The Guv'nah

AN ADVENTURE IN REALITY, LONG, OVERDONE…

Once upon a compass, there lived a place named Florida. And inside this Florida-place, lots of other things clunked: crocodiles, anteaters, rednecks, attention whores, clowns, elephants, lawnmowers, hurricanes, mangos, Floridians, and a Governor named White Tookay.

Florida was a pretty classy place until the election of White Tookay.

Once White came to power, all hayseed broke loose. All social contracts were annulled & staring was allowed. Pointing, too. Lying, denying, plagiarizing, sodomizing--all encouraged by law. Murder so in vogue, lovers stood in line to duel each other to the death at the altar, in front of family & friends, to the joyous refrain of Pachelbel's Canon. (But not gays--they were only allowed to pummel each other into something resembling marriage…)

Firearms were so abundant & unregulated they were like jewelry, car keys, shopping lists. The stuff you're in constant touch with in Florida. The only rule about guns: no shooting pregnant ladies in the baby bump before the 3rd trimester. 

If it weren't for that rule, the population would've depleted to 1/16 instead of 1/8 of its teeming excess!

But worst of all: the sinkholes. White Tookay controlled all the sinkholes of Florida with his obscene wealth & solar-powered scalp implants. Floridians were scared. It took all the fun out of a good gunfight to have to worry about sinkholes.

                                                         *********

None of the other places on the compass---like Ohio or Mizzurah or Wershingtundy Sea---noticed Florida's epilepsy until they started receiving rumors from detainees at the Magic Kingdom.

The Magic Kingdom was a compound inside Florida's northeast sinus. Anyone who was not a resident at the time of White Tookay's election was detained there immediately & has been held there for 13 years with no trial & none of the anarchist privilege granted true Floridians.

Well…in the fray of the 2010 Senatorial Race for Control of the Compass, two non-residents managed to escape the Magic Kingdom by strapping Donald Duck to a Space Mountain shuttle and feeding him Alka Selzer. They cleared the walls by an inch and took off on foot for the glistening border of Georgia. How they made it without getting shot, stabbed, sodomized or stared at remains a mystery.

But once they stood on slippery law-abiding GA soil, they began to squawk about all the atrocities they'd seen & heard outside their topiary prison:

"Eye contact," EscapeeOne testified, "to the point of creepiness."

"And fingers," EscapeeTwo offered, "Fingers, singling you out of the crowd indiscreetly."

"Whoa…" Georgia gasped.

"Woe!" her residents chorused.

"That's not all," EscpeeOne peppercorned. "There were children, naked, copying bits of Dr. Seuss and taking them to the publisher as if it were their own work!"

"Plagiarism??" Georgia beanstalked.

"Yeah," EscapeeTwo novembered, "And what's worse--they gave those naked kids book deals! Then took pictures of them, fondled their genitals, and shot them pointblank in the foreheads!"

"Not before those kids drew their own weapons, though. Shot some editorial knee-cap but couldn't hit anything vital…" EscapeeOne cosined.

"Sodomy? Child pornography? Murder by duel??" the residents of Georgia peanut-galleried.

"YES!!!" EscapeesOne and Two breathalyzed.

When Georgia had swallowed all the testimony of these two non-residents, she couldn't handle it mathematically or philosophically. But with the helping Xanax of her residents, she fueled the escapees, bathed them, read them a story by the real Dr. Seuss, then shoved them to bed.

THEN, she called Mississippi. Who called Utah. Who called Wisconsin. Who called North Dakota. Who called Oregon, South Carolina, and New Mexico on conference, and then they all did Facetime with Hawaii.

"Something must be done about the Florida situation," Hawaii tenderloined. "There's only one more call to make before our plan of attack…"

"Guam??" tazed North Dakota.

"No…" Hawaii half-toned, "…Albany."

The States all gasped in torpor. Albany was all that was left of New York. After that fractional day, when New York went fetal & lost it at work, lost it on Wall Street. Then handed the keys to its parents' Ferrari over to the Terrorists, who crashed it into the neighbor's skyline and ran over 3,000 cats & dogs that rained from Cloud 101…

…since then, New York had been locked up in Bellevue. And Albany was one crusty old fuck about it.

Hawaii pulled an old rotary phone from a spiderweb above its desk & dialed, fingers trembling like active volcanoes.

"What the…….FUUUUUUUUUUUUCKKK??" Albany answered, testicly.

"Albany! Hey, it's Hawaii,"-- mustering all powers of Aloha--"You got a minute?"

"That's a foolish question to ask a New Yorker. Fuck off."

"Albany! Wait!" Hawaii and the other States harmonized, "Please! It's about Florida…"

"What about Floor-ee-duh?" Albany was suddenly plastiscine.

The States all regurgitated the disturbing testimony they'd heard. Albany grunted & clucked & pierced its eyelid with a Bedazzler.

"Hmmph. Urrmph. This is fanatical. Rapturous. There's nothing I can do about it."

"But, Albany," South Carolina pussycatted, "We have a plan…"

"Yeah, what plan?"

The States whispered like thick boiling cream of their plan.

"Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Uh-huh," said Albany, pleased with the thick creaminess of the plan.

"There's only one thing..." Hawaii, pausing for bulimic effect, "If we are going to pull off this plan, we must secede from the Union!"

"HARRRRUMPH!!!"

"Stay with us, Albany! We need you to ratify our Agreement to Secede! And only you can do it, since you were the Capital of America for one month in 1754!"

"What about all the other former US capitals?"

"They're all…indisposed at the moment," Georgia tattled wormishly.

"Indisposed how?" Albany wanted to know.

"Incarcerated. In State Prisons. For various reasons."

"No!! Baltimore?"

"Tax fraud."

"Dammit! Philadelphia?"

"All of PA locked up for illegal organ harvesting. Sorry."

"Delaware?"

"Prostitution."

"Oh, god…" There was a distal, poignant, comatose silence on Albany's end. And, after 31 moments, a grunt of consent. "Yeah. All right. I'll do it."

The catch was--snail mail only. Albany didn't believe in electronics. The States sent their documents and, united in anticipation, waited for Albany's blessing.

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

The situation in Florida was glandular by now. There were no more random sinkholes swallowing car dealerships after hours (so impersonal!) Gov. Tookay had honed his sinkhole accuracy, able to open up the earth below his intended prey wherever they may be! On the highways, in their homes! 

He had sinkholes eating folks right off the crumbling sidewalks. His solar-powered scalp implants worked in conjunction with a rain-powered GPS to create the most acidic & localized invisible parabolic sinkhole strikes.

In other words: SMARTHOLES.

And there were fewer and fewer Floridians left to witness all this. The entire populace of Florida now numbered 126, including governors.

The other States knew they'd have to locate the Governor's hideout as soon as they breached Florida's vulnerable effeminate borders. Smoke him out. And then barbecue him with his own solar-powered skull.

When the Official Secession Document arrived in the mail, smeared in Albany's preemptive mesquite blood, the States did indeed secede & wriggled free of their positions on the map.

First, they flotilla'd to Cuba, where it was still hard to tell if Castro was dead. They were fed whole chickens & generic painkillers, and given maps to the portal of Miami.

The next morning, the States floated silently to the syphilitic tip of Florida, veered nor'east & encapsulated Miami.

"Where is the Guv'nuh?" Mississippi demanded.

Miami was taken amok--it had never seen a whole State before, much less a troop of States surrounding it.

"Who are you?" it asked meekly, with no hint of its former neon.

"We are the States that seceded from the Union to capture your evil Guv'nuh and restore a sublime totalitarian tourist state to its erstwhile prosperity!"

Miami was unfastened for a moment, but then zipped, "Okay. I can help you. The Governor is at his palace in Tallahassee, making new Smartholes every minute!"---near tears now, Miami vignetted, "I want my old State back. God, I miss tourism!"

"I know, baby, I know," South Carolina dandelioned, "We will get your State back, tourists and all. Just help us get to the Governor's palace!"

Miami fell like dominoes. One high-rise hooked to the next, forming a low-speed turnpike all the way to Tallahassee. The States marched, apriled & mayed up this turnpike until they stood before the Governor's architectural embarrassment.

The States diapered their weapons---mostly AK's and trebuchets---and prepared to strike.

********* 

Gov Tookay was in his man cave masturbating to the aftermath of his latest sinkhole. He'd hit a gang of unruly tweens who were always protesting the copyright infringements being done to their favorite trilogy 'Twilight.' They had eluded him too long and he couldn't believe he'd finally sunk the little whippersnappers along with their paperback editions of Breaking Dawn: Book Three. 

SQUISH! His excitement landed everywhere. A large glob even fell on his solar-powered skull, obscuring it significantly.

Suddenly the palace shook. The Governor heard artillery and boulders being launched outside his man cave, and his self-satisfied arousal turned quickly to aroused unsatisfied selfishness.

"Bosley!" the Governor divined for his atheist butler. But the butler had succumbed to the first round of trebuchet fire.

The crescendo of pro-Florida zealotry continued, amplified. Gov Tookay quaked in his Rocky & Bullwinkle slippers. He lunged for his all-powerful technology, barely able to press the vibrating buttons.

"Who could that be out there?" he pilsnered aloud, waiting for the SMARTHOLE to take care of whoever it was.

But the SMARTHOLE did not open up & swallow Georgia or Utah or Mississippi or Wisconsin or South Carolina or North Dakota or New Mexico or Oregon or Hawaii.

The wad of dicksnot on his solar-paneled head had caused a malfunction, and the intended SMARTHOLE opened up somewhere in Ecuador. The palace was still under siege!

The Governor could see through the holes in his man cave what looked like an archipelago standing on its hind legs, surrounding him.

"Who are you and what have you done with my sinkhole?" he blueberried at the big irregular shapes.

"Fuck your sinkholes, Governor Tookay! And your laws against laws! Everyone knows Florida is way too ridiculous to handle the deadly strains of anarchy. We know you just want to destroy Florida for everyone else & keep it all to yourself! Well, that's not gonna happen!"

"Georgia?" the Governor jaguared, "What're you doing here?"

"Calling you out, bitch," Georgia sneered into her AK's sights and sent a flock of hot metal pigeons into the Guv'nuh's right nostril, killing him drastically.

The States januaried down the low-speed high-rise turnpike, jubilantly singing Army songs. They carried the limp, pale, selfish body of Gov White Tookay & before any living thing could take a picture of it, they dumped that pale selfish body into Lake Okeechobee.

Back in Miami, the high-rises stood up like erudite podiums. The States mounted them and spoke loudly to Florida.

"Gov Tookay is dead! Come out & be free to follow the Laws of our Nation once again!"

A few wild-eyed anarchists emerged from the swamps and abandoned airports to listen to the States speak.

"There will be no more sinkholes!" New Mexico googleplexed.

More scruffy Floridians emerged from underpasses & rose from uncut lawns. Wary & mutated beyond human recognition, they were armed to the gills (yes) and wrapped in layers of tire tread & armadillo shell (nature's Kevlar). Some of them toted manuscripts. Some were groping blindly for the muddy, lousy genitialia of others. All of them pretended not to see anything going on around them---

[---Thou shalt deny ever witnessing any wrongdoing--Gov Tookay's 3rd Amendment]--

"But you must stop plagiarizing, sodomizing, and being in denial!" Ohio tunafished sternly. 

One angry mutant Floridian pointed its weapon at Ohio's American heartbeat, but some others knocked it away.

"That's right," Ohio teabagged, "Remember when Florida was a flamingo-colored paradise, and people came from afar to enjoy its cancer-causing majesty? And it was only okay to shoot black people? And we only took our own stories to the publisher?"

The Floridians bob their heads & hiss & murmur like swamp things.

"Now, put down your arms & your verbatim copies of '50 Shades of Grey!'"

"And get your fingers out of each other's hoo-ha's!"

"And look around with your mossy eyeballs at all the wrongs that have been done here!"

The Floridians wept, dropped their weapons, let go of genitals & manuscripts, connected vision & cognition. From their high Miami perches, the States directed the Floridians to free the prisoners from the Magic Kingdom, to stabilize the sinkholes with layers of armadillo shell, and create new works of fiction all based on their brushes w/ anarchy.

Within the span of February, all of Florida was restored to its natural ridiculousness. The beaches were level, the condos upright, the residents back to their bath salt romances.

Georgia, et al, sent their Immigration papers to Albany & were granted full membership to the Union once again. And Albany, never one to exhale until peace was restored, exhaled. Plopped down in the lazy chair, pulled an opium pipe from the cushions and prepared to INHALE, when…

…the rotary phone on the desk warbled like an urgent turkey. Albany cursed mightily & answered it:

"What the…….FUUUUUUUCKKK??"

"Hola, Albany? This is Ecuador. Listen, we got a problem…"

 8-21-13

Game Of Mowers (minus blog content)

*****GAME OF MOWERS: AN ADVENTURE IN DECIBELS****

Once upon a unicorn horn, after the Great Facebook-Instagram War of 2014, there was nothing but stark reality.

And to prove that everyone was living in this reality, the Post-war Powers decreed that everyone must make as much noise as possible. Noise was the hallmark of reality, after all. 

[But we covered all that in the Preamble, except the part about the War, so I'll amble past it.] This adventure really began on Decibel Day 2029. It was the day that every neighbor in the Kingdom of Summerclamor vivisected together in a pilgrimage toward deafening democracy…

King Brucefrey and Queen Babsie stood frugally at the gates of their posh & well-groomed neighborhood, Casa de Cibels. Their troop of neighbors gathered in rigid rows of obeisance. It was well-known among the neighbors, and indeed throughout the Kingdom, that Brucefrey & Babsie were a brother and sister who had married and forged babies together. But that also doesn't matter in this adventure, for this is not an adventure of lineage, but of loudness.

"NEIGHBORS!!!!" Brucefrey volume-knobbed, "HAPPY, JOYOUS DECIBEL DAY!!! AS YOUR KING AND FEARLESS NOISEMAKER FOR THE PAST DOZEN YEARS I PROMISE TO MAKE THIS OCCASION ONE OF PRIDE AND VICTORY FOR CASA DE CIBELS…..AGAIN!!!!!"

All the neighbors legumed and cheered, revved their mower engines, instigated their weedwhackers' sassiness.

"IT IS A LONG JOURNEY TO THE NEIGHBORHOOD ASSOCIATION TEMPLE. I NEED YOU ALL TO BE AS CONSTANT IN YOUR EAR-SPLITTING LAWN MAINTENANCE ON THIS JOURNEY AS YOU ARE RIGHT HERE AT HOME. THERE IS PLENTY OF GRASS ON THIS PATH TO BE DESTROYED. THE WEEDS ARE PARTICULARLY STEROIDAL THIS YEAR, SO THEY MAY FIGHT BACK. BE PREPARED, WHACKERS!"

Brucefrey bruced for dramatic effect. Queen Babsie faked an orgasm to cover her nerves. 

"OKAY, LEAFBLOWERS! YOU WILL LEAD THIS PARADE! I DON'T WANT TO SEE ONE GODDAMNED QUEEN-FUCKING LEAF ON THIS JOURNEY, DO YOU UNDERSTAND??"

All the neighbors with leafblowers stepped up proudly & fired their gas-powered weapons in agreement.

"NOW I NEED TWO PEOPLE TO CARRY THE RABBIT BANNER!!" Brucefrey ogled his subjects with great care, as if he were looking for two extra special banner-droids. But everyone knew who he was going to muster.

"BOB SCISSORHANDS!!!" Brucefrey escalatored.

"Yes, Your Frequency?"

"I CAN'T HEAR YOU, MR. SCISSORHANDS! PLEASE ADHERE TO THE DECREE OF THE NOISE ORDNANCE WHEN YOU SPEAK TO ME!"

"YES, YOUR FREQUENCY!!" said Bob Scissorhands at the proper decibel-level.

"I WOULD LIKE FOR YOU & MRS. SCISSORHANDS TO CARRY THE RABBIT BANNER AGAIN!!!"

Bob and June Scissorhands (no relation to Edward) were Brucefrey's next-door cat toys and the quietest things in Casa de Cibels. In fact, they didn't even own a mower. June occasionally mowed the lawn with her hands, but usually their grass was so tall & willowy & sentient, Brucefrey suspected them of harboring Marginwalkers in their yard.

But they were not harboring Marginwalkers. They were Marginwalkers. They were card-carrying, nutmeg-smoking calmniks who got lost after the War and bought the shack next to Brucefrey's castle for a deal they mistook for the low rents of Lakewood Amps. 

Brucefrey hated The Scissorhands' rebellious silences and often called the Noise Ordnance Reinforcement Team on them. The Scissorhands were charged supersonic fees for their quietude, but they always did the very minimum to comply with the Ordnance. Brucefrey often threatened to send them to live in other neighborhoods, or in the Casa de Cibels jailhouse. But secretly, Brucefrey thrived on The Scissorhands' ornery gentility. It made him angrier and louder.

And that's what made him King.

"WELL, WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR??"

Bob and June stepped up, unfurled the banner and stood there swatting the scores of flies that buzzed out of it. The banner was a tautly stretched rabbit carcass, still blood-tufted and smelly from its entanglement with The Mower. It was fastened to two heavy 4x4 posts.

"WHAT DO YOU SAY?? I'VE GIVEN YOU THE HONOR OF CARRYING OUR BANNER AND YOU JUST STAND THERE SWATTING FLIES??"

"THANK YOU, YOUR FREQUENCY!" Bob skirted the decibel-limit with his tongue. June assumed Bob's loud Thank You would immunize both of them, but she was sadly dystopian.

"MRS. SCISSORHANDS!! ARE YOU NOT HONORED??"

She twisted shyly on the rails of her feet. She looked at the violently mown ground and avoided Brucefrey's contact lenses. Finally she said, "meh."

Brucefrey shook uncontrollably. His face turned the color of a sock-monkey. The Mower revved itself in solidarity with his ire. When he was able, Brucefrey turned his monkey-face to Babsie and gave her the secret nod.  From her thunderous bosom Babsie pulled her gas-engine scythe. It was long and crooked and it howled like a wounded wildebeest when she pulled its cord.

The Scissorhands stood stock-market still. Their eyes as wide as strawberries. Certainly this was another vain threat by the foolish King & Queen who were deafened by their own stupidity long before the…CHOP!!!!!

Down Babsie's scythe fell, then it turned swiftly & loudly to lop off Bob's head!

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!" wailed June Scissorhands with all the decibels of a sincerely distraught widow.

"THAT'S MORE LIKE IT, MRS. SCISSORHANDS! NOW YOU HAVE THE HONOR OF CARRYING THE BANNER ALL BY YOURSELF! AND I WANT YOU TO SCREAM LIKE THAT ALL THE WAY TO THE TEMPLE! THAT LITTLE DWARF FROM LAKEWOOD AMPS WILL HAVE NOTHING ON YOU!!!"

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!" June cried & cried & hermit-crabbed.

"NOW EVERYONE START YOUR ENGINES. LET'S GET THIS CACOPHONOUS CRUSADE STARTED!! LEAFBLOWERS---BEGIN!!!"

The leafblowers Yemened into action. Brucefrey flared The Mower's loudness valves and Babsie climbed onto the bitchseat behind him with laborious grunts.

"COME ON, MRS. SCISSORHANDS!! YOU'RE SLACKING!!"

June Scissorhands slumped over the banner's support beams, dragging it unceremoniously through her timeless grief. She was sure to scoop Bob's head up in the flaps of rabbit skin that brushed the ground. She put the head in the folds of her flannel resistance uniform. She wailed exactly as Brucefrey had requested.

The rest of Casa de Cibels, a neighborhood of Lawn Noises, pushed its clutches, crimped its engines and lemonaded forth!

All the other neighbors in the Kingdom--the loud and the brave and the crazy and the egotistical and the animalistic citizens of the other six neighborhoods followed fashion!

Lady Meggin' of Shrill Gables had arranged her neighborhood troops into one big symphonic army. They burst forth in a crescendo of brass, bagpipe, pipe organ and organ grinder. Meggin' mezzo-sopranoed above it all with her steel-tipped vocal cords. Their Bluestreak Meadowlark cussed all the high notes.

Joe Leafblower, clamorous leader of Abrasive Oaks, assembled his troop of neverending construction whores. They hammered & drilled & sawed & pressure-cleaned their way along the path. It was well known that Joe Leafblower was King Brucefrey's half-grocer, but Brucefrey denied that with all his bombastic mowing. He said he had no idea who Joe's mama was. But why did Joe have a Lawn nazi name if he was really a Construction whore? 

Instead of a mower-torn rabbit, or a cussing meadowlark, the troops of Abrasive Oaks had a much more complex beast to transport to the Temple. Their Prostate Whale required a 20-thousand-gallon tank on aluminum wheels with twin engine carburetors that were clogged with whale sperm and carbon. Joe Leafblower built that whale tank himself, and it damn near cost Brucefrey The Mower a few times.

And this year Joe had made some modifications to the whale tank. Or rather…to the whale. He'd stored ten gallons of nitroglycerin in the animal's defunct blowhole and created a massive bomb that was set to go off as soon as everyone reached the Temple. That would throw Brucefrey off his Mower if it didn't kill him!

Missus Wuss, the crowned princess of noise in Cacophonous Pines, had many animals & critters to deal with as she led her crazy pet-owning neighbors to the Temple. These neighbors were chatty, senile old women with sixty-seven cats each. Or uptight showy poodle enthusiasts. Or chirpy, over-friendly ferret-lovers, or neurotic fidgety cockatoo owners, and would you believe a pair of pretentious hipsters with a passel of porcupines??

Every pet you could imagine was represented, so very Biblically, by the zoophiles of Cacophonous Pines. And you can imagine the voluptuous, jacquard noise they made on this journey. Especially all those cats in all their carriers. Yow, yow, yow!

Next in the procession of pandemonium came the neighborhood of drunks known as Shrieking Creek. Their foolishly loud, foolishly fearless leader was poor Dickless Skizzik. Most of the noise coming from this neighborhood was all the drunks making fun of Skizzik for getting his dick caught in The Mower when he was a wee kid. How could it happen just so, they wanted to know. Were you giving the King a lap dance, Skizzik? Was he trying to mount you with it? They all laughed & laughed & punctuated. While Skizzik cried watermelon juice from his nipples and turned 40 without once losing his virginity.

Skizzik peed from a tube that stuck out of his stomach, so he was still better than a woman, but God…what a LOSER! The laughter never stopped in Shrieking Creek, except when everyone blacked out, which was scheduled to happen about three minutes after the Whale Bomb.

Following the drunks could only be the Crazies from Uproar Downs. Their totally insane, totally gorgeous leader Dipthongia was babbling at a speed and volume no real human could tolerate. But her neighbors not only enjoyed her babbling, they seemed to understand it at a level so deep they emitted a euphoric hum, an ongoing response to her constant babble. It was a fascinating noise, frightening in its honesty, embarrassing in its candor, unmistakably sexual in its riposte.

Brucefrey didn't like the noise of Uproar Downs at all. He had been demanding the Neighborhood Association have the crazy perverted folks of Uproar Downs moved to Lakewood Amps so he could claim their land as his own to mow and fertilize and mow and fertilize to his heart's content. Most of the loud motherfuckers in the Neighborhood Association hated Brucefrey and his Hitler-colored Hitler mustache, because everyone knew real Kings had blond Hitler mustaches. So they kept vetoing his Command to Send the Crazies to the Edge.

The final neighborhood from the distant petticoats of Summerclamor was Lakewood Amps. You know the one--where all the shushniks and muteniks lived. It was the fringe on the hem of Uproar Downs. Its noise was the drone of despair known by every human soul but buried deep beneath more pleasurable sounds, like sawing tile or scraping dry slate with one's calcified appendages.

Upon her tiny throne of safety pins and cobwebs sat the undeniable royalty of this neighborhood--Tiffany the Retired Rock-n-Roll Dwarf-princess. Tiffany appeared to be napping as a quadrangle of Marginwalkers carried her throne on a platter. But she did not sleep soundly; she issueed a cry of anguish that could be heard over just about everything in the Kingdom, except The Mower, the whale tank, and Meggin' Songbirdstien's vocal cords.

Brucefrey had grown wary of Tiffany. He knew she was one of his most trapezoidal competitors and he hated every pico-second of it. 

They'd been tourniquetting all day and finally the Neighbors of the Kingdom of Summerclamor had reached the summit of the mount where the Neighborhood Association Temple wept like a ghost on a nail. There were raucous cries of delight. There was the renewed growling of engines and power tools. The inspired blast of music from swollen and untuned instruments. The havoc of animals who'd been held in boxes too long. The inhibition of alcoholic nervous systems. The climactic chorus of mad arrival. And the low helicopteric drone of despair raised one whole note to mere sadness. Brucefrey halted the procession with a Hitler-gesture and a mustache twitch.

"NEIGHBORS!!!!!" he tomorrowed, "WE HAVE ARRIVED AT THE TEMPLE OF THE NEIGHBORHOOD ASSOCIATION!! AND IN SEVENTY-TWO-AND-A-HALF SECONDS THE DECIBEL COUNT WILL BEGIN…"

At this proclamation from King Brucefrey the honored Noisometer Maids--chosen by a jury of peers on a character-based system of points requiring the Maids be willing to suffer deafness, trauma or even death in their service to the almighty decibel--appeared at their window positions, holding their decibel-wands like pageant bouquets.

Brucefrey had more proclaiming to do before the 721/2 seconds were up, but Skizzik Pretzeljoy--Head Drunk--could contain his bladder no longer. He Ukrained into the woods semi-conspicuously to pee, but when he pulled out his stomach tube everyone in his neighborhood laughed so neonatally that Brucefrey heard it over the drones & growls & high notes nearby.

"WHAT THE $#%^*@ &*%$# IS THAT MEDIOCRE OUTBURST OF GLEE AT THIS GERMAN MOMENT???"

Brucefrey waited for no explanation. He stomped on The Mower's triple clutching system and yanked its circumsized transmission into 11th gear!! He reared back like an insane pumpkin-headed asshole in a graveyard, and he roared like an angry hero!! The Mower lurched into the crowd. Anyone who was not drunk was able to scramble out of its way, but all the drunks of Shrieking Creek were tabulated into human salsa.

Except for Skizzik. Because he was in the woods peeing through his stomach. As Brucefrey let loose with some fancy maneuvers on The Mower, Babsie withdrew the gas-engine scythe from her boob-quiver once again, and with one strategically struck grim-reaper pose, Babsie decapitated Skizzik for a second time in his life.

Just as Brucefrey and Babsie were about to hi-five the fuck out of each other for taking out all of the Drunks in one slice, there was a QUADRATIC EXPLOSION so loud, nobody could hear any of the noise of The Kingdom for about 2 bus rides thru Hell.

What they saw in that deaf bus ride was a lot of whale blood, and blubber and intestine flying through the skies of Summerclamor. And then they could hear again, and that was good because hearing made sense.

There were still significant rumbles and shockwaves from the Whale Bomb, and a vast treasury of people lay dead or severely chapped. The ones who still stood were few in number and desperate in volume. The Mower, with its protective shield up, was covered in whale bits but still growling fiercely. Brucefrey and Babsie sped up the side of the Mount to assess the morbid circus.

Mayhem had erupted after the bomb. The temporary deafness experienced by people who were so dependent on noise for their happiness caused a post-traumatic meltdown in all the neighborhoods. Meggin' Songbirdstien's army of musicians were now using their instruments to truncate each other senseless. Meggin' sang above it all like a titmouse on meth.

In Abrasive Oaks, where the whale had gone off, there were few survivors. A convoy of bucket trucks, stump grinders and wood chippers lay in scattered silent pieces. Some small power tools still whirred in clenched & amputated fists, but most of the heavy machinery had been vanquished.

Things were ugly in Cacophonous Pines. There were many animals harmed there, but this a work of fiction so save your waterworks. Some of the senile old ladies were bludgeoning each other with boxes of cats, but most of the furry feathered things were unrecognizable. Stumps of tissue wearing collars & leashes. Missus Wuss rode her sad dime-store lawn mower back & forth crying, "Fluffy, come to Momma!" even as she clipped right over him. 

And of course, the drunken residents of Shrieking Creek lay dead & tomatoey all over everything!

It was the distant neighborhoods with the most survivors. The Crazies barely took notice of the explosion, except as a kaleidoscopic spectacle. Dipthongia Hypnogogia pranced around on her horse calling for her pet dragons. Her dragon-call was the most carnal warble! All the songbirds were jealous, including Meggin'.

And in Lakewood Amps, all the Marginwalking peacenik-shushnik-rebels had time to duck for cover. No whale shrapnel reached them. The Greenwalkers had no idea anything had even transpired. They were a tribe of deaf-mutes who had been isolated from society so long they were photosynthesizing. And Photo-shopped. They were closely captioned about all the bloodletting. But Tiffany--that tiny trollop, that preposterous little imp--was emitting a sleep-scream so cordial, so rational, Brucefrey turned to check the scoreboard:

'HAPPY DECIBEL DAY,' oinked the scoreboard, 'HERE ARE YOUR SCORES'

Whale Bomb -- 179 dB

The Mower -- 169 dB

Lady Meggin's mezzo-soprano -- 150 dB

Tiffany's sleep-scream -- 149 dB

Dipthongia's dragon-call -- 148 dB

Leafblowers -- 140 dB

Brucefrey was auditory chum already! He shook with ire once again.

"BABSIE!" he turquoised, "YOU STAY HERE AND IF ANYONE TRIES TO ENTER THE TEMPLE BEFORE I AM

DECLARED KING--SCYTHE HIM!"

"YES, MY FREQUENCY!" Babsie orangutaned.

Babsie disembarked from the bitchseat and stood blubber-covered on the mount. She pulled the cord on her power-scythe over & over so that it spiked the Noisometer wands & knocked the leafblowers out of the competition. She smiled as her name languished on the scoreboard.

Brucefrey jammed down the mount on The Mower with collagen in his eyes. He would fracture this competition! He would not lose The Mower!  

Gayly into his own remaining leafblowers Brucefrey mowed, laughing like a tornado. The leafblowers didn't stand a chance against The Mower & they succumbed to bits both organic and factory-fresh under its diamond blade.

June Scissorhands dropped the rabbit banner and dodged The Mower by a few grams of time and dimension. She charged up the mount to confront Babsie and her scythe. Babsie saw her coming &raised the scythe with a feudal flourish.

"FUCK YOU BABS! THIS IS NOT SOME UNICORN NOVEL -- THIS IS A MONTAGE OF DEATH! ANNND…ACTION!!" June pulled Bob's severed head from her flannel and hurled it with love and accuracy at the scythe's handle. The scythe flew from Babsie's hands before she could dial-tone her cocksucking mother for back-up. 

June grabbed the scythe and swung maniacally at Babsie's thick rhinocerus neck. The scythe wheezed and coughed as it struggled through the brutish architecture of Babsie's spine, but it made it out the other side and the Queen was slain!

June took her new scythe and ran for Lakewood Amps. 

Brucefrey meanwhile was in a fool's paradise about his beloved's demise and he mowed on like Darth Vader's second cousin's unlawfully-wedded uncle's financial adviser. After demolishing his own troops much like the lushes of Shrieking Creek, Brucefrey mowed on into Shrill Gables. He shouted the Bill of Rights and told rodeo-clown jokes then surged into the crowd of musicians like a food processor on wheels!

And that was the moment the music died on Decibel Day. Meggin' Songbirdstien's body was flung all over the valley, but her metallic voicebox sat on the ground chomping away at the atmosphere. Its disembodied song still showed up on the scoreboard, but fell to 10th place.

Brucefrey plowed on down the line and when he reached ground zero--Abrasive Oaks--he was bathed in whale decomp and construction whore particles. Brucefrey activated The Mower's shield-wipers and as he did, he thought he saw The Grim Reaper run past him with Babsie's scythe!

"NAW!!??" Brucefrey thought to himself loudly. He dismissed his holy vision as a brain fart and continued to mow. Onto Cacophonous Pines, where The Mower had no trouble dicing up all that precious meat! A savory stew for later!

And through the salsa of Shrieking Creek Brucefrey jarred The Mower into highest gear (180th) and made the Noisometer wands smoke and spark on the mount!

Brucefrey could hear the warbling of the dragon-bitch. The horrible low noise of the Amps. That nightmarish yawn coming from the cobweb throne. He stepped on the gas.

Into the crowd of crazy people on horseback Brucefrey agonized. The horses waltzed from The Mower at powerful speeds. Some of the nutbags fell under The Mowers blade but the horses blazed away.

"DAMN CONCEITED HORSES!! YOU THINK YOU WILL DEFY THE ALMIGHTY MOWER AND ITS ARTIFICIAL YOU-POWER??? I THINK NOT!!" Brucefrey slandered The Mower in to 181st gear.

The ground quaked, some of the horses lost their footing, more crazy people died in the blade, Noisometer wands blew up right & left til there was only one left. It registered a solid 999 dB.

The rumble of The Mower's most non-existent gear, underscored by hoofbeats and Dipthongia's oscillating dragon-tone awoke the mighty dwarf Tiffany. She opened her eyes, took one look around and raised her sleep-scream to an existential crisis in surround-sound.

Tiffany's quadrangle of attendants caught sight of the horses, followed by The Mower and they cried out the only thing they ever learned to say; "MOW-DOR!!!"

"MOW-DOR! MOW-DOR!" they turbined. "MOW-DOR!!!!!!!"

All the deaf-mute Greenwalkers joined them in chanting "MOW-DOR." All the Marginwalking pacifists shouted "MOW-DOR! MOW-DOR!"

The Noisometer wand hit 1000 dB.

The horses, mostly without riders now, were spooked by the chanting ahead of them so they waltzed back around to face The Mower. Brucefrey rocketed toward them. The horses lost their apron strings and charged at Brucefrey, hooves raised, nostrils flaring in alkaline ecstasy. They battered through The Mower's shield and stomped Brucefrey's skull til it resembled a deflated volley ball with a Hitler mustache. Then the Bluestreak Meadowlark from Shrill Gables flew over & pooped on that mustache. "FUCK THE KING!!!" it trilled pleasantly.

"MOW-DOR! MOW-DOR!" shouted the Green- and Marginwalkers

"DRAGONS?? WHERE ARE MY PRETTY DRAGONS??" Dipthongia called in her foreign uvula.

"AAAAAAARRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHYYAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYOWWYOWWWWAHHHOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOWOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO," Tiffany evangelized.

The lone Noisometer Maid ran down the mount to measure the decibels in this final showdown.

The Mower was still idling, but had fallen to fifth place. June Scissorhands, who had been hiding behind an overturned whale testicle, came running into view with the scythe. She mounted The Mower like it were an unbroken filly and kicked it into submission.

The others were so absorbed in their own decibels they did not notice The Mower had flared up again. June was a wild Comanche with her scythe raised and her throat yodelling cowgirliciously. She was a mixed metaphor covered in cetaceous oil. She was a butchered story arc wielding a questionmark. She was yesterday's news wearing rabbit fur and diamonds in all the right places.

Dipthongia didn't even have time to blink when June got her from behind with the scythe. Dipthongia fell from her horse with one final slur for her dragons, and wouldn't you know it? They finally came.

The dragons descended in a threesome of squawkiness. They mourned loudly to see their Queen beheaded. They wept & wept, and by wept I mean they spewed fire from their eye sockets right onto Brucefrey's corpse. It was the loudest cremation ever, but Tiffany was louder.

Tiffany was now winning Decibel Day. June wasn't really trying to win, and she kept The Mower at a respectable 102 dB per hour. She had to run over a few unfortunate Greenwalkers who just didn't hear her coming. But for the most part June showed mercy to her soul-mates of Lakewood Amps. 

June reached Tiffany's throne just as Tiffany began an impromptu rendition of 'The Star-spangled Zodiac.' June shifted The Mower back down to 0th gear.

The chants of "MOW-DOR!" quieted as Tiffany held everyone in thrall with her patriotism. Everyone thought she was so on-the-cusp, but here she was a blue-blooded Aquarius willing to die for her neighborhood. 

The Noisometer wand sparkled an elastic green and the Maid waved it wildly in the fog. "WE HAVE A WINNER! WE HAVE A WINNER FOR DECIBEL DAY 2029!!" She ran to Tiffany's throne, placed a crown of yard waste on her head, and curtsied horizontally.

Tiffany threw the crown to the floor of Summerclamor. "NO!!! FUCK DECIBEL DAY! AND FUCK THE NOISE ORDNANCE!! In fact, gather closer…"

Tiffany lowered her voice to a conversational bracket. Those who could hear leaned in.

"My name is Tiffany Truelove from the House of Truelove 1969. Now that I am Queen, I will send some airplanes to fly into the documents that house the Noise Ordnance. The documents will burn & fall to the ground & we will no longer have to heed them. We will live in PEACE and QUIETUDE. And have lush green Serenghetti lawns."

"HAIL TIFFANY!!" the survivors decanted.

"Shh-hhh!!" Tiffany emblazoned, "What did I just tell you? The PEACE begins now! Everyone shut up immediately!"

Tiffany appraised her Kingdom. It was a mess. But she had a a nice troop of peaceniks and calmniks to help her establish a world of teeny tiny premature decibels.

"Mrs. Scissorhands, will you be my personal Maidservant?" 

"Why yes, Tiffany, I would be enraptured to be your Maidservant," June businessed.

"All right Troops! We have a lot of cleaning up to do. Let's get it done. Then we will march back to our homes and shut the doors, and shut our mouths, and open our minds and ….and…"

"And what, Your Reticence?"

"Love" said Tiffany.

The survivors wept. They hadn't heard that word in so long. "LOVE!…love!" they remembered their New World voices.

As they began to clean up the savagery, the utter decay of the old Kingdom, Tiffany called out, "If you find any bits and parts we could use to rebuild that Internet, please save them. We all need to get back on our computers and iPhones. Back to Facebook and Instagram and online shopping. Remember how plush the world was then?"

"Huzzah Tiffany, Love, Love Love! Huzzah Tiffany, Love, Love, Love!" everyone chanted gently.

Tiffany silenced them with a swish of her disfigured mitt. "Now, soldiers…bear with me, because we have one more atrocious, abrasive, cacophonous task before us…" she gestured at The Mower with anticlimax, "…This, this vile contraption must be destroyed!!"

"Allow me!" dimpled June Scissorhands. She created a spark with prehistoric hand motions, and the spark fell to the tank of The Mower and The Mower vomited like a seven-year-old with too much bourbon in his bloodstream. The Mower exploded into tiny impotent quarks. The Mower disintegrated like a skylark on Mercury.

The peace-loving people of Summerhush whispered "Hallellujah!" and did a Maypole dance around Tiffany's smallness.

"Annnnd….Cut!" said June, barely audible.

5-15-14

ULTIMATE, UTMOST, UNPARALLELED LIST OF NON VOGON POEMS

A COMPLETE LIST OF NON-VOGON POEMS FROM A -- Z

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

A

A CHARTREUSE AND COBALT XMAS  [from 12-25-12]

A GAME I LEARNED IN KINDERGARTEN  

A HANGOVER THAT LASTS INTO THE AFTERLIFE  [from 1-28-05]

A LION, A FISH AND A PERSON WALK INTO A BAR  [from 11-1-11]

A LITTLE FAST FORWARD FROM '05?  [from 11-5-05]

A PARLIAMENT OF OWLS  [from 8-12-08]

A POEM FOR AUTUMN  [from 9-22-10]

A POEM I WROTE IN HIGH SCHOOL WHEN I THOUGHT WRITING THINGS MIGHT CHANGE THE WORLD [from 12-17-04]

A POEM I WROTE WHILE TRYING TO TAME A PANTHER

A POEM WITH NO DATE

A POEM YOU WON'T REMEMBER READING [from 4-11-12]

A SLAUGHTERED WOLF [from 12-24-02]

A ZOMBIE POEM TO KEEP UP WITH THE TIMES [from 1993]

ABSTRACT TREASURE [from 4-11-04]

ACCESS DENIED [from 5-9-10]

AFTER THE GREAT WORLD WAR OF 2013 [from 11-13-08]

AGONY COLUMN [from 12-6-91]

ALICE [from 12-22-05]

ALL I KNOW IS [from 9-14-04]

ALL MONKEYS 

ALPHA NEIGHBOR  [from 2-23-12]

AMPUTEER [from 3-5-05]

AND ANOTHER [from May 2012]

ANGELS & TAXES [from 4-3-13]

ASPHYXIA FOREST [from 8-24-04]

ATLAS THREW DOWN  [from 8-20-04]

AUTOMATIC ANGELS  [from 12-14-12]

B

BABY BIRD  [from 10-18-13]

BABY STEPS  [from 8-24-05]

BANKING THE NATURAL WAY  [from 11-17-11]

BAROMETRIC  [from 9-14-03]

BASKET CASE  [from 12-4-02]

BETHANY  [from 6-6-13]

BIG BLACK ANGEL PUSSY [from 5-29-03]

BIG BOTTOM  [from 2-15-03]

BIRDS DEFY  [7-3-03]

BODY PARTS  [from 8-22-04]

BOLOGNA MARKET  [from 2-12-04]

BOOKPOINT  [from 1-24-13]

BORING BOOK  [from 1-30-10]

C

CAMERAS  [from 10-10-03]

CAN YOU BRING THE MAIL IN?  [from 3-12-93]

CARROTIC  [from 4-22-02]

CARTWHEEL MONSTER  [from 11-23-04]

CENTIPERSON  [from 8-24-13]

CHANGE IS CHEMICAL  [from 5-23-04]

CHIME IN  [from July 1991]

CHINESE EXCLAMATION MARK SURVIVED THE INFINITE CRUELTY OF 4 [from Aug 2008]

CHOCOLATE BEAUTY CHIP  [from 6-27-13]

CLASSROOM HEAT  [from 3-31-05]

CLICKS  [from 3-31-09]

COLORLESS  [from 11-28-04]

CONDITIONS  [from 5-30-02]

CONVO WITH INNER CHILD  [10-10-03]

CORDLESS  [from July 1991]

CORONARY  [from 12-30-05]

CRUNCH  [from 1993]

CURTAINS  [from 3-8-05]

D

DAY ONE  [from 5-1-04]

DEAD OWL  [from 5-30-04]

DEAR KURT  [from Apr 2007]

DEATH IN VIRGO  [from 6-12-12]

DEATH TOLL  [from 10-8-05]

DEGREES  [from 5-9-03]

DELICATE GLOW  [from 5-24-13]

DELICATE GLOW INTENSIFIED [from 4-30-13]

DEVALUE  [from 5-9-04]

DIARY ENTRY #9  [from 5-11-07]

DISCLAIMER  [from 12-6-93]

DON'T FORGET  [from 9-11-03]

E

EASY BREEZY BEAUTIFUL COVER UP [from 2-19-12]

ECHO?  [from 12-12-02]

eGOAT  [from 4-4-05]

EGO TRIP  [from 2-6-93]

ELLIPSE  [from 9-3-03]

ELOISE  [from 7-13-03]

EMISSIONS  [from 6-7-03]

EMPLOYEES  [from 4-26-03]

EVIL YOU SHUN  [from 7-20-09]

EXPERTS  [from 6-17-12]

F

FABRIC ARACHNIDS  [from 3-22-04]

FAKE  [from 5-16-02]

FAMILIA  [from 4-1-12]

FAMILY STARS  [from 6-3-10]

FAQ  [from 12-28-02]

FERRIS WHEEL  [from 9-18-04]

FIRST PAIN SHAPE  [from June 1993]

FISTS & LIQUID  [from 12-9-04]

FOR LENT  [from 2-17-13]

FORGOTTEN NOTEBOOK  [from 3-20-12]

FOUR-LEGGED SHOW  [from 6-24-07]

FRANCES  [from 9-6-04]

FRIED SNAKE  [from 10-16-04]

FRIENDS & ANGELS  [from Oct 1987]

FRINGE  [from Aug 2005]

FUNGAL MENINGITIS  [from 10-16-12]

FUZZY WUZZY  [from 10-17-03]

G

GARBAGEMAN POEM  [from 7-1-12]

GENDER SICKNESS  [from 11-29-03]

GENERATOR  [from Mar 2004]

GIBBERISH  [from 8-7-10]

"GOD IS AN OCTOPUS" The New York Times Declared [from 9-22-08]

GREAT DANE[ISH]  [from 1-2-05]

GROWN UP STUFF  [from 2-11-06]

GUNS AS ART  [from 1-24-13]

GURU POEM  [from 7-7-11]

H

HAND-OUT  [from 2-19-06]

HASHTAG  [from 11-15-11]

HATCHETFISH  [from 5-31-10]

HATING DISORDER

HAZARD  [from 11-5-05]

HEAVEN & LUNGS  [from 12-28-02]

HELP  

HER FACE ALL AT ONCE  [from 9-18-05]

HIGH TEA  [from 2-5-12]

HOLY VELVET FINGER BATMAN  [from 3-20-12]

HORSES  [from 2-15-09]

HURRAY

HYPERTHYMESIA  [from 1-1-13]

I

I CAME WITH NO INSTRUCTIONS

I COULD LIVE IN THE WOODS  [from 4-22-05]

I DO THE 20-YEAR TIME TRAVEL GAME  [from 6-6-13]

I FORFEIT  

I FOUND  [from 12-3-93]

I NEED WITNESSES

I USED TO GAZE AT THE WORLD & KNOW [from 5-31-12]

I WAS READY  [from 10-7-13]

ICE ELATION  [from 1-4-12]

IF I WERE A BIRD  [from 9-19-05]

IMAGINED SEANCE SUMMONS RONALD REAGAN  [from 11-28-03]

IMITATION OF 'G'  [from 10-13-05]

I'M SPARKY THE CLOWN OR DOG OR ADDICT  [from 12-7-02]

IN MY SKETCH  [from 1-24-13]

INTERROGATIONS

INTRAVENOUSLY  [from 2-26-03]

IS SHE A BELL OR A PUZZLE?  [from 8-21-04]

IT'S PISCES TIME!  [from 2-24-12]

J

JEALOUS WOMEN & MEN  [from Nov 2012]

JOB CREATION  [from May 2011]

JOLLY  [from 11-23-03]

JULIET TWELVE  [from 10-6-05]

JULIET TWENTY-THREE  [from 10-16-05]

JULIET TWENTY-EIGHT [from 10-18-13]

JULIET TWO  [from 9-18-05]

JUST HAVE HALF  [from 9-12-03]

K

L

LABANOTATION  [from 1-5-03]

LACERATED [from 11-13-11]

LADIES AND  [from 3-31-04]

LEAKAGE  [from 10-9-05]

LEMONLIMELIGHT [from 3-23-12]

LEONINE FIVE  [from 11-6-11]

LIGHTHOUSE  [from 12-3-02]

LIKE HAWKS

LIKE MONSTERS

LIP  [from 11-14-05]

LIQUID/SOLID  [from 1-23-09]

LIST!!!  [from 11-23-03]

LISTEN UP, SONGBIRDS  [from 9-21-04]

LITANY FOR HEROES  [from Feb 2011]

LITURGY FOR THE SAINTS  [from 4-8-05]

LOSING SEVERAL MONTHS OF SLEEP [from 4-2-03]

LOTS & LOTS OF WATER  [from 10-31-03]

M

MAN-MADE MEN  [from 8-18-04]

MAY SHOWER  [from 5-11-03]

MERCY  [from 11-28-03]

MICROSCOPIC RUMOR  [from 1-2-03]

MIXED BLESSINGS  [from 6-5-05]

MORE SHARKS  [from 6-2-03]

MOTHER BEAR  [from 10-7-13]

MOTHER NATURE'S WAR CRIMES  [from 2-21-09]

MY NIGHTMARE AGE 2  [from 4-25-04]

MYTHICAL SHAPE SHIFTER  [from 2-5-03]

N

NATURAL NESTER  [from 8-11-02]

NATURE v. NURTURE  [from 9-2-03]

NEIGHBORS  [from 2-27-04]

NEW SOLDIERS  [from 4-17-04]

NO TRUE THERAPIST  [from 11-27-05]

NON-  [from 3-12-13]

NORMAL HEART [from 12-7-05]

NOTES!!!  [from 1-21-04]

NOTES TO A GOOD BABY  [from 3-26-04]

NOTHING BUT STONE BELOW  [from 2-12-03]

NOVEMBER  [from Nov 2008]

NOVEMBER II  [from Nov 2008]

NOVEMBER III  [from Nov 2008]

O

O' SAY  [from 4-25-05]

OBJECT (NOT JUST AN)  

OBLITERATE  [from 4-13-03]

OCTOFATHER  [from 2-15-09]

OH MY  [from 11-6-11]

OIL  [from 6-3-10]

OLD NOW*  [from 5-15-05]

ON A ROLL [from 9-29-11]

ON BREAK  [from 1-26-09]

ON THE CUSP  [from 11-20-04]

ON THE DAY OF MY SPIRIT POSSESSION  [from 9-7-10]

ON THE EVE OF THE ELECTION [from 10-8-04]

ONLY  [from 1993]

OPTIPUS  [from 2012]

OR THE RAM PARTS  

ORPHANUS  [from 4-23-05]

OWL EYES  [from 9-4-04]

P

PANSEXUAL  [from 12-1-04]

PARTICULAR HEARING  [from 3-21-03]

PASSAGEWAYS

PATCHWORK  [from 6-21-07]

PEOPLE WANT TOO GODDAMN MUCH  [from 5-3-12]

PERFECT, DAD  [from 8-27-04]

PERFECTA ELECTRONICA  [from 5-25-02]

PERSONAL PANDEMIC  [from 2-4-06]

PIRACY  [from 3-28-04]

PLANETSMITH  

POEM THAT'S A PITCH  [from 1-24-13]

POET GUILT  [from 1-12-04]

POPPIES IN THE SKY  [from 7-4-09]

PRE-OP  

PRESCRIPTURE  [from 4-27-09]

PSYCHIC SAPHARI

PUNCTURED  [from 1-25-03]

Q

R

RACHEL  [from 7-16-13]

RAVENS & BRIEFCASES  [from 6-25-93]

REACH OUT & TOUCH SOMEONE  [from 9-27-13]

REBELLIOUS 40-YEAR-OLD  [from 2-18-09]

RECOVERING FROM THE ASTEROID  [from 8-8-02]

RED SUNSET ANGEL  [from 5-15-12]

REJOICE!  [from 7-23-04]

REMEMBER CHRIS COLUMBUS  [from 10-12-04]

REMEMBER THAT PRECIOUS  [from 4-9-06]

RESURRECTION  [from 4-3-13]

RE-UPTAKE  [from 2012]

ROMEO  [from 6-12-13]

ROTARY LAB  [from 5-23-03]

S

SAWS & GRINDER v. LONG PAUSE AT THE END OF A SONG [from 10-21-11]

SEA TO SHINING SEA  [from 9-27-11]

SEANCES  [from 3-12-13]

SECOND PAIN SHAPE  [from June 1993]

SEVEN EIGHT NINE  [from 2-19-09]

SEVERAL SPECIES [from June 2011]

SHADOOBIE  [from 1-10-05]

SHARK TANK CLOWN COLLEGE  [from 2-17-13]

SHIFT  [from 4-27-05]

SHIT & SYPHILLUS  [from 7-28-03]

SILENT HI-PITCHED NIGHT [from 12-15-11]

SIX THOUSANDTH FOOL  [from 4-27-09]

SKIN SHED  [from 7-9-03]

SKINTAG  [from 11-18-11]

SLUMMETH  [from 4-24-12]

SMELL MY DISGUISE  [from 8-5-03]

SMOKE DETECTOR  [from 3-3-13]

SOFT PURR  [from 5-14-03]

SOFT SQUIDS  [from 12-6-05]

SOME CASES OF HOLLYWOOD PSYCHOSIS  [from 10-2-08]

SOOTHE  [from 6-28-07]

SPARE  [from 8-10-04]

SPARROW  [from 5-11-09]

SPIDERWOMAN  [from 7-25-04]

SPIKES

SPIRIT PILLOW

SPIRIT SOLVENT  [from 3-20-03]

STAGNANT ROBOT  [from 9-29-11]

STREAM OF FRANKNESS  [from 7-23-13]

STRONG  [from 11-11-05]

SUBATOMIC BOSSES  [from 1-4-03]

SUICIDE  [from 4-23-04]

SUMMONS  [from 10-9-03]

SURREAL STUDY  [from 5-12-10]

T

TAKERS  [from 10-14-05]

TARANTULAS  [from 2-15-09]

TARSALS  [from 3-12-13]

TELL ALL  [from 10-7-03]

THE BARKING SILENCE  [from 9-5-02]

The BLANK Page  [from July 2011]

THE CONCRETE POSITRONIC OF ANGEL STATUES  [from 1-26-12]

'THE GIRLS'  [from 6-12-13]

THE GOSPEL ACCORDING TO MEGA-WHITE  [from 8-17-93]

THE HOUSE'S DREAM  [from 1993]

The HUGE Picture  [from June 2011]

THE INTERNETINOUS VOID  [from 5-24-13]

THE PARTY  [from 2-23-12]

THE SLUMBER CAPER  [from 9-18-05]

THE WEEK THAT FOLLOWED  [from 9-7-05]

THERE'S AN OUTAGE IN YOUR AREA  [from 7-9-13]

THEY LOCK EYES  [from 11-17-05]

THIRD OR FOURTH GUN POEM  [from 1-24-13]

THIS FAR  [from May 2007]

TOO DUMB TO BE A SUSPECT  [from 4-13-12]

TOOL SHED  [from 1-2-03]

TOURETTE'S  [from 2-22-06]

TOYLAND  [from 4-2-93]

TRACKS  [from 11-24-93]

TRANS-SISTER  [from 9-6-03]

TRIPLICATE  [from 8-7-10]

TWENTY FORTY SIXTY EIGHTY  [from 9-27-13]

U

UMM…TRY ANOTHER?  [from 9-27-11]

UNFOLDING  [from 3-22-09]

US  [from 3-18-03]

V

VAPORS  [from 1-29-12]

VELVET THROAT  [from 5-12-10]

W

WAGONEER  [from 9-15-05]

WE CAN ALL DO IT INSIDE ONE HEAD  

WEAVE  [from 7-16-03]

WHAT ARE HORMONES?  [from 5-16-03]

WHAT IS THIS CRAVING?  [from 8-11-02]

WHAT MOTHER TAUGHT ME ABOUT MONEY  [from 6-27-13]

WHAT WILL I FIND?  [from 4-21-03]

WHEN WE GOT TO THE WEST COAST

WHO DOESN'T WANT TO BE A MERMAID [from 3-9-09]

WHO'S IN THE GARAGE NEXT DOOR?  [from 5-15-12]

WHY CAN'T I GO THERE?  [from 5-29-03]

WIRELESS  [from July 1991]

WISENED GUY  [from 7-26-11]

WORDLESS  [from Dec 1993]

WORDS WENT WHERE  [from 12-19-03]

X

X GENERATION  [from 5-17-03]

XMAS LIST  [from 12-28-04]

XMAS RAIN  [from 12-25-04]

Y

Y GENERATION  [from 5-17-03]

YEARS WITHOUT  [from 6-23-12]

YESTERDAY I WAS PSYCHOLOGICALLY RAPED BY A JOB APPLICATION [from 5-19-05]

YOU

YOU AGAIN?  [from 8-14-13]

YOU HAVE A LOT OF DOUBT YOU EVEN EXIST  [from 2-1-13]

YOUR FRIENDLY RADIOLOGIST  [from 1-12-04]

Z

ZEN MASTER  [from 2-23-05]

ZEN RODENTIA  [from 1-5-04]

i.

1. STEP AWAY FROM THE WORMHOLE  [from 12-18-11]

2. FOR CALLING BIRDS  [from 12-18-11]

3. I THINK FRANK Z WAS WITH ME  [from 12-20-11]

4 A.M.  [from 8-29-05]

4. EGGS MASS  [from 12-21-11]

12-HOUR SONG  [from 4-3-06]

2003  {from 9-12-03]

2004  [from 9-26-04]

2005  [from 1-26-05]

THIS IS MY LIFE'S LITERARY OFFERING SO FAR. I HAD TO ALPHABETIZE ALL MY POEMS BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY AND I NEEDED A WAY TO LOOK AT ALL THEIR NAMES AT ONCE. THE DATES ARE ALL CORRECT, BUT ALL POEMS HAVE BEEN REWRITTEN FROM THEIR ORIGINAL DATES FOR SUBMISSION PURPOSES.

I COMMITTED MYSELF TO THE POET LIFE IN 1985 AND NEVER LOOKED BACK. THESE POEMS START ROUGHLY FROM THE EARLY 90s AND CONTINUE TO THE PRESENT.

SOME OF THE EARLIEST WORKS WERE TOO JUVENILE [AMATEURISH] TO EVEN GIVE A GOOD REWRITE, ALTHOUGH I DO HAVE SOMETHING REWRITTEN FROM 1987 IN THIS LIST. THERE ARE PERIODS IN MY LIFE THAT I DID NOT WRITE MUCH, SUCH AS 1994-1999, BECAUSE I WAS TOO BUSY JUST STAYING ALIVE.

THE YEARS 2000-01 WERE THE BEGINNING OF MY "PSYCHIC SAFARI." UNFORTUNATELY A LOT OF WRITINGS FROM THIS PERIOD WERE DESTROYED.

ALSO SOME WRITING FROM 2006-2010 IS MISSING BECAUSE I WOULD WRITE DIRECTLY IN MY BLOG AND NOT MAKE COPIES. 

BUT…LOOKING AT THIS LIST, I DON'T THINK ANYTHING WILL BE MISSED!