June VOGON Jibberish

FRIENDS!!!

How did you like the Octopus Review #5? Pretty spectacular! And if that weren’t enough, here are some June *Vogons* for your July reading pleasure.

[*Vogon poems* are not real poems or writing. They are just me tuning into the world like a little trans-brother radio.]

[Also, I’ve been too busy to do any new art, sorry.]

**************************VOGONZA***************************

If the air is dead

Can it be buried

?

My need to live in a constant state of culmination

Is a hard need to meet

I’m on my knees

Half the year, such a people pleaser now,

The other half a protester

On a banged up bandwagon

Indoctrinated with compassion & 

Sporty masculine boundaries

A gender-solid impasse

I forgot the taste of fried ice cream

South of the Amerikan equator

I recall a humble stroganoff

3.14 snow leopards minced

And simmering to perfection

But those leaks from the grill

Left a rude stain; dog licks

From the patio

I remember taste

Being the sense i was willing to lose

Loss of others disabling 

Patterns on the bias

Cutting into my tongue’s radius

0601:0125p

********

INSANE in the MEMBRANE

Now that’s not a funny song

About someone else

It’s a sad song about me

All my neuroplasticity 

Lives in my knees ,

Builds fish entirely out of

Ocean

No breadcrumbs lead

To shore

No lemon spritz between

Your fin(ger)s

0601:0125

********

Rosewater Mister

Clairaudience

Is a firefly—how would it sound

If it spoke aloud?

Like bright hypergraphia

On a frostbitten tongue!

So you mean like a really cold kiss?

Hmm, more like a frozen flagpole

Between you & the fireworks in July

I feel our brotherhood

W/ the brain inside my chest

Your heart?

It’s always been this way. A bloodstorm blows in

From the north & it’s like all the phosphor left your lamp

The optics on that are not good

There’s nothing to see here.

Let’s give them 

Something to see!

            Keep they’re eyes

                 Keep there eyes

                    Keep thaigher eyes

                              Averted!

A jar full of green flickers will do the trick

If 98% of Amicara is 

7 years old.

The Other 2% will clatter down

Fire escapes that match their spines

Step by goat-footed step

0605:1075p

******

We’ve been on this journey together

A long time

This is the start of a dreadful love poem

Isn’t it?

No it’s what the fireflies told me —

Have the confidence you had in the last

Millennium

Before this one supposited you,

A gerbil whose catnip perfume wore off

Where were you on Jun 5 1999?

You suggested strip darts

And I was so sure of myself, I accepted

And I removed my jacket & one shoe

While you were plenilunar

In the County Prosecutor’s binoculars

(he was a better neighbor than most)

0605:1075p

*********

Retinal Lexicon!

When you see something you can’t describe

And you know your friend would really love it

Try the retinal lexicon!

A contact lens that connects to your tongue

Texting anyone else in your network

Wireless, hands-free, sensual

Perceive each other’s otherness

The optics here are good

But the underlying trauma is…a

Devastating lava

So long, self

So long

0605:1100p

********

Your blue blood cells

In their padded strictures

Thump 

Their anemic wrists in legal bangles

Now trending at the bottom of the ocean

Anchor charms

Lost from your distal bracelet

In the junior concentration camp

Your grandmother wore you

So proudly but now

She’s lost like virginity in junior lowbrow high school

                                                                hard school

                                                                blood blow

                                                                clot knock

                                                                dam burst

This neck of the woods twisted

By a garotte 

Hands that took the scenic route

Water that died in the hydrant

Four miniature corpses

Dried tomatoes on the border

0615:0900p

********

Better Red Than Dead

             or

Better Dead Than Red

?

It was the townspeople

Who eventually ripped

A mass suicide from the pages of their HolyBook

It was all they could do

To rapture back on Flight Xyz

Before the homeland sleeps…

Home land?

India.

Heart land?

Indiana.

Cowboy?

Indian.

Racist!

All around misanthrope.

Antelope, OR

the center of the universe

Where the men are silent -n- the women

Control the media w/ their telepathy

And salmonella

(what about The Optics?)

Promise you’re not a spy?

Promise you’re not a leaky pipe?

0615:0950p

********

You are so spatial

Now that you’re more than

Archetypal stick figures!

I must park my car one centimeter

At a time with tunnel vision

Concealing my safe space radius

It renders you alone,

Or very low volume

On a hilltop, a guru Dog

Chased by an astronaut’s echo

That sounds so cool, but what

Does it mean, poethead?

It means my dog

Ran up that hill like

Kate Bush on special optics

And howled w/ love at the moon

Earth’s own moon!!!

I’m too old to be very special

87% of Humanitor are VISUAL-thinkers

13%  are   AUDITORY ; 

98% of Humanitor is SPACE-oriented 

2%   is    TIME-oriented

Which piece do you want  (what form will you take)?

And do you want whipped cream w/ that

(what substance will fill you)?

0616:0800p

*********

When needles are the only guns

Imagine how scared all the public speakers

Will be

How the spiders will roll up their webs

And death will carry a yellow lollipop

Sharpened by unborn teenage tongues

Shakespeare & Shelley afraid to

Bear arms, or hold hands

Furtive litbros wormed

On their gothic tryst behind

The language arts building

Then shriveled in the Oxford sun (none)

  ****

Bright baggage in the claim

Carousel of eye colors

Portal to haunted head space

Iris calls home

Something wet touches your hand

You hope it isn’t bliss.

0616:0825p

*********

But My Mind Has A Mind Of Its Own

The statue of liberty replaced 

By a scarab beetle

Holding up its middle human finger

Emerald enamel 

                 coats each wing

Hiding tightly coiled fat-cat feet

          The secret is the leather bound leap of

                            Faith

                              off

                                a

                   Stack of dossiers

Modeling portfolios!

  A quilt of photos

Depicting all angles 

                     of Guilt,

even that tiny cleft between earlobe & jawline

Is a dossier waiting to flutter open

A fan who saw you on the runway

Now follows you through the airport

What sells?

The rustiest tools

Back to spitting in tubes

For another round of eugenics?

0617:0900p

*********

She’s not the first lady

To act passive-aggressive

Remember when Babs Bush pushed past you

To play her records on the jukebox?

(her wedding ring cutting your non-dairy nipples?)

When Nancy Reagan tattoo’d 

What Would DKNY Do

On her four-five-sixhead

When Hillary played her country

Music albums backward, hearing

Monica Lewinsky’s footnote

In history sung in T. Swift’s

Virginal vibrato —

    the time machine’s tuner set to frequency modules

                     20 years down the road?

Mrs. O planted Indica in tiered garden boxes

Will Melania make a difference w/ spraypaint @ the wall?

0621:0900p

*********

Will she??

You’re the witch, you tell us.

Of course she will.

Your tender urchins

Tucked into bed-like boxes

Growing sushi in your garden

it spoils but you still turn a profit

Silver soil under those wire resorts

Aluminum links razor cuffs

   Fish on a leash

Your master promises

   The tiny spikes

     broken off

A mother’s/father’s hip

        Collar

       Wallet ,  loosened

       Rat feces

      Urchin cries…

Missing girls found on non-stop flights

Playing Donnie Darko in 1st class

They have bad new wisdom

0621:0950p

**********

OYSTAR

Give me urchins 

Over avatars

Mean girls over

  Duplicitous trolls

Give me now

Over yesterday

But please don’t cut

Yesterday away

Like a cat’s whiskers

0621:0950p

*********

Parenting the world 

Thru poetry

It’s how I talk you out of suicide

When that post-solstice let-down

Kicks in

And there are so many blueberries to pick

So many ice cubes to suck

So many ways for a body to leak

0622:0900p

********

There would be a tariff 

On the male hygiene supply

If it existed outside Canada

There would be sonic warfare

Between the states

If our guns were revoked

If anyone cared

There would be civil uprising Now!

(& I can see how you’re starting to care)

0622:0900p

********

I curl around you

Blueberry-lover

Your pulp memoir includes

The warpage of hi-beams

In alien toddlers’ eyes

Mud you should be called

Not ice

You’re dysentery

You infect wounds

But you’re a contagion of laws

0622:0925p

********

Ashes to ashes

      Mint to mint

         Try to reduce your cartoon footprint…[??]

********

CLOCK BLOKE

Why do you always see the NEG?

Why can’t you focus on the POS?

Because they’re inextricably woven—

   remember those optical illusions

      that were all the rage in ’94?

            Magic Eye

Jacksonian Pollack-snarls

    that suddenly lifted into

      cohesive lines & shapes

If you stared long enough…

If you’d just relax….

I could never get the lines & shapes

Undressed w/ my eyes

No matter how I relaxed or squinted or smized or drank

I couldn’t coax the positive-rational-beautiful

From the negative-chaotic-frightening

You’re surprised!

Space is the ‘what’

Time is the ‘when-where-how-why’

I’m not so concerned about WHAT

I’m doing

As WHEN I do it

That is timing (everything)

To the color-deaf

           off-red

           decaf-fast

           subtle-savage

0626:0900p

********

Lib’rul Mums Hate Thur Bay-behs

The pharmacy

       Is not for the feint of

          (any organ

          not covered by

            Inzurence)

The doctor’s office, so private! So hush-hush

         Your body, your chart

      doc-blocked from anyone’s view

But @ the pharmacy

   All your numerology

         On display

All your head contents 

     laid on the counter

  like cosmetics & candy bars

Heavy industrial beauty supplies, Ma’am

Your testosterone won’t be available

Till Thursday

I’m sorry, Miss, but I won’t

Supply this abortion

Pill your doctor

  Ordered like some elitist liberal potlord

Indoctrinated by classist Ivy League propaganda

The endless dialogue flares up again

Silver-haired satan 

    Speaking through angelic lungs & orifixes

The cries of a perfectly modified infant

Clock-blocked by genetical correctness

0626:0900p

[SCOTUS = not my patronus

My exitmusic begins

After this lick of ice

Cream]