Turkey To Turquoise; Watercolors To Words

Hi Friendlies,

Here are some Vogon Poetries for you to enjoy on your drunken Saturday. 

I know my poems frighten some people because they are about…PEOPLE. And personhood. But I am not, I swear, writing about any specific person or people in my real life (except on rare occasions, and on those rare occasions, you will know without a doubt if a poem is about you.) And that's not necessarily a bad thing…I write because I am curious, confused, amazed, hurt or heartbroken. Not because I know anything about people that you don't know.

To me, people are just NATURE. Fuck sunsets!! Fuck forests, and waterfalls, and sandhill cranes. PEOPLE are the crazy/complex beautiful/ugly specimens that capture my eye & interest. As dull as we all can be, we are also very fascinating. You included/me included.

So please don't be paranoid & self-conscious (like a flower never would). And if you have any complaints, please send them to my publicist (though she has died. R.I.P. Juliet)

This first poem is actually based on a news story from last October. I entered it in the Rattle 'Poets Respond' contest & it didn't win, surprisingly!

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

A FRIEND LIKE FREIN

I found a quiet corner

In the club

My girlfriend took the stage

W/ ginger charisma & Telecaster

During tuning

My eye drifted to the silent TV

Hung like a neon cobweb

Over buzzing bartenders’ heads

There he was in handcuffs,

Diapered clown

Village terrorist

Most-wanted idiot

Manhunt Ends in Pennsylvania

The cobweb announced

And I half-expected the clown

To somehow wrest

A homemade grenade

From his shit-stained pocket

But he walked & looked

Like a man & a boy at the same time

(approx. 10 hours ago

when the sun still shone

And I made love

with the one onstage)

Now he’s caught on the 

Tangential screen

And smaller cameras

Snap his image

His lifeless whiteness

Punctuated by a bloody nose

But mostly unharmed

As the Marshals lead him

Through the muted celebration

A town without its clown

Can dance & shout & finally

Fall asleep

From behind I get clunked

On the skull & turn around to see

The Ex Boyfriend

My personal terrorist

And village hipster

Doing his best Frein imitation

Still hoping we’ll be friends--

Fricative, grinning,

Hands-on friends

Cuffing me with

Insults and ego

As seven weeks ago

The cuffs around the killer

Were held 

By his executed trooper

10-31-14

Expressionist watercolor kitty vs. ...

...Impressionist watercolor kitty

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

[NERVOUS] BREAKDOWN DURING [EBOLA] OUTBREAK

I used to count dead soldiers

But those numbers ceased to have

Any value as news

Why do I love counting?

It stops me in my tracks

I count everything from death

To socks &

It makes my brain flicker

But that pituitary lightbulb

Falters on weak filaments

When I'm forced to remember

Peoples' names

The compulsion

To count your eye blinks, your

Undisclosed throbs

My greatest pleasure, gone

Even your nude ministrations

Can't ease the gridlock

Now I count hours,

Days, and words

And there's no nudity, just tears

Gender-neutral tears

Too many to count so I just count

Episodes of sorrow

Sometimes feature-length

Sometimes longer

But never a 30-second spot

Between comedies

My memory for numbers 

Is a dystopia, a dysphoric

Dysfunction

My tear ducts cough instead of

Crying

My heart's close-captioned hoof beats

Are allegedly hard to hear

Yet

I'm told

They're way too loud

I'm told,

"Get over it, man

Everyone is hurting

But you don't see them

Counting & crying

Be a man!

Be happy Jack

Not a harsh Jane"

11-07-14

***********

Phone Number w/ middle names

SURVIVING THANKSGIVING

It mattered this year

That your family is carved like a turkey

Strung-out meat held together

By gamey fibers,

Easily torn…

But your worry was 

For nought

There were no tears for 

Thanksgiving

In the end you held strong

To your side of the wishbone--

With or without the hyoid joint

Your truth was fortuitous

You know how temporary

All families

All turkeys

All wishes are

And you can go on…

Through blizzards & riots

Most of America survived

Its 411th Thanksgiving w/ you

You shared yours w/ "girlfriends"

Like you could have all your life

If you'd been born a girl

You had the kind of holiday

You'll try to repeat every year

From now on…

****** THANKSGIVING PART 2

How to follow turkey talk?

With meatier meteors & particle physics?

Launched convo with too-pretty girl 

Behind counter behind too-thick spectacles

She was too busy brooding 

To notice your 

Nerd-in-plain-sight behind nothing

Landing

Should we flow linguistically

From "turkey" to "turquoise"?

Let's do it.

We had a turquoise refrigerator (& stove)

In my childhood home

Turquoise trim on its

Mid-century modern edges,

Concentric turquoise rhombi on the garage door

Where a black cat 

Was almost squeezed to death

When she didn't run underneath

Fast enough

Turquoise & Black

My favorite color combination

On the spectrum or wheel 

I've read/heard/experienced

The walls in asylums

Painted cool pink

(Baker's pink)

To soothe the screams of

Patients

Please paint mine turquoise

If I ever get that lost

Again….

11-30-14

Phone Number w/ middle names II

Holy crap!! Those were very long. I hope you're still with me. And I hope you enjoy the hideous artworks I've shared with you. I know I am a terrible writer, artist & musician, but those are the things that make me feel more like you & less like me. If ya know what I mean...

Return To The Goth Garage

This has been a weekend of death. Not fun, scripted, zombie/vampire romance death. Real death; young death; close death; sad death. Multiple reports of sudden death...
That is life.

The deer skull was found in Arizona c. 1974 by a friend of the Moonface. We did not shoot it, except with a camera. It was most likely roadkill.

I've got to work on the lighting in the Goth Garage...it's not very goth right now.

Here's the video
Return To The Goth Garage

GOTH GARAGE

This is how I cheer up after a yuck(ish) week

Pixel & Eloise In An Alien Landscape

Hi Friends-who-are-People,

I hope your new year is going well. So far it is going a lot better than the end of last year for me, but since we're only 2 weeks in I won't get too complacent…

I have some art for you…I'm sorry it's not great…I'm busy & distracted & synthetically medicated…but I still try at least : ) : ) : )

And I may not have very much art for you this year--(don't cry)--because I have struck upon an idea I will call "a creative business venture" even though that moniker depresses me.

My husband, The Moonchild, and I have been thinking upon "creative business ventures" for a couple of years now, and finally one came to me! I will probably have to invest most of this year's allotted time to initiating this venture, but…

I will still try to bring you the ugly art, sucky music videos and Vogon poetry you crave with all your souls.

Because that's how much I love you.

I sure do miss our scanner!!!

Somatic Squid

Happy New Year People!

Sorry I have not been around to entertain the pants off you lately. I had a relapse of 'nervosa breakdownitis' in December & was void of any entertainment value.

But I am happy we have a New Year in which to be joyous, thankful & ridiculous. I have heard more than a handful of people say that 2014 was a very difficult year, but a year that was very rewarding for its troubles. And I couldn't agree more.

The frightening breakdowns in my life have led me to people/places/changes I wouldn't have met/gone/made if life had just proceeded as pleasantly as usual. And I can only be grateful for that.

As always, I will show up here when I need to...to Octopus Diary this odd thing called "being a person in a body on a planet." I will have art for you (soon, I promise!) and new, improved music videos [sorry I subjected you to such shitty, untalented musicianship...no excuses, but I didn't play for many years then suddenly needed to start playing again...]...

...and who knows what else this year will bring for me to Vogonize and rap about. Hopefully good stuff...

...for ALL of us...

PEACE!

Turkalicious Triglycerides

I think I posted another video on YouTube. Successfully? I think. Enjoy, maybe.

www.youtube.com/watch?v=244h3z0sz3k&feature=youtu.be

OTIS BLUE

"Abel Danger, Abel Danger...wherefore art thou Abel Danger?"

"Why, I am everywhere, my little clown. I lurk in every corner of the world, hating America & plotting against it. I lurk in every neighborhood w/ my automatic hard-on pointed at every fag, woman & child.  I lurk in your very own nervous system, causing you so much worry & road rage you can't even sleep at night. How can you not realize that I am with you, always?"

"Thank you, thank you, for answering my prayer...for always being there. Now bless this robbery, please...for I need tons of cash to save my life. Tons."

"Go forth, my child & do this robbery. I will hold your life close to my heart. So close we will breathe the same blood & bleed the same air."

I could not thank him enough, and when the time was right...3 loud knocks appeared at my door. I knew it was time for courage & blindness.

I opened my door, all dressed in white, just begging for violence. It was them, all right. Mr. Theory & Lucky #Tiger.

"Are you her?" asked Mr. Theory.

"Yes. I am Pentapussy," said I.

"Purrfect," said Lucky #Tiger.

"Let's roll !" we all said together.

 

Ancient Art c. 1997

We didn't speak on the way to the job. I'm not sure if we even blinked. Our lives were in each others' hands & we just couldn't look.

When we got to the 88th Billion Bank of Greed, it was my job to look innocent...and rich. I'm really good @ that, even though I'm poor & impure.

"May I speak to someone in the loans dept.?" I asked the teller.

"Certainly, ma'am. Mr. Pinkish-orangish-grey can help you right over there..."

As soon as I sat down at Mr. Pinkish-orangish-grey's desk, in they walked one-by-one—Mr. Theory & Lucky #Tiger. Instantly, Mr. Pinkish-orangish-grey froze. He knew these guys & he was scared shitless.

And so was I ! Because I knew it was time to put on a show. Stagefright, like a giant stagecoach, was running me over with its great wooden wheels.

"Act like a hostage...just act innocent...and rich...and hysterical," I told myself as Lucky #Tiger grabbed my neck.

I screamed & babbled as Mr. Theory, with such sleight of hand, reached over with his fist, knocking Mr. P-O-G's teeth all the way down his throat, then slitting that throat & letting the teeth tumble to the floor.

"Please!" I shrieked, "Someone call a dentist!!"

"Shut up, bitch, or I'll shoot your tits off," said #Tiger.

Everyone in the Bank of Greed fell to the floor, panicking in their own personal way. Mr. Theory took Mr. P-O-G & his death rattle to the big vault.

"Get it for me. All of it. All 6.5 billion. Now!!"

Mr. Pinkish-orangish-grey gathered the money as quickly as he could before he died. But 6.5 bil is A LOT, and it took about 3.7 hours and 6300 garbage bags to collect it all & time was the only currency. i kept up the histrionics & innocence until the job was done.

With all the loot bagged up, Mr. P-O-G dead on the floor, and everyone else too scared to even shit themselves, #Tiger let me go & we began to carry the bags outside.

Otis Blue was there, waiting for us. When all 6300 bags were loaded 7 we piled in, Otis Blue took off down the main drag like a fuming turd.

Well, unfortunately, because the robbery was so time consuming, the fuzz were on this turd in no time. We made a few rights & made a left on Gerard Way.  We were going at least 8.6 mph above the speed limit, but the fuzz were on our trail ! They started firing shots—once! twice! Thrice! Quadrice, quintice, sextice...!

Otis Blue was hit! Holes ripping up his back & sides! But it was okay, because Otis Blue was the getaway car.

Mr. Theory was ducking & dodging each bullet like a rodeo clown, as were #Tiger & I. In a cloud of carbon monosulfurglycerin, we ditched the cops, but the damage was bad....

Otis sputtered to a vehicular homicide at the side of a ditch. Mr. Theory lost his mind & ran into the woods howling like a hyena. Lucky #Tiger tried to stay calm, but some of the bank bags were rigged w/ ink bombs. They went off, coating him in guilt!

I quickly grabbed one bag. Enough money to live the rest of my life danger-free. Plus a little extra for a shopping spree @ Pottery Slum. 

And I loved communally ever after...

 

Ancient Art c. 1992

*2007 (it's fun to find old, drunk notebooks. Luckily for you, I quit drinking before Facebbok-bok)