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gfhnfghfg
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masters of the universe
Friday, June 20, 2008
Hammock time
Lazy God-given granted rights.
A plush afternoon with green birds and yellow brides-of-march singing
faded blue hammock,
the minutes pass slowly,with stops and starts down the back of my throat
a silvery taste swishes at the back of my medulla
the feeling of being out of place just enough to be walking beside my breathing card-board cut-out
smacked in the nose by the ping-pong-paddle of midday heat
i brushed aside the lily flies
tired of me
tired of my nasal-toned back-handedness.
what the fuck did that sentence mean?
anyways, I was at the zoo the other day, and we were near the lions den,
a lazy lion and the local lioness, when
the lion yawned (maybe) stood up, and proceed to impose himself upon his lady friend,
I smirked, amongst the grunts and 'yeahs' of my fellow primates who enjoy a show
it seems to be the only form of completion that we can have--all the people know it, seem to think they understand it, and applaud all they ken. Barbie is a nutbag.
well, on to another day of compromise.
I saw Mt. Rainier though. was amazing. I love the fact that even if I scale it someday, I won't know satisfaction, it's always going to be unreachable. some things us apes just can't grunt about.
posted by Greyscalp at 5:52 PM 0 comments
Sunday, May 25, 2008
Mr. Mascarenhas' quiet walk
Half past dusk,
Mr. Mascarenhas walked down the avenue of underlit palm trees,
the parking lot that was softened by night's silence,
the asphalt yielding,
memory slipped away,
a new world was being born,
he smiled quietly to himself: this had happened before;
storms of unknown smells would crowd around the watches of his mind,
confusing reason's sentinels,
unleashing fancy's insane rearguard.
A minute ago, a Honda Civic,
a second later a maroon dented cadillac with white plastic hood,
his father's presence,
a hole in the sky
a giant step from planet to planet,
a whisper of secrets amongst the branches,
morse code in the sunshine on the dancing leaves
small worlds blooming,
half realized rainbow fawns sipping from the cool lake
quiet in the craggy shadows of the far away.
Mr. Mascarenhas had the longest whiskers that night,
the sharpest tone of utter confidence,
the largest expanse of space in his soul, reaching out painfully to al that could not be seen but smelt at the other end of the universe.
Why I still love and live.
posted by Greyscalp at 11:18 PM 0 comments
Monday, May 05, 2008
Mouthfull O'Saxophones
kag8://
Oh gentry, it's Henry. A sax flicking lactose and I reckon I've been tolerant
Well, enough to get going, shell ponies, file phony fingers, dig while humming quiet slang.....you salivate
I tolerate. We, Bollywood. Plus a whole host of holistic cataclysm action figures sent to the slaughter by a Sergent,
IN CHARGE
Unfortunately, my fortune read itself before I bed down and now I owe towns more dwellings than a pervert
This isn't what I bargained for, but I made Grover Cleveland my fave prez out of sheer nomenclature so I get
WHAT I DESERVE
((That part wasn't supposed to appear so readily))
I'm the one who put the 'reading' back in 'breeding' so in the lower scope of things, it all comes down to a comma
And while the sunset student sweats over a logarithm naturally, I look forward to a final exam known as
AUTOPSY
To all the automatics and bashful winkers, this one's for you.
posted by bryce beverlin II at 8:08 PM 1 comments
Sunday, May 04, 2008
Cloggs
lakd8g://
lucky rubber
posted by bryce beverlin II at 10:09 PM 0 comments
Friday, April 25, 2008
Poladaris Nutatis: a brave new LANCET
Sigma Numb:
Three days before the coming of the second,
I frosted up the glass door bay with heavy chanting,
word-congealed air supply song ridden musk twinged hypo-atmospheres,
graceful pirouetting hula dancers in the cold of starlight
chips on the soldiers of fortuna maxima,
built like a modern day cinder brick I was.
My balls were of steel, my girders of cornmeal
sealed up in a box
last laser-tagged during the summer of recompense.
Cello salad for all.
Breezy smiles thrown down my windpipe.
Swaying cross as can be tantrum flinging blue harp overtonic gin-soakers
snake-eyes in the sand dunes can can I yes yes no wait for the morning
night moles day pole-dancers raspy toad swatchers watch wearing bo-wielders welders of all nature
handle on the pan can swing will dance by the pale yellow marmalade
the devil has meaning glass bottled model ships mottled green variegated lame brained plans of hoi-polloi.
Lady, I ain't no boy-toy by my plaything ain't the thing to sing odes about.
No innuendo please cheese all around. San-to the -gria
posted by Greyscalp at 10:37 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, April 23, 2008
remember back when I didn't stutter...wholesomely
posted by Greyscalp at 7:16 PM 0 comments
Sunday, April 20, 2008
Sloshed, and a Mantilum
if83://
snazzy like razors
tazed in the greyscalp
crazins in the wash
WATCH OUT!!
seriously, here's the mission
fresh baked boards
soiled, roiled, and trolling for chinups
capsules and shiftermen
wishing for lewd levers
quite quaking in boots
for someone's lank leather
i'm wondering if you're sound
or if you're up to the challenge
to put the bile back in bile-jak
pfft. life is wack
on second thought...
let's get a weekend pass to the dashboard dance
fanciful, like lead inner fillings: follow them
then freeze those inner feelings with all due east
because they won't last until tomorrow's harvest
wash me off, oh great sleeper
and change my bedpan, dear diary
posted by bryce beverlin II at 10:19 AM 0 comments
Friday, April 11, 2008
prolix
Holy Mary, mother of god,
I sang a sad song down at the pub.
A wailing tune over by the schoolyard wall.
A caterwaul over by yonder.
A droning monotone in blue shades by the rainy tree,
a misty cry by the moors of merry olde scotland,
a grainy snort by the foothills of Antelope mountain,
a raspy plea by the salt marsh that dried up under the stark Mongolian sun,
a flighty breeze whisper by the seashore of Kent,
a rancid mouthwashy gargle by the creeks of sulphur down by Venus lake,
the razzy jazzed up flip of the tongue o'er by the grasslands with the prickly baobabs
a chancy racy number over by the soggy forests of Cherrapunji
a lip-synced pop song pulled out of a hat on a Brooklyn bound subway
an ear-piercing twang from the mouth organ on a tram bound for san fran
a handful of sonnets grotesquely blurted from my foamy mouth as the clouds surrounded me
hand over hand in sunlight.
posted by Greyscalp at 8:44 PM 0 comments
Saturday, April 05, 2008
Of Demons and Quasars
Living with demons in the wet steel cage,
sitting on the high plain with winds running wild,
tumbling over and under the mid-summer stars,
the semi-rust is getting to me.
Creeping under my fingernails when I claw at them.
My co-habitants are a hungry, angry lot,
blood fiends and animals of the deep,
blind pythons, and semi-sentient angler fish.
The scraping of their talons, the grinding of their teeth, their stares through me,
I hear cries of a battlefield far apart,
I start to relish the violence of my waking hours during my dreams,
I start to hurry over sunlight and cavort under the moon.
Polish sausages.
The frenzy of my reluctant company has seeped into my skin.
Smelling softly of fur and sea-salt,
I lose the keys to my attic.
posted by Greyscalp at 8:31 PM 0 comments
Monday, March 31, 2008
Ware art thou?
mf823://
hand held load
more modes to move tonally
grow stop sow grow stop start go
for winter perforating a perfect time to sock the stalled watch
mother nature is a single parent
suffering from father time's unwillingness to change
direction
--------------------------------drilling.
small mouthes spilt
the pigs of men
wheather permitting
dogs to war simply
spatulas spatially marooned
a theme of abandonment coarses the style
biting while warping boards of a house yet unneglected
still breathing
built upon boredom
slung within sodom
the bomb
posted by bryce beverlin II at 9:51 AM 1 comments
Sunday, March 30, 2008
and nothing to show for it all
one ruddy penny for one stinkin eye
a blighter bound for hades with half the price of admission
cast below the wet rock in soggy midsummer
and lifted from the damp barn-hay in afternoon wallow-times
nicked a pumpernickel from the jack o' lantern store owned by Muddy Joe,
and pilfered an old oil lamp from the soldiers' co-op to light my path
down the cavern way...
took the side road in, paved my way with bread crumbs for the hunger backtrack
but once in, I knew I would never stop.
Halfway to hell on half a loaf of stomached rye, deep humid breaths smelling of underground lakes wafted noseward
I walked in my shadow all along
Passed the doors carved by women long past, each leading off to a realm of unknowable colour and rage,
up and down the rocky staircases pretending to be natural,
along the throbbing vein of the cave that knew so much time.
sleep and dreams merged with conscious musings,
no difference no more anyhow.
I ate the rocks as the months passed, my insides craving for the gravelly warmth of stones,
i became one, my jaw set, my eyes hard, my chest solid,
growled my way into ancient philosophies,
and then the lights became clear.
Wonder why I didn't notice them before.
posted by Greyscalp at 1:31 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, March 11, 2008
Dance Karamitsu-san!
Curled up
Fyodor in the snow, the red pika leaper, grand wagon gravel, Kremlin smell
Tuned out
Brainy river forest, hands tied leapt sump, humidore torpedo, brain slug slow-mo
Singed lightly
Fly high, lip unfurled, blue liqueur smooth de-jure, rubik's noob
Gripped tightly
Onto sights, shiny lights, can't heave ho let go, flow on the go, no mo'
Fear bile
forced smile, cry normalcy, sigh mundiferously, grinzel tomohawks
Fuck.
posted by Greyscalp at 9:47 PM 0 comments
Friday, February 22, 2008
black velvet box
sliding through ink
on a tapestry on the floor
the black knight smudged
the maroon streaked
the castle walls musty
the sound of decrepitude
the stench of aged ghosts creeping around looking for a hobby
a squelch of wet cold grass
a crackle of lightning in the autumn breeze on a cloud cast star occluded night
the black spear fell by the road, beside the abandoned wagon.
scraping feet, chains on the floor.
legs won't run fast enough, slow viscous.
over the cliff down the hillside onto the misty moors below. Lying in solitude at last.
posted by Greyscalp at 11:57 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 20, 2008
The Reified Ankle
Spoke me for a tuna:
Cold cows running by the fence line; ox-eye daisy.
War bested the country at the phone welfare blaze battalion. Voices were dropping all around us--into gutters, and out into sea-lakes. It was scarcely the new year and the eggs were melting everywhere...Bacchalius said so and I'm confirming it now.
"Whoop Whoop! Uhuh...That's the chirping right there. You see it goes up...and then it sums the binaries."
"Well, I had two vests earlier and now I have land. Or is it--"
"Copa, copa cabana. Santa, Santa Ana. Santa had a hand job line shakes hands, please. You have 'the job'. I'll hold their knees. "
"Ooooohf."
"Pa."
That's east of wood by the way a man sees a star
At the dark patty by the hat half
Hath away from idea kites that cut trails into entropy.
While you beat the judge, I'll slay the banker: at Happy Tails we are gail force winds.
posted by Joseph at 2:13 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, February 12, 2008
Get Real! If you don't know Ingalls, you think Ingalls would know you?
nimp
posted by Greyscalp at 10:24 AM 0 comments
Thursday, February 07, 2008
tulips for gaylord
drama bash
caste snack
mackerel daquiri
There it is, one more minute of my life.
posted by Greyscalp at 11:14 PM 0 comments
Saturday, January 26, 2008
The greatest love song ever puddled
I sing in verse,
As I drag behind mine own hearse,
years after the heartstrings twanged,
so many years after i first told you:
I want your back-fat.
The dusty pail hangs creaking on the woodside lawn
jack o lanterns hang dust-filled,
snaking grazers, of pick-eyed moldy bones
cattle raisers from hell,
But when the bell tolls,
i smile back to our time:
when I wanted your back-fat.
so the wagon wore,
drove the hornets a-flitterin,
tweety pied in the black summer,
this was the yellowest of noons,
as my body, baked and burnished, burnt alive for the last few
and I dazed hazed slipped into focus momentarily:
track your back-fat.
So said the fat cats:
and the polymers:
and the Geezus-bearing boybands:
and the lazy raven that languished in green pools:
damn you damsel, fair frethren,
I hap no teep to chew wip.
posted by Greyscalp at 7:55 PM 2 comments
Thursday, January 24, 2008
Seminole Horticult
kdc957://
and so hour here ohs hunker don bee loathe gun knee whale
[night like a nahr, best like a bahr]
championing such and such:
barge manicle toward strange chanimal
forked monacle or hamm stauffer-lure
stye lyre freash frire ferry peril bury barrel
[crop top sign]
meh...
neigh mares
posted by bryce beverlin II at 10:41 PM 0 comments
Thursday, November 29, 2007
chancery
Virile:
Morning of the day dew dawned and happening rain bantered with the chain gang aas it slopped through the window panes on the floor.
Clang:
And so the man sang, of pain, anger, trying tales of woe, bravissimo, belissimas, and the night so sweet.
"Hum quietly so your mother can paint":
and the people in glass houses stared out wistful smiles, biles rent up pent up in the vase that sat dainitly perched in search of a vague trace of days. They sat on stones they dare not throw through, though the people below call for them to rise.
Cycles in Paul Newman:
Chaste moments passby unused racing grave chasing, I feel death's warm embrace creeping up on me, I have to shield off her advances for now. But when my time comes I promise to show her a gentlemanly time wink wink that's right I sleep with the fishes.
History's blowhole:
A sinkhole in time to book passage far and into the future star-wheeling planet hunting, gathering wild oats on the oak trees of lava-filled boilerplate landscapes. I smell the cold 4K breeze filling out a too never too late pension plan to retire in youth amidst other lifeforms. I have days left in fantasy to be fulfilled.
I leave the line in a half-trance with the full chance that it bleeds into my waking moments.
Fuck you Tom Brokaw. I love you Tom Brokaw.
posted by Greyscalp at 10:06 PM 1 comments
Sunday, November 25, 2007
Since we met under furious circumstances
Born on a hill,
high as a kite,
sword in one hand,
rage in the other,
it wasn't me.
sitting along,
smiling vaguely,
coughing shyly,
sighing mildly,
warn't meself.
music in soothing tones,
boring insight,
nasal upbringing,
silver-toothed tongue twisted
nein, ich bein not I.
Golden prow,
sailing vessel,
bond-free vassal,
starry tassel,
azure glass,
hands warm,
mead through a sippy straw,
aye, I.
posted by Greyscalp at 1:29 AM 0 comments
Saturday, November 17, 2007
% chafe
al;d9g2://
slightly downtrodden and tingly
i've got blisters on me ring finga
it's been longer since i lost the you
inside of me.
like a silverbacked rib
we punch F5 to remind ourselves
there is no 'fears' in machine
still, the hindquarters
posted by bryce beverlin II at 8:32 PM 2 comments
Porno Weigh Station
last of head weigh, which way to the parm; team.
I ghast a question for the old neighbors but the waving iggs a me. You know the coke machine wants you.
Rake the marsh, dear and aluv you. I will. It's on line 5 next to 'ghost'.
Could we make more hamsters here?
Even with the air-raid on and all, it's a gasp away from lentils.
Cancer rode me once down to the Toronto Argonaut's game. It was cloudy sixteen/six times that day. I asked you a mention of a purse. You gave me 'the crack'; it's a sandwich in Idaho.
Let me ask you a question!
"Is it yonder by the hay fever?"
That's a good way to go John Denver.
That's a great way to make cheese.
posted by Joseph at 3:35 AM 0 comments
Monday, November 12, 2007
Porch Pervert
Bake bird, me Alaska.
Uber-schtilten mive before the plains, be doors again, over by the horror.
"Store #1 was here," he looks calmly to the pony, tied up as 'antsy', "now I see the Dove bar wrapper here. What's this got to do with all this source citation?"
(Beef here)
Pony looks off on bonders. Scoffs. A dull sussurant wheezing overcome by the gynaclergy.
posted by Joseph at 11:36 PM 0 comments
Thursday, November 08, 2007
sunshiney day
The red-ochred man stalks among the whistling grass,
looking over the ashen plain, from high on a ridge.
A thin-line of brightness marks the horizon of a grey storm-studded sky.
A dry chill wind kicks up the dust.
he puts his tongue out to taste it.
Musty.
The wooden club in his hand hangs slack.
Slow jazz streaks lines through the cold sand.
Softly, he says to himself.
posted by Greyscalp at 7:31 PM 0 comments
Sunday, November 04, 2007
Gypsy Prints
akg02788://
siesmic patrol car articles rewaffled
from brothels cold cough medicine
mandate straight toward the drummond
crumb punch raider cumin doom fare
room for cubits soothing cuticle ruberic
nubile dude ranch sans pants on the rancher
slight chance we had touching
much so what well snell fort smelling
let's swell together and make out ships
posted by bryce beverlin II at 3:53 PM 0 comments
Saturday, November 03, 2007
carrots and corners
My thoughts are filled with carrots and corners
little black blind spots lividly languishing in peripheral vision
stochastic plastic ravaging maelstrom
filling holes with music
giant rips in fabric
no more hubris
ego befallen hard times
world a-tilt
sedentary mud slinging down to bottom.
The diversity is lost now.
I *fuck* am *pluck* confused *snuck a mouse into the house*.
posted by Greyscalp at 12:04 AM 0 comments
Friday, November 02, 2007
Scan-tron moth
Hello, I am orb the ghost-crowned whale; hallowed be my ankle.
posted by Joseph at 8:41 PM 0 comments
Thursday, November 01, 2007
Nest Roy
say this directlyin a flectal statistician state of stratislaine trail o bites add flies ice also advise a vice inside eye to ide idle dreep dreama train strange crane car mop metriculate cale crown awn noncarbonated arrtificial court reported karma to drown count con dose down dos to doe hundred to undirt end den entrance 'ence a nice nataknaught naughty town trample amp can concomitent camp canning tant awl bent viable buy bull bulk rad red riddle wrapped in violent all of it on insides asteroid asp astride tide tie die dead death to thy line up ass has hassle hast craside height nine and a non at ampersand fast ascribe neight besides sighs to rise highs hu hives all londg long whence 2wongs fight the fright night off trot trop trient ion ein ionite oint atoint toint annoint toin hoint toesnd try groin grow in two tone in end ten arift tend a trend denderit hetterick retter rent denttentereelispinisseee at trat track a trace trappe trapes trapp trope tope tamp trimmpentt tent ten a tren rant tenter dend enter ken crasp pear sattis saw monoosh monsh mansion anch tranch croott traoasstreess tress ner'r a stress or main strain to name
posted by bryce beverlin II at 11:57 PM 0 comments
Sunday, October 28, 2007
Pussied Willlow
Permanent Culture / Fermament Agra
[plagurized by hoes garden sale AKA The slim, The bill, The CaIne]
Burned up a partivcle pardoned by the tickle in Indian pickle lip
Conventional strineteen by pastries cost fro to chem. Erosion
On my back getting dirty pretty
Cough summer shadow fritz doorstep whip whisket
Chaos
Disaster
Fracture
Tomaskus
Alabaster lucy
Billy love shoven from Russia with tiffany
Permanent permacuture
Plate of cookies
Dim fest brass fatty rice
Basmati, the bat-boy
posted by bryce beverlin II at 6:23 PM 0 comments
Friday, October 19, 2007
glibber
Nine-tenths of two halves of the same battle cry
seismic porridge leaning aginst the jamb
rockin it up in the free sword hunter's store.
Flan:
the beginning of a new chapter
sapper's delight
napsack's to cry upon
lacka-daisy for to embellish my grave
cremate the day.
Phoenix horizon.
Texan Paunch.
Twilight in every moment.
A monumental greyscale version of a landscape..
My.
posted by Greyscalp at 3:38 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, October 17, 2007
hands on, best job ever.
the tongue speakers rolled over the dusty hills,
bears ensnared,
euphemisms locked up,
grim jaws set,
over the dying grass.
They moved for days, weeks, years, months, months,
found no home but the kingdom of an ever orange sun.
the babble communicated senses, affections, passions, (if you prick us, do we not bleed?)
but all was unlike
in likeness.
And then, the tapeworm.
Oh how do I speak of its splendours?
like this: worm--splendiferus maximus,
giant, wormy, hungry.
Also, spoke very fluent spanish (been to Pharis, Ayraq, Ayran, Urazia).
Taught them a singular mode of being.
Their promising tower fell.
The worm was their god now.
Home is where the tapeworm is.
posted by Greyscalp at 10:55 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, October 16, 2007
Purpose F.O.R.T.
l;akgd92://
pedestrian: durpers, please!
longshank: another purpose fort?
pedestrian: that's factually an acronym
longshank: you heard it - back to you, jerry
joan: we're sorry, jerry can't make it in today. he's got a case of the argot carbourator akin to shavings of nature AKA frowning stork syndicate
audience: [laughter, but not too zealous]
joan: thanks. so up next, we're going to hear from patty, a mother of zero who needs a new tune to tap to. she's a taping expert in the field of cornicopia - for those of you following sports, that's "copa cabanna." let's git.
control room: roll 5
operator: rolling
copa cabanna: at the copa, copa cabanna. da da day de di da da du da...
couch potato: [flips channel] ugh. what gives?
child in rapture: what's a copa, daddy?
daddy: ask your baby momma
baby momma: [on the phone] ...and that's when i hit him upside the head with my handbag....
baby momma's momma: oh dear you didn't!
baby momma: damn right i did!
couch potato: you get me another tarro root to chew on? this one's mush
baby momma: [ignoring]
child in rapture: i finished it. the fort is complete!
posted by bryce beverlin II at 10:08 AM 0 comments
Friday, October 12, 2007
Darling darling please stand on me.
Filter faced,
cock-shocked,
smoking gun in the fat sock.
Can't happy the days, says the lady from the backseat.
I can't call a dog in heat for the fuzz on my peach doth speak too lightly.
gambol in the hay town, motown blisters.
"The woolly Ibex? aye in the rocks wonday we zaw 'im.
posted on a sheaf, ready to go lightly upon the call of need.
Breathing fists of fire,
he vaulted. More power to your cousins.
Done with the day, tired of the night,
sans sands desert storm.
A surgical operator of the infinite justice variety.
Such is your goat-mother!"
Pilferer of rabbis.
posted by Greyscalp at 4:07 PM 0 comments
Thursday, October 11, 2007
earth to live by
akjdg82://
pundit #1
soda jerks always finish burst in lime when the trips are cursed
gary #2
fro and to for frothing at the suture factory
hairlip #3
good deeds will eventually die so make murder
donkey #4
breathe in the silver haze
nair #5
we are products of our own children
posted by bryce beverlin II at 7:37 PM 0 comments
Virgil's virgin vigil
Seeing the sizzle,
unabated by drizzle,
virgil's virgin vigil,
busy with cudgel,
huddling in shadow rubble,
nuzzling brook that doth babble.
Along anon the man with a fan ran,
pursued by handful of canned canons,
bursting tan
in need of fan for to enable holy elan.
Virgil's dire dirge
unheard by the moving surge
(or serge?)
quietly basks in yellowing time sun.
Sorry for him? cheques be received, if so to please you they may be sent.
posted by Greyscalp at 4:15 PM 0 comments
Sunday, October 07, 2007
Pre-peeling Post-wheel Invention
a,jgd7u2://
feeling bealy
annonce bol freely creroperating
you've been spotted
on more than one occasional hair flip
clad clip
i sleep slapily these days
put it in my head
cranium danger
salted menagerie
posted by bryce beverlin II at 9:56 PM 0 comments
Sunday, September 30, 2007
Op Ed for the Bacon Boys
"It's a douche tree!"
"No it aint. It's a stint in the piffin. A muff for Clinton cabinetry."
"Yeah, it is. I laid in it once, with Ma Rainey and the carollers. It felt like a yo-yo ma poetry festival...without the puree. without them STD's."
Whooooeee. Hear them bells a ringing. Hear them raindrops a falling. Gas Prices are down and the "let's be" parade is just beginning.
"Let's make a deal. Together, this time. Not like that time in the armory when we held the banquet in an ordinary embrace."
"Well O.K. That's my anthem, anyhow."
"Brown Sugar?"
Let's fold that tart crust softly so the unbleached flour doth not stick to the almond choplets. Let's talk a bit slower. Hold our heads higher. Get out the vote, bitch! Get out the vote.
posted by Joseph at 5:40 PM 0 comments
Monday, September 10, 2007
tamar---------------------------sir.
organizedNOW!!
transforming spaces
professional organizer
o8: i suck out of hisface
77: peaunutbutter really sticks to ya
o33: thats not wear it goes
here
posted by Greyscalp at 4:00 PM 1 comments
Friday, April 20, 2007
solgar the wheat king
more mould for the selling,
high ceilings beware,
care bear tear achilles leave.
Snap up the lotsam crab apple networth,
but cave in slowly bowlegged toadie!!!!
The Sarvashaktimanthudni of the laypersons.
I am a perp of sorts,
jaywalked on a cop car.
Singing and singing the moth on the candle wings.
Fleece feed bag!
posted by Greyscalp at 2:00 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, March 27, 2007
the p-p-pyashion
;lakdg982://
forgive the untenable breadwinners and club med shinto shriner circus peanut passion wrapped with a baked alaskan
posted by bryce beverlin II at 1:24 PM 0 comments
Saturday, March 24, 2007
how swimming feels
alkdg82://
by and
buy brilling
elope tansery
chains sane
a sannish
elanthropist hanging
on leaf
lump cure
analyst pannel
man mention
my anthropvan
acular ocupant
hack saw
vent tendril
lent aminal
crem sho
los ominymistriphal
habberish quite
quills and
quick lee
posted by bryce beverlin II at 9:00 PM 0 comments
Friday, March 23, 2007
henceforth more
"...because I am but a moment's sigh.
I know that even though i breathe and squint at the sunlight now,
The mountains will be there,
far after the generations to follow me, and the generations to follow those will pass,
long after my name has turned to wormwood,
dry dust and bone dry I will lie,
and the mountains will watch over my unmarked grave.
I will root myself to the hillside, a rocky cactus,
bludgeoning the aeons with my blunt sword.
My body turns porous, and the dust-storms flow through me eroding me.
The mountains live lifetimes that pour though wind-cycles, and they will pass as well,
their children after them budding off and dying in the onslaught of time,
losing the unwinnable battle.
I breathe in the day.
posted by Greyscalp at 5:40 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, March 21, 2007
Cap the Luster
I hated Utah's orchestra in penumbra glaze.
The doorstop winging wingy wingey abort the mish ton private vacations. Alast grope grease marlev koctov orange crepes wager made lime aztec roget lumbestodomy of ordinary wits, nominal intelligence.
A gar ghast havy won to want on organelle villain, bored in anthem is an art order choir land over mat cur surro motion man charge. As and, morgan merge calendar nightly, lease under u-lance fife tariff wasping vice wryly or another album, alamo.
posted by Joseph at 12:17 PM 0 comments
Friday, March 09, 2007
the call of the comatose vole
fear not in the gray morning, rising with bile, my gorge becomes me,
my liege is a sleeping god.
The trickle window panes, tall evergreen sway,
swish noises, embankments holding off giant oceans,
stealing away the veil.
"bride of silence and slow time"
the moments leading towards death,
seeping blue corneal mosaics,
withered potion making skills,
revamp the bat's bite.
endampened enchantment.
posted by Greyscalp at 2:58 PM 0 comments
Thursday, March 01, 2007
feeding the limp knee and sort of saucing the wife
Patty Urchin, the ursine merchant:
They be hurtin, said the serpent to the merchant,
we be healin, she said with feelin,
peel your eyes, said the land-locked pair of thighs,
science guys are a dime-a-rhyme.
The owl and the pussygalore rode in her car,
promised to say true so blue no flu bird drool,
They said, "ye be too nigh to the wall, so reverse, Urchin."
She screamed and cried and said we be lurchin' so hang on to the morning,
it may be the last clocktower we ever share.
In the moonlight, on the tower, the cobbled medievality of the bell-rung stones
sounded against the merchant's hairy steps.
halibut for on ean dfo rall.
for one and for all.
Searchin. parameter space ain't big enough for my foot and your arse.
posted by Greyscalp at 3:59 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, February 28, 2007
found fingers
adljg73://
a program recently found in the archives of our company:
//whapp - diverts style to new point system . see gary archon at x448 for gui map//
1o: jonzin for some tone generation over here
2o: a new solidarity compliment in style with or without estuary
3o: a gifted statuary hemmish turf waddle merpitt
4o: i didn't say that
5o: no sure
6o: she did
7o: we med, pre-jed era circa cyclops
8o: did you sever the pet masker?
9o: i'm sure i sent you his contact information
1oo: one more than demure nation
11o: a face it sorta guy
12o: yeah. sure
13o: oh you know him?
14o: no i just wanted to...
15o: notice it
16o: loess soil
17o: flow line lane
18o: tow tribute
19o: show leg
posted by bryce beverlin II at 7:58 PM 0 comments
Saturday, February 17, 2007
My Private Agent
It's tricky like sausage, she says.
And then this bird starts gawking at the Sharif pull-up : "I roam free Israel boat show, it's a magic trap lesson--"
"Wasn't the downy arc a clear motion for a..a...a Jesuit perish table?"
Rock and pour growth; it's ambidextrous inside your day job so heed the masonov feed for your turn's guile at kevlar.
"Are we in a bidding war for Iran's Ideas about Dartmouth?"
"In these days arm-trees revenge fjord aloud soldier! And thats a goiter."
posted by Joseph at 12:26 AM 1 comments
Tuesday, February 13, 2007
soak it like an ingrown toe
;alkdg82://
"...and boison berry terry cloth i believe was the next quotidian elembridge lunker-heinitz neither nits nor flash point folicle frolicing hologram collumn vectorized roster of rasterized aftertaste chastised for just not being there for me man he bra she roars clark fork life size sphinx slor depth hesse lab meth morphine drip dwarf curl surly burglars processed into churlish burgers for starving host family jinxes, known hoaxes." this bloke says.
posted by bryce beverlin II at 5:01 PM 0 comments
Sunday, February 11, 2007
A Louse Bird Fur Box
Criminal investigation apprehended the dinty-moore dinnerware promiscuity stratigraph. It was seasonal october and midweary waste rhymes roared delicate aspimony hypervangelical robusticity. Let me call you to my birm, radio silence. Amid the rhombus scare intellect cry pits we are hearing three orders of parsimony:
Phaser
Bombay
Hairy Part Arvo
Corpus anagram krispy is when we or bid a grievance with this pill jar. Corogus mindy it is April on leg rinse-are all we dance particle ice article builder paring warehouse with belt car province's chipper door pagandry, grass whiffle, orgy welt, which product provides density? At least in chronic terms, I am Gloria Estefan like thriving bowny crow roaving...passionately in the myth pore. Delicate bean rate, it is rife with smoison wing.
posted by Joseph at 2:50 PM 0 comments
Saturday, February 03, 2007
Remember your Alex Trebek nametag
Jarb salon I am tender,
In the April of hind-quarters lecherous milk product lance rambo is keel for mime headquarter licensing. I have the barbatrol grab bag so we are ordinarily marsten tunic trowels. Arb forth in dairy, we gill as flotsam still-life o'er algorithm fever limits vertical leaping fetish aprons sabre coal mine squeeze freedom squeeze for me freedom squeezing seizure mutton square sire paw collections.
I have a list of things you shant forget while averting Kandinsky:
1)brothel iron
2)corrupt board
3)hoagie wrench
4)utensil anecdote
These shall be quarantined nine times before lent. I will allot the lepers fourteen clips for sharing together. We do urge more raffle tickets. At the same time we foresee naught of wisdom but of our own cordial ligament.
Truly
I am truly a representation of 15th century Liberian body odor.
posted by Joseph at 12:14 AM 0 comments
Sunday, January 28, 2007
Sterman Cologne fragments
All the way to after town Down gown mint part editorial aspersion deli lattice gravula mar-tell me more about Jerusalem It was minding its own derbies at the old soap dish stabbery When suddenly loosened normative properties reproduced preternaturally disposing rogue pangea myths Call me arbor gown gorbachev and pass me to Delhi porridge corners brilliant pump lesions Aerobic Nairobi cherub desk liposuct my shipping orders vehement oblong rotunda-
Ah in fondness I recall the waitress strike: It was DNA and alimony reps; Roy Orbison's downy sheets parading after pastures pre-empted lorefare for chiefdom. I was the deputy sheriff Alonzo Alonzo and my wayfarers scoffed at Victorian style awning-
Local Fulcrum Depasteurizer #369
In which rule 3.2.22.a_ugamy, states plainly for Delaware to release its hold on coastal porgi and bess records. These days are ripe and numbered orpheus nipple briefings. An offer of kale to settle your wave pool? That will do. That will do just fine.
posted by Joseph at 8:34 PM 0 comments
Thursday, January 25, 2007
soulful mod change
"oh from whence was the torque spinning my goal,
oh from hence was the hearing called into order,
sense and pension-ability can't cancel the raising of the dead for lent,
for feed they shall and birds will pee,
and see through to alice's watch chain.
" "grab that king crab, grab that king, crab, crabs to the king and props to my homies,
home range, cane mange, lane change.
fishing in ice cold waters, drenched in a sock with bones rattling out the stories of untold ages."
don't itch that female dog,
harassment is one lawsuit away from total paydirt. ergo, don't. Hence, forth.
"
posted by Greyscalp at 11:21 AM 1 comments
Monday, January 15, 2007
match point farmer's blow
;lakdg982://
poe for president says back of the envelope tax man
with pennies for eyes and lisbon for gizzard
man cashes in on the recent fad of noodling
this time he done caught a big ole choice cut
of none other than habenero nes pas?
we all asked the same question too
a little too simultaneous for my taste is the quote
yes sir is only a fair response to this particular
think?
get the shaft or ride the shingles is what i say
that's the new motto compared to fast dub training manuals
for at least one vein will be offered by these new 'rules'
it also briefly mentioned to
just keep on keepin on and it'll be all good
it's not really their decision. you understand, right?
posted by bryce beverlin II at 10:22 PM 0 comments
Friday, December 08, 2006
drop the bomb
kladfg82://
pretend friend ken goes hand in hand with end times
brine shrimps falling on treadmills downtrodden in tapiary trubadoristic flowing flagons
milk the dragon for all it's worth mounting myrh madd hellfire
it's time
posted by bryce beverlin II at 8:09 PM 0 comments
Sunday, December 03, 2006
It was midnite in lamentation- I was biding time in shore conifer warfare. She was grape but I was Molecular Jesus. Twas a scurried bout of zirking yet the warmth was surface tension of 'x'.
Halibut yearning for soap fetish in fresh water we crave ferrous mirthings and how the bouncing rub of clergy birming is rife in gourd rinse.
I offered the following pulpit oratory in haste of mangy ape bunt :
Adorn calous margin sill
In lent devise waft practal burr cards
Eat more
Druid less
posted by Joseph at 10:42 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, November 29, 2006
lunchtime at the blowhole
k;ljadg82://
payshen mane blurry service main entrar old english mang
yeah can you make that a double raptor? says prehistoric god
so many will poles and wollupings to speak of talking to the hand
i call my pet catapillar juiceface while wishing for capri to come out of the sun
like a giant funnel pointed up toward the sky
i track the motion of all unseen stars including richard
do face lecturn with 5% of urn earnings deposited for tea bag prices
they spoke the talk and walked us through the lecture with one button stabbing finger:
spastic spice rack
comcast molestation
tune up needed
glue stick supine
loose wrapped hubris
burrito flagrant mummy
cram for rummage
brumb stain
posted by bryce beverlin II at 1:51 PM 0 comments
Thursday, November 02, 2006
Vera rubin
has anyone seen my bolo-tie, my bolo-tie, my bolo-tie?
has anyone sen my bolo-tie?
I must have left it for the ravens to sing with.
Has anyone been reborn, born again, reborn?
has anyone been Bjorn?
I must have slipped the disc through the door.
posted by Greyscalp at 5:25 PM 0 comments
Thursday, October 26, 2006
Coldplay may be there, but don't count on it.
Instead:
In the year 2033, in the middle of an avalanche on the rocky side of Miami, sixteen bald bearded women will sally forth into the brightest part of the DMV and declare galactic festivities open. if you happen to be among the chosen few to be available for comment at the moment, smile tilt your pen to one side cough up a storm and bear up against the wind. For they will bring tidings from a future already begun. For they will tear you a new gun from the space-hole. It's your turn to rank the movies. Climb onto a table and speak of your allegiance to the nuveau mothmen. Cap any medicine bottle and gain five experience points.
if you can't find your dentist's number at that very instant, worry not. it is all a part of their plan. (I know, I have 16 filing cabinets on the matter.) Pancakes, lots of pancakes. Then renter monkey. Buy your renter monkey. It will guide your ailing softsoaker.
Stop playing the blame game. Corey haim will needle you for being the last one chosen for the basketball team. he himself is 37 years too old for the little leagues.
posted by Greyscalp at 12:33 AM 0 comments
Friday, October 20, 2006
Gas
This time around I've found my milky way
This time around I've found my financial planner
It's an ape around here. It's a real prognathic bow.
Wild westons wanton
Wild westons wanton
To be screamed in between my breasts nightly I dose
Catching more stills than canvas we breathe
In cordiality I'd urge an invite among death bodies
We throw
Betrothed
posted by Joseph at 6:26 PM 0 comments
mass for mikey
fig09226://
all things will converge from fleeting
when green metallic cattle start stomping the earth out hoove by hoove;
payment for all the steaks they've deposited in the human psyche
my name isn't turkey, like.
posted by bryce beverlin II at 2:09 PM 0 comments
cocaine with maria
;aldgo82://
how do we shoot some cocaine with maria?
how do we shoot some cocaine between her toes?
how do we shoot more cocaine with maria?
how do we shoot more cocaine between our toes?
posted by bryce beverlin II at 2:04 PM 0 comments
Thursday, October 19, 2006
blow-up nasal spray
new mangled faces,
half dangling words
sad traces of whispers on the autumnal air
holy sepulchral grace favours,
can't stand the lack of last laughs and past shore masts.
A green haze directed towards sunless joys
silent driplets and droppages,
casting furtive lances at inward boils,
blankness in their eyes,
they see through me.
Into the distance.
Stymie. Nice word. Nice. Tasty.
posted by Greyscalp at 5:23 PM 0 comments
Monday, October 16, 2006
Gray's mutation, it's a log hunt in parts of thy neighbor
I requested an aberdale but upon the arrival of a matter entirely obscured by crowds I divested in nomenclature of cladistic studies. A tree-for that matter, a gape or agape. Make your mark I say, it's the world of plenty. Plenty of goodness in a quest of digestion and digression.
Are we focused?
Are we in tune with our kelp matter?
It was Betsy's cloth that first appealed to me. My tongue licking, tastebuds abrasive but purposeful, I noticed a swink scarf in a heap of ashes. "What a dandy," I thought...then just as now but for relapse amid aged atmospheric pressure. It was that high low orange shanty with an amber glow. It was the fading luminescence of the number 3 that first appealed to my sensory deprivation. Upon landing, all shades of jaundice reminded me of mother but without touch I merely had eyes and noses. A plastic rim could call forth my memorable gaze aloft in its 'nature'; aloft in its chest. A cavity for the connoiseur.
Breathes of breathless gales
I recall fondly my Cantina glory.
posted by Joseph at 8:00 PM 0 comments
Friday, October 06, 2006
no, not what you're thinking, but still quite clean
adjlgio76y2://
herron, NJ 6:06 p.m.
pavlov's lincoln went into the shop ta-day as scores of funny laughing chaperones watched on idly with their collective lazy eye. disenchanted member population 1 in the crowd was none other than the pot-pouri himself, ruskin the task master. yes seree. his backlog was about to be filled as we say in the old country. a little sumptin sumpin to thump the bile by. well, that's all one could ask for in these automatic ottoman philosophizerist days we're enduring. i say bring back the days of grommets and we'll all be safer. morley, that is. what ever happened to him or the pilgri-maw-jace: french for catylist carabeaner. i'm not quite sure.
posted by bryce beverlin II at 7:08 PM 0 comments
nabors
de-grassy nolan ryan
posted by Greyscalp at 3:06 PM 0 comments
Wednesday, September 27, 2006
High-pitched Battle Sequins
Flapping in the wind,
orange rind sun setting over shangri-la,
fa, a long long way to settle a score over a barrel of nutmeg.
Pale-face, I come for the tom toms and the jerry rigged periscope.
The pirates failed to claim them, ergo, thus hence, betwixt I and the Midianites it shall be shared.
Glazed pottery is on the market, carnage and salsa on the menu no more.
Warcraft, May-basted taters.
Laser Floyd.
Haematoma.
Feel-up for fealty, buck-o-nine.
How do you generate a market craze? simple.
cripple the five-dollar bill-teat.
posted by Greyscalp at 5:59 PM 0 comments
Saturday, September 16, 2006
welch ca-dance
;alngo8y2://
tells anonce:
once around the poesy
terror bull pointings left our new contracted painter without a patron saint to justify wrigley existence tantamount to new colorful tents pitched in the honor and name of said goalie becoming fight highest.
his was a drug cartel
hers was a mountain of evidence
theirs was a troubadour sickly without mourning quickness
ours, a completely different story which i will iterate henceforth:
"years before we figured out the plan, our willingness and tact was to take it straight to the heart of the beast, knowing little of the uninterested exhale possessing deadly powers of coercion. there was a psion counted among the trusted numbers of 'us,' luckily...thus."
of course i subscribed immediately - simultaneously and unknowingly canceling my plans to visit far reaches of their grey folds. while felling trees at an alarming speed, i brought neither galoshes nor slicker nor parasol - for this was a special gig...this required moxy. i wasn't as ashamed as my dear quail brothers until i saw the look on our collective face, for the mirror had finally shown it's own and indeed, the mirror, was a face itself.
with the puzzle solved and no more confusion created than destroyed within one cycle of 'the process' i returned to my quarters and slept quite soundly.
this year, 440355
-gerald hilder
posted by bryce beverlin II at 9:30 PM 0 comments
Thursday, September 14, 2006
She wore the Questers nap tin
"Downsize that malaria quay!" he screamed among the ghastly Bester products. It's the atomic man and his bib.
From atop the balcony I buy their window dressings:
Twas nightfall and I had kelped my drawers.
Rather she had knelt for cords.
It was tide and mary; cheers and gary...We had all the grapes for nape season.
"Behold this blister and wind! I have the can for sire," our guide was perspiring amid the autumnal yak procession.
Four horns met amid the sheerers' tire stare
Care for gentle clippings and the stone throw weighs its part for craft sales; I deemed our crowd fit for mathering.
It's a duster in thine parts with undulating topography
We had heard the chasm queens were ovulating; we opted for the Halal.
posted by Joseph at 2:22 PM 0 comments
Sunday, September 10, 2006
Polish curative curtains?
I walk up and down,
and finally crown the old battalion. they canter off into the forest.
Retrieve the stream's hairpiece.
Two piece for the toupee,
ransom for a handsome work of furry art.
i pull out the slowly turning burlap sack,
the magical latch firmly embedded in its unworthy furls,
fling it in an instant on the unsuspecting burly-cavalry (who in the meanwhile are growling and rearing their horses up a foot or two for no apparent reason)
i scream, "I, your benefactor,
swindled near a windmill,
clog-Baron of the world i be,
story of old I claim for my own grown oats."
They bow, clown car emerges from the forest, a highly tanned Cher steps out.
"Off with it."
and everything vanishes into thin air,
but for the toupee and me.
Stuck together in lovely oblivion.
posted by Greyscalp at 7:38 PM 0 comments
Saturday, September 02, 2006
It was a Spray Town cameo -or- Gerald Ford's Taurus
Vulnaria's drifter. She wore them skirts like a mulch mart garden sale.
"Oh Johnny Taro," I said. "Whisper me softly like a far catched bari."
Swoon that horn valve whisks the ol' tune
For Samuel Gompers and the ACLU
I keep speaking tensely to that old saloon in Geronimo Bay
But me knees are weak and deavered as the Scottish ales' bale hay and belfry bribes neckties
Or Earl's Barron.
"I ate the last Tombstone bread sale," she cried murkily in my tong fort.
No that's tongue fort in these here high glade ever-claws. These sharp eyed creatures are drifters; vagabond and marmalade arrangement bins...
Kind of like those Baby showers and confetti ordway fares at the 2 pint off sale.
"Hey canasta I know your writer types my mills 'cord for arrow shares.'"
"Ode to mime your hammers. That ace is bandaging my harpoon for ham sandwich lent..."briskly
(Baggage claim 8 will feature negligee of the US Airway collection)
"Scream sharply and you'll get the grunge."
I Play my Lawrence Welksters amid my jugs
A hollow taste of honey for your Cold Stain and Better jetties,
That's my thoughts for Urbane and witticisms.
Oh that tart has your USA chart's stopper:
"I advise four quarts for a healthy shepard's pie; the meal part costs extra. And mind your mittens or I'll snarl atch you."
Please allow for tic-tac recollection fits,
Keep the orange...Save the knavers.
posted by Joseph at 3:34 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, August 29, 2006
patch adams
;andgo8y2://
pitch a tent, for i am parched
lipizahner price phister whent wite as a sheet gost
just this other moment
no not that one...aaa...yes...that one
send the spent rods on through and vote for rod while yer at it
a year long biting spree send shivers down the alaskan pipeline
this time they fixed it up for good
like real window dressing
i'm farm hilliar with family portions so maybe take this back to the kitchen?
i like more like penultimate mealtime so i waver on the subject of 'fearing the reaper'
at least i failed the taste test and that's hard to do
considering there's only 4 choices and one was a moist paper towel
this is turning out to be more of a commentary on llamas and spelling bees
i found kieth jarret carrots crunched rather sweetly in my beak
for that i was given the blue ribon in lisbon
but they awarded me an apocraphyl fillet in proxy, of course
this time of year i'm vacationing in the spa just west of georgia
i like the grits, maam
i like them grits you've been servin
keep em comin
posted by bryce beverlin II at 8:20 PM 0 comments
Saturday, August 26, 2006
an Illustrated book about birds
"Any card-carrying members of the Sasquatch party?"
"nay?"
tazers and lockjaw,
simpering coleslaw,
the planet of grain and salt,
pass the gasket,
chaff.
Tsk, tsk madam. I was cold-blooded in the summer.
Air straight to star-charted gardens.
posted by Greyscalp at 11:29 AM 0 comments
Thursday, August 24, 2006
fetus in fetu
;landgo8y2://
it's a breeze to eat fetu, said my younger corn fed brother
it's quite a simple oration that we set out and on upon
here lies another fable
for farm long lunge
just make another lund in it
and imitate a sight of chip clips
you know the bad ass aligator type
he wrung out the towel too quickly
posted by bryce beverlin II at 3:04 PM 0 comments
Sunday, August 20, 2006
Swanson transfers a car title
Also known as plector
The midways are abound for curtsy's mussel.
Fill the form.
Fill the form.
-------------------------------
posted by Joseph at 3:15 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, August 15, 2006
tripple trikes
;laskndgo8y2://
"spot a new spatten, lost in the spatula"
a new play by porter goss
the review went something like this:
count yes. backula no. bad puppy lurking
but lovely and googly simultaneously
this time o year we're gone doin frog processin
so don't sass me, billy
just slide the evelopes under the door
and we'll keep real quietlike
ficus styleXIX
posted by bryce beverlin II at 1:59 PM 0 comments
Monday, July 03, 2006
The last chaste goose...finder's fee?
In the name of the great patte
I sealed the deal and mealy mouthed my way to the cabin of juices,
on the hill of mange.
The story begins with three sharks and zinfindel,
the loss of the baritone's fidelity,
and the sauciness of the pastor's beard.
gather the fire and rounds of UZI meat
white wine floats on the surface of a birch tree,
swimming hazily in the brazen cove.
The last planet I visited had a McBurger waiting for me in the shadows:
an unlikely ambush? or a sexy surprise?
Busy are the hours.
Quests and journeys, learning your friend not to ever cross your path
dredge hooks and pale-faced traceries
it was a whizz-bang of a snafu.
posted by Greyscalp at 2:21 AM 0 comments
Wednesday, June 21, 2006
can't cast the last stone: to the past and beyond yonder
The light phased out in blips and drips sapping the energy
the universe drowned in a silent moment
papacies of eternity were born and reborn
a gentle hum to accompany an aeon.
The buzz was sucked up by the rugdoctor
tore a ligament or two in the big rip
sipped from the big cup of a small life
tap-danced to latent dreams
the sheafs and wreaths laid out
stories were placed in the church donation basket
lives to follow lives
deaths to follow all.
Meth in the lab.
My dreams are sunny, yellow, dry,
faded, awake, fresh and confusing.
Without a memory, every moment is like a reincarnation.
The transient avatar.
posted by Greyscalp at 11:54 PM 0 comments
Tuesday, June 20, 2006
another day without why notes
a passerby missed some fashion
i mashed up some legion and continued the grazing
there were plenty of herders gathering silk on the wormish road to govedon
this time we were ready and had wool unfurled from optical levers
[soon the sun would be out and the flies could not eat]
i warmed myself near a coldstone and revealed another layer of martyrdom
this was in fact a new way of expression
this was in theory a waste of aloofness
this was in mind another cave to repair
that was uncalled for, they unisonized
tutti at the train station decided the union was in everyone's best interest
so investment was made on outer garments and sweat poured in like liquid living
luckily the flatmate was ok with my constant abrazing of letters addressed to 'uncle coronado'
frankly, i don't care she said
i demanded the deed to my dream back
she obliged and then conceeded
we all had a good laugh
posted by bryce beverlin II at 12:19 PM 0 comments
Monday, June 12, 2006
Thoughts and things I hope I misheard correctly
Airport:
Release the Russians
Final boarding call for Husky and Wilcox
Railway reservation counter:
Little red-haired man
I'm waiting in line to book my ticket to Bangalore, it's hot and taking forever. There's a little reddish-orange haired man (people here colour their hair with henna to cover up grey hair) up in the front of the line. I fixate...
he stands up there,
My only reference point for motion in the queue,
the little red-haired man.
He stands, doesn't budge (why won't you move, little red-haired man?)
Slowlycrawls forward, shocking orange flashing mockingly in my eyes,
Little, red-haired, man.
He reaches the counter, head bobs up and down, questioning questing tasting testing.
I knew that my salvation lay in his finishing his job.
Only then would this line quench itself.
He finally finishes. I lose sight of him for a moment, the little red-haired man, when people lose their patience at an oldish woman who insists on cutting the line.
I find him again.
He leaves, comes back, leaves.
I hate him, I respect him,
the little...tiny, little...red-haired man.
posted by Greyscalp at 12:31 AM 0 comments
Friday, June 09, 2006
crab tree spinning rims...spend them splendid
pasty clines moreover a pulmonary sleuth
let's get a tattoo on the island of aorta
bring all inner organs to bale
he will tell new stories to children on bent knee and gentrified past time parapets
this paste is a bit old
7 colds sealed the deal and made new oolong
tea that is, texas style
i'd like to while out a bit
she said
he didn't
i did
oh. yes. make a compound frature in that loaf
i'll bring the severed wine list
mist with prismatics
mel
posted by bryce beverlin II at 11:48 AM 0 comments
Tuesday, May 30, 2006
paven hedge
.adg982://
clogs are a long way back like two blips on free radar screens
i turned to eulogy for inspired freedom while fake pancakes rocket my curls to lawn chair syndrome
i think it was backed by another precipice
try to get me in they waivered
i waved them through
pull on it slowly
doc said
make a new one then
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