I've got stones
falling out my ears.
Thick busty boulder balls
made of mountain and
musty as mold
smooth along the edges
from the journey out my ears.
Right now I'm holding my hands
up under my lobes to catch them
for fear they might drop
and then get dirty.
I'm standing in the mud.
Maybe I should get a pail
because I feel more coming and
stones born of brains must be lucky
so I shan't lose a one.
Oh here they're coming
it's like eating too much ice cream
or opening your eyes too quickly in the morning
and for the first five minutes of the day
all you're doing is groaning.
I got two stones now.
I think the others are stuck.
I got a glass jar for them,
but that idea might suck.
I love these stones
that came straight from my head
but I can't find the right spot for them
where they can be heralded and well read.
I feel lighter in my head though
and I feel like it might get ideas.
Go on a floating expedition and
See life free from his peers.
I think I'll put a scarf on
but I'm not sure that'll work.
I can feel it detaching; quickly!
I'm afraid my body's got some strange quirk.
Lasso! Chain! Strong cord! Spaghetti al dente!
Anything'll do!
I gotta keep my head on my neck!
For what's a guy to do
if alls he's got is a head
flying around outside this mad and crazy Zoo!
But I got these stones.
Maybe they will do.
Plop em on top
Walk around with two butt cheeks for a head.
I think that's what I'll do.
I really like these stones.
And then I can tell everyone plucky,
Well, these stones were born of my brain,
so they must be lucky.
Perfect. My head's gone a sailing and good riddance.
Two stones for a head'll be like white in christmas.
But it's funny. When I was waxing up my stones
for my girlfriend's next party
I found written across my forebottom
these words signed by some Marty:
What I thought was what I thought,
when instead I shoulda been thinking
about what I hadn't thought
and then
I'd truly be thinking.
--Marty
I don't get it at all.
~contributer
Monday, April 26, 2010
Thursday, March 4, 2010
The Knucks of the bu Dup
And frozen toes
are found wrapped in bows
beneath the boughs
of the Pelicanoes.
And God be willing,
for not a shilling,
we'll all go for a climb soon.
Throw down our toes when we reach the top,
where the flying bird Narsciroo preys on the Buddy bu Dup.
You haven't heard of the Buddy bu Dup?
You haven't heard of the Buddy bu Dup?
This ancient animal once feathered and of a flock,
no longer has kin for his flock fell out of luck.
You see you see.
So hunted were these that their feathers turned to small hairs,
their claws to knucks!
N.b. knucks are small nubs of knuckles, found on feet, after they've been eaten.
The Narsciroo is a hungry dragoon.
One of its kind.
It preys on limbs and when there are none,
they suckle on knucks like a mother with her cubs.
They, I said and of course I mean, he
because never was there one of more than one than he.
Nasty Narsciroo.
Bent on the descimation of the Buddy bu Dup.
But never was there more than one of he
is what I meant.
We shall climb up there
and toss off our toes
and see the glimmering light
No human, no child, no turtle of pride
has ever see the light
And since we are zoologists
specializing in endangered species,
we will bring lots of Socks for the buddy bu dup
so they can continue churning out the light.
Did I forget to mention that?
They hate Socks, but sure can they make light.
I forgot some more you see
don't get up
I'll fix you tea
no no for you
it's always coffee.
What I forgot was the machines.
You see the Buddy bu Dup
aka the bbd's
have always had the longest of limbs.
Their limbs go down as far as the Pelecanoes go up.
And vice versa verse vice
And as they lived alone before the Narsciroo came into being
they loped and lammed all along the tops of the Pelecanoes
And their loping and their lamming caused all the light you could see.
But soon came the Nasty Narsci Narcisceroo
The hunter of limbs, a gobbler of light, he fed and he fed
til their limbs gave no light.
You know what loping is I'm sure
(It's limb on limb friction that causes light)
But lamming might be a foreign word to you.
Long lost to the humans of today,
lamming has fallen out of fashion like eating hair out of clay.
Lamming of course is covering each other
with each and every other
of those loping around you.
It's the beginning and end of every lope.
This sort of lamming is best described to humans as hugging, except while moving. So you see, even while loping may cause all kinds of light, it is the lamming that causes the most powerful of kinds.
Oh no you can't...
sit back down.
More tea, no no
it was coffee now
wasn't coffee then...for three?
Oh how majestic was this lamming.
If you can imagine
a flock of birds flying higher and faster and buzzing through like bees,
so many the eyes can't see
and then in an instant the many became one!
And in a flash
the light from a lam?
It's a shock like no other.
I'm tired just to think of it.
but there is so much to tell
so much indeed.
This all started with talk of the machines.
My hour is almost up so I've got to hurry. It's so hard to tell a story; I promise I won't tarry, but I can't say that through part of it I won't worry.
It's this worrying you see that keeps me from telling what it is you see
that's most important.
Because I worry there isn't enough time, but I couldn't have it all to begin with, I tell myself, so I mustn't worry nor hurry.
I've only three minutes left
to the chase I cut deft.
After all the gobbling and margling,
and chewing and spit
And we won't tarry on the bloody parts where the bbd's got what no man could ever take.
Where their limbs were sucked down like the wheat to the chaff.
All they had left was their nubs, called ?
Knucks.
Thank you.
They made a chain between themselves using nothing but some socks
Between each and every knuck of every boy and girl dup.
And when they move their knucks
each and every other knuck of these dups
moves along with
And like a machine made of gears, comes out the light of the lam, seen as far as our young eyes can.
So with us we bring socks
And when we climb the Pelicanoes
We'll throw down our toes tied together in bows
And join the flock of the Buddy bu Dup.
And God be willing,
for not a shilling,
we'll all go for a climb soon.
~contributer
are found wrapped in bows
beneath the boughs
of the Pelicanoes.
And God be willing,
for not a shilling,
we'll all go for a climb soon.
Throw down our toes when we reach the top,
where the flying bird Narsciroo preys on the Buddy bu Dup.
You haven't heard of the Buddy bu Dup?
You haven't heard of the Buddy bu Dup?
This ancient animal once feathered and of a flock,
no longer has kin for his flock fell out of luck.
You see you see.
So hunted were these that their feathers turned to small hairs,
their claws to knucks!
N.b. knucks are small nubs of knuckles, found on feet, after they've been eaten.
The Narsciroo is a hungry dragoon.
One of its kind.
It preys on limbs and when there are none,
they suckle on knucks like a mother with her cubs.
They, I said and of course I mean, he
because never was there one of more than one than he.
Nasty Narsciroo.
Bent on the descimation of the Buddy bu Dup.
But never was there more than one of he
is what I meant.
We shall climb up there
and toss off our toes
and see the glimmering light
No human, no child, no turtle of pride
has ever see the light
And since we are zoologists
specializing in endangered species,
we will bring lots of Socks for the buddy bu dup
so they can continue churning out the light.
Did I forget to mention that?
They hate Socks, but sure can they make light.
I forgot some more you see
don't get up
I'll fix you tea
no no for you
it's always coffee.
What I forgot was the machines.
You see the Buddy bu Dup
aka the bbd's
have always had the longest of limbs.
Their limbs go down as far as the Pelecanoes go up.
And vice versa verse vice
And as they lived alone before the Narsciroo came into being
they loped and lammed all along the tops of the Pelecanoes
And their loping and their lamming caused all the light you could see.
But soon came the Nasty Narsci Narcisceroo
The hunter of limbs, a gobbler of light, he fed and he fed
til their limbs gave no light.
You know what loping is I'm sure
(It's limb on limb friction that causes light)
But lamming might be a foreign word to you.
Long lost to the humans of today,
lamming has fallen out of fashion like eating hair out of clay.
Lamming of course is covering each other
with each and every other
of those loping around you.
It's the beginning and end of every lope.
This sort of lamming is best described to humans as hugging, except while moving. So you see, even while loping may cause all kinds of light, it is the lamming that causes the most powerful of kinds.
Oh no you can't...
sit back down.
More tea, no no
it was coffee now
wasn't coffee then...for three?
Oh how majestic was this lamming.
If you can imagine
a flock of birds flying higher and faster and buzzing through like bees,
so many the eyes can't see
and then in an instant the many became one!
And in a flash
the light from a lam?
It's a shock like no other.
I'm tired just to think of it.
but there is so much to tell
so much indeed.
This all started with talk of the machines.
My hour is almost up so I've got to hurry. It's so hard to tell a story; I promise I won't tarry, but I can't say that through part of it I won't worry.
It's this worrying you see that keeps me from telling what it is you see
that's most important.
Because I worry there isn't enough time, but I couldn't have it all to begin with, I tell myself, so I mustn't worry nor hurry.
I've only three minutes left
to the chase I cut deft.
After all the gobbling and margling,
and chewing and spit
And we won't tarry on the bloody parts where the bbd's got what no man could ever take.
Where their limbs were sucked down like the wheat to the chaff.
All they had left was their nubs, called ?
Knucks.
Thank you.
They made a chain between themselves using nothing but some socks
Between each and every knuck of every boy and girl dup.
And when they move their knucks
each and every other knuck of these dups
moves along with
And like a machine made of gears, comes out the light of the lam, seen as far as our young eyes can.
So with us we bring socks
And when we climb the Pelicanoes
We'll throw down our toes tied together in bows
And join the flock of the Buddy bu Dup.
And God be willing,
for not a shilling,
we'll all go for a climb soon.
~contributer
Thursday, February 11, 2010
Goldfish
I demanded a gold fish
in my
hotel last night
There was no gold fish
in my
hotel last night
I called the front desk
from my
hotel last night
and demanded a gold fish
in my
hotel last night.
Where's my gold fish
I said.
You said there'd be
a gold fish
in my room I
want it to be.
And she said.
I'll get you a gold fish
sir I
know it's important.
But I
am truly sorry,
sir I
must say not tonight
cuz it's
far too late
far too late
far too late
But tomorrow
I said.
I'll be gone.
I need my gold fish
in my
hotel right now.
No time for later
I said.
The time is now
I got to have it
I say
Give it right now.
Where's the goldfish
that I was promised?
It's dark and lonely
and the furniture
doesn't match.
Where's the goldfish
that I was promised?
I'm cold and lonely
and the temperature's
too hot.
Where's the goldfish
that I was promised?
It's starting to bother me
I'm
lost in thought.
I need a goldfish
Oh please
Just give me a gold fish
And I'll
hang up the phone
and then I'll
get some rest.
I need some rest.
I need some rest.
I need some rest.
I need some rest.
I want my gold fish
lady
I want it now.
~contributer
in my
hotel last night
There was no gold fish
in my
hotel last night
I called the front desk
from my
hotel last night
and demanded a gold fish
in my
hotel last night.
Where's my gold fish
I said.
You said there'd be
a gold fish
in my room I
want it to be.
And she said.
I'll get you a gold fish
sir I
know it's important.
But I
am truly sorry,
sir I
must say not tonight
cuz it's
far too late
far too late
far too late
But tomorrow
I said.
I'll be gone.
I need my gold fish
in my
hotel right now.
No time for later
I said.
The time is now
I got to have it
I say
Give it right now.
Where's the goldfish
that I was promised?
It's dark and lonely
and the furniture
doesn't match.
Where's the goldfish
that I was promised?
I'm cold and lonely
and the temperature's
too hot.
Where's the goldfish
that I was promised?
It's starting to bother me
I'm
lost in thought.
I need a goldfish
Oh please
Just give me a gold fish
And I'll
hang up the phone
and then I'll
get some rest.
I need some rest.
I need some rest.
I need some rest.
I need some rest.
I want my gold fish
lady
I want it now.
~contributer
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Thursday, January 21, 2010
Beyond the Pale
I live Beyond the Pale
with lots of men
in ripe long beards
And every day
we sing and dance
and sip at our own tears.
Beyond the Pale
we live and die
and scream of our own fears
of living sad
and dying young
with no one caring near.
We sing out loud
Beyond the Pale
Beyond the Pale
Beyond
So never will
we ever be
ever sad amidst our cheer
And yonder smoke
from well lit homes
will never cause us tears
For ours is ours
and without ours
we still have ours right here
Beyond the Pale
Beyond the Pale
Beyond the Pale
Beyond.
~contributer
with lots of men
in ripe long beards
And every day
we sing and dance
and sip at our own tears.
Beyond the Pale
we live and die
and scream of our own fears
of living sad
and dying young
with no one caring near.
We sing out loud
Beyond the Pale
Beyond the Pale
Beyond
So never will
we ever be
ever sad amidst our cheer
And yonder smoke
from well lit homes
will never cause us tears
For ours is ours
and without ours
we still have ours right here
Beyond the Pale
Beyond the Pale
Beyond the Pale
Beyond.
~contributer
Monday, January 11, 2010
Henry Botts
I showed my friend Henry Botts my last soIgoogledit blog and he told me it felt contrived. I agreed with him since I had actually shot and edited all the video I had supposedly googled, including the last piece of video, which I posted on a blog I had created expressly for that purpose, to post a video that would then appear on my soigoogledit blog. So yes, utterly contrived.
Henry Botts was reacting to my contrivance in a negative way. And I wondered about that contrivance thing. So I googled it.
First it was the monument. Then it was the snowman. Then the girl of course, mimicing the snowman. Then the camera itself. What a graceful bit of contrivance however. Its celebration is contagious.
To think a snowman could be excited? Well of course a snowman is excited. Some winters he doesn't even get a chance to play. And he really has to show off how much fun he is in a short time slot. If he didn't play it up, we might not ask him around the next time. And what's worse, unlike the rest of us basking in all forms of light, his time in the sun is his most feared.
Would we understand though how excited he is without the girl in the background mimicing in that contrived manner? Would the snowman seem celebratory if not for the comparison to what a human looks like, in this case a human celebrating? Thanks...It would have just been a snowman otherwise.
The contrivance here allows us to understand the feeling or intentions of the people expressing. Contrivance is the bearer of meaning across a medium. We can contrive how we will, but it is always to be a part of any form of expression. Some contrivances are blatant and offensive, some are blatant, yet real. Some are subtle and offensive. Some are subtle and beautiful. All contrivances however are contrived. (REDUNDANCY ALERT=COMPLEX THOUGHT ALERT)
I must admit Henry Botts is a fictional character I used to enter into a conversation about contrivance, but I wondered about the real Henry Botts. So I googled it.
Everything real is contrived. Such is creation.
~contributer
Henry Botts was reacting to my contrivance in a negative way. And I wondered about that contrivance thing. So I googled it.
First it was the monument. Then it was the snowman. Then the girl of course, mimicing the snowman. Then the camera itself. What a graceful bit of contrivance however. Its celebration is contagious.
To think a snowman could be excited? Well of course a snowman is excited. Some winters he doesn't even get a chance to play. And he really has to show off how much fun he is in a short time slot. If he didn't play it up, we might not ask him around the next time. And what's worse, unlike the rest of us basking in all forms of light, his time in the sun is his most feared.
Would we understand though how excited he is without the girl in the background mimicing in that contrived manner? Would the snowman seem celebratory if not for the comparison to what a human looks like, in this case a human celebrating? Thanks...It would have just been a snowman otherwise.
The contrivance here allows us to understand the feeling or intentions of the people expressing. Contrivance is the bearer of meaning across a medium. We can contrive how we will, but it is always to be a part of any form of expression. Some contrivances are blatant and offensive, some are blatant, yet real. Some are subtle and offensive. Some are subtle and beautiful. All contrivances however are contrived. (REDUNDANCY ALERT=COMPLEX THOUGHT ALERT)
I must admit Henry Botts is a fictional character I used to enter into a conversation about contrivance, but I wondered about the real Henry Botts. So I googled it.
Everything real is contrived. Such is creation.
~contributer
Wednesday, January 6, 2010
In a Blink
“Phfft! Phfft! Phfft! Phfft! Taxi! Taxi!”
An outstretched arm suspended. At ninety degrees. Upside down pendulum. Timing out the passing train. Blue cruisers, mad hatters, radio blasters, nail biters, and the top shelf. Back and Forth. Back and Forth. Shouts:
“Phfft! Phfft! Phfft! Taxi! Phfft!”
Rushing past. Blurring. Like an alarm when the terror strikes, low beneath the mix. These flashers. Gassers. Kicking up the waste. Plastics in flight. Tic toc tic tic tic. Tic toc tic tic tic.
A HONKing alert. Breaking through the blur. Lay on it hard fella. Stop for a second. “Stop for a second!” One yellow fish tugging on a line, jumps, blots out the sky, snap! Rips flesh. Tide moves on. Broken line.
Outstretched arm. Disembodied. Stretch-ing-out-ward. Back. Fingering the middle of the fray. The visible disembodied now-single-bodied arm floats. Above. The fray.
No taxi. Vultures on by. “Vultures!” Wingless. Walk. Walk. Walk. Where’s the bus?
“How long you been here?” No response. It’s close enough. Walk on. Walk on. Walk.
“Can’t get a bus going north. You get a bus going north? Naw, man. Can’t get a bus going north. How far north you go to get a bus going north? North man. North. North.”
Tall man. French words. Bald. Monk’s hair on the sides. Glasses of color. Smiles into the sun. Pockets deep. Hands uncovered. Cold outside. Smiling into the sun?
“Take a taxi? Take a taxi?” Eyes affixed on the flame in the sky.
On the bus. Eyes out the window. Ducking low. Spots the sun. Bounding between buildings. Into the smile. Ray flare. Blink.
An alleyway. Blink.
A gas station. Blink.
A low roof. Blink.
An intersection. Blink. Squint.
Hold.
Smiles into the sun. Colored Glasses. Brown edged little bunkers. Full of flare. Spotting the sun. What’s to see? What’s to see? With that smile into the sun.
Green on Go! Darkness. Blink between the buildings. All the way home. Moving. Home. Blink.
Blink.
~contributer
An outstretched arm suspended. At ninety degrees. Upside down pendulum. Timing out the passing train. Blue cruisers, mad hatters, radio blasters, nail biters, and the top shelf. Back and Forth. Back and Forth. Shouts:
“Phfft! Phfft! Phfft! Taxi! Phfft!”
Rushing past. Blurring. Like an alarm when the terror strikes, low beneath the mix. These flashers. Gassers. Kicking up the waste. Plastics in flight. Tic toc tic tic tic. Tic toc tic tic tic.
A HONKing alert. Breaking through the blur. Lay on it hard fella. Stop for a second. “Stop for a second!” One yellow fish tugging on a line, jumps, blots out the sky, snap! Rips flesh. Tide moves on. Broken line.
Outstretched arm. Disembodied. Stretch-ing-out-ward. Back. Fingering the middle of the fray. The visible disembodied now-single-bodied arm floats. Above. The fray.
No taxi. Vultures on by. “Vultures!” Wingless. Walk. Walk. Walk. Where’s the bus?
“How long you been here?” No response. It’s close enough. Walk on. Walk on. Walk.
“Can’t get a bus going north. You get a bus going north? Naw, man. Can’t get a bus going north. How far north you go to get a bus going north? North man. North. North.”
Tall man. French words. Bald. Monk’s hair on the sides. Glasses of color. Smiles into the sun. Pockets deep. Hands uncovered. Cold outside. Smiling into the sun?
“Take a taxi? Take a taxi?” Eyes affixed on the flame in the sky.
On the bus. Eyes out the window. Ducking low. Spots the sun. Bounding between buildings. Into the smile. Ray flare. Blink.
An alleyway. Blink.
A gas station. Blink.
A low roof. Blink.
An intersection. Blink. Squint.
Hold.
Smiles into the sun. Colored Glasses. Brown edged little bunkers. Full of flare. Spotting the sun. What’s to see? What’s to see? With that smile into the sun.
Green on Go! Darkness. Blink between the buildings. All the way home. Moving. Home. Blink.
Blink.
~contributer
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