Friday, October 03, 2014

Jill's remainder _ 2nd


Maybe she 's still not working there...Jill's still not working there/ Mona's moved space to get there. And there's nearer to the grammatical touchdown 'down there' at where and when  whence.A  dense machine of threshing pause?

to beck/ crack/ reek the tomb/rhomboid its apparent stupid? no, suble strata

Repetitions her favoried possessing. at ask round the gliding rich vow. Not a somber cursor nor a winking eye trundling nor turning the oats.

or the pretences of taunt
                                                    a greek smile deceived none      ~

!O Mona's ass has font crumbling birds


Sunday, July 28, 2013


 --- to start at the end of the midst it's best service thataway! dig it pad over the heels of the forsooken Knight.

if Jill knew the gig was up, she upped the ante-chamber split the sentence in four , she perfumed the road, moving aside the bustling vehicles traveling up her side .  Her head's  a tweak for sunsets and abodes, there's no point shining as no one's home    !

  Continue   the sage saga anon as she's got a family kitchen to tarry her ills. A tare's worth of smidgen on the bilious hope of renewal! what bollocks of blunder is a family . A subconscious fair me drawl

A pink ruffle in the night's word.


Tuesday, June 25, 2013


                 Gussied up the little tart became widow. Window as in this glass she's aperture to her sage. Cracker. and merger to the twotimbucktoo and her boyish love grown long as her near sighted fish. Of my fish and lev of level mergent to the sobbing mettlesome crew of the crunched up fece.. we're not hurried by resentful reintroducing gods. A reign is a .  Well, she's hold forth back to her toothsome buck! There's nothing softer to the eye than this nervous tick. A steam engine rolling was pinks to the dawn.A shit hinkied up the russianmoth pelted its wing, and cambering along a road, a white blue and lavender, no a maroon truck was it she say? Or is that cambric round, wreathing her lace neck? Leman, leman of that brook.

Come to the weird soviettopple of your red wall and crest the curtain. She's hegel to her whithershin spooning the supply glide of anno domnini and round cradle boxes, and cardinal numbers too.

  Jack calls me to. Jacky calling call Jacky cackle hacle your misted breasts. She's Mona's boat and Fanny's got it curtain to the final ending! consumatum est a pink steward for each particular unfair dawn. of its practice.

   Mona bowing her out,  Oona entering the shell, its long beach hence. However the gnostic truth the gnostic troop believes other than wise.

  Oona come here. Mona go out .


                                                                          Mona took the carrot juice.    Not a hegel salve at all. Nor the fostering north zephyr.


Wednesday, May 08, 2013

so they


shoveled high

a high one

branded the hope

bust the bane

ran the turnpike kept clearing the teapot coping with the mechanisms of fruit and fame. a line of move/.turn

 about /a line of run

                         a line of slip

   a  line of hold to the

   veerring to the left / 
                   hanging to the right/ port that's port and Jill's on her way back to Paris and surface empiricism a strange puzzle of snythetic junctions

 r inging the bell

               O swell unity of trumpet

Between the whole's nontotalizable love and the rest of bucket we're rigging a sun, a parlour  a suburban lilt loving the night




Wednesday, April 03, 2013

reversal chaos of love



    Mona'n Jill gunmetal studs-seafoam vest  display the breasts of  yessir les best des conitions as the will making whacky the loving body-- its a q uantum of daynight mo uth longi ng to the pot of death lets escape this language  I love with a impossible thing

                     her mouth's a catching prick


                                                                                       those thighs  and

  the buttocks be i d that they te dered made her twisting torque (an painful even at the knowing watch)



           bankrupt   the body is  painful                                           (at its rugged love cost)

                                                                                       and  a chide

                     a aw wf ul voice jabbering i to the tin box  ('cell')

                                          with the bod y of her  love

                                                                           an   i forgot 

 but the  orbs turning to    to' me' turretheadme ~ of the black of the sandy coast taste her eyes


Saturday, March 09, 2013

haze of capitlalism


  In the haze . the haze of capitalism was the reunityfictation of the self.


theroem one and two one and one making  fi ve to go. it seams Jill's Mona.


'On a  (Ona Oona) li(gh)ter note  who cares about bread , butter, melody and mud? except at a given time, a  moment of sanding pop culture's all we got    ~


Tuesday, March 05, 2013

Lumping it all twogather


Lumpenspace princess  thought it's patriaRchy. it aint. not that sample. it's the commintern dog, the soviet pilaster poof. professeror's of emeritus and the moonlight scarf of.

Jill humdeho.
Mona  athankful geese
and the other stucking her thimble in the plate  close to the tardy duality of being. if they had a sinthomme they got it over! bullshit toi rang her hanky using oil and fragrance of the capital gains tax. Not a spoof for this knight but her  (c)ock riding her cock(robin) ride.


Sunday, March 03, 2013

in cave

---- Now Mona's met Jack the back not the hegel the bagel and  the Comminist Princess  ~ but they wont let her work the dioceces dildo  corny stories abound false memories of the sentimentalizing machine repacking you back baked goods   
they were doing it  
   they were 
       i n  the cave
            in  the cave with the water splashing all around they were doin it doggystyle a centuaur horse
on the run but now shes a  hard ass hooker for the territory king capital

suckered her deaths inta image image now she fucks with  a god capital ruins

shes godzilla not giraffe of rain an' joy
  O come get out of there get outta here with yer copping out corpse corporate   running  panhandle paranoia

--------------------- Now does Jill see MissHegel's handy dialiectic? no matter her hair's parted down the middle its game  time at the 7pm getup . Her mirror's a box of selves.

   Now Mona's not a jackboot, but it'd be better if Jacky came to see her. Out of her veils of mourning and the capitalist float signifying . Out of the capitalist veil.

  Dont steal these words.


Sunday, February 24, 2013



Being soprano was not her style. hers was chariots and buckwheat. Nervous smiles and  the witching hour dancing on a  bum. A dime for any laguna _ she's got an alias for a situation. Comedy's not her forte but goat's ass aint her bag either Anymore than hanging out with aunties and uncles , old Bobs, dead-beats, squares, and she's not keen on being seen as a palooka; don't like wiseguys, or sappy mud wearing satyrs. But shes' won with the wending ass of her girls. Stray she might be she's loyal as air, and wondering as chamber music as it cups its hand on her ass in the dark. O k shake those ringlets! wipe that smile off, no hold those big bad eyes up. Come closer you shirker. No more strikebreaking days for you honeypie. Your restless night are over. Singlular and plural subjecting objects to the ringsome throw of your awful laugh. She lived in a radio between the tubes and the rube~o she's a  hussy witha  pussiewussy!.

  Okay Mister Romeo.

_                                                          _ this intensity's beckoning your style.


Tuesday, January 22, 2013

~ Elaborate


Mona's got a spellbound dog; two sister neck to neck bust the semicolonisaiton of the bog of speech. Ordering round your arm to wrist wordings we've had enough.Can you    ~ ____ in my speech. its what i am leaving out that counts! the wanna turn you into a work Protestant suffer. Suffer no fools! no capitals! No lists! hahahaah a dog working ina  street declaring a long dare down.As on the hair of her haid Natasha Natasha her teeth acooshla acoosh gnash ya gnash ya her perturbing smile. A

                                  She'd never be indented beyond a smile perhaps