December 31, 2011

butter sculpt

look you asshole- tho i might be nothing but a butter sculptor, i refuse to go on working with the idea of your praising as my reward- like what are your credentials anyway? except for talking about all us butter sculptors, what else do you do? do you know what it feels like to make some butter sculpture? do you know what it feels like to actually ooze that butter around & create something of fantastic worth? you said that my last year's work "The King's Odor" was great & then you say i havent done anything as great since - just who the hell are you talking to anyway? you must have something to do in your real life- i understand that you praised the piece you saw yesterday entitled "The monkey Taster" about which you said meant "a nice work of butter carved into the shape of a young man who likes only african women" you are an idiot - it doesnt mean that at all... I hereby want nothing to do with your hangups- i really don't care what you think of my work as i now know you don't understand it anyway... i must go now... i have this new hunk of margarine waiting in the bathtub- yes i said MARGARINE & next week i just might decide to use cream cheese - & i really don't care what you think of my experimenting - you take yourself too seriously - youre going to get an ulcer & go into the hospital - they'll put you in a ward where you cant have any visitors - you'll go right off your nut - i really don't care anymore - i am so bored with your rules & regulations that i might not even talk to you again - just remember tho, when you evaluate a piece of butter - you are talking about yourself, so you'd just better sign your name...see, you, if youre lucky at mrs. keeler's cake festival

December 24, 2011

December 22, 2011

great spirit

now listen

oedipus went looking for the truth
and when he found it
it ruined him
cruel horror of a joke

so much for the truth
i was gonna talk out of both sides of my mouth
and what you heard depended on which side you were standing.

if i ever did stumble on any truth
i was gonna sit on it and keep it down.

but truth was the last thing on my mind
and even if there was such a thing,
i didn't want it in my house.

December 07, 2011

condemn in the schoolhouse

he possessing all religion
he denouncing brick
he building empires kingdoms pyramids palaces
tosses matches to them watch 'em blaze

he who knows it does not matter what you build 
or how far you drag body through dirt
but how much dirt are you trekking into the castle
how dirty is the kings gown how loud will you shout

our mighty fraud leader. 

queen of the underdogs prince of the paupers
brother of a lineage bulldogs prowling through city slickers
bobcats easing through jungles 
losing legs and arms and limbs like nothin'
he's headin down to the african continent. 

trail blazin boyscout how i feel you
roaming eternal roaming
wounds through the heart at outcast extremes
exiled from your country by your own design
your art put on hitler's display, "degenerate degenerate degenerate"
they taunted you. 

you gave glory
and they tossed it in the river. 

how they praise you and do not heed your words
how they admire your rebellion and 
conform,  miming historians
how guilty i feel to read you in warm piss swimming pool
i wish to read you in the egyptian desert 
walkin like an egyptian
with odetta jack dan
or on the hunt 
or on the road

artificial cave canned holy sprayed on wall masking tape duct tape 
whole 9 yards of it

you of deepest blue wrongful colors mixed in
pure by that which has dirtied you
an untouchable youth on fire 
disobeying genius
the kind they condemn in the schoolhouse
the kind they envy
your freedom 
your demise, 
they wish for it all

November 29, 2011

November 27, 2011


dropped out of school.  
- A. Rimbaud

November 10, 2011

October 31, 2011



October 28, 2011

September 24, 2011


There's a hidden sweetness in the stomach's emptiness.
We are lutes, no more, no less. If the soundbox
is stuffed full of anything, no music.
If the brain and the belly are burning clean
with fasting, every moment a new song comes out of the fire.
The fog clears, and new energy makes you
run up the steps in front of you.
Be emptier and cry like reed instruments cry.
Emptier, write secrets with the reed pen.
When you're full of food and drink, an ugly metal
statue sits where your spirit should. When you fast,
good habits gather like friends who want to help.
Fasting is Soloman's ring. Don't give it 
to some illusion and lose your power,
but even if you have, if you've lost all will and control
they come back when you fast, like soldiers appearing
out of the ground, pennants flying above them.
A table descends to your tents.
Expect to see it, when you fast, this table
spread with other food, better than the broth of cabbages. 

September 14, 2011

expose for the blacks

click to enlarge

August 07, 2011

at the circus

dead fish in virginia, august