I am alliterate

I can't read or write
without poetic devices
luckily, limerick is a catch-all

A cow's currency
is cud. Chewy Chips Ahoy.
Get off of me, cow.

Hi, Ku, whats your last name?
And don't say Blaikhan.
Just tell the truth

Its easier to be modestly honest
than honestly modest. For instance,
"My wife is a model."

While true, it's not the whole story,
nor is it particularly modest.
Nor honest. She's actually a stripper.

But we can't all lead modest lives
with models for wives.
I strive for modesty.

I yearn for it - I would kill for it
I would do great and terrible things,
and only talk about the terrible ones.

Cold Ground

Cold ground.
Unmoving;
impossible.

Curving up into the
(but never quite reaching)
middle.

Squat asparagus sprout
of seed emerging;

the sun rides up the middle
like a little legged scorpion

everybody’s fingers a-waggling
saying “I’m not a teacher,
I’m a winner!”

schoolyard thirsts
portrayed by violent hand gestures
and boys running about rudely
through the bilge and gloom
that made up much of their daily lives.

Violets sprouting in every manner
of feeling; of tenderness;

frozen stream upends it all
coy camouflage of the bitter cold
heart (within you)

a stream of bumpers and chewed up papers looks like
Scattegories done at midnight by idiots or
rambling about ideas you wanted to remember
or the health care crisis or
the account billable digits…

no fear.
only internal
failure or a release valve
or something akin to a nightmare.

I like this place. the leaves smell
like pirates blessing their swords.

the knaves seem like
pointless people; they don’t
aim at anything but merely
points their guns.

here, there.
there, here.
& so on.

Psychic Cattle

Psychic hobknob or
weirdo crypt / door
cattle know the future
& tend to the poor.

Written by a gay entomologist

Girls at the bar tonight
each one like a little woman
mmm, a little hummin
sick lil bod there, [digits please
command sent tiger where did
everybody go? slow sense of not
imbibing listen to the sound of
grow up or somebody'll kill ya probly
the gangsta tech talk and all that
stuff.]

Each a-hummin'
like oooh that's right Hymenoptera
skin-wing family of the ants
and bees & wasps

I'm so into
ento-
mology.

Little Johnny

Join my cause
said the Panda
locked in a trumpet box
little Johnny stole from
the pet store.

Later the vanilla
spilled all over the car. It was
hard to clean. Momma had a fit.

Goddam nilla
gettin all over da place
she said, sweating like a
Lycra-covered tiger
in an oven
pulled over coals
on a firey rickshaw.

Oh yeah, Firey Rickshaw,
said the man,
That's my name,
and I'll have a Budweiser.

The Mercer Kingpin

Dave “Mercy” Elliot: A real kingpin in the healthcare game, hailing from Mercer, Ind. ("God's home").

Fittingly Dave had no mercy for anybody except himself and knew next to nothing about health care. However since he was “next to” nothing, and not occupying the same space as nothing, he determined (“somewhat logically”) that he didn’t know “nothing,” and therefore might as well know everything.

“Way I look at it is, hell, John,” he said, gesticulating toward the congressmen, “I been around, seen a lot of people in this here country, and I know a thing or two about brass tax. (Roars of laughter from the Brass Conglomerate crowd)

"Point is, we need everybody on the same page, everybody to pull together. Let's fuck up this bill! Down with universal health care!"

All the scarecrows cheered and Republican whip John D. Sternum stood and clapped and even cried a single tear.

The Fish We Never Met

The point is boogaloo
the electric night fish
donning his nightvision googles
(sponsored by NyQuil)
sees the robots in the forest
approaching, thus evading
contact.

Assured, it's Incorporeal

I ate a turnip in Europe
and I turned up in Asia
your Asia is my Europe
Eurasia is both.

Words, playing
with cord, or quarters
lonely corridors, books
bound by Borders

Hoarders, collectors,
swords of spectres,
bored inspectors
reading dirty looks

In a library I sip coffee
its against the rules.
When did it become noble
to drink in barns?

When did I become hopeful
I could spin yarns?
I'm not weathered, or grisled.
I can't knit or sew

So what's the point?

Alpha Kats

That evening we were a wolfpack,
unmistakably. There was a time when ladies went
gaga in the rubbed-his-shaft-at-the-bar-over his-levi's
way, that tickle-me-elmo perpetuity.

We had made a color spectrum (whatever was left
of 'em) or had spectrovision; let's just say the light
sprinkled our faces like cloud glaze, in a wow way,
yes we were irrigated like hydroponics. Crankshaft...

Hookd on kronic werks fer me. So we're in this scene
together: the bar and just hours to go. Someone beautiful
is calling baby. Impossible germany, eventually geometry
is a turnip call to the still bulbs, turn up, turn up, you're up.

Orange you glad I didn't say Boogaloo?

Its a nightmare don't fight it
MLK had a dream, so can you
mind your wandering through
the house, there's stairs.

Falling like Phoenix
dreaming is believing
seeing is relieving
it means you aren't blind

But does not preclude you
from still being asleep.
God, what a nightmare.
Could this get any worse?

Hint: never ask that.
"At least I'm not naked in class-
Oh wait, yes I am. Fuck"
Brain: this is not believable enough

Switch to a daily social interaction
much like the one you had today
with the nice girl you knew in high school,
though you haven't seen her since.

So how's she doing? Well, but not as well
as the guy standing next to her
He's wearing a cape.
You start to get scared.

Time To Show Up

We're going down in her grandma's black
cadillac, everytime we become branches.
We are becoming dangerous already

like a rhino, not easily offended.
We were the lost crayfish, the fruit
of dark magic earth in our gills.

The youth on drugs. Deeper and deeper
partners, it smells like opportunity, in the pelican,
pale stork of the moment. Our only major fail

that trip was when we went to the pharmacy.
She answered someone's personal ad with gepetto's
oath: wood is bondz. Tasty smoketreats, delicious anniversaries.

Band Names Part 37

Black Flak and the Nightmare Fighters
The Yeah Rights
Orange Boogaloo
Electric Liquorfish
Falconboy Ponderous
Ships Made For Sails
Born to Hike
The Oh Yeah Tights
Daddy Shortcakes
Los Monos
The Great Threats
The Baskets
The Stormy Knights

Vessel

I let the cord out on my boat too far.
Dragonflies were live; this was once a planet
in the making. We grew up really fucking

fast. Pretty girls look back, wear their hand
on their head, this is now. Distance is always
something you can see. I wish this was graphite.

Bad Ciphers

I wore chocolate slippers to the dinner party. Everyone kept trying to eat my clothes!

Choco-dipper
calico cats = girls
boys r supah
Erasmus

Paying For Attention (Pt 1)

That amphetamine scourge
of my first job – Adderall
(spelled “A-D-D – Er, All…”)
returned last week
in the form of five
20-milligram pills, and only one-half
tablet is left;

I took the rest.
& I may now finish the task.

Well, what do you have to say for yourself?
Nothing.

That empty, astonished, brilliant
comb of the old years – instant brain prep;
irradiant mental focus – has been exposed
for what it was: a distraction

robbing the mind of some fuel
to go on.

(Isn’t it a joy,
a tilting, lilting, scarified horror
to know that I don’t need this stuff?
Yes.)

Brain pumped in so many directions
by innumerable medicines
of infant craze.

(And my father's animus says:
Study the books you care to. Study the people
you barely know & surely grow
into what you’ve become
never knowing
you got there on your own. You made this bed
and the other things just got in the way. You
consulted the mess instead of the messiness;
consulted the cabinet instead of the shoe closet
wherein you’ll find some soles to strap on
to be out & about, where you belong.)

Toffee vs. Taffy

strippers can be rappers
snickers candy wrappers
yeah it happens, who are you
anyway, Captain Caramel?

Charmed, I'm sure.
Are you? Cause you don't seem sure.
You're sure you're charmed?
Yes, I'm sure.

Then, Esquire, we are ready to do battle.

Capt. Caramel:
I don't need rap and I don't need you
I hate third grade and I hate all of you
my rhymes are fantastic too
as is my motherfucking flow dawg
my flow dawg

I am so hot,
I'm like the planet Sun
Barely break a sweat
before I bust another one

Esquire (interjects, microphone in hand):
Well I loved third grade and I love all of you
I loved it so much I took it times two
eating on tables, multiplication on the side
catch my drift bitch this is how I ride

1 times 1 times 1 is 1 boo
bitch fuck the sun - too hot
to plan it, I'm orbiting the Earth
with a bitch named Janet

Capt. Caramel:
Yo, yo yo yo
She drops it like it's hotter
than a polaroid picture
hotter than a bagel, cousin
straight out the toaster oven

I seriously struggle sometimes
in front of crowds
the audience is loud.
and I lose my flow, dawg
my fucking flow dawg.

Esquire:
That shit was wack
everybody knows it
Call me devil's advocate
cause I oppose it

I'm the judge, you're the jury
the Shake and the Mcflurry
everybody hurry - I bring them to the yard
and then I drink your milkshake
I drink it up

I think this up
I flow like a fountain
like an avalanche,
my mountain is steep
I stopped countin sheep
when I was five - now I just sleep

At This Hour

The last hornet nest on the moon
was very quiet, all considered. Usually
the hive was a-bustle at this hour. 

Etymology: Air Guitar

Here's your etymology lesson for the day: air guitar.

(A Verb)

1. intr. To mime the action of playing a guitar, esp. to a recording or performance of rock music.

This now epic verb was first coined in the now infamous 1983 tome "Complete Air Guitar Handbook," by the trusty J. MCKENNA & M. MOFFITT. You might be surprised to learn that Neil Young, of all people, is the first human being to have been recorded air-riffing (at least according to the Oxford English Dictionary).

2. trans. To mime the action of playing (music) on a guitar.

The OED actually cites an episode of Sopranos: 1999 J. CAHILL Guy walks into Psychiatrist's Office in Sopranos (television shooting script). "He drums the wheel, air-guitars the heavy riffs"

DERIVATIVES
As McKenna and Moffit wrote in 1983, "We feel the only pants to wear for heavy-duty air guitaring are jeans." No doubt.