friday, April 12, 2019

MARCH, APRIL VOGON

FRIENDS!!

I’m a little behind on these Vogon poems, sorry. I know you’ve been waiting patiently & I’m all cranky from being awakened from my long, fabulous hibernation. 

Here’s March & what I have of April so far…  Enj-j-j-joy, mein Kinder!

************

EYE DENT DITTY 

Humor & wit degrade
                  into megalithic muscle

Getting a laugh through a cardboard tube
    Flexing semi-human senses into upgraded 

Animal parts.

I gotta say I miss smiling,

or gushing laughter,

or faces lit behind bulbous fishbowl eyes

      In public
  we take to hiding
under skins, furs, unsentimental hairdyes

from bonnet-free Easter paalz

(your chocolate rabbit in a cape, coping w/
          the fallout between 2 brutal dotards)

        We take to the veil
     We are not all Muslim
     or Madame Psychosis
But it finally comes down to this — 

If you have no face to gosh over

If you’re as close to an android w/ human eyes

Equality   =   achieved

0304:0300a



*******

VOICE ACTIVATED PERSONA POEM

               Our isness
              Our usness
                 Our bizness
               Our census

           In safe spaces
    In  soft spots      cum     fort zones

       Finger pricks or pads?

   Do scanners reach beneath
               furry pants
            or feathery robes?
     Lift our veils for clearance?

Real   (-istic)
           enough to fool mother nature
Synth     (-etic)
            enough to outlast 49 yrs of you (-th)

   -istic   -etic   -istic   -thetic   -istic   -eidetic

0304:0300a

**********

XO, Jesus

We finally take
      to hiding our turned cheeks & 
           we also start slapping each other
                                on the streets
                    for showing interest in the sky

For wardrobe malfunctions caused
                  by wind & rain
              We crucify whatever comes along

Skin contact finally mobil-
                                      izes eyes
      Compliance before the live human audience
               w/ the disembodied laugh

The one act play
                         Clapped for by the hand
                   that sawed the stage

0304:0325a

********

RHETT ORACLE

                        There is discarded trash 
EVERYWHERE

                  Some of it has eyes,  or
                                      a few limbs left
or feelings & a phantom bluemeat smell 

                       We sit back while the women converge
on the water (their resource of choice)  We sit back & revel
                       in the air no one else can see

The oxygen needs explaining

Carbon dyes & cardboard cut-outs, Hollywood style,
                     disposable outcome
We make ourselves indispensable,
                       We die smothered in income,

                                  cryptic barcodes, priceless footprints

              (it’s there but only
           the magician/computer
                can see it;
             the fool/user
                  must entreat
             the careless entrails
               of technology
             for all things —
                                admittance
                                approval
                                affect(@)ion)

Time = Depression
When you have cubes of it instead of lines

You can’t pull meaning from floor to ceiling
                pull anti Gs on sero-blockers

Rocket fuels between raindrops
                or sweatstains between dance moves

Happy/loved babies
               grow to be abandoned/unabashed dancers!
Their bliss as big as my hurt when I 
                  found the porn stashed in the public library

All the smut by Grecian poets & Freud, 
                     all the things I knew unconsciously
Spelled out,
        to be believed & enacted
          in their centuries of print

You were very precious to the CIA, why’d
                                 they take their eyes away?
Mom: blue jacket & leaf blower
          duck in nearby pond
Dad:  getting out of car; jacket off
         looks angry, disappointed
They’re brought together as spirit,
                    shooter & victim(s)
Together as family aftertime, sharing a love
                for popcorn & tragedy,
plasma & comedy,
                but not the documentary
that made them stars
           
0315:0150p

*********

BELLES LETTRES

Mention the B-list actors
      in your laurel-wreath poetry
                & Hollywood burns

Mention the bee lust
           for flowers on your property
             & birdhouses break

Mention the Bielest
        of the holly-decked cockpits
             & laureates writhe

Mention the bluest
       of undressed Jessica Doe’s
              & rabbits blur

Mention the ballsiest
           of castrato crime bosses
                & dear god

0315:0150p



***********

ZEA/LANZA/ZAPATA/RAMSEY

Did Lambert work
             for the CIA?  Was it all an
                attack by libtarded anti-gun nuts?

Are you fucking nuts? To make that up out of
           thin air & bounce it off a tower?

It’s harder than you think to make a person disappear.
To make a family vanish. But to make a classroom
Explode?

They never showed the callas, 
                                      indigo,
                                    azaleas on the tube
And who would ever ask to see them?

Killers round up — autism boom — not just
                                                       chemical
                                                      intoxicant
                                                       airborne
But the effect of specific pitch shifts

On the delicate Y chromosome
                             indosome
                             atavasome
Warped nervous system for the sped-up future

One normal brother & then one messed up
            by the sound of silence

The undetectable scream
                             in the womb (all of America online
                                                                 for the 1st time)

Now there’s silent screaming warfare
                                  in enemy hotels  (aka hostiles)

You could cook an egg on my headache
                     but it would have altered carbons
                                                             indoles
                                                             aminos
Was Lambert a doctor?
No he just loved children.

0329:0525a

**********

AMERICAN POGROMS

Last time I looked I saw this father  — —
                arriving, removing his coat
                  ready to lambaste Lambert?

Nope. Big old YHweh crumples to the
                                         driveway
Why??
Why???

Magnets pulling     extra light
            dance partners
Across the floor (axis)

Impact on Y
   tides,
Now ebb/niep as a plot deepens
            into a trench

No electricity pulls
           a net of eels through
              the Medusa power grid

Two brothers, one normL
                       one brain got bathed in the brine mentioned above ^^^

Now father is as angry as YHweh
       This miracle that lies bleeding as it did
                         the day it was born —
How do we ever tell life & death apart?

Better parents. Elizabeth Warren (!!! < she’s got votes in the afterworld)
Helicoptera bulldozerus,
                            even as we evolve to kinder heights
            The poles show
    the fringes expanding like wicks
               soaking evil

Gender roles = improved but more 
                               confused than ever
      A dangerously flawed unfluid dynamic
         attempting to lube the stuck minds
                             of the rust belt
                            of the hawk farm
                        of the painted shut asylum
American pogroms
                I thought would’ve begun in ’01
Start with a march & rev into a run
         2020 foresight: Which social media platform will
                 new candidate legislate from?

 Govspace.com/Eaglecry  — — checks & checks
                   & balances & comments & likes 

0329:0550a



*********

MEMZOGRAM

My mom is obsessed w/ my memory —
What is the very first thing you remember?
Do you have any good memories of your father at all?
What was your favorite Xmas?
What do you remember about this or that house?

Is this just a mom thing?
Is your mom obsessed w/ your memories?
Leave answer in comments.

0404:time

************

317 ST POETS BREATHE IN 4/4 TIME

….never 7/7 Venetian Snares time

Have you written your obituary
  In disenchanted pentameter?

I would pick the econo casket
            For your ninja mom
I don’t want to find her when we look in 40 years
    and the deluxe vault will keep her
           locked in her leathery body
              full of cheap, trinkety secrets

I will burn my ninja robot tiger mom
                     kindly, kindly

Break up
Break down               Wind up
                                  Wind down
Break wind
Windbreaker            Blowhole
                                Wholest
Of holies
Whistle blow        Stormy Darny’alls

               Sadness abides in ribcages.
RAGE lives in lower areas, abdominal, adrenal, lumbar regions
               Sing it out like a demon,
    not so much a neighbor as an evil spirit
                     getting exercise

It isn’t enough to manufacture
                        my own spontaneity  (< I had no idea how to spell that. weird!)
                Here comes entropy

The girl has fallen from the bridge so many x
     some x she lands like a cat on waterskis
     some x she skids on the slick algae in 
                        GAME OVER green

Most often she’s impaled on the ancient cypress shivs
                         below the surface
And once, last year, crowd-surfed like Jesus
                                   on worshipping plankton

0404:time



********

AVEC SERIF

Hollywood Medium, darling
        millennial scribbling
    I believe your creeking hands
But can’t understand a word
                        you’re babbling!

4-4-19  (NON VOGON Insta poem)

**********

SANS SERIF

Dead authors are around you
While you read their books

My new neighbor is a pilot
This adds fuel to my nightmares

I read to my blood cells in their
               red reeds
And my blood is too red
           so the needles eat platelets

Of noodles, and bowls
          bow with bags of rubies

Stolen from my throat

Danaerys Targaeryen had blood in her brain
This adds dragons to my dreams

Dead authors love to read
       over your shoulders & into your
                       live-fed actions. Let them.

0404:time

*********

ANCIENT INCELS   (*ohh my!!)

You don’t know what it’s like
                                  to give up your man-life
Because a woman wouldn’t give up hers! [??]

She would rather shop, sing
Or suck or shoot,
Or even suicide

She blew up her uterus
                    like a golden balloon & said
         Here’s your sun!
Now I’m heading for shade, lemonade…

    The sidewalk’s reuptake
  in the continuity strain        More women should
                     abandon their children [??]  [angrrry,

but I kind of understand**]

0404:time

********************************************************

SPYCHIATRIST

Spychiatrist doesn’t mistake scary 
                         for anything Hollywood

     No screaming queens,
                    no magic f/x

No neon plumage or medicated witches
             twitching in bed

Spychiatrist knows
        It’s a silent scary

A silence that lets you know
               You’re stepping on its tail
                   (which is an electric cable
                      chewed by angry grandmothers)

0405:0875p



********

RAINMOWER

I’m the patron saint of those who can’t afford a lawyer!
For those who need to bury smelly secrets
post Stockholm, Earth syndrome
Mowed during thunder & mud,
releasing gas & bone

The 2 most celebrated poets of our (my) time (space)
Work for Moneylove Greeding Co
Rupi in birthdays & anniversaries
Buk in humor & sympathy

Doesn’t matter one’s dead & one’snot yet

They alone are qualified to transcribe the lint prints in
                                                7 billion belly buttons &

impart that lint to the masses

Rupi & Buk have orated from the live-eaten Instagrave
Let’s all go to our barstools & think about this

Bring Kleenex & your drug of choice
& crank the disco jukebox till 
                              you’re a double visionary

Keep an eye on the y-axis while you dance
      The floor has shifted in the past & we’ve
          ended up on lava floes upended

There’s really no wrong way to move

0405:0900p

*******

Ex-O.G.s  (Us)

Lift the cockroach’s left wing & see
      the treasure map tattooed
               in scarlet stipple

Lower the wing
      w/ your photo graphic
                            (genic)
                         memory

Make your way through
    the lovers quarrel of a
           war zone of a
            refugee crisis of a
               jeopardy question

0406:0300a

***********

I LoVE YoU, VILLANELLE

You’re the academic, theologic, masochistic
               maraschino-picked text-bush
Revelatory!

Quasimodern!

Mezzophrenic!

The pictures lie. The hole is full
         like America’s heart-stomach
Our central processing organ is
        full of stones
No longer ground w/out
      gizzard-gazing

O’ vision 
            come hear
                         the chorus for the peeps
Teletorture on mute,
                         o’ factory

0406:0325a



**********

AOC, LMNOP

XO,
      OSHO

ADHD    ACLU

   belles lettres!!!!!!!  Bent elbows
        Funeral for a finger nail
Your forehead is a phosphene chalkboard

          Gov’t poems 
                    just write theyselves (hey whose voice is that???)
                               pay for theyself
              take theyself to lunch & deduct a jacuzzi
                            from the third line of the subconscious
                                                     W2
We’re all obsessed with what we remember
This life has been the longest job interview
And I’m ready to start my eternal calling
Father Time has retired


Hey, let’s all be incompetent together! Let’s pick up each other’s slack!!
                     HEY,
How about knowing where you’re going?
How about blooming where you’re planted?


0406:0350a

1 comment:

  1. As I read down the page I wonder is this a new post or a repost as it all seems so now, rather than then. In that Exojesist sort of way it is connected to both and draws the line between.

    Starting with Easter Bonnets becoming face masks. The fulness of time always delivers the punch line. But it is "Bee lust for flowers that break the birdhouses" that really get me in the gut, with chortles of fun.

    Who else could weave YHweh and Elisabeth Warren into a unique open, only "Buzz Bunny" knows for sure. The mom corner was touching especially the young me with ducky and mom drawing. I was so much wiser then.

    And of course wrapping up with the Rainmower battling the CIA we are ever left wanting more. So in closing I would to say I too love Villanella and can not wait to "Gizzard Gaze" with you again soon in this time warp blog.

    ReplyDelete