Whining want weeps
Its winning way
From fool tool TV
Via too much tit
And botoxed brain
Showing shallow twits
In xeroxed pain
Damn little give
Whole lotta take
Turning from sun
To burning lake
I'm for falling
Falling down
Falling through air
Calling cloud
Free from err
Free from want
From wanting more
Free of lust
Of money whore
Free to trust
The ever more
They
Wing word round
In classic clown
Till dry discourse
Rues rule
Courts gesture
Recourse
Of course
Lambs lame lions
And liars lie down
In one main line
Of fool
We're born in blood, raised in flesh
In this Ragnarok n roll Armageddon
So let's go let's go let's go go Sell American
For the red, white, black and blue
Schrodinger's cat is dead, perhaps
And we but lie, lie dreaming
This tit for tat means this this ain't that
No matter what the ragweeds weaving
My Little Bo Peep's down eating her sheep
With Darwin doubtless her handle
Your Little Boy Blue's sniffing glue
While cooking his spoon over candle
So drink a drink for all that hasn't happened
Bleed in need for the all that never will
3 cheers for the crippled, the misbegotten
All hail politicians fingers in the till
Slant the shade
Dim the blight
Dampen shame
Skim the light
Play the game
Place your blame
It's best to screw
Your partner right
No need to kiss
Or cuddle coo
Ain't making love
We gonna screw
Screw the good
Screw the weak
Screw the hood
Screw the meek
No good guy here
No humble geek
I do you ill
You touch my cheek
No turn of head
For second blow
I knee you now
I lay you low
I lay your life
I lay your wife
I lay your dog
I go hole hog
Don't mess with me
For don't you see
It's how I'm made
I don't work right
This step aside
For weaker scum
It ain't my stride
I'm different drum
I'm psycho cur
I'm whiskey fun
It don't occur
I'm making some
I do my do
I deal my deal
You slow my pace
Ain't no appeal
No human race
Can help you heal
For once I done
I be done deal
So no more nice
Call me ice
Pick to the heart
The darkest part
Your nipple
Though we've yet to meet
Must surely seek to touch
My tongue's erectile tissue
Which seeks south to nether musk
Past inward looking navel
Which wise in eastern ways
When rocked in western rhythm
Knows what in maya may
Be only sleek illusion
Wonders reaped and sown
In peaks before the valley
Down treasure's traveled road
Where promise wraps forgiven
Its penis premised trap
Where truth in life is hidden
And minor deaths enact
Their furtive nightly burden
When joy it should be danced
And future fear forgiven
Like past purveyed by chance
Your eyes so solemn watching
Your lips promised pursuit
Your soul silent searching
Your heart no kindness fused
To form for wanting giving
To life its lift and shine
My love it spurts in wanting
Your flesh your spirit wine
Within your skin whenever
Blessings cross my brow
Profane in sacred wanting
Pure light enough for now
But o o unknown nipple
O mind of supple bliss
O soul unsullied, simple
On me bestow your kiss
As Eye and I went walking
And Eye and I were talking
Eye on I was watching
So shake your booty Buddha boy
Won't you spare a paradigm?
For me wanna marijuana
And me wanna do the dog
Bow the wow to shady lady
Leap and lap her fire log
Oh let me be your poodle boy
All aboard the Cardboard Express
Fresh in fresh sin and absolution
You can keep your Hallelujahs
Let me have my Loch Ness Jesus
Nam myoho renge kyo
Oh yes
It's all tits and toothpaste
A test tease totality
In textbook time
But I am not bothered by grace
Why watch the dead rework the living
Embalm our worst in overtime
Famous faces in golden places
Never look to me
To see Zen flesh-less-ness to be
Serpent servant sorrows sire
Brags big broths in briny bowls
But aftermath of meat belief
Is math to meat retreat
So Eye and I still walking
Though Eye and I not talking
But Eye on I am watching
So do your duty Buddha buddy
Cue this cat to paradigm
I'm an oven cleaner baby
Come to scrub your grill
Yes this oven cleaning man
Mean to steam your grill
Get the heat back baby
Flame 'n fire the thrill
I'll rub your rust off lady
Get your grid to shine
Rid this mood of maybe baby
Lady let me lick your lime
Make much meat that might be
Moistened by munching lightly
Juicy, prime
Gonna grease your grill
Put the heat back baby
Then send you the bill
Moroi, Moroi
We meet where
The cuckoo does not sing
The dog does not bark
The sacred yew my flesh
The warming gone
Though hidden behind
Paths in the park
I in my city
Am amphetamine hot
And see
Clean Grecian face
In crumpled wrap
Of excrement
On flesh
None descending the stair
Dare call patrons
Matrons of questionable ease
Strip tease
Sand not withstanding
For each beach is the same
Same lame game
Where neither retribution
Nor love of institution
Dare descend dissembled daze
In this garbage of Eden
Bring back the snake
USA Today
Meat bags bound by fog and fury
Fear silence
Little horrors of swarming selves
God's flesh
But fallen water across the log
In service so sweaty warmth
Begotten in flesh and feast
Double cause
Crowing cock cracking dawn
Let doubt die
Mangled thread, legal mixture
Here be dragons
Slave state seared by vision
Degrees of silence
Past Lies and Poverty
Old wonders shrink, grow tame in time
The new fear hangs on
In quiet desperation, quit of desire
Like the shadow of a crowded
Culture in which each
Declare their innocence
In straight unfocused silence
It is there
The smell of unwashed
Dishes smug in the stench of our
Unclean shame
Like a salesman's underbreath
Fishy, stale
The deep teal, the tiled resonance
Of hungers on top of hungers
The Grasshopper's Tale
My life's dog food for do gooders
Hot dodgers dogging God's zone
Fur sure of itself
Per path and position
Point portion pursued
We who rise in heat from dream
Lick recollection loose
From cold fire's template
Futility's fog
We bleed in abandon
Dance dawn's dapple light
Fertile Lies
Small particles of truth lace love's lies
Peeping one-eyed cat's seafood stores
Mount used two love carnivore rides
Cast past sated loss
Self to self slip service schemes for the day
Emasculation Mama stiff with semen
Screams dreams porta piss shit machines
Message me to mine
Bile regenerative truth du jour:
loving spoonful's
pearl jam
nirvana
to my hole
It aint age.
It ain't sex.
It ain't race, religion, height,
gender, color, class or learning.
It's path, progress and position.
The road not not taken.
Be here now.
Hear now
o eyes unseeing
o ears unearned.
We're all perfect potential
cept maybe republicans, lawyers,
the true organized crime called police
the true whores called priests.
You can walk on water IF water wants.
Just ask.
Walk willing.
There ain't no dark night's ungentle light.
Ain't nothing outside but lies.
But even lie true ain't for you.
Walk within.
Don't need no god.
No catholic pimp pushing blood feast.
My lie's mine.
Walk my own walk.
Fuck the talk.
Grasshoppers gone wrong become ants.
Bad ants cry uncle, cry wolf, cry baby.
Goats goad sacrifice to sun.
Ritual requires repetition, release.
Nothing stays river's run
but drought's dry dirt
(and river still runs).
Rub your ears together.
Start a fire.
Flesh alarm.
Let gone go.
Lock lip.
3.27.2005
W. Logan Fry (Director of The Digital Museum of Modern Art) is including 3 songs by Peter Ball and me in an internet exhibition - and wondered how I met Peter.
Logan's putting on the web: Yeast, Nipple F/X, & Teddy Bear.
They can be heard online at D.M.O.M.A. Smith exhibition
Pete Meet
I met Peter in the Warfarin mines beneath the warehouse district in 1982.
I was serving time for bad taste. Peter was the entertainment director. He needed a monkey to front a tin whistle band, and I applied - to no avail.
Peter's been urging me to record for 20 years. In January 2004, in my 2nd year of no employment benefits, I gave it a try - to my great dismay. Took 6 months for me to loosen up enough to start making a serious fool of myself, which is when the fun began.
I write the words. Take them to Peter, whose place is floor to ceiling keyboards, theremins, synthesizers, microphones - all run thru his computer for recording. He starts playing music, not knowing what I'm going to say, and I start saying, not knowing what he's going to play. When done, he burns me a cd of the day's jam.
For one time thru unrehearsed impromptu jams, we do okay.
Side benefits - my public poetry reading style has improved from boring to enthusiastic, and I've written
10 times more poems than before to feed the music machine.
