Wednesday, March 4, 2009
Tuesday, January 13, 2009
Dying Near A Beach After Eating Chips & Psilocybin
and he
and the
the water
of the
was a
and his
he had
a waiter
above the
the fire
the beach
in the
-i got
him and
it was
on the
you like
he would
his friends
from the
there were
and it
and there
there was
a small
that he
like a
into the
he was
who was
the shrooms
the surface
he ran
if he
for a
toward him
the small
but he
with a
to be
and then
the river
and a
inside him
the other
water and
or whatever
that book
warner’s head
and in
they were
and as
to the
splintering noise
on potato
and to
the photo
or some
here and
he could
some shrooms
as a
and if
as though
be the
some shit
did you
as he
got tostitos
at a
potato chips
he looked
you want
toward the
against the
in and
on a
salsa on
and the
the water
of the
was a
and his
he had
a waiter
above the
the fire
the beach
in the
-i got
him and
it was
on the
you like
he would
his friends
from the
there were
and it
and there
there was
a small
that he
like a
into the
he was
who was
the shrooms
the surface
he ran
if he
for a
toward him
the small
but he
with a
to be
and then
the river
and a
inside him
the other
water and
or whatever
that book
warner’s head
and in
they were
and as
to the
splintering noise
on potato
and to
the photo
or some
here and
he could
some shrooms
as a
and if
as though
be the
some shit
did you
as he
got tostitos
at a
potato chips
he looked
you want
toward the
against the
in and
on a
salsa on
Saturday, January 10, 2009
Beautiful Lavish Time Pieces Are No Longer Limited To The Rich
The reason why replica watches are so popular is because you can look classy and professional, yet not have to spend tens of thousands of dollars doing it.
These watches look identical to the ones you will find at the jewelry store selling for prices most people would not be able to afford.
There is no reason why these beautiful watches should only be limited to the rich, but to everyone who wants to add a touch of class to their life style.
Monday, December 22, 2008
The Engine of a Moment
Blistering, from a nightmare in which I’d been crying, shaken
I rewoke to find before me the shattered LCD Mirror
Pursuant to this cause, hidden in subaltern subclauses
Was the realization of the recalibration of those things.
And by those things, you understand, I mean
That very thing
I mean Newton’s clunky clearness
I mean the hard weight of commodity
The thing now bought, a pulsing diamond necklace.
I mean the understanding, you see, of a reunion
Of things once separate in the price-tag alb of
An IPhone Ikon
I mean the realization, you know, of differánce as
E pluribell Unum, as the verdant serial codes
Of paper sigils
But strobing larval and syrupy
The mirror flashed the ground pulpy horror
Back into the unconscionable concealments
Of Marx’s masquerading maladjusted.
And, a Medusa cast in anamorphic amber,
The wretched worthleness of wealth
In a moment quick as clear glaciality
Sped into its own gaze
And burned itself with the fire it could not help
But create.
A shivering auto-prometheus.
And yet, death was not total
And ashes, after all,
Do not fall from here
Into the there which
Is yet nothing more
But, with fractal knowledge,
Let the shedding of an iron corset
Free the malleable aether
That beating heart which must kill itself
To expand.
And, I, and with me them all
The John of Revelations
The Buddha
Ginsberg & his Sunflower Sutra
Grant Morrison On Kathmandu
and a staggering John Berryman
Watched ten thousand muted horns
Find Voice.
And we watched Narcissus break free
from his circuitous adulation
And we watched Tantalus and Sisyphus
With hipster jackets and PBRs laugh at
Their misunderstanding of
Their unending striving.
And Icarus, a blonde boy in blue
Reached the sun and wept.
And through that piercing leak
We saw an entire generation
Create within itself
In an eternal unfolding
The very birth of the world.
And we loosened our shirtcuffs
And walked to Icarus
Patted his shoulder
And wept with him
But this LCD mirror,
It was not so generous
(Nor could it be)
As to let us stay here
And like voyagers before they,
On Some perilous journey,
Venture into the sepia
Oceans of those ancient maps
Where Cerulean beasts
Eat any alien intrusion
Into their aquatic eden
We sat in the narcosis
Of camradarie
And ignored the inevitable
Disbanding and dismantling
Of ourselves
And We finished our last glasses of gin
Smoked our last cigarettes
And walked single-file
For our turn to gaze into the mirror
And, one by one, it swallowed us
And flung us back to the somewhere we
Had always been
The same but somehow different.
I rewoke to find before me the shattered LCD Mirror
Pursuant to this cause, hidden in subaltern subclauses
Was the realization of the recalibration of those things.
And by those things, you understand, I mean
That very thing
I mean Newton’s clunky clearness
I mean the hard weight of commodity
The thing now bought, a pulsing diamond necklace.
I mean the understanding, you see, of a reunion
Of things once separate in the price-tag alb of
An IPhone Ikon
I mean the realization, you know, of differánce as
E pluribell Unum, as the verdant serial codes
Of paper sigils
But strobing larval and syrupy
The mirror flashed the ground pulpy horror
Back into the unconscionable concealments
Of Marx’s masquerading maladjusted.
And, a Medusa cast in anamorphic amber,
The wretched worthleness of wealth
In a moment quick as clear glaciality
Sped into its own gaze
And burned itself with the fire it could not help
But create.
A shivering auto-prometheus.
And yet, death was not total
And ashes, after all,
Do not fall from here
Into the there which
Is yet nothing more
But, with fractal knowledge,
Let the shedding of an iron corset
Free the malleable aether
That beating heart which must kill itself
To expand.
And, I, and with me them all
The John of Revelations
The Buddha
Ginsberg & his Sunflower Sutra
Grant Morrison On Kathmandu
and a staggering John Berryman
Watched ten thousand muted horns
Find Voice.
And we watched Narcissus break free
from his circuitous adulation
And we watched Tantalus and Sisyphus
With hipster jackets and PBRs laugh at
Their misunderstanding of
Their unending striving.
And Icarus, a blonde boy in blue
Reached the sun and wept.
And through that piercing leak
We saw an entire generation
Create within itself
In an eternal unfolding
The very birth of the world.
And we loosened our shirtcuffs
And walked to Icarus
Patted his shoulder
And wept with him
But this LCD mirror,
It was not so generous
(Nor could it be)
As to let us stay here
And like voyagers before they,
On Some perilous journey,
Venture into the sepia
Oceans of those ancient maps
Where Cerulean beasts
Eat any alien intrusion
Into their aquatic eden
We sat in the narcosis
Of camradarie
And ignored the inevitable
Disbanding and dismantling
Of ourselves
And We finished our last glasses of gin
Smoked our last cigarettes
And walked single-file
For our turn to gaze into the mirror
And, one by one, it swallowed us
And flung us back to the somewhere we
Had always been
The same but somehow different.
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