25 January 2006
these dirt words written like burnt static
this feline closure of secretion; a rhythmic stirring. NOW OPEN!
a creaking mention of all the corporate smirks and stations. FRESH!
she's tackling the real meanings of language. SALE!
a feral sound; the splash of bipolar recognition. SALE ON NOW!
here your fabled triple bottom lines weeping into the viability of sex.
recorded in plasma screen units - of excreta. PAY NOTHING FOR SIX MONTHS!
they said in unison:
jesus was never a backdoor liability;
a free-radical solution.
an elementary ablution;
a diametric sedition.
yet here a pool of battered cloth at my feet;
a question on his lips
an answer at my loins;
a new door to contemplate
Posted by antipoet at Wednesday, January 25, 2006
10 January 2006
and i'm walk'n the fine line
yeah hav'n a rough time
between reality and distance
from duality of existence
i'm a corporate capital psycho-swiller
a fair dinkum plasticine shoot-em-up driller
a hardkore censored cereal killer
this cripplin flick
and drivetime fortitude
a gastronomical phallacy
are ya fed up and pantied like graffiti
without me, or are ya with me, with me, with me
in this a hydro electric chicken farm
and we beef up for the biosphere
eatin biscuits of lard coz the skin is too hard
too fast; too strong; too fancy; too like like that
in ragged stripped packets of cloth
in handfulls of jagged stocks
oh yeah baby baby
in the ether of climate change hellfire
i'm twisted like the colonic dripper
like a magna-style peak oil tripper
and that boris,
is a toon thats like oh so ripper
and warney does the flipper on a clandestine clipper
a personal mentor and a mobile resistance to the global economy
there they go
makin fun o me
and spit bits of woodchips
on each others'
crack in the fabric grips
weep fists in this chiselled strain
a genuine statistical
of a dead life
Posted by antipoet at Tuesday, January 10, 2006