[MORE antipoet shit nov/dec02]
1. praise be to the avante guerillas
all note-based orange blocs
c/hoax[k]ing faster scales - in the psuedo-now.
when dissident removal dissolves redundant forms,
them jumbo-sized modes outdate pure black music.
rectified defoliated dislocated and funk-skool dead.
this yesterday was so last year. shoes grow quick logos here.
events like trees rot on factory treadmill hell.
lap-topped in shiny dignity: the fresh breeds nothing more than new ideas.
those rock solid pig-swill defecated our shallow faces
we bled hairy, sanitary logic - incorporated this mind-swell farcity.
we ate plastic shards; predicted burger deaths; spoke in nanosecond bytes.
denied dna foldout cards to love; inspected each others weapons.
get in the ring motherfuckers coz the active is revolting
and the revolting has reacted. repent now.
2. but his holes understand.
gaping, they burned up wounds hard in disko balls
- hanging out faster than candid lard.
growing older by the nanosecond,
you feel crunchin healed skins in studded stairwells.
even likenesses - all naked n plastic. my mannequin avoided scars.
we ate thick brown country acid tiles: penile standards do not scare her.
his commonsense, transformed, shifts here;
kills all positive suburbane agendas:
starting crazy like a poncho - we're all mexican in distress;
our signals break her magic records. we never challenged the walls.
curled fists raised slowly at passing train - from gut to palm.
they carve universes up in buckets, sluts of tendon greed.
line one: nu skool jesus/is not a canvas [shift/delete]
baited firm, we ride,
respect to da boom that mass fondue fillip
these thick tennis faced rambos - all beloved n guilty,
my eyes stole reds from ramadan boozers - desert vulvas in key.
this quirtual battle-scarred robot skool adventures - roundhouse backflips.
them tolstoy cracks: : : more clicks than the avalanchers: geezer kontrol.
then we tote guns like hands; feet-dreams like tampon bargain-bin madness.
sold 100 dollar speedbags meth'ed up bent fast in pervasive brown;
my insert card for jesus - bowling klubbed n tweaked n sk8fuct.
but for this canberra-faced rampart bolted-on n free;
this cannon-ball rent-day farce-backed groove.
we bought the large-serve bucket of revolutive trends:
my own pirated radios n trees; caviar n fucking-schoolboy ranterz.
my tantrik salivation. all spitball n gravel. waiting for sky.
next trax spinifex [sex-games in stride]
tales of the seven woahs; saddle-sore n drippin.
but: tollboth branding goes all pop-giantism: olden side.
but: they write burgers in sand and we get all finland colourbond:
get now thee between rockgods till we breathe, [[s/h]th]e(y) "said".
fine, he said.
corporate letter to a goddess of shopping
here we code-up for the masses - better fill bags to brims;
deny the cold fist of concrete-faces between pacts of neon-shopperz.
HUGE SALE ON
today your office walls crumbled sweet in transient meaning;
secreted well in shop-bodies of yearning - speak red panty volumes.
realises now: desire her huge dedication to the corporation.
them shiny plastic logos wish pleasure to all her arses
- my tongue in her cheek
NEW PRODUCT LINE
in sweat-shop silence s/he waits for the gaps in breezes
but always writes blue popsongs in my lollypop sherbert.
her korporate kiss reaches me fast n frantic suburban beets.
clear smiles wrap faces - eating her succinct pastry; her icing sugar rant.
we imagine each sunny stare; accept her poetic liquid.
i lose sight sometimes of the business; holier-than-thou lawnscapes.
EXTRA DISCONTINUED LINE
i wait here for waves of vanilla essence:
please please hide my souls - say signs scrawled in bricks.
disguise my crushed beach dreams in thick hard stanzas/slogans
my revolution culpable to the pulses across a thousand bytes.
this we must: wrap each corporate kiss in frames of werdbliss;
synchronise watches; snatches in time perhaps golden handshakes.
collect our pains in bags for sometime after these journeys,
there are many years in these lives yet, he says, glints in black suns.
but sometimes he conjures those post-apologetic [car]park scenarios
narratives without blind fear of killing lives yet lived;
civic dreams produce tills. but let me wait in lustful poetik silences.
these are more tender than open-source op-shop software.
one day we must subjugate to the mass bargain frenzy - or lose all hope.
but now each we breathe her sweet forms
like neo-terrorism eats compassions
his stoic wish to breed new tribes in her perfect body,
free from hate n accusation rewarded
we peer in thick-skin veils of broken possiblilty
of beach-fuck fantasies; park-shaped cones;
their secrets unspread like words on her back.
their towels of wish-werds bring sacred showers: hoping for skin;
streets played upon in waterbomb madnesses:
elusive to the real drama - our conflict promises.
let me treat yr souls like holes - if times rewinded thru pauses
let me beat yr tears back in droves - if rendered in later stages
but we can wait; build this forgotten fenceline - this weak closure
these imaginary kisses; one day her/his skin mesh in white heat lust.
all cyclonic machinations heal with us. one day, they said.
dry heat and dragonfly dust remain. miss the mark by states denied
and resource management files lost in time; time; time;
i wish her body in mine as if distance were a novelty
and reality insanity.
diggers resistor pak [deeper shades lost]
he decides these quaint reasonings: wonders forth in her territorial scent;
writes holes-filled metaphoric resistance - press formulaic culture
these monsters seek triple-bypass: meanings in poet rockgod pockets;
fragments let us eat cupcake - stolen crumbs in sheetmetal grey.
because my breath is thick with mango; passionfruit whims and beer vomit,
she collects my vulgar-self on shelf-racket apparatus. my shower addiction.
writes massive lust-buckets - trashed in a thousand fremantle doctors.
these notes: sub/urbane uber-development program liposuction team.
werds: they wish my narratives became primetime slush-funds and frames
in pre-pollution days we incinerated over-supply n plastic melted cold
time breaks critics. friends - seek always more meaning than u know.
we desire explicit closure in our peelin stanzas; more onion-tear
will swallow mouthfuls of cultural forests/fortress of kool sprockets, man.
merge my traffic, sprout wings in swollen circular hands: turn; watch; seek;
soul/flesh: [insert anthropomorphic phrase into crates of glass face/s]
1.march: rendered black moments
we based bloated crack in kandahar. relish in thyme.
reaped bollock-pills in brine - these tryptech holidays.
my mind is a savage grill: all mussels n streetkred.
she bolts my compassive wrenches, licks this swollen shaft.
bent-up ideologues in tremblin baton blues.
my sacred blood engorges: challenging yr hard mouth.
she smiles like drill n bass: wanton fuckscapes.
we wait in code. strong-willed n restless.
i found my stabs in zips n bellowed noise at the pale-faces:
them students of the clone-skool/old-skool socialist manifetsto.
3.six types of november hail
i died three days into their fasting - my selfish nirvanas
lay one each way in the fourth stanza. bails off we
beet my tight skinned n lipped dronish flab - nun-like.
4. current december tracks
they chanted no fucking borders or locks or fences or walls
dissolved all property and lied about the trees
spent hard-earned dole-moneys on pens n busfares
quiet loud frognest bong [ash]
them hard-manga bitches get tighter
stereo-relay system sisters
go all apple-shaped finger-puppet gods.
she never denies big freaks coz that fantasy deline/ates;
conserves french resistance - late than better or never.
friendz get grabs on mainline rogue: deTOXOLOGY reporters said
i cant believe its not elvis - or truncated pools
without hydrogen we lack structure; quality and deREGULATOR switch
off/oncology - streetwest n frayed, she says.
launched our third wave; waited for blood stained freedoms.