Sunday, August 28, 2011

Square One

It's January it's Texas the sky is a melting rainbowsicle and in the yard everything is dead but the heart is beating and the mind is grappling. At my feet there is a calendar. The squares stare me down, accusing. Has he forgiven me yet? I dance love to death in my tap shoes I make my mark across the marble floor and tight voices squeeze my fingers until I hear the tiny bones snap. Kicked out of the casino I look for Chinese bakery in blizzard but all the signs conspire against me and the lights are dim on this side of the dream.

Saturday, August 27, 2011

Until Now

He sure as shit didn't kiss me take me fuck me hold me keep me marry me when he had the chance. All these sleep walkie talkie incommunicado neptune floundering motherfuckers in my life! Saturn square Mercury times a billion! I dream of screaming in blood wrapped in plastic tap dancing the goddamn coals to diamonds in sister's hand-me-down heels with Jesus cock on my breath and still the silence thicker than ketchup oozing Texas big boy burger. Hello! I'm home! I'm here! I'm alive I'm vivid I'm dripping light! A note on the wall from husband, angry scrawl: CLEAN THIS PLACE UP! IT'S A MESS! THANKS! I'm still dreaming of the first Leo the one who told me he thought I was yelling rape when I was fifteen in the summer and he was coming up the hill to get his share. He could have thrown me in the most rapid part of the river and fucked me senseless against foam and beer cans and jagged rock and I would have stared him down sticking screams in my choir girl throat meeting each thrust with damp quivering welcome. But now he's rich and I'm not and his wife makes more sense than I will ever pretend to and if I make it to the symphony before I start sagging this will all have been worth it. I can see myself now clear as eager teenage dick all decked out in black velvet and genuine pearls streaking my makeup with true tears my mouth forming words I never used until now.

Saturday, August 20, 2011

Las Vegas

I'm moving to Las Vegas to be a whore. First I will cleanse myself with bleach and lasers. Broken things will be fixed with staples and knives. All of my heartache and disillusionment, an angry black vomit glob, will be condensed to a hard jagged stone I can use to maim, blind, kill and stun things. Men will look into my cobalt eyes and know I mean business. You want a date? Buy me a steak and a baked potato. I want the whole goddamn chocolate cake, the one in the window that is a miracle, that does not melt under all those fucking angelic lights. I am not bitter. I am as sweet as ripe strawberries drowning in champagne. We can have fun. We can smoke in the sun and lounge by the lagoon with all the other lost witches and pirates. I'm moving to Las Vegas to be a witch. I will cook up spells that make the wrong men beg and the right man follow my scent to the waking cafe. The neon is going down and we are coming up. Listen. My heart after all these miles is still a giddy darling drunken drum.

MOO!

Predilection


Horse had a predilection for plain chocolate candy and orange soda. He enjoyed fishing on his Uncle Bartholomew’s property and frying the catfish in a skillet with copious amounts of butter. One day Horse would marry but not until he found a woman with buck teeth and a deep understanding of his heart’s intricate machinations.

Prediction


One day you will be rich famous shiny bright star pasted on someone’s idea of how heaven should be. The work will pour in, Thanksgiving gravy. Pecan pie in your mouth because you are so sweet. People on street will say, “Well. Hell. Must be nice.” It is nice. It is your star life.

Friday, August 19, 2011

Fat Dicks

Here comes idiot ballet time. Look yonder, son. Chugging down the track, dumb ass train. Choo choo! Life sucks donkey dong and then you die! There is magic to grab but some hands are faster than others. Fat hands are no good for tricks. Fat dicks are more fun to suck than skinny dicks. Yum.

Mommy Taps


Mommy was tap dancing, sweating, grimace smiling all over the dirty linoleum. Lionel stood in the doorway in his diaper, sucking his thumb. His eyes were big and blue and bloated with questions. Doesn’t Mommy see me here? When will Mommy feed me? Where is Daddy? Why can’t Daddy show up and make Mommy stop?

We Can't Drive 55


Abe was drinking vodka laced strawberry milk. For Benny it was lukewarm tap water. Jill was swigging acai berry juice. The waning moon was a hunk of angel food cake in the sky. Ants and beetles were crawling around their vast world.
 “We should figure things out,” Jill said.
Abe burped.
”You’re ambitious,” Benny muttered.

Tuesday, August 16, 2011

Mucho Mas Salt

I am doing things despite you. This life is silly. I will not be an accomplice. While the phone does not ring and the roses do not bloom I dance a manic ballet around the burning letters, the dying stars. We need more than batteries here. I am cooking poor woman stew. It burns tongues.

Real Butter

Seeds spill down my breasts. I remain juicy with secrets and passing glance stories. My eyes are richer than the earth. Worms play hide and seek between the lines. Ghosts tell hungry jokes. Would you please pass the melting butter? It is time to tear the bread to pieces. I would like the biggest hunk.

Persistent Little Knocker

My heart is hell seasoned, Saturn strong, plump pink clitoris pretty. The gods hang my heart up above the others, giving the lunch room delirious gleam. In dreams my heart soars above cranky bones singing Rocky Horror songs and Baptist hymns. You would think my heart won more than a few contests. No. It lost.

Read My Rider

Clown Face


Fuck me on a train. Fuck me on a boat. Fuck me in France. Fuck me in a field of poppies. The prescription calls for more than this. I know the way to Mexico. Most girls are not this heavy. I learned the dance when I was territorial about balloons. I cry, clown face on.

BORE

55 Lovers


This is not my gown. This long red gown with spaghetti straps and raised paisley belongs to my mother. It became too small for Cynthia in the wash. I will shoot myself in this dress tonight wearing lipstick of a darker red. The pictures will scream redemption, ascent. Masculine eyes will notice and maybe brighten.

55 Frogs


Look out the window. Trees are still standing. The ice cream truck has already passed. Soon the moon will pop into the sky above the green black branches. Crickets are heard not seen. Cigarettes are on sale. Tired women are fucking restless men. Sugar filled children are screaming for more. Asphalt street is cooling off.

This Song Doth SUCKETH MUCHETH

Monday, August 15, 2011

Reminder To Clean

What was she doing in the kitchen?
She wondered. She stood barefoot on the tacky linoleum, holding onto the sticky counter, looking around at the boxes of cereal and bowls of lemons and bananas. There was a rooster cup towel wrapped around the refrigerator door handle. A reminder to clean? Clean what?

"There goes the ice cream truck," she murmured. She couldn't place the tune. In odd intervals a cheery robotic voice cried out,"Hello!" What the hell? When she was a kid the ice cream trucks just blared "The Entertainer."

"Mommy! I'm through!"
Boy. Yes. On the toilet. She left the kitchen still not knowing.

Sunday, August 14, 2011

Bob Visits


Much Excluding Interest Over Color

All taken photos are from the material individual parts, but color can to the material item somewhat differently its color. NO digital camera can reflect 100% the natural world color and carry the screen attitude also a point difference. Think twice before offer or buy you, if you are much excluding interest over color!

Sugar Sugar


All American Shit River

I was at the end of my rope. I waited tables eight hours per day, which then sex calls take three hours each night. I could hardly form rent and redeem all my changes. There was never the money, which became to past leave the salon and the Bowlingbahn for journeys. Then I began to sell enemas for All American Shit River. Now I drive a Jaguar and live in a beach front side free-hold flat! My hair looks better than Rapunzel's!

Wednesday, August 10, 2011

He Succeeded...You Can, Too


Tuna of the Can?

Are you made use to changed its proper master? Are ready you to eat the caviar of the crystal instead of the tuna of the can? Thus? He prepares for the change? Of course you are. This is because you are here, goose parvo! You do not have that to suck the tap she licks the donkey eats râs. Everything that you need to make is con peoples in believing that is the only way. You will occur. You will occur without bleed.

Russian Mountains & A Lake

Your family deserves better. You deserve silk, not polyester. Your sister deserves diamonds, zirconia noncubic. Your brother deserves football, not swell out of rubber of store of the dollar. Synchronization. Good industry. Good moment to obtain implied. To fail people. Not systems. Correct computer. Phantom in the camp; learned the system. Worked. Live on the ranch nowadays with hamsters personal assistances good friends wives of cats of dogs children of horses. There are Russian mountains and a lake. There is even a superb slide. This can be your life too much if you cease to be so lazy.

How I Came Here: Internet Business

Dismissed? Never again for me! Before it found east business that had gone to the university, secured a degree and it went to work in corporative America. He was very ambitious and it had enormous goals and dreams. I gave my all. I burst my balls. I hurt yet for above obtaining dismissed four times to seven years. I made vote find a way to begin my own business. Pornography or goats was not interested in. That one is how I came here.

Tuesday, August 9, 2011

Wait Until Year of Horse

Operation zombies. A girl in hardship is leaguing together with disaster. The slight currents swallow the throats of swans. Honey thief wakes up narrow road. Wink cringe fallen crest. His plumage out of season.

Saturday, August 6, 2011

Sweet Country Gal

a Joe Pachinko poem

Rape Donuts

Gone are the glorious gobble fucks of yesteryear,
gone the super sleazy slut leaps of joy.
No more weezing for nibs.
Even the pleasures of lounging
in the slime shadow darkness
of the antique porno palace
have turned sordid, gone Walt Disney
obvious.
There's only so much time you can spend
watching a bad blowjob,
or some subnormal mustachioed palooka
eating pussy
without finesse,
finesseless.
And why the close-up
of the woman's half-wiped asshole
with the inflamed hemorrhoid grape clusters?
Why the old slobbering drunk
eating the green smashed banana
out of the other girl's ass?
We might as well all be fucking glazed donuts,
& that thundering herd in the streets outside, mooing
& squawking,
what are they thinking?
Who knows what they're thinking?
& who gives a flying fuck at a rolling donut
what they're thinking?
But I'll tell ya boy,
some o' them donuts are starting to look mighty good,
yeah, some of them donuts look good.
I'd be lucky now
if I got one of those dry, old-fashioned donuts to fuck
as I wait here
in the dingy elevators of survival
for a new Venus of cooperation
to put me on a diet
of organic
whole grain
smut.


Joe Pachinko
from The Urinals of Hell

Tuesday, August 2, 2011

Grounded.

Their Words Could Blow Up In You

You can feel as you today have a small piece of the deep magic in his disposition, it's yet not his to use for the personal increase. But the answers are more probable now to come to you with dreams, instead of rational logic, so don't solutions of the search of it through the channels generally. Although their words could blow up in you, using images and the use of symbolic gestures can strongly affect the result of its work