Sunday, February 28, 2010

oyster pattern

 Jill woke  it was the night. A night of many 'frosted' pains. Something had happened she crossed the narrow river. Death beat a hasty retreat its footsteps crossing down the corridor |

Was the whispering resurrection subervion a scenemic changement de cœur. She lost her french language. A better parole than her own existed. March was the festival of gloom and doom fog and clad something and other streets. It was fair to midlands bad film.A cheap flick a tawdry half sister, baked bread, dark coffee, a stringent potion of mlike , health at worsts, a truant begining, a season of assassinations and rump states. But two lovers, in 'recent' schizoanalysis was better.

              If she lived in the coastal planes it was better than North of the country. Of disaster and desire? She was handmaiden to the Lord thus.

Saturday, February 27, 2010

thing along

 God s are like aren't they?               With that whimsy and pedal pushing and their rages and ingrain ignorant men too are this     way.  Isn't it a pity? A sad song the putty of their self- impugned rages and petty will to destroy .  

               And you met the Spanish girls Abba Abc loving at first sight living second and guessing along the
                         planes of ordination. A  lover's scarlet and  robe.

Thursday, February 25, 2010

Mona shew

Mona silvers bone. Pot black brown its trodden wheat. Mister B comes further working his timbre. Feet spelling the rich loam of his tartan gloam. Tipping her hat. Not the kind of derby the old one wore. Ported you fool! that's not a word for busting up keeps. Narrow your nerve keep the stern clear. Clear is the dog's wish on its starboard ...   well we're not sure, and neither is Profeesor D. It was our first movie class. And detectives galore. We saw him well knowing he was trying in his dying.     Before long there were seven of is. All followers, in billowing gown and cap.

potted plant

Jill's writing a hagiography and living one too. She's canonized by the upside down states of reverse triangles, and the wretched whores of the earth. All her sainted candles cupping their fingers and asscrack for love. A schizo needle in each pike pocket she's an absconded love locket to her darling pull . This girl knows her name now and masturbates to it nightly. Chicken liver soup and onion are her favorite variety dish.She's hunkered down with many a spoon . In his time,a nd for hers,she hefted her oiled skirts and took them all:men, boys, knights. Shushed to their living woo and wha-wha.

_________________________Mona's always had a deeper furrow than the average asstronaut and she's circled many a fine hen. To boot she's wit with her will off to the gogowithout morals.

____________________________________Pish! My turning true love there's noother.

Wednesday, February 24, 2010

gush and crackle

Hush little baby dont you fry! and the roasts in hell are very big! two thousand customers a plate!

_______________ !974 Kingsley hall for a visit. at the place bright and late. As always. sickly tardy theres the stink of shit and poverty upstairs... Mona's grabbed a hairfull wandering the steps and out the balcony... shes got a novel in her hand... shaking sick not eating.. and the weirdest thing is this... she hears voices from across ... its on the radio and the is she's not wrong... intelligentry like that... adore their star schizo ball busters and fancy doers... not this way but that... and what's that in the corner dribbling and yappin to itself... but a pair of rags.. no one cares about anymore...a shitty place to end your gripe about things... i'd say its tawdry  

_____________ Im going back to France Lady G warns him one last time her finger's wagging the hefty doubloon of admonishment she's perished with the dying of this place cant bear it... He's the size of his pocket watch and bearing south becoming a boat in his own time a ravelling schizo if you've ever seen one... powder dusted his balls...

not a crazy, just a lunatic.


Tuesday, February 23, 2010

Rush along me jarvies

ah the clouds. this goodness gets in the way of thinking a clean shirt was all he said he needed after the war took everything else away no dogs but sacrifice the source of my teaching< is the riddle o...

The clouds batten down . Get in the path of thoughtless mood. Shirted and beridden|

Name it the rested moon where Bia's feet came to play. She withal wanted it. O boy she was a restless one cooking her beans in the frost. At the first of May she married ten boys and women. A true Athenian! and her dolmen sodomite !

__________________ Jill saying you don't make sense, and she did not work a n hour too soon before giving her god the fate. Seconded by the roughest _____________Ringggggggggggggggg  its a phone call from __ and she's wanting to know are you attending that talk tonight.? 

Cambered by the will of things she crumples down the staircase. Each landing  thud in her brain digging deeper into her crippled.


Gormless thing rutted by the fixture the fir the future of slaves. And benders and Mona said hear this thing its the mere memory of ruins no the auto apocalypse of rain.

Bug eyes shows up to get tension. Not attention. She dont understand that part of the gambit. Its not her ass that's wearing socks but her feet.

Mona hears everything and sees nothing. She's ereased the names to protect the guilty from damaging the innocent. And depraved. They move to the north way as nothing ever grows there. That's become honest.


its only iditots whose phones ring after midnight.


Monday, February 22, 2010

Salue! salubrious!

And this was the resting beneath contempt! A soccer score daring any to challenge its beastly contentment. A rest pot and then a wax cylinder taking it off , the thing, wearing it down, boiling it up thinner. A goddess in her wax slack.

Okay hugger bugger here's its meted sow.A cow brindled by feet. And knocking the flap of the tent wide open. As they say. Wide and a roof wefted by tunnels. Not a funeral march you idiot a cross marking the past whence the no dial tone of the wicked refuse their peace. Piece. Another thing you'd wish on no one.

Tomorrow she finds welts along her backside
. that feels great she thinks.

O Mona with yer carrying case

and so many loose phone numbers! a cell phone slut like no other. It's intended to be a grace but in its place preserves no dice marmalade and jam. Banana peels and rotten gum!

You quixotic tout! Quick step me then hover bum. She's wished a thousand one ninnies on her to be lover.

And fucks them silly in his place. Imagine that scandal! if you can. You turpitude in place there's no room left for scandal in your pate.

Sunday, February 21, 2010

cog and cognitions

Half-moon to the tom tom and hear Orpheus peevish. Rare to his going busted to stay. Not her girlie gold nor the stanchion of peace. But a prepared soup made for the coming thing to be river and other . Fine clasps on the button of her beloved jacket. Outside the hasps tightly shone. The blue shirt fitted so perfect. As a tense does as it rivets the forced edge. A bevel say and a militant mutant craft. Crested to her feet and clined to her Paris .

No one call. None appall and slip. And never near. But ever there. Over by the wayside. A Christ like thing on the tomb-side.

Mona married rhizome rubbing and rub-a dubdub to fortune's heel. Not a thing to be done about it!
She's worth millions in her ironside god.

Saturday, February 20, 2010

Ami Comin anyhoW

Alright mister Bastinado! your forts have bitched up long enough. Off with those whiskers and pillared aloofs. Your Chines wardrobe knows no place like that body.

__________Okay take the durantion pardon. Off the collar bone. What does that add up to? Forceps for the baby precepts for the lawn? __________________bzzzzzzzzzzzzzz the machine goes long and forth. Back to Borde and bordeaux.. Along the place at Limoges she heard the tinny whistle of its flute.

Get along you mandrake there's a forest to be torn.

______________________Mona studies day t hen night. Holding up queer shape and odd clappers. Her peepers are word if'd and weary!

Omy gawd! what she gonna say to Prof. Challenger. THe daughter marries the son the baker gets hostile and they all go off to coyote country.

Coquetry breaks and the next thing you know its created a tribe,a clan, a glen, a gathering of its own. Its very own.
________________________________So then. that's that for now _folksies.

Friday, February 19, 2010

the feral clash of wills


Run your head first. Stand by. Then getting helper. Not the thing. Enjoin the enjambment mouth of cylinder seeing. she's hep to the thing it worried.A language like this is not like. at all. At all burst the gap!

Jill i cant read that nomore . your breast is . yes. Mona fuzzes round the bedpost newel. Russian and the mental house. "Mental~" he's mental so Jacky deconstructing the minute instant|

Jill moves into strata deterritory her trademark is stamped across her ribcage. She's bald as bad tears.


Today buttocks round as bulbous fastening the fake event spectacle of the garnished show. Hot dogs and all dressed.

Mona leaning over the bed. I need coffee. Not baguettes. I need diagrams not shuffle boards or bathing suits. I cant make a revolt that endures the past time of present failure and demand.

Supply and Remand! Franny is hurried rushed swift as the bird, what do you call it? Tremulous.

Thursday, February 18, 2010

Prepare for lift in

And you are always in. Then out along a page of fucking. An anal tribute.A finer glance never saw looking.

Holding the signifier close to your grace of altruistic identitie. she wanted a baby. Thomas Aquinas. She separated them very fast. Came do the Dublin bed. By Liffey bay. __________She rubs the tragico-comic lamp! and burns her name
between it!

Wednesday, February 17, 2010

That hag

Meeting the thing . Itself the blocked passage. Sometimes those word things dont . Do what they supposed to do. you old tart!

Language atattered flitty oldtike!

Raves like the old bitch she was tatterdemalion !
______That hag hacked the avenue till dusk. Her bearing straight at the blast. And not a thing to sign it ~.

Tuesday, February 16, 2010


She joined at 19. Disjointed as a huckster. A bindu busker. Some shit on the wipe of sunrise. The slapface of sun, and its tawny breakfast. Not the shored orient of luxury and the drug addict's quietus and bullshit the feel sorry for the self that the Lady despises . Holding it nothing in her currency

Troops of stigma and the echo over the plate of azure . And this way bliss her breast. Jill to Mona in the swinging he
r black black balcony velour her fever what would you know about this?

She went back counting the pages. Not regnant to her forest but tipped to her teepee. Double bond blonde lover to the loving bodies

and the awkward ~

Disjointed as the hooker's dissertation and over the roofs of Montparnasse the old Paris says ~ S ee ~ the Revolution .

Monday, February 15, 2010

fall and whoop

If she's wrapped in twine she's lovable as. a Rare. Fish finding her fine fin. In this way her hair 's fine spun . As love's sweet heart and not the succubus of pain's hoary witch. Is it liver? O winner of love's glance at the far-off. Over the keel washed by the trawling back wave we pushed that good shore busting our chops getting home singing the silver privets and the panaceas of Knight. Riding the good clop clop along the twisted lanes of old ... yes, the boaards hanging and the boa constrictors right there. She could see the old thing... calf like in its weight the nervous murder in its eyes... blaming the snake for the murders of a dying codfish, a dead god's ass blinked out on the

The god's incestous dead wish. Cocked the one thing she loved, took him away punishing him from the things that mattered to a man... the Moon raved its tearing.


Sunday, February 14, 2010

this has been will become

Has been of its chairing and the fat night. Poured its kickass blemish down her throat. The hirsute gods and her tank. Quaffed to its myriad taste. A pustule on a wheat stalk and a chocking cheese on its random paste. What fuck of death is that? Shouts a crumbe a criminial tendency to loving all that's fair and cheap. Cellos for the market of your blasting. Not a common ass mind but you a thing flattened by its bearing babes in the unrested blanket of dawn.

Would become its aphasic assault on the pretended senses. Predetermined by its minor chord and echo of the ... Yes, we walk that day. Paris was 90 degrees in the shade of the labour. Of Ulysses and the Atlas covered the blank paging and the trellis

Old mother whore pretending to dance and to love having drunk half her destiny her fate bleeding on the control pitches of her covering back, and that cherub was not angel sweet heartened by the midland dew and the weather coxy foxy bush.

Taste not class

HEre her __________________ desert was dissertation to that plymouth plumbline of the groin going south. Buckled by its last pittance its grab and tattered grab me all.

Busted. Worn. Cut off and parenthesized shes got zippered. Mouthed .

Add this toast to your burlesque ass and hold my burger close to the city's long gone nave.

O tower! O fowler O dictionary

____________She resting her sass mouth on the pole. Rides hard and loving Arms around the good class. Of working. And bit by bit assembles a crew.

_____________________________ Open the box see outside. Hear the apple fall far from the potoate. Next its breakfast and its 1972. ___________A year afterward she's pregnant and they marry. Moving into Paris, came the lectures and poems. And the schizz flow. And then break. O Worry of War! and the god reaction bearing in on them the southern corset! Get out o Cross.!
O fatty bears! O shaking hamburger meat of dead European bison!
________________________Where do they live: 20 Antoine bis.
________________________________Meet Fanny and Cp go for a stroll. Never return Reprse of schizo wake and walking. Tours of the old guarded ville .

Saturday, February 13, 2010


She lived in side of a violin keeping the case near her feet. Feeling the river rise on the ridge of her Venus she played night and day along its skimpy bow. Rendering the fact a trying truth for to fess her rent. Sshe's tired of oppresses and their bullfight bullshit. That makes the whole world! fuck she's screwd but not inside Mozart. There's shes free a s a window rainbowing bird singing the darts of her song. No bastard can catch her there|Nor the betrayals nor treacheries of friendship with an O. (as in) O shit I forgot my fuck! Nor old hagbags and parities of feeling sorry for the kettle jet bums . This death of their jack hacks would liberate thosuand of pounds of energy. Syngery to the devil's own belonging. Fuck them the dad cops and their pricknifiers of lackback and the shackshitsugar_ Nor the priests of Christianitty that bastard rose from the dead of its cannibal beast. O he says its funny! O christian! Kiss my padoodle. Zarathustra once said to us! O remember my friends the Nazarene died too younG!

Friday, February 12, 2010


Jill lived on the top level of a double-decker bus/when shes in london town 1973 She wear lacy underthing and

__________________________Mona holding a larboard _ Jill stand aft deck! the tour begins! Hold bucaneers you glass is potted with thieves not their brilliance but their fortitude!

crimplene. She s got the courage of lions. but not Judah to her blazing balancing act on the shivas of dawn dusk! and repatriated pesky salts!

Thursday, February 11, 2010

of these

__________So many went to bed. Came alive. A coarse the rifted case. Not daring splendid pipes but confused and collated lutes! So said Mona in her berry off lips and her merry up route._________________A rattling and caging! lean black and play your flute!

Return to Sender: jack to keel away my behovelies the boats's a sinder! Jack be nimble be quick Jack be medieveal Elizabethan and her bed couch covered in gigantic blankets. Guattari calls: Hold the horse, the book line and sinker is written to be read by 22 people while holding a black carpet in their hands. This lazy blonde says to meO you're te weep of town be my darling clementine and we can have big kisses wide as a mouth wise as a bed wise as a headland and the chiefs running along the terrace . Alongthe cove and over the top covering the lambsheet lambasted by the Aeloan tart winds, if such an expression can be. O Beauty O bevery Beauty How long I you poor words cared my drill none on the fine tulle.

_Mark this coat of pangolin! and the scaled love's amour to her beasty cry!
This way its a maiden aunt Oedipus and her motorcycle motorcade. Ambuscade to the gallowing drouth. I was rongtong bellow.
And the taxi sped and the ruin tore and the free chucked rime and the onion jar the molasses core the apple bear the honey poxy Orpheus 'wore'
a sarabande (it's the minim best he's requited) and the went saw high (through a fast glass darkening!) and the box drew nigh and the and th_ La folie! la folie espangole ~

________________________________The End ____________________

A mOuth closing hut.

Wednesday, February 10, 2010


So rivered the thighs of Jack and Jill. Her double hepped glove ~ . cap and bell to her gowned haunch.

Not the weaned hour of its dossier its dissolution. The mocking fuzz of the know not a t all. Of the ignorant .

THe core here herded its gathering bees.

She'd always chosen a grade B
medium pen
thick at its wedging

pressed for its care
doubled for its fox

Tuesday, February 09, 2010

Go there

Go there the night bird word to its carrying fleece. The seconded moil is horned moon to her lover's take. Cusped across the graceful neck and the fiery knee.A nd the pregnant ewe a n d the g o d in the desert

No one heard this lover before you and your black and white heart. Bruised by its cunning baffling gather. The dimensional plane of its death,

griffon to its possible breath giving after all ~.


You dig said Mona masturbating off the butt in her lip tipping her hat to the cunt at the other end. Proximately ___________Always a vulgar bitch

Monday, February 08, 2010

Sure it was

________________Sure it was Frany. Rattling the cup behind the other taking the god space of her divine buggery galoo and her achoochewchoo! the hemmed hum and ruff lip in American and showpiece gal. Not by the historial penchant yet rocking its loud debris. In other sure to say it was the littering led her gospel and the bad will versed the stringbean lace. Gripped by the incrediblized lover's delay she's hoarded that route her becoming Paris, and she was a city there, a light, a tornado borne for her burning sues. And the rapacious grappling the sense of it coming, not mentioned yet merely hinted the free of her touch __
words in their crowd via Fanny --

true love's cone ~

Sunday, February 07, 2010

for to

to have done that god thing . machine to its circus. paring to its sop. the boulder crumbling at

the feet of the Signified. Son to the Wheat. Fuss to the King god and his bastions. Bastard to the Nation.

Ah! hang out you gods your dead paste is no glue for the laced up whore star! So yowled Franny her bing dong!
the yappy do one tongue!
the do gods meandered out suckers to the wilful moth.

Come over there and its the frisk of its hawk bird flying on high circling wheeling riveting the clown force in the steady sky face ~


Saturday, February 06, 2010


that way Mona finds voice in the infnite choice of event to become its own pleasing cape and the runaway sound of the Dialectic roaring its draconian sound! Not Marconi and his cable but the twittering of beaks at dawn. Not the silver lust of dusk, the owl's angel and the hay hydra of hauched lover's. Lissome to the fair tracking of this face.

If the Event is the daily Dialectic of the world will then she's certain to hide her pap on the fen of its toothsome grind, her _ No no break its hinder and find the __ no no break it! Fool the phone! the phone made became flesh! you fowl! Kindly see on.

Jilli habors

Go over you hussies no black watch cares for your creed, nor your seed talk of love, and the jealous dead ones powder faced slack skinned with this grand rebellion denial its monster mead.

The taboo's nothing your totem parries its fitful graceful. Flute to its hunkered shines and its shame is yet another name for second place. So mIster Franny wore his fanny shined shoes to her buttery spoon.C ollective to her city and prelude to her wonderous arms. Aghast at the pell-mell soup of its love. A drubdrumdrub.

Friday, February 05, 2010

night ride

----------------------------Don't fret its the fey air its promise rich with tenders comes to your rood. Not a placemarker out of fair wind to con its finger marking . Toes to the blushed light of the afternoon.

Dont fest moi she cares for the erudite columns of boxing. and rings. or Curlers. Say her husband's boared down in the feet of the spindler and throwing back the second glass to last she's sure to hail her jesus christ prayer to Mary the beloved cunt virgin to her metaphoric scope. Technobitch vampire doily to her flat feet.

Thursday, February 04, 2010


Pelican pelagius and his proper eye. Make them sigh and wish their bone.
She's derived of the ridden sea its calloped moment the high rising sun of its pleasure. Not the copulated boxes of the wave, and the beach tune. Or the laizzes-faire attitude of the group lovers, and the herd on the goat's tail, nor the fanlight in the rain nor the Corinthian columns curled to their mazy ovuluar soundings of geometry.

Mona murmurs the seven ton of nothing, the soft plaque at the benthos deliery her cotton wand plaid

Wednesday, February 03, 2010


Rapacious delivery| coal and calm saunter by the saltbed. Her anus'd name invited sprinlings to her glance . Up the tower it went along the rear of relief. Not Mona's fairest wise, but her double entendre was a pheasant for picking.Yes baby we came this you r double sock vision not escaping me.

Thus saith Mona in the forward sighting of her periscope. Her matted blazed with the buttons of her relief. And cambered backward her walking shoe, her coach bottin and Doc Martens.
Punkette of the beautiful double delivery.

______________________________not a lyric pastime but a real lover's cunning.


Tuesday, February 02, 2010

keeping saddles

 and a penchant for machines. not structures. around saddles and Monday was the rain of the . half baked and wld. was. not cared for its bebop suds. or the rain thigh of the hammer and next door she was. there. blonde as death. and her breasts. yummy to the tide wind but not smart to having concertation confusing her with the dockworker of her desire and she shared the awful lump in her throat.

Mona sat by the hill siding the wind in her ruffling hair as its said and not death was the warning nor the stupid critic in frayed oppose its whoredom a sneak down to the buying ground of weak and bad. nor Good beyond evil its immanent love.

thence liar

Continues from the weak so to say speaking Jill's fumble:"er thumb on his leaning down care.

Here and There equal parts to equal different heart.

Why 'd would one fiction be its beam huntin off the other, when its love was both in the choose

One hankered that another hamper boxed filled with old thrown off clothing a plain prose basket of treaded ... shirts, ties.. a little memento to the celerity fire for her eyes burned glaze wax to her wearings| paste the cup her haunched out lover. This gifted breast kissed to his loving eyes ~ kindness to her fair frown ... and Mona's forum is love's fandango and house back beat deep as the vacuum cavern earth

rough adze

Monday, February 01, 2010

compenting time

Time the jolly roger the unrepentant unemployment kept his true love from belly flops! Jonah barebacked compared to this thing. A 'rich' tapestry at the speed of its somnolence, and dinned in again again its wished for wave. Not the womb of its seeing nor its hearing . But the cutting swollen of its turning belly. Up the ladder for its seeing along the immigrants pave her boat.

If this grenadier had any passing fancy change it was held in standing place Jill the grommet_tweaker ___ parking self toughened by busted queues and plenty to huddle shore lines. No passing decision to this romping budder. She was a grotto gal and her cathedral port invented best by pavement knocking sanders.

Come along now you unfair fuddlers! this onion t hief has caught your crew.

Over the 19 plateau it was better. Less memory more stirring blocs hanging out the calender the fugue future becoming red ~ . Thus Jill's (and Mona's) employment.


Hang fast your precipitous baby!