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AGE: 19
LOC: United States
GEN: Male
LAST LOGIN: May 16

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Poetry / Moon, A
Version 1
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Moon, A (sic) Moon modulo an egg unwrapping mirrorside vermigrade genesis of mug, iconic. A radio ab ovo ab urb condita to disabasia. Lives in one Rome, called there “urbane.” This,—ago. Lex Naturalis cf. anti-mereia (or, = Anthropos Metron) yet abience (as is ‘yet’) is fluency; is ‘suicide’; abreuvoir in agon of acrolith. “Ultimate Powers”— plutomania-ism in pitch to topple the bust as slag of some self before oneself, wanting wealth, abaxial, “toward” authentic Novi Homines and penalize the...
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Poetry / Hi, Modernism
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Hi, Modernism (more A’s) now’s adust alas as none’s leather-armed travail can beat the final acrasy of our order racially-banded the styles today the new confederates tomorrow who will genuflect and hoist lax aubades onto fifty Roman skylines aliquant yet aliquot[e] no natural combat but misery from the rummaged-in brainscoria to a cinder purchase-petitioned as purpose-positioned uhhh (no utraquism, please…) a billot a ticket of for-want-of trans libido sans trans lipids t-shirt agrarian “far...
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Raccoon vs. Real Estate we be apathein an’ shit, man On the banks of the flood, the quotidian dead as slag on the bruised, powdered hips of an artless nation of apartments swallowing dear-sweet Uncles of medicinal timing and taxes. A Full House drowns to a notion the agonized yawp of first life in justice that is fuller than life.— “Side-effects may include Roadkill.” The purposeful affliction to sustain the tracks of systems of mass sustenance, with its then useless spent bodies trash of the...
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American Grotesque 2 Mk. 2 The Detroit canvas of flowers on two-ply toilet paper rolls, channeling the adroit pistol-whip slaying of weak-ass Niggas —as we’re all gonna get murked anyway— if not by idol-fucked bi-mimesis then by dah Jahmon’s newspaper personals to commedias of vindictive plays in 80+ acts, painted within in non-made é-mail, hiving etymology as entomology, swiveling the commodes of the commodore brain a wav[er]ing map, to too-morrow[‘]s difference. As the sense of sensibility...
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Poetry / Theatre Moon
Version 3
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Theatre Moon I. Zōidion Here at the equinoxes life is signified, a radio prime rotating as pulsar moments ecliptic, vernal then as the fossil shows, republic knows ecstasy. In record, opposed by the same kept spirit of the year, thrown in this pinhole to identify compounded of the zodiac. Metempsychosis, clinically, day system, gross transmission in agents of detail, comprising an ongoing relativistic equation. II. Metempsūkhos Abortion, semblance tolling in the storms of cribs, eaten, when t...
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cosmic animal lust ruined by social constriction? aren't you a little too old for this sort of thing? though really, the poem brings no compositional want, and communicates well, and is engaging in its relaying of what the poetess' (or, hey, poet's)experiences where like to well, err, experience.... gut gemacht!
Protest! i think the biggest sickness pervading america is a deep, thorough limpness, or lack of conviction--i do not mean apathy, but rather we do not care about the "things we care about" with the same desperateness, gravity, or vividness as people of past times did, in practice. we are no longer willing to travel that last necessary mile to take our needs, some of them even vital, to the place where they cannot be ignored, subverted or worked around. this is an indictment not only of ameri...
Poetry / Is Vain
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Poetry / The Poet
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Poetry / Paint[s]ed(ing)
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