that is not a faquette, that is your mothra
ay, thus, the foam quartet shot a titan trio,
shyoot.. i am a state of the art truth.

.perpetually indifferently in a heave of atoms,
the indigo bird of the balance beam has adopted the meditative lotus position of
a variable intrest rate to operational stereotypes.
One can almost hear
its thoughts shear through the void of processor speed and space:
"go ahead human,
you press that button.. try to drop that text into the proper spark, im
the sherrif of chai town tonight.. and it drops when i decide. time will become
the slow scrape of jagged cracked robert crumb flak jacketed fingernails on the oak mined chalkboard of
your spinal column before this page is even considered to be worth my attention.
.
besides
.
sometimes I would love to fear
that following my chewing on a fudge bar
would cause intermittttttent moving in blue
radio confusion for air traffic
control towers to wetten wax and woo you a thousand fold.
a wolf in the fold, i would wash the weather with a
shed full of tears and yardrakes and titan striped
mildew drumming out the last
page of methane stapled to the 50,000 miles
projected from the overhead reflection of a smile.
.
or is
there nothing more to wring from these stratas?
these stars and the hemorages of rainbows they leak are
of little substance to the dim prisons the exteriors so
volley.
In a phase transition back to the numb observer who
watches the water rise over what was once a body;
a human museum, I experience the act of drowning
in a perpetual skinsuit of the moment. A conceptual inuendo
interpreting these conscious meteors as rain.
.
and I am made of no answer,
divided by your written soils there is no interpretation of touch.
.
speak of war.
and rumours of war.
.
" foreheads of men have bled where no wounds were.""
.
...3mj

-------
When I read this...it's like it resulted from chaos in an ordered mind. Being an agent of chaos...it speaks to me...but almost like a spy.
-------
Compassionate wolves encircling a sentimental corpse.

Reason revealing her purple heart to her incompetent field commander.

the soil's response to a declining star.

that was fabulous, 3mj.

-Symon

-------
'fabulous'? What planet are you living on? Planet retard in most people's opinion.
-------
im not wearing pants
...3mj
-------
im wearing flank steak. Symon, thanks for the appriciations..long time no seefeel. by the by, wheres everyone?
...3mj
-------
it seems to be just amber, you, and I from the Old Ones (pre-2001 days).
If the others are here, they're not signing their names as we knew them. -But I may be wrong, as I no longer go to the other salons.-
You know, i really miss caindaemon, je, and the others....even ewmf....
thankfully, -t still pops in from time to time, but not frequently enough.

-Symon
listening to seefeels's "Succour" . Lovely music. Thanks for reminding me they existed.
-------
yep.. it's a mesh of scissor kick flips and licorice whips to strip the old bones bare from the thought closet, get out the moth garment and shake off the dust

happy meat pockets,
amber
-------
shiver me dust bunnies. the more things change the more things .. er. Hi ms amber. I was just passing through and spyglossed some flogging going on in the upper commentary atmosphere, (now relegated to the closeted poems of permanence section) and couldnt resist some beachfront property on the misdemeanour. Sy, im still partial to clairecords and their familial ilk..
tacky phase moppets,
...3mj
-------
agreed there, mien bruder. "Succour" is not their best, by far. Its all I still have, though.

also wishing you (how can I resist?)
happy meat pockets,
-Sy
-------
go ahead human...cream filled whisper,... 3monkj.
:::vizual
-------
Symon, 3mj and viz all up in the same pome.. speaking of chickens i'm pleased and more proud than a mama hen roosting a group of little cluckers.

amber
-------
amber, I for one am pleased among your roost.
-Symon
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Ahem, keep them under your wing Sybil.
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Very niiice. I like this piece. - NANGALEEMA