Mint Cadillac Chip

The mint Caddy daddy bought stock

Chip off a cracked block

And a busted distributor cap

A seizure in the piston gap

Not bored true enough for you

Overheard words of the absurd

Carbon fiber fly wheel comes standard

Spin up to warp speed in a hiccup

All day long I called for defense

Score from midfield no touchbacks

Broke tackles to safety in the end zone

Andretti Lorenzo Bugatti Enzo end so

Qualquier comenzó a trend so

Easily discarded as the car did the horse

And the entertainment professionals

As it were, usurped the honest whores

Sephora trades with drawn swords

Blame everything else but yours

And the dynasty comes crashing down

But the literal dynasty is still all around

It’s everywhere that gathers power

Potential resources for unspecified uses

Slush funds of ungodly sums

When you choke it comes

When they leave you die

A cross point arrow head pulled out

Of your mouth hole alien face hug

Infected with space bugs

Scurvy of touch in a little jewel frog

Skinny legs and sharp claws

The devil rests his case and calls

Into the abysmal ball pit from the

long range missile pulpit

Everyone else with locked jaws

Cocktails in the cockpit

Of a jumbo jet load of bullshit

Fire off unofficial spokesman with torch lit

Run down at the corner of Main Street

See unfit for leadership types

With ancient gripes

The whole cloth tyrants

The bloody sleepless nights

Killing for convenience is alright

Protect interests in another state

Stop when it’s too late to fix it just nix it

Mix it in with the fakeness

of cry bully wakeness

Woke is broke and blameless

Innocence is shameless

Nameless here for evermore

Call it healthcare call it murder

Either way you earn the future

The dystopian hysterical culture

Is a suture slipping out of the great wound

Infected by cannibal mothers

Monsters, high priests of the Others

A fake wife to make life equal to nothing

Crown princes of lies and we suffer

Until the end of our time

50 minutes an hour for trust

Half that for lunch

The gears grind on through the rust

Years hang on like crust

On the mantle of tectonic upthrust

Sinkholes swallow villages whole

Dead dunes blow over our homes

The sands of paradise cove

Billions of sea creatures strove

Pressed up between the toes

So remember how everything goes


Impressionist dialog

The infinite universe is apprehended through the compression algorithm derived by multiplexing peripheral input of limited array of spectrophotometers, mass spectrometers, pressure plates and gyroscopes, honey whether you do or you don’t believe, we can at least agree, something mysterious in each one of us, something dangerous and petty, violent if necessary, perverted and unsanitary, vestigial and involuntary, pentangular plenipotentiary to enemy territory, the immortal and the way of the monastery beckoning back to the caves and trees, in the dark ages, the shaded places of history whereby many peaceful graces worked the land with fellow hand and hand far from the walled and wicked cities, filth and grime in every crevice, paved with misery, lapping up luxuries but dumpster dive for decency, disposable identities, life-size cardboard intimacy, in a grand sort of Ad hominem fallacy, prithee praytell what in the living hell is the moral of this droll and dilatory postmodern tribalist twenty-four hour newsrecycling convenience story, a cultural no-go zone of sedimentary slaves in existential promontory?

Inflammatory Questions

Is it that Braindead suggests politics are a pathology? And how does an adorkable waitress use Tide Pods to tidy up her cluttered, empty life? Is the lie the only way to tell the truth? Can only song say what the heart thinks? Do you just need a man to fumigate your brain, or as comic relief or a tool to grip? Some parasitic ideas are you sick? What’s eating your brain today, and why can’t you just say it? Who can we get to fix all this? Who says success is anything but what you think it is for you? And what the fuck do you know anyway?

Why are children making eyes at one another when they’re making glittery balls of foam to represent the solar system? Are kids with iPhones, programming android apps at school, really going to be taught by a grown adult who thinks it worth the precious youth they can’t get back again?

Have you ever been told you that you’re fuckable? Oh but what was the context? Have you been subjected to the force of the stranger, the other, the alter ego, the doppelgänger, the drifter, the shape shifter, sidestepper, blindsider, backbiter, mad-faced doubletalker? Have you played the part in some off broadway production? Oh haven’t you gone off on someone?

The thing is, if you ask what’s on my mind, why you don’t you take the time to listen? That’s not your mission, huh? You’re here for some grander purpose? Somehow in the blizzard of suffering we’re all weathering, do you think you don’t deserve it? And what if you do deserve? So what? Well if life doesn’t matter now, will it ever? Did life ever matter? Or is life the water being pushed by the wind? What is the wind, the invisible force which moves us, the pneumatic thrust? Is truth incendiary now? Is there justice now, if our mode of justice serves to rust us, corrode our trust? Which lives matter?

Can you ethically support murder? Does it feel better to justify a murder, or to murder someone else for committing the murder and call it justice? Why are some beatings assault and some fantasies rape? When you were a kid and you got tagged, did you say it doesn’t count?  Do your tinted shades and tinted windows shade the world from your brilliance or you from their ignorance? Is death the penalty for disobedience, or the worthiest opponent to the futile charge of being alive? Do you order your brothers and sisters over the throw pillow trenches to soak up the couch fort’s machine-gun fire? Can you lose all the battles but still win the war? Is a mob more moral than man alone?

The sacrifice you made; was it enough? Did it glorify god? Who was pleased by your deeds? If you glorify and give pleasure to yourself, do you sit upon your own throne? Do you climb upon your own cross? Do you give so others gain? Do you move amongst the masses, setting their tongues to flickering flames of ancient names? Who do you inspire by setting a tree on fire?

Mega Low Down Megalodon

Older than most dirt you see

I’m here to eat you

Make your arm

Into a soup

Hack at your roots

No telling what I’ll do

Or when I come for you

Great white devil 

Your worst fears come true

Defenses I get through

Think you’re safe when you wake

But I’m right behind you


But why listen to me

I’m just someone who’s ruined it all

From day one

Just learn how to speak

Make melodies jangling keys

Open opportunity

Put in your time 

keep your head down

Get into the game

Capitalize on your youth while you can

Or remain in the dust

From whence you came


You’re dark she said too dark for me

But it’s darkest when it’s deep

Life is teeming at the vents

Toxicity for you maybe

But it’s home to me

I thrive on suffering

I dive in willingly

It surrounds me

That’s when I stop noticing

Try it

You’ll see

What I mean



I like how text messages are the new correspondence of lovers and pen pals and parents and littles. It’s sweet: these tiny letters, pixels even, and we touch one another, sometimes in a very special place, while we are trying to work and suddenly go aflutter with memories and fantasies and little sounds and scents and flavors rich and subtle swells of anticipation, legs unraveled in solution, combining protein chains in coming to conclusion.