last bit, for now

These Great dimpled seizures, up down pass around, registered nurses transforming into cadillacs and drinking 8 to 10 baby harp seals a day.
Hey newf!
Yer house is on fire!

X

The lowly unfondled and not caressed workmen march to the beat of a different drummer (the old drummer had a PB ‘n J mini-stroke)

No ferris wheel will they play on.

No cotton candy to sweeten their harsh and bitter mouths.

Cabbage
only
cabbage


X


Why doth the sun shine so brightly father?

In hopes to blind ye son. In hopes to blind ye.


X

again with the writing? jeez.

bazooka
again.

X

The conglomerated itchings of fascism make very complicated scissors out of my shorts. Speed walking towards the greater good. I can move quite fast without having my feet leave the ground

X

Shotgun blanks coarse across my skin, blanketing my feelings of self-destructive coalescence, wrecking the magnet-box in my heart. I squirm uncomfortably in the harsh glare of her crotchless glowering. Revealed slowly over time as an after effect of our warlike nature.

seeping seeping

More or less like camphor. Lingering in my lungs.


X

You’re ergonomically beautiful and i can’t rest without the thought of your words dying in my ears and stinking up my compulsivly sore braincase.

X

Stale carcinogens breakfasting on a bicycle built for two, the romance dead and dying, kicking dirt on the grave whilst the other foot only walks for charity. Intoxicated on the feeling of the nothing and watching your safety Ha Ha Ha into darkness.

X


C’MON GO!GO!GO!GO!GO!
DRIBBLE! DRIBBLE!
DEFENSE!
WAY TO GO!
LET’S GO GIRLS LET’S GO!


YEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAAAAHH!!!!!!!!

Y’know what you’re doing wrong?
C’mon, RUN! RUN!
GO!GO!GO!GO!GO!

are you the coach?
Yeah, Why?


BANG NO! splat






NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!NO!


BANG splat

yes.



X


2 a.m. soul piercing back through the hated glass at you again. Telling the world inside the awful half truths you can’t stomach, bowel movements being rare.

stare.
stare.
stare.
and behold.

What it is that you are now.
Be Happy.






X

Calculate my brunt

X


Full books lost to pancakes and laundry. So far gone the sadness weeps puppy dog tails and unkempt snails that pave the way with ooey gooey sugar and spice. Everything nice waiting quietly,

as dynamite would,

waiting for a time to kill again.


X


The batter thickens when despair is added and mixed regularly. If the batter is too thick just add weiners and smooth until lumpy and golden brown, serve electrocuted.


X


That’s boobies not boobless you asshole. Say hello to your hell shoes you upside-down electronic fiend!


X


Hurry up and wait for the rushing to subside. my parents may have played the world’s smallest violins in music class but I’m in no hurry.


X


Bomb blasts busting bumblebees and berating Belgian bus boys with bananas in Boca Rattan.
Boy oh boy.


X



The pilfered sweater shrieks its vengeance, an axe through the face like rancid butter, face down on my side of the bread.
Nasty pimples on your children’s u
g
l
y f
a
c
e
s.

X


Scraps of paper given life by roller skates with no name. What’s my problem? GUYANA! That’s my problem, wait. . . . no it isn’t. The pushy guy is my problem. I don’t want your meat! Eat a bag of Socks! Time for donuts of Italian decent.

Bacon.


X


Early morning reverie expelled from my lungs ardently assuming things about what I’ve done. I have no patience for the morning show and humour found within. I’ve only got five minutes alone with my rye and gin.


X

Cracks cut deep, straight to bones of jelly pressing firmly to the kind of ligaments a lumberjack would hold if on fire. Pavement emancipating the iron cross on wood, driven nails in competition with
s n o w

(no longer in the forecast). Can you stop the engine in time to hear the birds last call? And can you smell the approaching rain over your c i g a r e t t e breakfast?

X

Bombs filled with guns ineffectually arming the pointed questions with blunt objects of deafening McNuggets.

X

Grand are toys that are found, fine and round edged. They frolic less painfully from the head smashing, rejoicing in a non-anthropomorphic way that innumerable tortures go unfelt. So glad are they; as well as delicious.




XXX.bazooka.XXX

Attack of the Hyrax!

The fellowed has-beens chortled with delight at the song they had most sinfully devised:

“Doobly gong nimbits my face is green in lands of gints,
Those farmers have no toes!
Tra Laa Dookie lathe, My midget’s gone. Ashtray!”

Then they walked some more.


X


Can your baby hear?
Can your baby hear the suffering of millions? Does your baby want to be here? Sometimes I think maybe. . .
Maybe it doesn’t.


X


The sequelling of cohorts becomes more than just unhinged if allowed to work completely unfettered. Bikkety BAM! You should learn to face forward my friend, or face the possibility of shock and damage. What is this monstrosity!?!?!?


X


Halliburton Pete and York Region Dave owned a co-op. it specialized in fake newspaper clippings that prison inmates could hang on their cell walls so that other inmates would think they killed nuns and puppies with weapons made out of baby teeth when really they were just in there for mail fraud.
The co-op didn’t do so well.


X


Beans
are marching to war with
bagels
of plenty, the dispute stems from
bread and butter’s
unending dislike.
Cream cheese
can only be seen with
veggies -tomatoes - cucumber
and remain fashionable.
Fruit
will never be in style.
Cereal
killers are fond of
milk
because of its suffering.
Soda crackers
like no one.


X


City leaving lights bereaving,
obeying the spectacle of air and sound,
slowly repeated to ears resting on the closed heads of martyrs.
Unwilling at best to make tools of voices.
Lights leaving it all to air and sound to go on repeating.
Bludgeoning on;


unheard.
unheard.
unheard.
unheard.

X


The driver nimbly picked up puddles out of sync. Once clean side walks scream! Raging of pants and the no longer white below. Years of experience, second nature becomes me. His first nature, seemingly, was no longer good enough. There was paint all over me, I was a mess.

My dad never called me an artist.


X Ode to Mike Smith


Strange stuttering old men fidgeting at the constant unblinking rage that manifests itself in overloaded carts stacked improperly. SMITH! SMITH! CHORTLE! RAGE! Subsiding continually within his mother. . . waiting . . . to shoot his guns.

YOU CAN’T GET THERE FROM HERE.

goody goody!

Paper bag angel pours out her soul,
consisting of jelly beans and candy root beers.
She offers up
and I partake in her cleansing,
savouring the saccharine delights
of an edible spirituality.


X


Dry and cracked underbelly,
finish torn and laid waste by cold sunlight.
Many months pass leaving collective damage and sorrow.
A warm breeze?
An awakening.
Once again a use has been found. Rolled over
in delight I sit.


X


Angry paper trails grouchily dismembering paths of slime and debris. No more will a clause of the least resistance be a threat to humanity. Purchasing a vanguard of civilization one day at a time. Waxing and waning to the horizon, pungent and effusive. Why does the skyline shine so? Reflecting off the fuselage, mine own eyes reveal the airplanes for what they are. No longer magic, but as yet beyond understanding.


X

i really mean it

Grrrarg bloop! My kung fu guano erupts! This ceiling is unable to withstand my brunt, it’s too soon for that. Away in my ultimate tub! I don’t want to be tied down. Yet, the frood is beyond me once more.


X


Panels too long for work, pages unimaginable. Grumbles replicate beyond my needs. 43 grams won’t provide for my artistry and neither will the failure of pear juice to exist in a gaseous form. What’s going on with this occipital lotion anyway?


X


Small towns filled with fuzzy haired girls arguing over the societal pressures in Winnipeg. They are too far away to feel Moscow in their minds. Am I Oriental? Or is that a name for carpets and not peoples? It is not my place to decide. Ask Leonard Nimoy perhaps.


X


Crying out against the window of unopening heated sufferings! SMASH! I free me as Diminutive Asian Man screams, ”FEAR THIS!” From his windshield screen, finally depositing the wild bronco in a mini van. The cell phones will hear of this. The guilty parties like so much coloured glass t l n on the asphalt drive.
i n i
k
g
X


Crabby spelunkers mature studenting across the barren plains. Where are all the Polish South Asians? UNICE! UNICE! I’ve forgotten your name! European holidays give me the butterflies when all you feel is caterpillars.


X


This spiked ball of lunacy! This sordid tyrant of evil consisting almost solely of squat broad shouldered fellows. Reeking of women and self satisfaction I retch on their glistening patent leather shoes bellowing, “I’M AN ARTIST! IT’S OKAY!”

X


Water fountaining severely on the elderly professor’s severed head carries weight but only when multiplied by your weight on the moon and divided inversely by the radial mass of a soggy cheese sandwich. Otherwise it’s just rubbish, if, that is, you can somehow manage to remember all that.


X


Poppycock! Poppycock! This print media has Mud and Bugs all over it! So much so, I’ve filled my depends. Those plants over there will be fertilized nicely.


X

Dancy Dancy Dancy,
pointy toe pointy toes,
my leotard’s not fancy.
I’m not old I’m dead!
HEY! HEY!


X


Frank Mills being butchered by an old man who should know better, little kids purchasing life changing records and strange spandex and sequin clad lilies of the valley eerily disguised as little girls prancing and practising aesthetic gymnastics. It’s all a conspiracy for oil. Of that I’m certain.

hawaii feet

The varnished village grew more likened to a dullard daily delivering to doldrums with diarrhoea, dancing dangerously. Daring to use the letter “P” more than was necessary in that instance.
Tenacious, non?


X


Glug glug glug the can nets are water filled and thoroughly nippled, aptly living with the moniker “Harbinger of Weenies!” When will these telemarketers stop bothering my parakeet, he doesn’t want to go to Cuba and buy those encyclopaedias. I am not a radio marketer.

RETORT!


X


My knuckles for nickels are sore, scraped raw off of the face of my youth. inking a rush of blood to the head. Upside-down battles arguing without end. Mouths, dry jaws cracking, aimed at the ceiling. Untie my legs! Untie my legs you maniac!!


X


If I know one thing I know that this Grande Latte won’t eat beans with a straw. She knows the only way to get peas is with a knife. Do you like the cut of my jib!?!? I hope so, my mobster uncles got it done for me at a cost of a mere 400 berries in a cream cheese base, FAT FREE!


X


Skwunch Skwunch the egg into the bowl,
if you fry dat don’ wanna smell no mo.

Word.


X


Insipid students, fuzzy hatted splendour, Uh I know of music and art. Many wondrous spells and noodles abide within the souls of the educated. Where’s your phone! You don’t belong! You aren’t from here! No style have you!
Grrr.


X

hugo-o-mungo!

Seven syllables
Five syllables
Seven syllables

Clap,

Clap,

Clap


X


How!


X


Bulkily trollumphing, my attention span lurks near the well being of self consciousness, drinking deeply the heady vapours. Springing forth the beeping is obsolescence in fortitudedness, leemingly puddleying along the road less travelled. Two els! TWO!!
Times sixteen! Without that the answer can no longer be deemed a question!!


X


Too many juices for one evening to contain.


X


Baldness grips the hearts of men, boiling hooves and snouts in my stomach. This amount won’t even be enough to buy me a hat in time for a comb fight.


X


Darkness abounds,
There’s spit on the ground,
Germs all around that whales run. . .

a foot race?


X


Rhymes are for suckers and thyme is some sort of herb. I’ve never used it so I can only assume that it is also for suckers.


X


The pages slip by so fast sometimes that even Blake Savage with Rip Foster’s help couldn’t describe the anguish it can cause.
Slow down!
They baconed at me, salting my gourmet wounds with oily frying pan phrases. Didn’t you know that to make the burning of your words more slow and manageable your pen must first be wrapped in tin foil of discontent and pre heated with Iambic Pentameter? Leaving it in at 350 for an over extended metaphor.


X


Lights out, time for another fuse ridden memory to help stare through my reflection in the blackened glass carapace.


X


Life here?
A starving man with a dirty handful of rejected quarters,
glassy eyed,
bitterly engaged in a staring competition
with the chips that refuse to fall where they may.
A man in an SUV
constantly digging a knife into his gut,
complaining to the gas attendant that there’s

too
much
blood.

She’s a slooowww drinker.


X


WHO SAYS I CAN’T USE THIS CHAINSAW? THEY’RE BOTHERING YOU TOO AREN’T THEY?


X


Do you need justification?
Writing this is garbage and a strike looms warm and fragrant in tomorrow’s newspaper.
Enjoy that.


X


Languidly crush into sleep
furiously relaxing in the tormented comfort of
the scathing laziness of pillows.
Razor-like cotton balls.
The Fury
.
.
.
rests.


X

urrg

A Q key found and a Q key wagered. In all my pilferings I surmise Van Halen couldn't have been better than the cocker spaniel made them out to be. I'm fairly certain that insurance companies don't like having poetry read at them.
Everyone's leaving. . . .


X


Get something you wouldn't expect, like a squid.


X


Conventionally the hat would have stayed, happily squatting upon the heads of forgotten lore. Alas this was no conventional hat, it was a magic emu named Fortinbras. The very same magic emu that coached Michael Jackson and Webster in their language class so they might be able to more clearly converse with their magic Llama and Beatrice Arthur. Wait a minute. . .THAT WAS OUR PLANET!!!!!!


X


Gravy abides in the paste, orange cold and yet still over one thousand degrees of turnip. It lasts forever on the scalded hands of an infant.
NO! HOT!


X


Sumptuously up bang jangle gangle rangle noise noise disturbing sound breaking sleep finding comics without relief new fangled bangles ate candles on rose wood, dog wood was bone and the uterus suffered, cramping uphill towards pills and no real reward. Continuing not to learn my walk the crank was too Japanese for the internet noise noise.


X


The blurst of times has arrived and those monkeys don't know the half of it.


X


My vice. . .My vice grips me with tin can hands holing up the muffler leaving me to drive with my elbows like a shotgun. The jake was slapped and I slowed right down into four ways.


X


Oh.



X


Your quick fox is no match for my exploding typewriters Pilchner! The computer science exams will be passed eloquently and no amount of studios in the Caribbean will be able to withstand my wrath. Why drink and drive when you can smoke and fly? I smell popcorn, POP! POP! POP! The good kind, not the kind that comes from my feet. The guy in front of me just farted. The gas in my nose came out of his ass. That’s revolting. I wonder if disease can be passed through fart gas? Now I smell chocolate almonds. . . Maybe I’m just having a seizure.


X



Ancient one liking shoes
are you jealous of my poo?
If this train goes off the track
Pick it up pick it up pick it up
Jack.
Ooooh that’s a likey sandwich.


X


Where are my sleeves? Can modern science replace them? With a baboon heart???


X

Guala Lumpur eek eek!

O o g a C h a k a O o g a c h a k a
Slug worm raiders racing through the night,
controlling rampant bladders is a futile plight.
Owning only bars of gold and fragrant wheels of cheese
one will cry a languid sob whilst retching on its knees.
If all my dogs were puppies, then one would be a bitch.
For writing this atrocious someone should eat my gitch.


X


Slapped in the head with a linoleum tile armada, my head pulses ravaged by time and the passage of money through fictional hands of discontent. Could the pain be any slower? In the absence of voices my true scream emerges. Silent. Silent and throbbing with rage. Terror bleakens and gallops fiercely away from the horizon towards my lonely cliff face. Edging closer, the prepice is nervous. Hoping I won't fall, therefore giving it a bad, unimaginative name like, "Deadman's Drop."


X



Tick tock goes the clock!
Smish Smash goes the hammer!
-sigh-


X


Tasty morsels of TTC operators populate this pixellated cantankerous ramshackle home. Eagerly depicting the grasping and pulling. The struggle being one of regret and disenchanted bickering found only betwixt the rails.


X


After that it was easy to fall into bed with him.
"Why? Because he said you should write a screenplay?"
"No, because his hand was a snake! Grrrooarr!"


X


Protect yourself. Get your family shot.
Call: 1-866-FLU 'N YOU


X


International monsters creating conspiracy driven children screaming into cellphones, banging on the TV screen, dextrous thumbs manipulating 5 digit parents. 700 dollar singing and dancing phones will send a picture of my glorious ass crack anywhere in the world in digital colour if I buy a two year plan. What will you do?

Hello?
I'm on the bus.
Be there in 5 minutes.
Bye.


X

zot zot bango!

Dutch Unibrow encircling a town gone mad. Glistening in her battleshorts, straight pig tails disgusting the guinea pig on TV. How did he get his own TV show anyway? Just take this prod for your bottom and finish my thought, I'm far too busy.

X


Bunny rabbit Bunny Rabbit, stipend my losses, my bank foreclosure appled out the academy's loan and Nancy had to purchase the boots of a milkmaids auntie. Platypi platypi I repeated, some young guy. The Chinese food was delicious and those ribs couldn't have been more soft and juicy. Unless they were referring to T.S. Eliot; in other words there will be no frosted Roberts as long as e.e.'s still kicking.


X


The denture's velocity have reached their insane pitch. There is no chance of winning the baseball game. Even with 156 orchids. The ugly clocks and lamps will not be outplayed.


X


Coco beans? Recycle you animals. It may not save the environment but it makes for a clever bumper sticker, albeit one that I don't fully understand and therefore not as funny as it could be. Maybe it was recycle your pets. . .now that's funny!(?)Who can really be sure in this hurly burdy gurdyless world in which we live. The wisdom of this statement can be further reflected on in this one:
A little Furt please.


X


How does one count the stars at night?
Like cheerleaders in flight.
Battlestar Galactica consumes my waste,
fortunately I excrete in the form of paste.


X

The funny smelling bag smiled quietly to itself, "Soon," it thought,"Soon you shall know of the beginnings." Towering slimy legged mud, beasting its way to oblivion, Papa Smurf its only true witness. pale fleshy thighs grasping my face gives me the CBGBs it does. This can't go on much longer, your eyes are too big. I can't stomach them. F L A P F L A P F L A P F L A P .


X


My flatulence roils with desire. Disembarking from the body electric, seething with biological rage. Obscenely penetrating the night into the wayward and unsuspecting hearts of men. Slowly, slowly it corrupts.


X

plinko!

Discontinuing this artery could have a disheartening effect, or perhaps something in that vein. The shakes! The shakes! All this heroin gives me the shakes, or does the milk blending apparatus? All perspective. IN A PIGS EYE! If I had a pigs eye right now I'd make you a silk purse out of it! With lacy newt ears adorning. My my Chuck, those are awfully low pants you have there, what's the amortization rate on those babies? Running shoe? I thought so. It only makes sense when we live in a world where two falls between four and nine. How crazy is that? About as crazy as this isn't ---> Leonard Nimoy says, "NUN BISCUIT!"


X


Red isn't a number Frank and no Penguins are NOT allowed to chew gum here. Can't you read the meat??
X


FORSOOTH! The lone cantaloupe wanders freely on the high plains, resistant to the constant suicide attempts made by the democrats. The cocaine is at its most presidential. Daughters of war need not fear the Sun, only foreign devils. GUILTY BASTARD! BURN IN HELL! STRIPPER SEZ,"COP BIT MY BUTT!!!" School is for losers anyway. You should really try our homemade potatoe salad. Angry Crab! Angry at his misunderstood hurlings, desperately wanting a polymer company. 12 people joined against the common enemy, the silent killer. . .wood. 2 dozen people in southern Ontario have been reportedly infected with wood. All the blurry clowns make it difficult to spot but the frosted mugs are a dead giveaway.

YITZ!


X


If this is the future I'm glad I'm in the past
Will and Grace and Britney Spears, Gone for good at last
of this new pop culture fad, I'm glad I played no part
Given the choice of NSYNC or the Backstreet Boys
I'd rather hear you fart.

Will you be my girlfriend?


X

bink

Genius! Lies not in the soul. The sole perhaps, its walking never to quite be finished the calories lost only brought back by the catastrophic poutine lashing in gastrointestinal spite raucously devouring the filet with little regard to its mercury content. Sickness it is. When 500 years old you be, look as good you will not. Barry Edwards and Dave Govers carry fruit. Unless Father Charles goes down and ends battle.


X




Apocalypse Cow, Star Goat
These are persons not yet met
Do not Fret
it's only cuz I've not made them yet.

Too bad someone else has.


X


This order had no invoice attached so I smashed it against the body of a varsity cheerleader impeding her algebraic way of generating mish mash. This Mysterious Mystical Mash Man had the uncanny ability to make beer out of himself and DANCE the unruly (not ruly mind you) night away. How many toes do I have? Good question. . How many toes do you have Dr. Carp Salmon, P.H.D.? Not many more than I can imagine in a whole episode of Three's Company, no doubt. Could the mind of the teacher have become so similar to that of the student to make the cavorting become fractal, easily following the tiny imperfections in my hand? Those dinosaurs were scary. Two times even. I once found distraction in a tree. I gave it away. Turns out I already had that one. A booby trap may have been set. The reassured nature of the bobcat of gold for waiting may be deceived in the year of the boomerang. The bushes could kill us all but if I eat the crusts on my bread the hair on my chest could quite simply be its undoing. Are you going to take advantage of our COAT CHECK SERVICE?

BLEEP!


X


limpet of the valley!
for who, you ask?

for you,



for you.


X


The bicycle leapt soaring, mind numbingly heart wrenching in its terror. Its speed that of a koala pilot jetting the skies full of turkey jerky. At least that's what the matrix tells my brain it is. Not just another compact. I am driving excitement as I jump. Might as well. I put my soda down and said, "Laundry basket." I'm far to cool for this French dust bin. Time to light up and drink to the constable, the only man I ever really ate with a Chianti. The asparagus was fine the day, but far from ok. Reflected off the surface of the fence something could be gleaned, a goldfish? The old woman of a thousand names? Little Billy? All were possible but none had you name written all over it. I had never felt so ashamed, then some puppies peed all over my special forces tank top and all was well. Until they threw the book at me. Times tables or no times tables I wasn't letting that springer spaniel out of the little boys room until it would tell me the third verse of 'One Tin Soldier.' It couldn't remember so we had a skipping rope competition. I can't remember who won but it could have been Danny Basaraba for all I know. Sure of this I am not but that pole was slippery. Ripped his nutsack right open on the shower floor. Shudder. Shudder. Shudder. The New York Yankees are popular, even more so than deciduous forests, that's not saying very
m u c h .
Paid a dime, only farted.


X

zoot

The road to beavers is a long one, Gertrude said, but it's worth all the spicy pants that we've had to ruin. Despite your protests. The candles are made from the finest handkerchiefs Toyota has ever produced. Soon my strength will be suitably garnered in such a fashion that trash compactor-dom can be achieved. Ahh the sweet pleasures of bubble wrap. POP! POP! POP! Sighs the one called I in the whey. CURDS! This spider has ruined my cheese creamery. Looks as though waterwheels may very well be our future’s end. The wealthy onlookers created its stockings, the consequences will be more severe than you could have ever dreamed. Rubber necks engineered from Asians on cell phones plotting your paycheck tomorrow. The woman on the bus beside winnie the pooh hates it when he kisses ass. How can you hate winnie the pooh? Stop staring at me or I'll start wearing your sweater. That boy just fell down and laughed, I should get up. Move. Frown. Gum on the pants of a boy named after cheese from the city of steel is cause for great amusement. More grating for the protagonist, against his cheesy nature you see. RISE! RISE! The yeast in you wears thin exposing your ghastly nutrition. That of a Rhino’s vegan meat cutlets. A beast of beans cut down in the field, smashed and bled, not for the bovine succulence, butt for. . what's a butt for?




For pooping silly.


X