Poems in the key of KABLAM

[Jon]

Let me know. I wait with baited breath. Perhaps if I send you my copy I can get it autographed??

[flaggwalkstheline]

totally

[flaggwalkstheline]

A suspicion

Sometimes I suspect

In a slowed down crossroads way

That I’m actually an old old man

Gray stubble coughing in a huge empty canopy bed

As he conjures former youth with crooked vowels

I’m just a flash, but maybe ever fevered festered

Jellyfish pulses in a ripple


Supplies of white marble and chalk are down to nubs

Plenty of time right? I mean I can do this when I feel like it without worrying about sirens

Fear is what makes you real without it a person only floats

The lightbulb sighs, I can feel it coming like a crackling hearth freight train brain transplant

Lost somewhere in all those stitched-together moments of electric bliss

My younger brother’s high-school orchestra concert, at least they’re trying

But once the challenge is met, the secret leaked, then what?

Then there are moving trucks and wrecking balls and barrooms

And a thin necked metal crane monolithic in the building of a nursing home

Bones of a last minute shelter

Sometimes I dream of an ocean

Gurgled lullaby, vast fertile tear

I am mired, as usual, in the contradictions of Osiris

Skitter joyful firefly mayday

Through a future city like a relic

Of years lying in sand and grass reaching for untimed blue

Allnight rootvein topless skyscrapers

Hang from puffs of heaven-slick smog pipes

While moss timid spittle rises to my ankles

Life insurance void, death is a preexisting condition

Fatal flaw, crack in the etch-a-sketch

Fine tooth dust spills out northern

Iron jukebox only hums to a carcass

Noise addict, glutton for sound

I find a strange beauty in ghost towns

Nobody watching when I pull diesel fruit off the branch

Ripened heavy moonlight child

Hymns to a downwind sold out jaundiced rebellion

It’s always this same maroon ballroom

Mushroom marrow fake plants in the corner

The same people politely jackal-snouted

One woman with her hair piled up like a carcrash

Winks with a needle and thread, offering in front of her eyelash

It’s not what I did that gnaws buds off the rosebush in a state of sleepwalking

But the spiral of what I could have done

And if they (the big they of toe tapping paranoia) arrest, cuff, try and fry me

That’s probably the only way I’ll remember why I was feeling guilty in the first place

Black screen now, I walk red exit out the theater

Pockets still hot mischief

Out into nights of steel orchid bloomings

[Jon]

I await your book. Any word?

[flaggwalkstheline]

waiting for the proof to come in the mail

[flaggwalkstheline]

Anatomy of a room full of voices
Some of these voices are friendly but don’t feed them, it’s best that way

Thermometer apple the stretched limb, purr of cats and Ferraris

Seatbelt, helmet and .45 alright everything’s ready

Quiver full of pun-tipped arrows

Line up your indispensables and other blatant targets

Baked goods, PTA meetings, doowop deepfried speech therapist nostalgia

I’ll knock em down easy as shotglasses full of milk


The surgery was a success but the itch may be permanent

For a removal of temperamental remnants take a left turn over the bridge


At some point in my future, I died, surprise surprise

And my whole momentary circus is stretched tight-roping

Between the imperative imperial breach of contract

And the alleged superiority of no man knowing a sword except in Africa


And this may hurt your feelings but

There aint no Palestine

But there’s no Israel either

No USA, no UK, no Russia and not even an Atlantis

They’re all just states of mind to cover up the helter skelter

And when I say helter skelter I don’t mean what Charlie Manson meant by it, no

He was too stupid to understand that chaos is about more than black and white

It’s the perfume covering up the lindyhopped maggots in a picnic basket


March wind motorcycle goggles minus the hog

There was a road here but it sank back down into the dust

Can of air raid siren giggles

Hypothetical past of icecream-abortions at noon


I-I woulda ah usedta come here and and just lie on the rocks and pretend the sound of the cars on the highway was the ocean and that I was lying on a beach

Don’t forget now, this one occasionally lacks the confidence of the others


This fuel lurching ache must be what I’m always hearing about

I fear a gritless siesta

Flickering torn lampshade

Or the moth glanced through brambles

Paint spackled thigh in the back of an oven


Oh muses of respectability!

Grant me one last moment of warmth before I bombshelter the happy birthday


I don’t want mechanical hegemony


But I remember tiny chainsaws on the roses


We’re waay past atheism now

Out artificial in the sand dunes, worm blossom

Digging pointlessly, my best friend

There’s an oil in my head and I’m getting nervous

While the monarchies are getting hungry for parking tickets and barbwire

Gas station ritual coughs put out matches

I will replace the whispers in your head with a hush of fuses

Brass band hurricane in my you aint no Dionysus ratcatcher cranium

Right on time, spilled some of the sugar packets though

Nobody remembers steam engines anymore


Put on the mask, it’s a new sinister plastic

Wasp knuckles, he stood apart bathed in the blues

Trying to envision straight flushes

And saltwater crocodile gut instinct viruses

Rattleslick weapons for infant chub


You made this choice now eat it


I promise you won’t feel a bone minute, mouth open thing


I only will want what’s below until I see it, won’t stop me though

Viciously failed to mutate faery ring scabs

Nursery rhyme scrolls I want new curse words

Styrofoam donation plate

Writ vein spread spaghetti

We aint payin you to make us think, say something funny

Vaginal symbolism of ruined bathtubs, I just don’t get it


Don’t lick sunshine nonlinear, burn victim

Split timed motion, so sorry

The wrecking ball in slow motion, now that I can appreciate, if only through fear

Her whole life in a camera flash

Epileptic prayer of napalm nightgown blood transfusion

I know the source, when I say reptilian coma you’ll awaken and crawl from your Mojave stone


Ah we’re coming to the center, where the rock hit the windshield initially prior to spidering

Hypnotism box of samurai eggs

War is the basic myth

The head floated down the amazon river dot com yodeling bombs bursting in air

Where’s your flute? It’s important you tell me

Accusations never really help a delicate situation so put away your wifflebat please

The young obsess with death and old folks obsess an atlantean youth they probably never possessed

Chemical solutions are typically applied within the first week of a bite

Beyond that drastic measures must be considered

Should we stack the bodies like firewood and dance a jig if a daisy grows from their heap?


Removal of plaid clothing, ordinary men have kryptonite too

Tricks swish under judges’ robes


Subway tunnel, it feels bliss and pukey

We make the deal plain sounding and mundane so as to avoid possible confusion

I hope the rocks aren’t hurting your feet


Soot needles, tongues of fluorescent warning


Forget the western doorways

And the complicated green husbands blinded surgically

Former chariot drivers trashed deep

So you wanted to be wanderer? Weeeell that doesn’t really fit in with our plans


Water trickles down from gray-sky spaces in the plywood roof into teacups and is made into a strong brew

Caskets rocketed and vehicles still blaspheming to a sterile future, space of moral absolutes


We dream horses from an iron afterlife

[flaggwalkstheline]

I am holding the proof copy of my book in my hands, it will be available on amazon and createspace.com withing 5-7 days

jeepers is this exciting

[flaggwalkstheline]

https://www.createspace.com/3569801 now available on the createspace website!

[Jon]

Order complete!!!!

[flaggwalkstheline]

joy! thank you kindly sai

[flaggwalkstheline]

http://www.amazon.com/Vaudeville-Jih...0646231&sr=1-1 just got posted to amazon!

[Jon]

My copy is expected on or about April 8th.

Perhaps we can discuss the autograph after I return from my trip on or about the 19th.

[flaggwalkstheline]

yar, sounds fine by me

[flaggwalkstheline]

i posted this a day or so ago but then decided it wasn't quite finished, this is the final version


The city should sing…/ Requiem for the center for disease control, they never should have revealed the source/ A three course rant fills up the glass

Last year I was 21, didn’t have a lotta fun, now I’m gonna be 22, oh my and ah boo hoo
- Iggy and The Stooges
White floors, white walls, white cars, everybody dreams of green

The experiment is going steadily, piping woodlands beneath steamcracks

But I tell you there just isn’t enough tranquilizing pollen for more than one teardropper every May when seven stories high they drip into my eyes

We’ve all heard the stories about how these effects used to be replicated in the deepest arboreal corners and I assure you we have our top men working on torturing the secrets from hills of suspicion

The good old days are NOT over, but they may no longer be ours to command, if you follow me, the whole point of tragedy is that it is NOT comedy

When you were young you were able to blame your indiscretions on jellybeans, LSD and a proximity to evolution

When you try to hold onto revolution for too long it may start to mutate, radioactive and belial knows we don’t want another of those running around interfering with ecliptical sacrifices to the ATM superstructure

Cherry flavored laxatives are a scam but at least we’ve outlawed foxhunting

Alright settle down, I know you’re all hungry but I will throw you your terrified theme park mascots after I have spoken my fill and sated my clean hunger

But first an anecdote: When I was a child I once buried a guinea-pig in the back yard and I couldn’t stop thinking about how I’d heard that they eat guinea-pigs in South America

So, through various scientific and spiritual advances we have gained the ability to insert a split in the consciousness, no bigger than a word or a phrase at just the proper moment and altitude

Reincarnation without the mess you see, he adjusts his batman-bowtie and the tumors in his neck flex just sexily enough to make 2of the 3 50-something year old oatmeal heiresses in the audience swoon to the ballroom floor (it was a slaughterhouse yesterday)

So we helicopter scry to this crashed computer, tyrant goes in for a crowd sized hug

The kid never learned to properly mark biohazard on his unrequited boxcutter schemes and so considered sleeping on dead slopes of grey grass on the highway outside the airport so he could see the planes leaving

Rumble of habitual mourners’ indigestion, pounding red irons on his neck, well he deserves it doesn’t he?

If this is my future then I’d dehydrate instead of swallowing

And I’ll admit this much: there is a calmness to the idling of 50 year old jet turbines

Mainlining a midsummer night’s Hindenburg was very much against mother’s advice about martyrdom

The very peak of imagination and mercurial gasps of flight

Before everybody drank the koolaid and came up with the cliché “drinkin the koolaid”
Not knowing that being afraid of Jonestown and Columbine (and whatever passes for tragedy in what we call the future of course) is the very poison we have been hiding from this whole time

But I find a certain beauty in allowing the roses to grow out of my spelunked eyesockets promising to pollute golf courses everywhere

To feel that below my humming, curtains are fluttering in slid open chemically scrubbed windows while young women brush their hair with ivory hairbrushes and worry about bats

Hypnotic? No, not like before and the swelling hasn’t gone down either

The future will always be the year 2000 we must have just missed it

Someone must have glommed onto that typhoon of alternating current events and mannequin role models

Jellyfish across a pillow in the dust, it is peaceful out here when the coyotes aren’t howling carrion glory tee hees

Not yet, save your summers in a firefly jar

Lobotomy toupee of Elvis-myth

If you lived forever you would someday give up the violin

Route 66 lusts the abandoned silk of night, nobody likes a ball-hog

Are you watching? Good now pay attention (stranger sitting next to me pretends not to be but that’s ok)

As you can see there are no pistols or gardening tools up my influenza sleeve

Pink armchairs plush stuffed in mirror widened parlors, more teeth than gums and oh baby they are hungry

Hay un poco de viento en mi sangre, un poco

Bulldozers make a nursing home, constructing the last months

No doubt everybody planted hands on their hips and felt proud as genocidal asthmatic superheroes

And though 1969 will stay as the highpoint, compasses don’t point towards Athens all the time

I never spoke the name but mountains shrink and float far below

Silver crane girders lifted church steeple bones for pigeons to strut on

A winter of stops and starts slows

Aches ears down to their drumming

Ratcheted inhales while I moved momentarily guiltless

Swift with a drifting girl in the backseat during a snowstorm

Ninguna magia verdadera, no hoy


We have buried the message so far below that only the most astute scuba divers will be able to find it and will only read a few sentences and we HOPE what they read will haunt them in it’s fragmentary stutter, what a joke


Did you think this generosity was all-you-can-eat?

Más preguntas que canciones

Nectarine dualities are for the sleeping, but we can try

Strange muscle of old testament shift managers, a finger is kept in the stew for only so long before it gets left on the stove to finish cooking itself

When I had a sweet tooth I used to try and scratch off my tattoos with tarot cards, no good though once you’re marked then you’re marked for good

Now I mostly just gobble swirls of static and forests of paper

Some would-be exhibits demand their captors remain masked

But to satisfy the iron in my new boots

The city should sing, because it cannot speak plainly

What you call a bridge I call a candle and what you call a bridal veil I call a cold war, let’s just agree to disagree

Shhh lights flash somehow through the northeastern blinds and the apartment feels like a submarine

After the lower and middleclass adorables are snuggly in their sarcophagi then who’s next to go hmm?

(Grandpa died in his bed on Sunday, hourglass lungs filled)

The city should sing away it’s evilly nonlethal virus

More speed, more coal, pile trays of cookies, sandwiches and kleenex boxes for sit-com jackoff laughtracks on the dining room table because we still aren’t moving fast enough

Fermentation or maybe the coagulation of an assumed desire, the buffalo did not look up at Buffalo-Bill begging yeah-right shotgun forgiveness with those great brown baby eyes for THIS coronation


The city can’t sing, and neither can I

The blood, smog and birthday cake can

Not really the meat

Waking drenched in fluorescent dog barks

Who gets the meat?

[Jon]

In MY mind, a great description of concrete " dead slopes of grey grass."


By the way...The book came!!!!! Can you PM me a snail mail address? I would like that autograph...and remember how I spell my first name, please.

[flaggwalkstheline]

Oral Hygiene

Before I brush my teeth
I like to floss
Really, really hard
I get an immense jolt digging that piece of waxy string down between my teeth
Like a lumberjack sawing a tree while having an exorcism and performing an abortion at the same time
I grimace my crimson dribbled gums in the mirror
Wouldn’t want to miss anything hiding in there
After all, I like to be aware of everything that comes out of my mouth, even if I’m not in control of it
And when I do this, I sometimes feel so satisfied at the cool sting of bathroom air minty freshness
That I think to myself
I should be a dentist

[Jon]

" Like a lumberjack sawing a tree while having an exorcism and performing an abortion at the same time"


Could be my favorite line by you of all time!!!!!!

[flaggwalkstheline]

What the robot said before he malfunctioned all over the floor
Digitally I would glitch my feet over peripheral shards

Crayons melted witches smirk but I will join them in a place where we can float

Sidewalk bright light street gem

Chairs, bodies, fashionable gasmasks

This is how it starts, deified childhood smoked Alice

Trenches dug in coffee shops

The revolution was a scam, marketed subliminal decades

Go deep enough and it will be a birthday surprise burial mound

Repeat the instructions you pickled mujahedeen

She said something inside me was waning

And that we never had wings

On goes the light switch, the jury all pull up their pants and say nothing

Defibrillated acne, no cure for petty scars

This will save nobody but let’s talk first

Plastic cups lukewarm with spittle spiked headlines swirl

My name is Nate and I am an agent of chaos

Broken teeth have that wheezing kind of laugh but mine are smooth and intact

Hi Nate, trash bags ruffle

Turn on the scream, butcher it and sell it back to them, omophagia is all the rage

Kidnapping John Lennon’s ghost, I only wanted to talk about crop rotation

Temperature’s rising, weak just thrown to the wheels

Mmm hmm so why don’t you lie down on the bathroom floor where it’s cool

And tell when hallucinating inconsistencies was no longer fun

Leather cushion where many others cooked their atavistic inks

Last words of the melodrama kid, mouth full of Swiss cheese holes

I may never have been enough but I won’t apologize for it

Agent, oxymoron

Sick with fermented innocence

Of, trichotillomania

Europe doesn’t want you anymore

Chaos, indecisively burned your number

Hymnly disaster candles

Ask me Ginger or Mary Ann and I might just say Mrs. Howell

Not the bang bang spend spend kind of chaos

But the vines in the hair weep rusted swing-set wine stutter messenger

Until the moment of free twist dropping, edges will remain theoretical

If I had the patience I could watch rainstorms gather into oceans

Relocated natural schizophrenics

We’ve gone cold, beyond California there is only east

Perhaps wasps, I shouldn’t talk so much

Something, quite a hunger

Factories deaf from their own kachunking heartbeats

In me, there goes your purebred identity

Uncouth gold missionary twinkle

Is waning, there ought to be dancing girls at the end of the world

Random musing yet the same typical viewpoints

My new electric toothbrush doubles as a vibrator

But when I put it in my mouth I picture speared cockroaches

So many toys, so little choice

I’m more or less still a little boy, face turning red and afraid

Spare me the clichés and gimme that plugged in toaster, it’s bath time

We were promised a vague satisfaction as a minimal payment

I haven’t given up yet, still believe in teaspoons and crabgrass

They promised to spare my antlers (remember?) if I wore a sign on my neck, they lied

Spin cough into fish hooked burbling motor panic

Broken tape deck, desert chill through a ripped wedding dress

Somehow a fungus purifies, Apollo also controls the plague

Maps of oxidation, too tired to split the stone again

Outhouses heavy with plastic night

Just smog below the hips, unformed crowds

Ocular exotic button flashing picture shows of the fifth world war

Violin crunch of Mozart dust

The primary symptom is a non-jealous wish to break what I can’t do

Hand clap, bashed the rhythm till it leaked blue

Plate of ashes at the charnel steakhouse, dig in boys

As you chop the trinity, site their liptwitch orgasming as the lie back for the operation

Did I tell you I’m new at this? Death penalty means more fear, more killing, sounds fair I guess

No more gasoline dreams, stasis like lightning rods sets

I was unable to consume the sound, ringing off metallic sandals

I am no dolphin, except for the extinction factor

So I left clutching temples in Godzilla fists

Like beauty, strength is a relative quantity

Tattoo, artist and skin, bucket mixed

Second gear, even if it’s not understood beyond instinct

Sunglass hide no intent lower than echoes

Suspect intensified ultraviolet pollination

Owl red eye flight, head turns to seizure broth

Future beard vocalizing midnight snacks

Fruit of the successful coma

It’s no longer safe to presume everyone is middleclass

So I suppose, breakout the Hello-Kitty brand thumbscrews

No prosthetics yet but I may need a new voice for an old fever

Time to sprout flush fresh wounds that taste like daisies

Paper mache sharks and a wall of windchimes

Where do I fit in this dirty ice-cube year long holiday?

Agent of, okay only half bright
Last chance to crash smack tambourine residual karma pills

Stampeded stomach cramp growing painless painless promise

One of us will drift

Past here sunbeam mischief muted television

Machinery chirruped past laughter

[flaggwalkstheline]

Three places to dig
Room without faces somehow keeps smiling

Ending point of ink dribbles off antennae

Hallways like capillaries to the operating table

“I think it’s human”, red nosed biohazard clowns smirk down at me

This is what I get for failing to reinvent the beanstalk

Sloughing off the prophetic daydream cobwebs is a task for rabbits quicker than I don’t understand

Can’t wake even for a marching band in a wheat-thresher

Easter Sunday coming soon to a theater near you

Obsessed with noise the moments trainwreck together in soft blizzards

I have no fairy tale, however dark the woods may be

It’s only me

Waiting to report my nonexistent income in the tax office

Black haired girl sitting in front of me, metal auditorium seats, she makes me think of dolphins

Swimming and swimming

Her I-pod dies, mine is fine and she looks over at me quick, a name is called off of a clipboard

I pass her one of my earbuds wordlessly like a joint and we sip aged rock and roll

Or maybe we don’t, I sometimes have trouble distinguishing between what I do and what I wanted to do

I’m called next, older guy with a mug of coffee shakes my hand and takes my papers

Doesn’t sit up, too comfortable but I would be too with a receding hairline like that

It occurs to me in locked bathrooms like the punchline of a New-Yorker cartoon

The mushy backbone of our golden age is pointless ritual

Traffic lights and documents and planned obsolescence

And I’m sure your Antarctic loins also quiver

At the taut possibility of standing on a junkyard spew of batteries

While obese hyenas scrap in the garden below

Live wire daffodils with Latin carved stems

Message intuited the obvious pollen

This is what you always wanted so open wide until the bubbles stop

If I can’t make the academics love me then I will never achieve an expected modicum of tyranny

When I was a child (cut the deck)

Your card is the clockmaker, anachronism

The other boys would chase a boy because he was weak

And because he didn’t want to hurt back

They would thrash him until the blood from his mouth matched the spaghetti stains on his sweater

I sometimes hear those sneakered footsteps

In the motion of trucks in the shade of bridges

So no, I don’t want control for myself or anybody and my bronchial path is dusty

I have little respect for bureaucrats or accountants, long live the Weimar Republick right?

Too many contradictions for more than a wet match of want

They tally up my lack of perfect crimes and suggest I pray for rain and social security

Here’s what I want for my dim growth hormone birthday

A crack in the glass, small at first

Blue tarantula across my arm

I would rather sweat the engine as it sings

Crush a harp into coal

Than imbibe a hiss of plastic Viking crash

Should I drink the fluid of exterminators

And become like them? Like you? It’s a mewling cruelty

Most of my idols are lunatics who ruined themselves in pursuit of new sickness

And finished with shotguns in bathtubs at the first onset of symptoms

Tax this starved parasite from my marrow

The weight of my incinerated great uncles gasps on my thin fingers

Light bulb filaments dull scatter from graduation caps

Hands that once happily scooped extra-crunchy peanut butter from the jar

A witch trial is a human sacrifice, yours is a hungry god

Impossible without milk

Cities built on other cities graveyards

So I suppose it’s Japan’s turn on the cross again, up you go, we’ll help

Cannot, will not, did not yet did and his lips are sticky

I will exhale into blindness and into sand be fevered to the core

The sum of all these body parts is very small

Chopped and thrown to a kingdom of permanently adolescent crocodiles

The creatures I’ve never seen shouldn’t matter but somehow they sing to me from typewriters

There is me (always and inescapable), you (and you need no proof of identification)

And a question that shifts faces

And I’m not sure which is which now the swirl was too efficient

Only specks remain rippling a denial of mechanism

Can’t you say anything without looking first? It happened again

So upon leaving this air conditioned trailer

I consider that someday I will cross my last parking lot

And that there are three places to dig in: Inner space, outer space and cyberspace

There were four (briefly) but tell that to the firehazard cornfields

Nothing is more awful than an empty room

What if the dawn spackled ambulances never come?

[LadyHitchhiker]

I’m still here because I know nobody will miss me if I’m gone

This line is one of my favorites. I can't explain why, but it really makes me think, and feel...

Your imagery is eloquent, though. A talent to be envied.

[flaggwalkstheline]

I’m still here because I know nobody will miss me if I’m gone

This line is one of my favorites. I can't explain why, but it really makes me think, and feel...

Your imagery is eloquent, though. A talent to be envied.

why thank you
you know I don't even remember which poem that line comes from hmmm
i have a book for sale should you care to read more of my works (shameless self promotion sure is fun huh?)
btw i dig your songs you posted on your snazzily named new thread

[LadyHitchhiker]

I’m still here because I know nobody will miss me if I’m gone

This line is one of my favorites. I can't explain why, but it really makes me think, and feel...

Your imagery is eloquent, though. A talent to be envied.

why thank you
you know I don't even remember which poem that line comes from hmmm
i have a book for sale should you care to read more of my works (shameless self promotion sure is fun huh?)
btw i dig your songs you posted on your snazzily named new thread

Wowza! Thanks! And yes I wouldn't mind having a copy of your shamelessly self-promoted book, myself... Jon's been chatting it up, and I had to delve deeper into some of your excellent writing!

[LadyHitchhiker]

And of course my title was a deliberate tribute to your title which I've always liked

[flaggwalkstheline]

Circles
There is so much

I wish I could conjure for you

Other than that scrap of toilet paper with the words my dignity scribbled on it in magic marker

Laughter can heal scrapes and cuts but once it’s gone there’s just the same road-dust and a feeling that you’ve seen this film before

Movie theater transforms into a railway station

I was worried that this might be when we wake up

And there’s still so many stones left undanced upon

So much to know and try not to forget

The hum of wind over sand

The wheels of night-grinding insomnia

Sparrows making nests in old cracked open vending machines

So much

The Ladybug on the curtain

And the moist strands of your hair that brush my face when we’re close

So much

The multitude of deserts I have failed to cross

[Jon]

"Circles"... great piece!!! Love it.

"Movie theater transforms into a railway station" a great piece of symbolism as the movie transports the viewer to...anywhere...at least that's what I read into it.